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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

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snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in.

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess.

You, to be exact.

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing.

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen.

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it?

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?”

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?”

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.”

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.”

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?”

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.”

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?”

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.”

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?”

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs.

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity.

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken.

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new?

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash.

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder.

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow.

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor.

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet.

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state.

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands.

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer.

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm.

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder.

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms.

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone.

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?”

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.”

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others.

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared.

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind.

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.”

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.”

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked.

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?”

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned.

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while.

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry.

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch.

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…”

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…”

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement.

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more.

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded.

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?”

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together.

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…”

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider.

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer.

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise.

“At once?” Frank asked.

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.”

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began.

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion.

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights.

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible.

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven.

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once.

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!”

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold.

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips.

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.”

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?”

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin.

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.”

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him.

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek.

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him.

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.”

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.”

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?”

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?”

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point.

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?”

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?”

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…”

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?”

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet.

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds.

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up.

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled.

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core.

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently.

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room.

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely.

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease.

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places.

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds.

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion.

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open.

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray.

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open.

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix.

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.”

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.”

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in.

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table.

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing.

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.”

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth.

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection.

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern.

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead.

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own.

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.”

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness.

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole.

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer.

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming.

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him.

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth.

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you.

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door.

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of.

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber.

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur.

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all.

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope.

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale.

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story.

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin.

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it…

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kyber-crystal · 16 days ago

Text

through the seasons || f.w.

summary: he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too.

words: ~6.4k (i went overboard LMFAO)

warnings: light angst, some mentions of death / violence (but dw it's a happy ending)

a/n: first ever hp fic in like, ever LOL so apologies if this seems off in any way. the timeline for this is a lil weird?? but basically the fic starts during the spring of GOF: you’re a year below fred & a year above the golden trio : ) ALSO i highly recommend listening to 'moonlight serenade' by frank sinatra ESP during the parts it's mentioned in. you'll see why :))))

spring

Given that springtime was nearly over, it was rather cold outside.

The sky gleamed a bright, cornflower blue, with the May morning breeze hitting your skin. You, Hermione, and Ginny found yourselves huddling together in the stands and tightly clutching each other to keep warm.

Anticipation nipped at your insides like tiny needles. You had spent the past half-hour at breakfast listening to a nervous Ron ramble on about how he hardly knew what he was doing, and seeing an unusually quiet Fred pick at his food. You knew it wasn’t like him to spend almost an entire meal without saying more than a few words.

“You ok?” you mouthed, glancing over at the redhead in concern. “As long as you’re looking at me,” Fred replied, attempting a small smile. He pressed something warm and fuzzy into your hands under the table. “You’re my good luck charm today. Keep this for me during the match.” You nodded, and felt your heart warm as you looked down to see that it was the fuzzy scarf he always wore during Hogsmeade trips or around the castle when it got particularly chilly. His initials had been hand-stitched into one end—undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” “That’s my girl.”

“Look!” Ginny whisper-shouted, ending your momentary flashback. “I think that’s them!”

The Gryffindor team filed out into the stadium to be instantly met with a cacophony of loud cheers and applause. Your throat was already starting to hurt from screaming alongside the seas of blazing red and gold, though the match had yet to begin.

Without even realizing it, you found your eyes scanning the area for a particular ginger-haired Beater, and the tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulders loosened as soon as you saw him.

“You’re not even playing, yet I’d say you’re as big of a mess as poor Ronald,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “Concerned for someone?”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, tightening Fred’s scarf around your neck just a bit more. “It’s the last match of the year—I’m just as nervous as everyone else. I need to see someone beat Malfoy’s egotistical arse to a pulp.”

Both her and Ginny snorted at this.

“You’re right…but that’s not who I was referring to,” your best friend reminded you.

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Don’t you think you care a little too much? More than a friend should?”

“No,” you stated flatly. But Hermione knew this was a lie—after all, she had known you for five years now and could tell when you were lying. She watched as you fiddled with the ends of the colorful scarf around your neck—a flash of something caught her eye, and she squinted to see F.W. embroidered in delicate gold.

Of course you were being serious, she chuckled to herself. She decided to not say anything about why you had Fred’s scarf on, and instead joked, “Do you think he or Ron’ll make it without getting a concussion?”

“Now that’s hard to say…” you began, knowing how the two boys were sometimes often quite clumsy. “Fingers are crossed that my Fred will be just fine.”

“Your Fred? What about Ron?” she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you care about both of them?”

“—Both of them will be just fine,” you quickly corrected yourself. “They’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” she said, unconvinced that your reply wasn’t just a slip of the tongue.

Turning your attention back to the game, you heard Lee Jordan’s classic, enthusiastic voice echo across the grounds. “Welcome to the last Quidditch match of the YEAR! We have quite the game in store today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin…”

Eventually, after the captains shook hands and everyone mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls into the air. Loud cheers filled the stadium once again, and all fourteen players shot up into the sky. You were only really focusing on one thing—or person, really. It seemed that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“—aaand that’s a Bludger to the head from Fred Weasley, ouch, that’s gotta hurt…There goes Katie Bell, making a swift pass over to Johnson…there’s Johnson with the Quaffle! And then, ,there he goes…Fred Weasley does it AGAIN! Malfoy gets a hard Bludger to the back—”

Right then, Fred caught your eye and winked. You sent back a shy wave in response.

Everyone tries their best to ignore the Slytherin section’s jeering taunts and chants of Weasley Is Our King. You didn’t need to look over to know Ron was hardly taking it.

From there on out it was a blur of motion, noise, and loud sounds, and before you knew it, the match was over and done.

“—GRYFFINDOR WINS! WITH WEASLEY’S GAME-WINNING BLOCK AND POTTER’S SHEER SPEED, THEY WIN!” The excitement is clear in Lee’s voice. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd went wild again as Fred made his downward descent. As soon as the tips of his shoes touched the grass he jumped off and immediately rushed over to you as fast as his feet would take him.

Your head was spinning and you could barely tell what was going on amidst the ground-shaking noise and overall chaos. But there he was in front of you now, sweaty and tired but grinning wildly nonetheless as he brought you into a tight embrace. He started spinning you around and you couldn’t help but join in on his contagious laughter.

“There’s my good luck charm,” he whispered into your ear as he set you down, breath fanning against the skin behind your ear.

Having no words left except pure joy, you shook your head and smiled as you leaned into him, squeezing him back even tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Both of you were too busy to notice that your friends around you had stopped congratulating the other players and chattering with one another, their eyes now on you two. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron, amidst his nerves and exhaustion, cracked a grin as he watched his older brother and best friend savoring a moment with each other.

Hopefully, they’ll realize it for themselves…he thought. Amidst the chaos of the past year, he knew that all of them—especially the two of you—deserved a bit of peace more than anything.

summer

“Last one there is a rotten egg and has to take the soddy backup broom!” Ginny shouted. You all immediately broke into a sprint at this, scrambling to go outside for yet another round of backyard Quidditch. Harry damn near tripped over his own feet as he and Ron tried pushing over each other to squeeze out the back door. Fred and George were doing the same thing, and you and Hermione used this chance to sneak past them. You silently high-fived each other at this.

“Boys will be boys…” she laughed quietly, linking your arm through hers as you continued walking across the meadow, the grass brushing against the fabric of your trousers. “There’s no catching a break around here.”

Lo and behold, poor Ron was forced to take the backup broom, grumbling the entire time as everyone put their gear on. “I hate you guys. Haven’t I been through enough already?”

Everyone took turns being the score-keeper, and this time it was Hermione (she had also been score-keeper the last two rounds as she was a bit tired, and didn’t really mind). She sat down under the giant apple tree as she chose the teams.

“Harry, George, and Fred!” she called out. “Versus the rest of you.”

“That’s so not fair!” Ron complained. “You have two Beaters and the—”

“—youngest Seeker in a century on one team,” Harry finished his sentence with a cheeky grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “At least I’m with you, Y/N…I guess…”

“Thanks for the compliment, Ronald,” you said with a slight hint of sarcasm.

It was only a few minutes in the match when Fred found himself distracted. He was supposed to be on guard, but his eyes kept wandering over to you, zipping around on your broom with ease, gliding through the air like a bird. He wondered when he stopped seeing you as just his ‘best friend’ and started seeing you as someone who made his heart beat faster; someone who he desperately wanted to see smile because that’s all he needed to make his entire day.

“Awe, come on, Freddie, get your head back in the game!” you called out to him in a teasing voice as he just barely blocked a flying Bludger hurtling towards his face. “Don’t wanna be slammed into, now do you?”

He shook his head and quickly snapped out of it. “Of course not.”

“Blimey, Fred! You nearly gave yourself another concussion there from ogling at her!” George exclaimed.

“I can’t help but be charming,” you joked, sending Fred a wink. “Enjoy the view while you can!”

It was only mid-morning/barely afternoon by the time you finished the last match, but if anything, your sore muscles told you that it felt like days had passed. Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as everyone headed in, laughing at the thrill of flying through the skies without a care in the world.

“Remember that losers have to make lunch!” Harry reminded.

Ginny groaned. “Come on. Way to ruin the vibe.”

You, her, and Ron all let out long sighs before heading straight to the kitchen to whip something up for the six of you. Food bets needed to stop…

After a quick meal of sandwiches, everyone headed back outside to play more rounds of backyard Quidditch. You opted to stay in this time around; the dull ache in your shoulders and lower back telling you you’d had enough for the day. One cold shower and some quiet work helping Mr. Weasley organize his home office later, you slumped onto the sofa.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening went by slowly but peacefully. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting around on the living room floor, playing board games well into the night while the crickets chirped outside. The days were long, and cracking jokes and long talks came much easier than they normally did. Of course, Fred sat next to you the entire time, finding a way to be touching you in one way or another no matter what. Shoulders pressed together closely, fingers tracing patterns into your palms, a hand rubbing your back.

Harry gulps down his mug of butterbeer before launching into a dramatic retelling of when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, earning roars of laughter and “That git deserved it” from all around. Fred follows up with the first time him and George tested prototypes of their Puking Pastilles, which ended with a delirious Lee Jordan and Ron’s face turning greener than mandrake leaves (much to Mrs. Weasley’s horror—she sent both twins death glares at this).

You were too busy losing it to notice an arm—Fred’s—snaking around your waist, pulling you into his side. But when you did realize it was him, you didn’t say anything, and just simply relaxed against him. It was second nature to you both; you’ve learned to anticipate him sliding up next to you. And, it was comforting to know that he would always be nearby.

Despite being the last one to go to bed, Fred was the first one awake before dawn had even broken over the horizon. The skies were clear but grey, and the roosters had yet to make a sound.

“Wake up,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Whaddayawant,” you groaned, voice groggy. “Listen Ron, it’s too early to play Quidditch, tell Wood that you want to go for a round instead…”

“Hey, it’s only me,” Fred replied. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up, being careful not to step on Hermione or Ginny’s hands or arms on the way out the door. He kept a hand pressed against the small of your back the entire way down the creaky staircase.

“Ta-da…” he whispered, the classic Weasley grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this beauty.”

“A…record player?” your brows furrowed in confusion. “This is what you woke me up at 4 a.m. for?”

“Dad got it at this old Muggle store in central London years ago, he said it was a ‘thrift shop,’” Fred explained as your eyes glanced over the cracked, but beautiful record player on the kitchen table. “D’you reckon it still works, though?”

“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” you shrugged.

He placed the vinyl CD into the player and adjusted the needle, and within seconds a slow Muggle tune began to play.

“Oh, I know this one…Hermione has told me about it before. Frank Sinatra is quite famous in the Muggle musical world.”

“Well, then…may I have this dance?” Fred extended a hand out to you. You shake your head and roll your eyes, but take his hand and allow him to pull you close. His arms wrap around your torso as your hands rest on his shoulders, and you allow yourselves to get carried away by the slow, melodic ballad.

My love, do you know That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you, and I sing you A moonlight serenade

Fred gently twirls you around the kitchen before bringing you back in and smoothly catching you by the waist, and you’re surprised at how easy it is for him. You often forgot that he had a knack for dancing—it wasn’t often that you got to see him do so.

“And you were about to be upset at me for waking you up,” he leans in to say.

“You’re forgiven,” you exhale, resting your head against his chest. “But you know I could never be upset with you.”

Long after the song had ended, you still found yourself wrapped in his embrace.

Mrs. Weasley was heading downstairs to start preparing breakfast, but suddenly stopped midway. Her heart warmed as she took in the sight of you and Fred standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as he hummed a foreign tune, slow dancing without a care in the world.

Deciding not to interrupt, she stands there for a moment, smiling as she watched her boy fall in love with the young woman that she hoped to call her daughter one day.

fall

“—Godric’s sake, I’m so tired of losing,” Ron groaned as you quickly smacked the top of the deck with your wand, dust flying into his face. “I’m never playing this with you again.”

You rolled your eyes as he coughed and dusted himself off. “Okay, no Exploding Snap, then no more sweets from Honeydukes ever again.”

“Fine, I’m playing, I’m playing,” he sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead as the colorful deck of cards reshuffled themselves. “You’re almost as horrible as my brother.”

“Almost as horrible as who—hey, Y/N, is that my jumper?” Fred paused as he approached you and Ron sitting at the coffee table, as Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched on.

“Dunno, is it?” you shrugged innocently, tapping your chin. “Hey, Nev, you want a go? I have to finish reading my book for McGonagall’s class.”

Neville nodded, and Ron raised a fist in triumph. “FINALLY! Bring it on, Longbottom.”

You shifted onto the couch so Neville could take your spot, and without another word, Fred sat down right next to you. The deep burgundy color of his Gryffindor sweater only further brought out the color of your eyes, he noticed, which sparkled brightly under the dim lighting.

Fred then shifted to lay his head down in your lap, and you didn’t even do so much as flinch. With your book in one hand, you used the other to start brushing your fingers through his hair. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you heard him let out a quiet sigh of contentment.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re absolutely brilliant?” he glanced up at you from where he lay, watching carefully and intently. “Sometimes I’m surprised that you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley,” you laughed softly as you turned the page.

Right as you were about to turn the page again, he stopped you by lightly tugging your wrist. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

He carefully turned your hand to look at the scratches etched into the back of it. They were beginning to fade, but the occasional shifts in movement would cause them to sting and sometimes crack open.

“When did Umbridge do this to you?” Something unfamiliar flashed in Fred’s eyes, and he seemed angry for the briefest of moments. But the darkened look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not at all,” you lied as you set down your book, but he didn’t miss the way you winced slightly as he adjusted your hand to look at it again.

The rest of your friends had scattered elsewhere at this point, the typical noise now having faded into a soft chatter of sorts. Hermione came back with a bowl of yellow liquid, eyeing you worriedly. “Strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles…these should help…”

“Oh…thank you…” You placed your hand into the bowl and immediately exhaled with relief.

“I think I’m going to sleep a little early tonight…I’ll see you two at breakfast? Take it easy, Y/N,” Hermione gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nodded as she gave you one last smile and walked away.

Once the pain had faded into a dull ache, you set the bowl of murtlap on the table and leaned back against the sofa. Fred was now laser-focused on something he was holding, fiddling with it using what looked like a small pair of tweezers. Assuming that it had to do with the joke shop he and George were working on, you paid it no mind, and picked up your copy of Guide to Advanced Transfiguration again.

You were far too absorbed into your book to notice when Fred had slipped whatever that thing was onto your finger. It was cold to the touch but fit snugly.

“D’you like it?”

“What is…” You put your book away and glanced down, about to say something half-sarcastic, but immediately stopped.

It had to have been the most beautiful ring you had seen. Although it was slightly on the thinner side, it glittered brighter than any star you had ever seen. You twisted your hand this way and that as you watched the material catch the light.

“...You know my ring size,” your voice trailed off as you took notice of the hopeful look in Fred’s eyes. “But what is this for? You know we’re—”

“For when the time comes,” he explained simply, raising your scarred right hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. His gaze on you remained steady and comforting in the same way that his presence made you feel. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you nodded, feeling a sudden lump form in your throat. You were filled with a warmth that you knew had nothing to do with the blazing fire in front of you. “You know there’s no one else.”

How your best friend could make your chest ache in this way, you had no clue…For some odd reason, you thought, it wasn’t all that difficult to picture a future with him in it.

Not when he was your future. You loved him, no doubt, but when it came to describing your exact relationship all words fell short. You were close friends, but was it in the same way that you and Hermione were friends? Or you and Ginny?

But he’s my best friend, you told yourself. He’s been my best friend for over six years.

But ‘best friends’ don’t make you feel the way that Fred does.

Best friends went beyond just saving you a seat at the Great Hall if you woke up late for breakfast or slept through lunch because of a long nap. They didn’t pull you away on Hogsmeade trips and insist on hanging out with you one-on-one when you could very well just hang out together as one big group with all your friends.

They definitely didn’t fashion you a ring by hand in the middle of one quiet fall night, but he did.

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm…what?”

“You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there, love,” Fred raised a brow at you as he sat up, taking your hand in his.

“Just…thinking,” you hummed, letting your head lean against his shoulder. He pulled you into his side at this, tenderly brushing his lips against your forehead.

“About how I’m your favorite person on the planet and that I’m loads funnier than Georgie?”

“As if you’d ever be the only thing on my mind.”

Fred pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“I’m kidding,” you glanced up at him, pouting slightly. “You’ll never leave my mind. I’m holding you hostage.”

“And that’s a sentence I’d want to extend for as long as I could,” he responded.

Voldemort's return and the premise of another war loomed overhead. But he found that when your warm hand slipped into his, body leaning in close, and your laughter ringing through the air like shooting stars, it was easy for him to forget. To fall into you and feel as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world because frankly, you were.

winter

There was one big thing to look forward to today: another Hogsmeade outing. The final weekend trip before Christmas was always a little bittersweet, but filled with the most pure joy.

The Great Hall was decked out from ceiling to floor as it always was during the holiday season. Bits of snow delicately floated down from the crystalline ceiling as the classic giant Christmas tree stood tall behind the staff table. You stopped every few seconds to admire the decorations despite having been here for nearly seven years now and seeing (and even having helped one time) the grandiose setup.

Excited chatter filled every table as you went over to the Gryffindor table to sit with your friends. Ron was already piling his plate with food, grinning excitedly as he did so.

“Where’s Fred?” you asked as you sat down next to George.

“Already missing your lover boy?” the younger twin teased. “He’ll be down in a sec. The lazy arse overslept so Lee went to drag him down here.”

“Oh, okay…” You paused for a moment. “Wait, he’s not my—”

You felt someone squeeze your shoulder behind you before pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, stopping you from finishing your sentence.

“Morning, my love,” Fred greeted casually as he slid into the spot next to you, seemingly oblivious to the stares he got from his gesture. “You sleep okay?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, when are ‘ou going ‘o admid it?” Ron groaned, in the middle of chewing his third drumstick.

“Yeah, when?” Ginny echoed. “I’m going to hex you if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” you tilted your head to the side as you glanced between them.

“Oh, uh, nothing!” she said quickly.

“Nothing!” Fred grinned sheepishly. Ginny sharply jabbed an elbow into his side. “OW!”

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to question the odd exchange.

Fred placed a soft hand on your thigh, using his other to swipe a croissant from your plate.

“Hey!”

“You know you love me,” he teased.

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face burn, a smile crept up on your face nonetheless. You continued eating, his hand remaining in place, and pretended like you didn’t mind what he was doing.

You exited Hogwarts to flurries of snow blowing around, adjusting your hat and (Fred’s) scarf accordingly to protect your face from the biting winds. Hogsmeade was relatively quiet today, so you took every second you had to relish in the peace.

“Godric, you’re freezing,” Fred’s bright smile turned into a slight frown when he noticed you were shivering, rubbing your gloved hands together. “Here.”

He shook off his coat and handed it to you, helping you put it on by holding the sleeves out. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief once the warmth enveloped your body.

“T-thanks, but aren’t you gonna get c—”

“Trust me, I’ll be alright,” he assured you, squeezing your hands. “Don’t want to get sick before Christmas, right?”

You managed a nod, and he casually slung an arm across your shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he grinned. “Now come on, I think we have some drinks waiting for us.”

As always, he had pulled you away from your friend group to “spend extra special time with the coolest and funniest girl in the world” and though you rolled your eyes at this, you allowed him to take the lead. (You weren’t complaining.)

Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the added heat from Fred’s jacket, or maybe it was something else, but you were in an unusually good mood today. Fred noticed how you smiled more than usual, eagerly tugging his hand as you pulled him from shop to shop.

“Y/N…you’ll drain my pockets,” he groaned as you stopped in front of Honeyduke’s, positively beaming. “And you’ll rot my teeth.”

“Please…?” you begged. “I’ll die if I don’t get a bag.”

“Y/N, love, come on…” But seeing the blissful and innocent twinkle in your eyes made it damn near impossible for him to say no. “Alright, fine. Pick out what you want, it’s on me.”

“You’re the best!” you squeezed his arm before heading into the shop together, hand in hand. “This is why I love you.”

“Ow? Placing my worth based on how many sweet treats I am willing to bestow upon you?” Fred feigned offense at your statement. “But it’s okay. I love you too.”

Half an hour later, you were walking out of the sweet shop with a bag filled to the brim, and Fred was magically several Galleons lighter.

The two of you were only a three-minute walk from the castle grounds when the wind started to pick up. What was once a light snowy drizzle had suddenly turn into a full-blown blizzard, obscuring your vision for meters.

“I can’t even—I can’t see a thing!” you yelled over the whipping winds, trying to shield your face. “Fred, where are you?”

“Right behind you,” he murmured, circling an arm around your middle. “Don’t worry.”

But then, you felt something cold and icy slip down your jumper.

“Fred Weasley!” you yelled as he ran away, laughing with another clump of snow in hand. “You get back here right this instant before I kick your arse—”

You lunged forward and went sprinting after him, well, as fast as you could through the thick blankets of snow. Fred’s laugh echoed through the frigid air as you rolled up a giant snowball and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the back and he nearly fell from the impact.

The blizzard added an extra layer of difficulty, but you were determined to win by sheer talent and not take the easy way out with magic.

Your arms began to ache from forming and throwing snowball after snowball, and you were sure that you’d be getting bruises all over your body (especially from one particularly hard hit between your shoulder blades when you’d been distracted). But seeing Fred so blissfully happy made it worth it—for a split second, you could pretend you were both thirteen again, no worries in the world except for beating each other in Quidditch.

“Okay, this is so over!” you shouted as you chased him over a small hill and finally jumped on his back to tackle him, causing him to fall face first into the snow.

“You absolute—” he began, voice muffled. “Ow.”

He fell silent for a few seconds and stopped moving, causing you to worry. “Freddie, you alright? Fred!”

After you panicked for a few more seconds, Fred finally flipped over, clutching his stomach as he laughed at you. “You actually thought I was hurt?”

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. Your face flushed as you realized you practically sitting on him and awkwardly shifted off, opting to kneel by his side as he sat up. “What if you actually were? I’d like to be the one that heals you, not hurts you, thank you very much!”

He smirked. “Aw, so you were worried about me. You care, don’t you?”

“Shut it, I do not,” you scoffed.

His eyes trailed down your ring, which still shone so brightly, as you absentmindedly fiddled with it.

“...I think you’re missing a little something, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s me that is,” he said so quietly that you almost missed what he’d said. “A diamond, perhaps….”

“A diamond?” your voice came out in the tiniest of whispers as well. “I think you’d look alright in a little silver…”

Fred then cupped your face in his hands, which forced you to look back up at him. He gently grazed his thumbs over your cheekbones and there was now what seemed like a look of longing in his bright hazel eyes. He’d always gazed at you admiringly but that was because he was your best friend, you told yourself (a lie that, time and time again, you’d try and fail over the years to convince yourself of). Best friends loved and cared for each other, that’s what they’re supposed to do.

But here he was, making you feel things that a friend normally didn’t. And you didn’t even try to push him away because you didn’t want him to leave; you never wanted him to.

He finally closed the ever-decreasing gap between you two and kissed you, capturing your lips in his. You buried a hand in his messy hair and pulled him closer; as close as you possibly could, desperate for the way he made you feel so alive because he was the one thing keeping you anchored to the ground.

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, he says over and over. You swore you’d explode, feeling him smile against your lips, tugging you even closer.

the in-between

The chasm of grief, so cold and uninviting, seemed to open up and swallow you whole.

You hated war. You hated watching the blood of innocent people being shed by the ruthless works of evil. You hated that you had survived while so many you had grown to know and love didn’t. They’re just kids. They’re too young. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. They’re just kids. They’re just kids.

You weren’t sure how you even survived.

As soon as you locked eyes with each other, you, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati collapsed into one giant hug on the floor, tightly clutching one another. You had all been incredibly lucky to have made it through together.

Fred’s eyes carefully scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. When he saw you there in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to your best friends, he wanted nothing more than to approach and comfort you. But he knew you all needed this time together—you had lost many loved ones, and they were some of the only family you had left. So he let you be, leaning against the wall and watching from afar.

Over the next hour or so, people slowly started trickling out of the Great Hall—parents coming to pick up their kids, families reuniting—until it was just you, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Fleur, and the Weasleys. There was an unspoken feeling of gratitude lingering in the air and you could sense the relief all-around.

Your heart clenched as you watched Harry embrace his godfather. Your mother had died when you were young and your father had suffered a similar fate as the Longbottoms, so watching families reunite always sent a spear through your chest.

“Hey,” you heard, feeling someone intertwine their fingers with yours. You didn’t need to look over to know it was Fred. “Sickle for your thoughts? Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Leaning into him, you closed your eyes, attempting to will the tears away. “I don’t…I don’t know. I just hate war. While I’m glad this is over, I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. People losing each other, being torn apart…Voldemort’s gone, I know, but it just feels like he took a part of me to the grave with him.”

“I hope it’s not the part that made you fall in love with me,” Fred joked, and the corners of your lips quirked up in a grin.

“Of course not…” you murmured, “you’d have to pry your heart out of my cold, dead hands to try and take it from me. I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

“For good?”

“For good,” you stated, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“And you know I love you more.”

epilogue (it’s a new spring with you)

With the Dark Lord gone, there were many loose ends to tie up and much-deserved resting to do. You had stayed behind to help start with cleaning up the castle grounds, before deciding to take the Hogwarts Express back home all togehter—for old time’s sake.

“What about the shop?” you asked George as you sat down between him and Fred. “Don’t you two need to be there?”

“We reckon it’ll be just fine—it’s not just us there anymore, remember?” he said, “but, Freddie thought you were more important. That’s why we’re here.”

Resting your head against his chest, you gazed up at Fred and smiled. “You left for me?”

“You know all that I do is for you,” he explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ew my teeth, they’re going to rot from the cheesy sweetness,” Ron groaned. “You’d think that the war would wipe all that out.”

“Oh shut it, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let them live.”

You drifted off and slept through the entire ride home, feeling a tad bit more refreshed when pulling in to King’s Cross station. It was a blur from there: taking the Floo network, carrying bags, washing up, and whatnot. You felt as if you were on autopilot with a barely functioning Muggle battery. All you wanted was to collapse on the floor and sleep forever, but you wanted to sit around the living room floor with your friends and catch up like you always did during the summer.

Lupin and Tonks had gone home to take care of Teddy while the rest of you were settling in. Chatter filled the Burrow as you spent time unpacking, and you found that you’d missed all the noise more than you initially thought. Dinner was an equally chaotic but also peaceful affair, filled with plenty of toasts, extra servings, and laughter, of course.

While Sirius was busy telling the table about the Mauraders’ antics, Fred squeezed your hand, jerking his head behind him to indicate that he wanted to go out back.

Now? What is it? you mouthed.

Fred nodded. Yes, now, so come on.

He took your hand and led you out the back door to the orchards, crescent moon shining overhead. A faint smile graced your face as you thought back to the days you spent together under the giant apple tree, reading stories from Hermione’s books to one another, skipping stones by the lake, and tending to the chickens.

A familiar tune started drifting through the air, and Fred extended a hand towards you.

“May I have this dance?”

You were immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu at his question, and allowed him to sweep you up into his arms. He placed his hands on your waist and you felt sparks shoot up your spine at his touch. Your arms wound their way around his neck as you swayed to the melody, losing yourselves in a dreamy lullaby. Though you had done this with him before on several occasions, it still felt like you were falling in love all over again.

You swallowed hard as you thought about how you had both been forced to grow up so fast. Moments like these—of pure bliss and childlike innocence—were far and few between, so they were to be greatly cherished. It was easy when he was twirling you around like this; effortlessly guiding your motions, to forget that anything and anyone else existed.

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of his warm hands through your sweater and the soothing sound of his soft hums, allowing them to carry you away.

At one point, he briefly stops before spinning you outwards—but this time, he doesn’t pull you back in to catch you. You’re about to be confused but then, you turn around to see him down on one knee, a glittering diamond ring in hand. You froze in place, completely shocked.

“A diamond, perhaps…” you echoed, recalling that one winter night when you had kissed him for the first time, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest.

“It’s always been you,” said Fred in a simple, soft tone of voice. “Always has been and always will be.”

Your eyes began to water. “You’re bloody kidding me…”

“Y/N, I know I joke around a lot—hell, I opened a whole shop with Georgie…but one thing I’ve never joked about is the way I feel about you.”

“Fred…”

“...Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth but no words seemed to come out. All you could manage was a small nod before tears fully blurred your vision and you stepped forward, hand shaking as he slid the diamond ring on.

When his lips brushed against yours, time seemed to splutter to a stop, and you felt your weary heart slowly but steadily stitch itself back together.

Except, he was the one holding the needle and telling you that there was no need to be anxious or scared because he’d be by your side for the rest of your life.

So don't let me wait Come to me tenderly in the June night I stand at your gate And I sing you a song in the moonlight A love song, my darling A moonlight serenade

tags: @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @antriimx @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x reader #Spotify

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness.

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally.

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by.

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth.

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you.

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave.

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you.

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again.

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive.

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to.

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure.

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you.

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you.

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands.

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts.

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you.

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you.

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop.

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper.

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you.

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart.

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again.

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all.

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start?

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say.

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him.

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.”

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same.

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back.

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x you #daredevil #charlie cox #from the vault #bonus fic #inspired by: now that we don't talk

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munsonownsmyass · 2 years ago

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Okay, but the idea of being so desperate, so needy and touch starved, that they just end up getting each other off like that? 🥴

This was perfect, Lucy, and I just love the way you write Frank ❤️

Fix You (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

Torture Thursday prompts: injuries; blood; angst (it’s actually not as bad as it sounds, we all know I can’t write heavy angst :’D)

You’re a former Black Widow. Well… Who are you kidding? Can a Black Widow possibly be “former”? Even after escaping the Red Room, youʼre still a soldier. And you’re used to being on your own. But what if Frank Castle cares for you more than you think he does?

Warnings: see the prompts + hand jobs and getting each other off

Words: 1688; AO3 link if you prefer reading there

“You okay?” Frank asks as you stumble out of the bathroom. You nod, gritting your teeth. It hurts, of course - you’ve just got a bullet out of your left forearm. There’s no bullet wounds on your right arm, but there’s a rather deep cut on it. Another cut underneath your collarbone you consider just a scratch. There’s a few bruises beneath your ribs, and apparently your ankle is twisted because you can hardly step.

Keep reading

#and im so freaking sorry i didnt gwt to this sooner. it got lost in a sea of drafts 😓#but im so glad i found it ❤️#frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

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sorry

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: is your savior really here to save you? can what is broken be mended?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death, blood & violence

word count: the full number of words on this one is 4,444 and I just thought that was really fucking cool

a/n: I wanna thank y'all for being patient with this slow burn. i'm excited to say things are really about to start heating up moving forward. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

“Sweetheart.”

All the raging chaos that had been wreaking havoc on every single one of your nerve endings had suddenly stopped, like the clouds had abruptly parted, sending the perilous hurricane right back into the sea right before it could reach you. As if Death had decided not to knock, but wave a white flag of surrender instead to the only mortal being it seemed to fear.

To him.

The door knob creaked slightly when it was twisted from the other side, the lock still in place providing a barrier between you and the carnage on the other side of it. A deep sigh was muffled through the wood, and your ringing ears barely caught the low volume of that familiar gruff voice.

“S’just me. Open the door for me, sweetheart.”

Frank.

Ephemeral relief shot through your bloodstream, and the shard of glass lodged into your palm was immediately released, shattering into a thousand shiny pieces in the pool of merlot that was still flowing from your hand. Salty tears blazed down your cheeks and slipped past your trembling lips when you whispered his name.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, m’here. Open up, honey. C’mon.”

The relief that the safety of Frank’s presence brought was fleeting and very quickly overshadowed by uncontrollable rage remembering how you had wound up in this situation in the first place.

If he hadn’t left, none of this would’ve happened.

Bloodied fingers slipped over the lock and you swiftly flung the door open like a mad woman to reveal his large figure. The second that Frank tried to take a step in your direction, you shoved at his chest with the surge of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“You son of a bitch!”

Frank stumbled backwards in surprise, eyes widening slightly in shock at your unexpected outburst. When his lips parted to speak, you shoved even harder at his chest, letting your fists rain down in a frenzy against his chest like furious daggers.

“You left me! How the fuck could you leave me like that?!”

He didn’t even put up a defense as you pounded away at his chest and screamed at him, allowing you to force him backwards with every devastating blow you threw in his direction. There was a light furrow of remorse creasing between his dark brows, and if you hadn’t been so blinded by your own anger, you might have caught the guilt-ridden expression that tugged his features down.

“You fucking selfish asshole! I hate you!”

The sharp sting of your wounded palm striking against Frank’s cheek in a harsh slap didn’t even register in your brain. You couldn’t feel any sting but the one of betrayal, and the searing wrath that threatened to consume you entirely. He didn’t even flinch when you slapped him across the face. He just took it.

He let you take it all out on him; the fear, the anger, the disappointment, the hurt, the treachery, all of it.

Frank accepted every single verbal and physical lash you struck him with until you ran out of steam. As soon as the ferocity started to disintegrate into the lingering and overwhelming emotions of terror and panic, the red mist of outrage started to clear from your vision, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Walker’s dead body surrounded by a puddle of deep crimson near the foot of your bed. A choked sob caught in your throat and you covered your mouth in horror as the reality and severity of the situation started to soak in. Frank instantly tried to pull your body into his arms, and when you weakly fought against him, he moved to block your view of Walker’s lifeless body to shield you from the bloodshed. His large hands grabbed onto your arms and held them down to prevent you from moving, dipping his head to catch your gaze.

“Hey…hey, listen to me. I need you to listen real carefully. We gotta go, alright? We gotta go now. It ain’t safe here, and we ain’t got much time. We gotta go right now, alright?”

Frank didn’t give you a moment to hesitate before ushering you out of your bedroom quickly, tucking your face into his chest to prevent you from seeing the evidence of his slaughter. Your mind was a whirlwind of disarray and confusion, emotions and thoughts coming down like a tumultuous hailstorm that you couldn’t take shelter from.

He adjusted the sling on his rifle to keep one hand on it and one protectively over your head while leading you out the front door. When the sharp chill of the night time breeze swept across the glaring cut in your palm, it seemed to snap you of your clamorous haze, and you gripped onto Frank’s bicep tightly with your good hand to pause his guidance.

“Wait! My phone-”

“Leave it.”

“No, I can’t. I got them confessing on tape. I need-”

When you went to turn around, Frank clamped down onto your shoulders a little forcefully to stop you. The firm force behind his hands and the surprise from his actions stopped you right in your tracks. There was a stern look of inflexibility in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“You ain’t goin’ back in there.”

“Frank-”

“I’ll get it. Where is it?”

The clipped tone of his voice was one you were all too familiar with. It was the one he used when he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, or when something wasn’t up for debate.

“Behind the coffee machine.”

Frank gave a curt nod and handed you the keys to his truck, gently pushing you towards that direction with his palm flat against your lower back.

“Get it started. There’s a first aid kit in the back. Wrap that hand to stop the bleedin’, I’ll take care of it later.”

As Frank disappeared back into your home, you sprinted towards his truck, keeping your head on a swivel for anyone suspicious or anything out of place. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, you could feel the pain starting to lick at the torn wounds in your hand and across your fingers. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, both from the throbbing affliction in your palm, and from how incredibly overwhelmed you were. A sharp hiss left your lips when you started to wrap your hand in gauze, the agony only growing louder in volume the tighter you wrapped it. You didn’t know much about first aid, but you knew enough to know to keep pressure tight on an active bleed.

The sound of the truck door abruptly opening had you jumping in your seat, and Frank shot you a look of concern at your reaction. Quickly looking away to focus on your hand, your vision started to become blurry again with warm tears, and you bit down on your bottom lip harshly to will them away. Frank set your phone down in the middle console, eyeing you warily.

“Lemme see.”

“It’s fine.”

Frank pursed his lips at your snappy response, reaching his hand over towards the first aid kit in your lap.

“Here-”

“I got it.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I said I got it.”

Frank let out a deep exhale of frustration when you raised your voice at him in another terse quip, dragging his palm down his face in agitation before putting his truck in drive and peeling off down the street. The pain in your hand was almost unbearable by the time you finished wrapping it up, and there was already a maroon bloodstain forming in the center of the crisp white material. A few stray tears slipped past your waterline when you closed your eyes, and you swiftly wiped them away, turning your head to look out the window so that you didn’t have to look at Frank.

Letting out a shaky breath, you attempted to try and control the cyclone of emotions devastating you from the inside out. There were two dead men in your home right now, and it suddenly dawned on you that Frank had killed them. A shuddering breath left your lips when you finally had a moment to process that epiphany, and you swallowed the sob that threatened to escape your throat.

“We have to call the police.”

“No.”

Snapping your head in Frank’s direction, your eyes widened in bewilderment as you stared over at him in complete disbelief and confusion.

“Yes. Frank you just…killed two police officers. They’re dead, in my home, and you weren’t exactly quiet about it. We can’t just-”

“They were gonna hurt you.”

Frank’s jaw was set harshly, making the outline of it appear even sharper. He kept his hardened gaze ahead on the dark road. The cold and detached tone of his voice stunned you silent for a moment. There wasn’t a visible shred of guilt on his face or in his voice about what he had done, and you didn’t know whether to be horrified by that or not.

When Frank’s eyes flickered over at you, the palpable anger on his face softened into something that resembled regret, as if he could see on your face how you felt about him in that moment. He urgently looked away, unwilling to see that reflection of himself in your eyes. Loosening his grip on the steering wheel, he let out a deep exhale through his nose.

“They were real cops, ran their badge numbers. We can’t call it in cause we don’t know if they got anyone else in their precinct workin’ with ‘em. I got a friend in Homeland, I’ll call her. She can handle cleanin’ up the mess and start lookin’ into ‘em, maybe find a lead.”

A layer of perplexity nestled on top of your trepidation at Frank’s words. All of a sudden, a thought emerged from the back of your mind about the whole situation, and you stared at him curiously.

“How did you get their badge numbers that quickly? And how did you know they were even there?”

Frank glanced over at you, his own face twisted in puzzlement as if you had just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Put cameras ‘round your place when I got assigned to ya. I get alerts whenever there’s motion ‘round ‘em. Saw ‘em comin’ up on the camera and ran their badges, but then I heard ‘em say somethin’ ‘bout ‘needin’ to do it quietly’ and figured that meant trouble.”

After a minute of silence, he let out another deep exhale and ran his hand through his unruly dark hair in clear frustration, shaking his head slowly while he looked back at the road.

“You never shoulda opened that door.”

You clenched your hands into fists at his accusatory tone, glaring at the side of his face while your panic swiftly subsided into defensiveness.

“They were cops, Frank.”

“Didn’t mean ya had to open the door. Cops ain’t always the good guys, you know that. You shoulda known better than to open the door for anyone-”

“You shouldn’t have fucking left me.”

Frank immediately went silent and tensed up. You watched as a muscle feathered along his strong jaw. Scoffing dryly at his reaction, you slowly shook your head in annoyance while glancing out the window, brows knitting together in agitation while you tried to figure out where you were.

“Where are we going?”

“My place. We needa lay low for a bit.”

The anger poisoning your bloodstream left no room for the excitement you would’ve felt under normal circumstances about getting to see Frank’s home. It was something you had admittedly fantasized about after several glasses of wine, imagining scenarios in which Frank would take you back to his place, and you would get to experience the real him in more ways than one. But at the moment, you weren’t sure you even wanted to be around him at all.

»»———　　———««

You don’t know what you were expecting Frank’s place to look like, but it was certainly far more empty than you anticipated. The walls were completely bare, void of anything personal, and that seemed to be the running theme. The furniture was scarce, a modest couch and simple coffee table accompanied by a minuscule wooden stand with a small tv. Apart from Frank’s black denim jacket draped over the back of the couch, his rifle on the island, and a backpack in the corner of the room, it didn’t even look like anyone lived here.

Frank had silently gestured for you to take a seat on one of the plain metal stools at the kitchen island. You hissed when he disinfected the cut above your brow, carefully placing a thin white bandage over the tiny cut, and you prepared yourself for what was next.

The alcohol swab burned, even with Frank lightly dragging it over the cut in your hand and across your fingers as quickly as humanly possible, and you swore it would’ve hurt less holding it over an open flame. He might as well have been performing open heart surgery on your palm with the way he was meticulously pulling tiny glass fragments from the cut with tweezers.

You watched intently while Frank carefully and expertly stitched up your palm. He didn’t have anything to give you for the pain other than a bold shot of whiskey, and you winced with a noise of discomfort every time the needle pierced your irritated torn flesh, weaving the jagged edges back together with the thick black thread. Frank mumbled a quiet apology whenever he heard your noises of affliction, doing his best to keep his touch light and delicate.

The silence surrounding the two of you was deafening, but you didn’t want to be the first to break it. Frank had yet to explain himself from this morning, and you were still incredibly pissed off at him for leaving. On top of that, you were also uncertain of your feelings about his nonchalance towards killing Walker and Cavella. The logical part of your brain rationalized the fact that Cavella had threatened to kill you, and he might have if Frank hadn’t shown up when he did. But Frank seemed completely indifferent about executing them.

He hadn’t even glanced at Walker’s body when he led you out of your room, like it wasn’t even there. The only shock that had been evident on his features was from your outrage towards him. There wasn’t an ounce of penitence detected in his tone when he voiced his justification. They were gonna hurt you, so he hurt them first. It seemed that simple to him, and in his black and white reasoning, there wasn’t a stitch of gray regarding repentance.

As Frank finished up the final stitch and wrapped your wound up properly, one of his large hands reached for your wrist, his thick fingers coiling around it completely. He lightly pulled your hand towards him, your fingertips barely grazing against his gray henley while he inspected his own handiwork. Frank paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought while he stared down at the gauze placed over your palm silently.

“I’m sorry.”

When your eyes flickered up towards his face, Frank was already staring at you, and his eyes were back to that warm chocolate brown that you adored. They seemed to be glowing with remorse under the dim amber light above the island. His plump lips were downturned at the corners in a frown, and you could see the guilt tinting his entire face. The heartwrenching look in his eyes nearly knocked the wind out of you. It sent a pang echoing throughout your chest, and all you wanted to do was surge forward and hug him, to do anything to make that look go away.

But you needed answers.

“Why…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence. Your voice broke off towards the end, and you had to look away to keep the onset of tears welling in your eyes from slipping. Frank carefully tightened his hold on your wrist, tilting his head to the side slightly as he followed your movements to try and catch your eyes.

“I shoulda said somethin’ before I left. Shoulda told ya I was gonna try and work somethin’ out. I’m sorry I didn’t. I…I was angry ‘bout the file-”

“Frank, I didn't read it. Okay whatever was in there that you didn’t want me to know about, I still don’t. I don’t know where it came from, and I’m sorry I never told you about it, but I would never do that to you. And the fact that you think that lowly of me-”

Frank let go of your wrist and leaned in closer to wrap his strong arms around your back, pulling you into his chest once your resolve broke. He cradled the back of your head with one of his large hands and held it against his chest protectively, pressing his lips in a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he shushed you quietly. Once the floodgates opened, you couldn’t stop them, and every emotion that you had experienced in the past twelve hours was pouring violently out of you.

“Hey, hey…s’alright. S’alright, I’m sorry. I shoulda listened to ya. I shoulda believed ya. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just…I fucked up, alright? I fucked up, and you got hurt cause of it. This…s’all on me. M’gonna fix it, yeah?”

Frank gently ran his fingers through your hair while he held you in a tight embrace, letting you wring out all your tears into his shirt, providing the safe space you needed to navigate and expunge all your emotions. He didn’t say anything while you cried, he just held you and did his best to comfort you with his apologetic touch. You don’t know how long you sat there with him like that. It felt like every drop of moisture in your body had been depleted from your eyes, but for the first time all day, your heart didn’t feel so heavy in your chest.

Once you felt a sense of calmness after your cathartic release, you slowly retracted from his embrace so that you could get a good look at him. Frank looked absolutely desolate, and it broke your heart. There was a faint red mark burning on his right cheek, and the corners of your mouth melted downwards in shame when you reached your hand up to lightly trace beneath it with your fingertips.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Reckon I deserved that-”

“No, you didn’t. You saved my life-”

“After I put you in danger cause I was bein’ an asshole.”

You could see the evident self-condemnation in his eyes, and you felt guilty for contributing to those feelings of shame that he felt about himself. Frank didn’t flinch away from your touch, and you swore you felt him subtly lean into it. His sorrow filled eyes hadn’t torn away from yours once, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried.

“I don’t hate you.”

You could see his body visibly relax at your words. All the tension in his broad shoulders and lingering in the crevices of his features seemed to evaporate, and his evident relief was illuminated in his eyes. There was the most miniscule of a smile skirting over the edge of his mouth, and you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him so well.

“Wouldn’t blame ya if you did.”

“I don’t.”

Frank stared at you silently while he processed the unwavering tone of your candor. You could see the conflict clearly on his face, and you wanted to prevent him from losing whatever war he was waging against himself. Letting out a soft sigh, you reluctantly dropped your hand from his cheek to run it through your hair, glancing around the nearly empty apartment before looking at him again.

“What now?”

Frank sat up a little straighter when he finally let go of you and reached across the kitchen island to grab his phone.

“Nothin’ ‘til I get ahold of my contact at Homeland. ‘Til we talk to her, you stay here. And you can’t talk to no one, alright? Not Ellison, not your friends or family, no one. Can’t trust nobody right now, you got that?”

A slight furrow formed between your brows as you stared at Frank in confusion.

“Frank, someone had to have heard those gunshots. I wouldn’t be surprised if cops were all over my place right now, and two dead cops are gonna raise a lot of attention. It’ll probably be on the news. And if Ellison sees it and can’t get in touch with me, he’ll probably report me missing.”

“Better people think you’re missin’ ‘til we figure this out. No one can hurt ya if they can’t find ya.”

“But if anyone checks those cameras, won’t they know I’m with you?”

“No ones got access to those cameras but me and Russo, and I cut ‘em off soon as I pulled up.”

The mention of Billy’s name abruptly caused more inquisitions to bubble around in your head.

“Why haven’t you called Billy for help?”

A look flashed across Frank’s face that you didn’t recognize, and it was gone before you could decipher what it was or what it meant. He gave a light shrug of his shoulders as he pursed his lips.

“Got his hands full right now.”

“What…what about Steven? Aren’t you supposed to be-’

“Fuck Steven. He’s someone else’s goddamn problem right now.”

You bit your lip to contain that smile that threatened to spread seeing the face Frank pulled at your question. He spit those words out as if they tasted bitter, his large nose scrunched up in a sour expression, and for some reason that spread heat in your lower belly.

“So, you’re not his bodyguard?”

Frank arched one of his dark brows and gave you a pointed look hearing the amusement lacing your teasing tone.

“You really think I woulda agreed to that?”

“I don’t think he would have. He’s scared of you.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to sparkle with delight at that, and the faintest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Then maybe he ain’t so stupid after all.”

A knowing smile fought its way across your lips, and a sense of relief spread through you when he mirrored it. Frank stared at you for a moment, as if there was more he wanted to say, but he quickly glanced away and grabbed his phone while standing up.

“You should get some sleep. Take the bed.”

“Frank, I’m not-”

“You ever gonna stop arguin’ with me and just do what I ask?”

Frank tilted his head to the side as he looked down at you in pure entertainment, eyebrows lifted slightly in question with a light smirk on his lips. Glancing away with a light smile, you crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head slowly before looking back up at him with a tiny grin.

“No, probably not. But your couch seems a bit small for you.”

Frank chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering over to his couch before landing back on you.

“Appreciate the concern, but I’ve slept in far worse conditions. I’ll be fine. Go on, get some sleep.”

»»———　　———««

When you awoke the next morning, you felt more refreshed than you had in months. It was hard to fall asleep initially, brain still buzzing with the cataclysmic events of the day, and the knowledge that Frank was sleeping just on the other side of the thin wall. Being on good terms again filled you with a rush at the thought of sleeping in his bed, and you may have clutched one of his pillows to your chest pretending it was him. Frank’s bed was nothing special in theory, but there was something about being nestled in pillows and sheets that smelled just like him that lulled you into a peaceful and serene sleep.

Frank was already awake when you walked out into the living room, and you could tell by the look on his face that something had happened while he had been waiting for you to wake up. He immediately stood up from the couch when you entered the living room, giving you a once over as he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“Sleep alright?”

“Uh…yeah. What’s going on?”

Frank eyed you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words carefully. He let out a soft sigh, turning his phone over in his hands and glancing down at it before looking back at you.

“Got a lead. There’s a location upstate the rest of ‘em might be hidin’ out at.”

That one sentence instantly sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you were suddenly wide awake.

“Where? When do we leave?”

Frank’s brows pulled together as he looked at you in puzzlement, shaking his head lightly.

“No, not we. You’re stayin’ here.”

Your lips parted as you stared over at him incredulously.

“What? No. I’m coming with you-”

“It could be dangerous-”

“More dangerous than being left alone? Do I need to remind you what happened last time you left me by myself?”

Lifting your wounded hand up as evidence, Frank clenched his jaw as his eyes flickered between your hand and your face.

“No one knows you’re here. You’re safer here-”

“I’m safer with you.”

Frank pursed his lips into a dissatisfied pout as your words hung in the air. You could see the hesitation lingering in his eyes, and you quickly pounced on it, walking over to stand directly in front of him. You stared up into his eyes with a pleading expression, shaking your head slowly as you spoke in a calmer voice.

“You can’t leave me again. I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll do whatever you say, I swear. No arguing. No pushback. Just…don’t leave me alone. Please.”

He seemed to visibly soften hearing the vulnerability laced in your voice, and when he let out a deep sigh of exasperation, you knew you had won. He gave you another pointed look, his voice dipping into a more serious tone.

“You do what I ask, when I ask. This shit goes sideways, I needa know you’re gonna listen. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

You could see that Frank wasn’t pleased about the thought of you joining him, but you knew you were safer with him in a potentially life threatening situation than you were on your own. If anyone could take these fuckers down, it was Frank, and you wanted to be there when he did.

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months ago

Text

Favorite Place

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Your family sucks, and Frank is there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: non-specific descriptions of difficult family, swearing, Frank being a sweetheart

a/n: I’m basing this off of my daydream from Saturday, my exhausting week, and the amazing song “Favorite Place” by Humbear. Some sweet Frankie feels for you all.

w/c: 2.5k

“From the day I met you, you’ve been mine. Loving you is my favorite place to be.”

The denim of his jeans chafed against the pad of his finger as it tapped over the fabric aimlessly. He was restless. Waiting impatiently as the current of people ebbed and flowed through the cavernous hallways. An endless stream of weary travelers, not a glimpse of you among them.

You’d told him to stay home. That your flight was late and it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. That you could catch a cab back to your place. That you were fine on your own. And while Frank would rather swallow rusty nails than leave you to fend for yourself in the JFK airport on a good day, he was damned sure you’d need him when that plane landed after this week.

He’d asked to come with you. Gotten closer to begging than he’d come in years. But you’d smiled a bit sadly, shaking your head while you told him it was too much trouble. He had things he needed to do this week in New York. You would never demand that he drop all of that and accompany you to a party full of people that neither of you knew, who expected you to wait on them hand and foot as if you were hosting the thing, who would make comments intended to sting while they smiled innocently and pretended not to know better.

It was torture. Watching you jump through the same hoops, trying your best to please your family when you both knew it was impossible. You’d made great strides in self-advocacy since you’d met Frank, distancing yourself from them and standing your ground, but your sister’s engagement party was different. He could see it in your eyes: you needed to be there for her. And, because of his shit luck, he couldn’t be at your side as you waded through the pain.

He loved your kind heart. But that meant it hurt all the more to watch it get broken by the assholes who raised you.

Which is how he found himself next to the towering wall of windows on the arrival side of JFK at all hours on a random Tuesday. Silently hoping that it had gone miraculously well. That you hadn’t been desperately wishing he’d been your back up because going to the damn thing stag made it harder to cope with their games. That you’d felt loved and appreciated, like you deserved.

The pit of doubt in his gut fluttered at the idea. Mocking him as his mind wandered down the least-likely path.

Craning his neck around the corner, Frank’s eyes flicked between the nearest TV screen and the flow of people tumbling out of your designated gate. Your flight was on time, he’d been tracking it all day. The time on the screen read 3:26 a.m. Twenty minutes post landing.

“C’mon doll.” He muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he grew increasingly restless. “Where are you?”

He held his breath, finger still hammering across the rough fabric covering his thigh, until finally—FINALLY—he spotted the top of your head.

Bobbing slowly out of the doorway and through the maze of connected stanchions towards the exit, your crown inched closer and closer to him, still shrouded in a sea of other passengers. As the herd began to disperse, they revealed you.

Your posture was hunched, and even from his distance he could tell you were a bit haggard. You rubbed a fist against your left eye, wearily stumbling forward, completely oblivious of your audience. Frank straightened up, hands instinctively sliding into his pockets to make himself look approachable, not wanting to startle you as he gingerly stepped into your path.

Your chin tipped up, face still slack with fatigue, but after a moment your eyes flashed with recognition. Hobbling forward a bit faster under the weight of your backpack, you met Frank halfway—his footsteps lengthening as the urge to sweep you into a hug overpowered him. When he was within reach, your arms unlatched from your sides, stretching towards his hips feebly as your face crumpled.

In one swift motion, he had you safely encircled by his arms, barely needing any strength to tug you both out of the flow of traffic so you could have a moment to process. Tucking you against his body, his hands slid under the straps of your bag, gently removing it from around your shoulders and setting it on the ground to lean against his calf. Once the literal burden had been lifted, he splayed a palm over your upper back, rubbing back and forth as your breaths became shallow.

“You’re here.” You murmured, your voice cracking with immense relief and gratitude.

“Course I am, sweetheart.” Frank hummed, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Cabs ain't cheap these days. Makes more sense this way.”

You undoubtedly saw through his attempt to pretend he hadn’t worried about you every minute you were gone, but you didn’t call him out. Instead, you shuddered beneath his touch, a watery mumble tickling his chest. “Thank you.”

“Anythin’ for you, honey.” He promised, cradling your head as you pulled away from him slightly. Your hips were still parallel, your fragile form secured in his hold, but you tilted your face to meet his. His heart clenched painfully as he took in the shadows beneath your glassy eyes. “How was the trip?”

If he wasn’t already damn sure you were overwhelmed, the clouding of tears in your eyes would’ve signaled your condition. You weren’t one to cry in front of strangers—it had taken him months to reassure you that it was alright to cry in front of him in the safety of your own apartment. If you were so easily brought to tears in public, you’d had a beyond terrible week.

“Oh, honey,” Frank whispered, his own eyes prickling in sympathy as you dove back into his chest. “You’re alright darlin'. I gotcha. You’re back home now.”

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, your words muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t mean to..I’m sorry.”

Frank's chest squeezed uncomfortably as your voice shrunk with the apology. He felt a flash of anger deep in his stomach as he registered the fear in your words. What had those bastards done to you? “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s why I came.”

“I’m so tired, Frank.” You whimpered, heaving in an indelicate breath in an attempt to regain your quickly fleeting composure.

Shushing you softly, Frank clasped you as close to his chest as he could before his grip went lax. With the tip of his thumb, he brushed away the lines of tears over your pretty face, his brow kneading together with concentration. “I betcha are, doll. It’s late. Let’s get you home and in bed, yah?”

More tears began to slip over your cheeks as you nodded miserably. Bending your knees, your body tilted as a trembling hand shot out for the handle of your carry on. Huffing a laugh, Frank snatched the bag up, throwing it over his own shoulder with a shake of his head. “I got it, honey. You just focus on you right now.”

Your bottom lip jutted out as your eyes overflowed with tears of appreciation. “I love you.”

His heart swelled with affection. Planting a firm kiss to your forehead, he let your faces rest together for a beat. “I love you too. Whatcha say, you ready to get outta this hellhole?”

His joke had the intended effect. You chuckled weakly, nodding and leaning into his side so he could lead you out of the building. Though you were more than capable of handling yourself, Frank couldn’t help but become more confident in his decision to ignore your excuses and meet you at the gate as the two of you roamed the airport. You were bleary eyed, clutching his hand meekly and stifling yawns as he found the path to freedom—clearly more than willing to let someone else take the reins for a bit. Frank trusted you to navigate, that was never the issue. He was just happy he could take something else off your poor shoulders on the trek home.

It took far too long to escape the airport, hail a taxi, schlep through the endless traffic of the city streets, and usher you up the steps of your building and into your apartment. But you both made it. Eventually.

Your place was tidy and dark—the outcome of a deliberate effort on your part to take care of all the housework prior to your departure. At least your former self had thought ahead, making sure your exhausted future form wouldn’t also have a pile of dishes to attend to. Once you’d stepped across the threshold into your cozy home, your posture collapsed. You grew impossibly small, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you scrubbed a hand over your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, hm?” Frank’s hand grazed your lower back as he encouraged you forward towards your cramped bathroom. A wave of fondness blossomed in his gut as you sleepily nodded, shuffling forward towards the edge of the sink. You flicked the lights on, flinching briefly at the burst of white light from above the mirror. As you cranked the faucet on, Frank tangled his fingers with yours, twisting them carefully away from the basin.

Tsking softly, Frank lowered the lid of the toilet with his free hand, nodding to the porcelain seat when you looked at him quizzically. “I got it. Sit your sweet ass down for a minute.”

You snorted a laugh, but didn't protest. Frank gave you a once over as you began to lounge, satisfied as your posture unraveled with a tinge of relief. He squeezed your fingers, bending to press a kiss to your knuckles before dropping your hand to retrieve a washcloth from the linen closet.

The stream of water began to steam against the cool ceramic of the sink. Dipping the cotton towel beneath the water, Frank wrung out the escess moisture before bringing it to your face. With two calloused fingers, he tilted your head up, a tiny smile curving his lips when your eyes closed instinctively.

You were so vulnerable like this. Tired and emotional, baring your pristine neck to him in a massive display of trust. He regularly questioned your relationship for this very reason. After everything he'd done, dousing his hands in the blood of dozens of men, you still trusted him innately. You felt safe with him. You loved him. Whether or not he thought he deserved it.

You were his constant. And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to make you feel loved right back.

Swiping the warm cloth over your face as tenderly as he could, Frank carefully lifted your chin, positioning it at different angles so he could wipe your face clean of the grime that always seemed to accompany travel. Cupping your cheek, he stroked a thumb beneath your eye as a droplet fell, feeling parallel agony as your brow pinched in an effort to keep your feelings at bay.

“Let it out, sweet girl. It's just me.” He whispered, free hand refreshing the washcloth with a new rush of water.

A sob burst out of you, rocking you forward in his hold. The pained sound echoed off the tile in the room, closing in on the two of you as you bit your lip to stop another gasping cry. Scrunching your eyes ferociously, you shook your head, your chest beginning to tremble with effort as you held everything in.

Kneeling in front of you, Frank tossed the washcloth over his shoulder, not giving a single shit that the dampness began to transfer to his clothes. Cupping your face gently, he brushed away stray tears and murmured your name in an attempt to compel your eyes back open. “Stop holding it in, sweetheart. That ain't helpin' anyone.”

“It-It's stupid.” You choked out, lashes fluttering as your eyes opened again, gaze downcast with shame.

“Don't say that, darlin'.” Frank chastised, his words lacking any heat. “It ain't--”

“It is!” You objected, your voice tearing over the statement. “I do this every fucking time, Frank. I think it'll be better, I expect them to be mature or whatever and when they aren't I let it get to me. And then you're stuck with this..this mess,” You gestured to your puffy, shining face, looking at him miserably. “And you have to take care of me because I'm too fucking weak to stand up for myself or just leave.”

“Stop that.” Keeping his voice low, he allowed it to sound a bit more firm, not appreciating the way your brain was misdirecting all the blame to your own beautiful conscience. “You're not weak.”

You scoffed in disbelief, turning your head to stare at the wall. He called your name softly. “You're not weak, darlin'. Say it back to me.”

Your lips pressed together in a tight line, your aggravatingly endearing stubborn side making an appearance. Drawing a curved line over one cheek bone, Frank raised an eyebrow at you expectantly and you deflated. “I'm not weak.” You mumbled, tone conveying your skepticism.

“You're kind, and thoughtful, and determined.” Frank explained, eyes boring into yours, searching for the doubt you definitely held. “And, while they don't deserve you, I understand why you care so much, honey. They're your family. It don't matter that their assholes, you're gonna love 'em anyway.”

Nodding in agreement, your bottom lip quivered. “That's stupid.”

Frank chuckled, tugging your face into his neck so he could scratch the back of your head. “Maybe. But it's how it is, ain't it?“

He took your silence as confirmation.

”I ain't sayin' it's fair, darlin'. The guy upstairs is a special kind of evil for putting my girl through all this when she cares so much about everyone else.“ You burrowed further into Frank's neck with a small whine, not sure how to handle the praise. ”Your heart's just too big, honey. It's easier for them to get under your skin.“

”Too easy.“ You groused, lips tickling the junction between his throat and shoulder.

“That's ok, sweetheart. Because I'll always be here. Anytime you need me to hold ya, or to put someone in their place. Just say the word.” He vowed.

“Thank you,” You exhaled, mewling in appreciation as he draped the washcloth over your nape.

Twisting to kiss your forehead, he pulled you fully into his lap on the bathroom floor. “Always, babygirl. Now let me finish cleaning you up and we can lie in bed while you tell me all about it.”

He couldn't fix your family, no matter how much he wished he could. But he fully intended to remind you that he always had your back when things got tough.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase

#frank castle #the punisher #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #nmcu #jon bernthal #fc #my writing

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saintshigaraki · 1 year ago

Text

my reading list currently looks like....

frankenstein* (ill probably finish this one up in a day or two)

the salt grows heavy by cassandra khaw

dracula

wuthering heights

the death of jane lawrence by caitlin starling

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson

howls moving castle by dianna wynne jones

the secret history by donna tartt

jane eyre

drive your plow over the bones of the dead by olga tokarczuk

dune by frank herbert

we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson

birnam wood by eleanor catton

are prisons obsolete? by angela davis

a game of thrones* by grrm

daughter of smoke* and bone by laini taylor

a clash of kings* by grrm

days of blood and starlight by laini taylor

into the drowning deep by mira grant

dune messiah by frank herbert

their eyes were watching god by zora neale hurston

bunny by mona awad

a storm of swords* by grrm

the lottery and other stories by shirley jackson

a psalm for the wild-built by becky chamber

the poppy war by r.f. kuang

the ash family by molly dektar

project hail mary by andy weir

beartown by fredrik backman

a prayer for the crown shy by becky chamber

once there were wolves by charlotte mcconaghy

mother thing by ainslie hogarth

all’ s well by mona awad

the long way to a small and angry planet by becky chambers

the goblin emperor by katherine addison

the memory police by yoko ogawa

our wives under the sea by julia armfield

nightbitch by rachel yoder

the painter’s daughters by emily howes

the will of the many by james islington

a fig for all the devils by c.s. fritz

the devil and mrs davenport by paulette Kennedy

prophet song by paul lynch

our share of night by mariana enriquez

the unmaking of june farrow by adrienne young

the shadow of the gods by john gwynne

the other valley by scott alexander howard

whale fall by elizabeth o’connor

the sword of kaigen by m.l. wang

the cruel prince by holly black

the wicked king by holly black

the dragon republic by r.f. kuang

the burning god by r.f. kuang

starve acre by andrew michael hurley

the assassin's apprentice by robin hobb

the hunger of the gods by john gwynne

a secret history of witches by louisa morgan

the fury of the gods by john gwynne

geek love by katherine dunn

funny story by emily henry

james by percival everett

the seven moons of maali almeida by shehan karunatilaka

book lovers by emily henry

foster by claire keegan

demon copperhead by barbara kingsolver

martyr! by kaveh akbar

small things like these by claire keegan

orbital by samantha harvey

the vegetarian by han kang

the god of endings by jacqueline holland

a feast for crows* by grrm

*rereads

#PLEASE SPARE CONTEMPORARY BOOK RECS PLEASE !!!! PLEASE !!#vicspeaks

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goatcheesecak3 · 1 year ago

Note

Could you possibly write something small about a beach date with Rodrick 😍

Rodrick x reader

Sorry this took so long! Me mam tried to sell me to one direction so I was slightly preoccupied 🙄

Anyways enough jibber jabber, here's a lil fluff about a beach date with Rodrick :^)

The heffleys had invited you on a trip to the beach, since you and Rodrick had been together for some time now, it was pretty much routine for you to come along to family events at this point.

You and Rodrick drove in his van separately from everyone else, truth be told, you were relieved. You loved the heffleys but you weren't so keen on the music they played in the car.

"You excited babe?" Rodrick turned to look at you

"Can't wait! I was looking up the beach on Google, there's quite a few rock pools so we might see some cool sealife!"

Rodrick's face lit up at this

"Like a crab?!" He asked

"Yes honey, like a crab" you smiled at your easily amused boyfriend.

"Awesome. I fucking love crabs" he said.

Upon arrival Susan and Frank were happy to see the pair of you, they both approached to greet you, when seemingly out of nowhere Greg appeared, flinging his arms around you.

"Hey lil dude! Nice to see you" You beamed down at him

"Great to see you too! I've got all the stuff set up!" He replied excitedly

You were confused for a second, before looking just past him and seeing an abundance of different sized buckets and spades. You finally remembered, last time you'd seen the Heffleys you'd promised Greg you'd be on his team against Rodrick for a sandcastle building competition.

"Rodrick I love you, but you are so going down" you said, playfully poking him in the ribs before running off to the equipment with Greg.

"Hey no fair! You guys don't get a head start!" He called after the two of you.

The sandcastle competition was definitely pretty tense, you and Greg had opted for a "bigger = better" strategy, and had come up with a 3 storey castle.

Rodrick's, while much smaller, was more detail oriented. He'd decorated it with little stones, and even carved out little battlements.

When the time was up, the three of you went to get Susan and Frank to judge, but when you'd returned only one castle was left. It would appear that Manny had decided that Rodrick's Castle was the perfect race course for one of his toy trucks, and in the few seconds you were all gone, he'd reduced it to rubble.

"Ha! We won!" Greg jeered.

You looked at Rodrick, who seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Aw baby," you stroked his arm, "I think your castle was Manny's favourite at least"

He smiled slightly at this, but still seemed slightly miffed that all his hard work was ruined.

Never mind, you knew exactly how to cheer him up

"How about we go check out those rock pools?" You asked.

Rodrick grinned excitedly, immediately forgetting about the sand castle, "oh yeah! I hope we see something cool!" He beamed, grabbing your hand and eagerly pulling you in the direction of the rocks.

You carefully climbed onto the glistening wet rocks, made just that bit more treacherous by the odd bit of seaweed and sharp barnacles. You held onto Rodrick tightly, fearing that his clumsy self would slip and accidentally keelhaul himself.

(A/n if you don't know what keelhaulling is, look it up at your own risk. It's pretty gnarly).

"What are those things?" Rodrick asked curiously, pointing towards tufts of purple sticking out from the sides of the rock pools.

"Sea anemones! Be really gentle and touch them, see what happens" you encouraged him.

Rodrick looked slightly nervous, but he trusted you. He dipped his finger into the shallow water and felt the tiny tentacles grip his finger. He giggled high pitch and very amused, before pulling his hand away and shaking it dry.

"It was like, sticky?" He said

You laughed at his reaction, he was adorable when he was confused.

"That was it trying to eat you! It thought your finger was a little fish!"

"Really?!"

"Mhm"

"That's so funny," he bent down to look at the anemone, "you're no match for me little bro" he said cockily.

You were unsure as to whether he was joking, or if he was genuinely proud of not being eaten by a gelatinous blob the size of a penny. Probably the latter, knowing Rodrick, but either way you find it endearing.

You spent quite a while trapesing around the rock pools, Rodrick seemingly fascinated by everything- particularly the little clusters of sea snails. He likened their pointy shells to his studded bracelet, affectionately giving them the title of "most metal animal he'd seen all day". His day was made, however, when you called him over to a tiny pool right at the edge of the rocks.

"Baby, come quick!"

He rushed over, abandoning the clump of seaweed he'd been popping like bubblewrap, and turned his attention towards what you'd been pointing at.

There, nestled inbetween a few tufts of seaweed, sat the tiniest little crab, it's body not much bigger than the tip of a pinky finger. As Rodrick kneeled down to get a closer look, his face was graced with a wide, goofy smile. He looked between you and the crab for a few seconds, before blurting out "it's a little baby!", his voice high and girlish.

You let out a chuckle at this, watching your boyfriend's eyes grow in amazement and glee at the sight of such a small crab. His attention was fixed to it for as long as it sat there, until the crab must have decided that staring back at the squealing Rodrick had become tedious, and scuttled away under some pebbles.

Rodrick finally stood once again, and reached out to hold your hands.

"That was so cool," he said, his eyes twinkling and his smile somehow even more loveable than ever.

"You're so cute," you replied, unable to contain your adoration any longer. You placed your arms over his shoulders, while instinctively, Rodrick held your waist.

You leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on his lips. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was a hardcore punk guy with a big beat up van, and an affinity for moshing. At times like this, all you saw was an innocent, precious sweetheart. You just wanted to hold his face and pepper it with gentle kisses, while showering him with compliments like "my handsome boy," and "you're the cutest thing in the whole world". You probably would later, but not right now. He'd never live it down if his family saw him being such a big softie.

You allowed yourself to get lost in his big brown eyes for a moment longer, before you heard Frank calling the two of you to come and get some food.

I love you, you thought to yourself as Rodrick carefully guided you down the rocks. As if he could read your mind, he threw an arm round your shoulder and whispered in your ear

"I love you, y/n"

A/n requests are open! I write hcs and short fics for a couple characters, check my pinned post for details! :^)

(Pls request something I need ideas lol)

#rodrick #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick hefflei #rodrick headcanon #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x reader #devon bostick #fanfic #rodrick fanfiction #rodrick fluff #fluff #not my rodrick

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arliedraws · 2 months ago

Text

Slytherin!Sirius Jilypad Smut.

Following several Jilypad asks, I’ve decided to share what I’ve got in the Jilypad realm. Here’s a fic I wrote during this year’s Jilypad week but I don’t know if I like it and I don’t want this to “count” towards the Slytherin!Sirius Black AU. It’s an AU of the AU. It’s smut. It’s probably the most PWP I’ve written yet. There is no character development, just three people having sex during a Ministry Christmas party. I don’t like the pacing, and I didn’t feel like going hard on the editing. If that’s sold it for you, please go on and read it.

It is unedited smut. It is absolutely NSFW.

Ministry parties were ugly.

They were garish, hedonistic, suffocating affairs in which Ministry officials and employees rubbed shoulders, drank too much, and smiled too broadly as offensive jokes were passed around from table to table. Lily disliked them more than James did, but he was expected to present as a gentleman and parade himself and his wife around the ballroom to demonstrate how normal this was all supposed to be.

But it wasn’t normal.

A new wave of Death Eater activity had swept the country again, and Voldemort’s last few years of licking his wounds and waiting quietly in the shadows seemed to be over as attacks increased again. It was taking James away from home again, dragging him from bed in the middle of the night, compelling him to work multiple days without rest. Lily was brewing for the Order of the Phoenix, and she was staking out Death Eater homes as if she were twenty-five again.

There were plenty of Death Eaters in attendance, of course.

The Malfoys drew a small crowd, simpering and bewitching their audience as Lily ignored them, disgusted. There was Corban Yaxley and his exceptionally tall and beautiful wife—a Swedish woman, she recalled. And naturally, it wouldn’t have been a Ministry function without the Blacks.

James grumbled in her ear when Sirius Black arrived with his wife—a young woman who couldn’t have been more than nineteen-years-old.

“Brought his child-bride,” James whispered.

“She seems eager to get away from him, doesn’t she?” Lily noted.

The girl beamed as she and her husband made their entrance. She had dark, beautiful hair that was deeply parted and pinned with a pearl comb. Her cream robes were pleated and trimmed with gold, a stark contrast to the wizard beside her who was drenched in black. But the girl was pulling away from him until Black curled his fingers around her arm and leaned to speak in her ear. A look of annoyance flashed in the girl’s fathomless eyes, but whatever he’d said seemed to work because she stayed at his side as they waded into the party.

Lily grasped her goblet as Black’s eyes swept over the sea of people. For a moment, she could have sworn they caught on hers and then James’s before moving on.

“Sinister,” she murmured. “Bit creepy, actually.”

James snorted. “Yeah, exactly.”

They did not need to watch the Blacks for very long before the Longbottoms and the rest of the Aurors arrived. Lily was relieved to settle into conversation with Frank and Alice, lamenting the need to buy new dress robes for their sons in anticipation of the Triwizard Tournament’s traditional Yule Ball and expressing disappointment that their sons wouldn’t be home for Christmas. From the Longbottoms, Lily and James merged into a circle of Aurors who were murmuring darkly that there so many Death Eaters in attendance. While much of it was engaging to Lily, the conversation dissolved into legal jargon that Lily was a bit too tipsy to follow.

The dinner—generously provided by several Ministry benefactors—wouldn’t be served for another hour, and Lily’s feet hurt. It was her own fault to wear a pair of heels she hadn’t touched in years. The joint on her big toe was throbbing. Lily excused herself from the circle of Aurors, promising James she would return with more drinks.

Instead, Lily slipped into the library.

The castle happened to be one that was quite familiar to Lily. Perched at the very tip of the southeast corner of the country, the estate was a historical site that belonged to the Fawleys. No one had lived in the castle in nearly seventy years and now served as a sort of museum that boasted a collection of some of the most elusive scholarly texts in the world. Lily had come to study old Cursebreaking texts many times, and she knew the castle quite well. She also knew where to find a quiet place to massage her feet.

Lamps flickered on the walls. She crept past bookcases, listening for the sound of other partygoers who might have slinked into the shadows like her. When she certain she was alone, Lily dropped into a velvet red chair beside a blackened window and groaned as she pulled off her shoes. Her toes were bloated and red. Getting her shoes back on wouldn’t be easy.

The rush of silence was intoxicating. The mournful strings of the musicians were distant now. Admiring the snow as it fell sideways outside the mullioned windows, Lily sank deeper against the chair, pressing her cheek to her hand, wondering how long she could remain in the quiet until her absence was noted.

The decision, in the end, was not hers to make.

The door creaked. Lily sighed and reached for her shoes, wincing as she wedged them back over her swollen feet.

“No appetite for soggy biscuits, Evans?”

Lily fixated on her shoe. The breath caught in her throat, but she was fastening the clasp at her ankle. Ignore him, she thought. She understood the way James described Sirius Black, how he seemed to ooze from beneath the door and slip into rooms like a shadow.

But the question, damn him, made the corner of her mouth twitch.

“I’m not playing tonight, Black,” said Lily.

Black offered a hand to help her stand. Lily ignored it and wobbled to her feet. She gritted her teeth—somehow the pain was worse than before.

“Well, all right, no games,” Black said solemnly. “But will you forgive me for admiring how enchanting you look this evening? I daresay, I’ve been jealous of your husband before, but never quite like this.”

The first step made her hiss. She stumbled in pain, caught by his swift hand on her elbow.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“You can hardly stand.”

“You’re right,” she snapped. “I can’t stand to be around you.”

Black laughed heartily, but his grip was strong, nearly bruising. Lily wondered if he could feel her pounding heartbeat thrumming through her body.

“Sit,” he said.

Lily told herself she had no choice. Hardly able to wobble out of the library on her own, she didn’t wish to give Black a reason to mock her. He guided her gently back to the chair. Relief distracted her before she realized that he had knelt and his hands were on her ankle, unfastening the strap, trailing fingers under her heel to slip the shoe off. Lily jerked her foot from his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Black merely reached for her other leg, and Lily was struck dumb by her curiosity.

“I’m not allowed to show a bit of kindness to an old schoolmate? Did our partnership in Ancient Runes mean nothing to you?” His gaze fell with a pitying look to her feet. “I think you’ve mutilated yourself, Evans. Allow me…”

Perhaps if she hadn’t taken that last goblet of wine, Lily might have kicked him and sent him sprawling across the library floor, but the the willpower to do so dissolved as Black settled back on his heels, his thumbs rubbing deep into her soles. Lily groaned, slumping. When she opened her eyes, Black’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration.

Something fluttered in her stomach.

There was a retort on the tip of her tongue, but then Black bent her toes too far forward; she gasped.

“That’s the worst of it,” he said. “Now the other, please.”

Disobeying Sirius Black was a difficult thing. The commands he delivered were too reasonable to refuse, too innocuous for her to fear them. He worked her other foot with the same sort of precision as if he knew all about phalanges and joints and the way they all worked in tandem. Lily drew a hand through her hair, remembering only too late that she’d done it up in a French twist; it loosened and sagged oddly.

Black moved his attention to the taut calf muscle. His eyes flickered to hers—there was a slight raise of his brow as if he were asking a question. Before she could formulate an answer, he had drawn the skirt of her robes to lay them across her knees, and he lowered his lips to her ankle, ghosting the spot where the buckle had dug in painfully.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“Don’t tell me you’re not curious,” he said. The ripple of his question seared her skin.

“I’m not,” she spat.

Black grunted skeptically. His response was crafted to make her confess the truth. He dragged his mouth up, forcing her leg to bend as he pressed a hand behind her knee. The other hand was folding the hem of her robes to push them around her waist.

“You mean to say,” his voice low, “that you don’t wish to know why your husband claims to hate me but can’t help himself from fucking me?”

Sobriety came upon her so violently, she nearly fainted; Lily grasped the arms of the chair, the library and its bookcases bowing with too many grimoires spun in her unfocused gaze. Black drew his mouth to the inside of her knee.

The door opened and closed again, but Black didn’t stop. Lily wriggled as he tightened his grip. Desperately, she tried to disentangle from him, shifting her legs as Black dug in his fingers painfully.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m about to fuck your wife,” said Black casually. “You don’t mind, do you? I’d offer you mine, but she’s already left with a fake cough.”

Lily couldn’t look at James—she couldn’t let him see the flush on her face. She couldn’t bear to find the betrayal that would crumpling his brows to find his enemy’s head between her knees.

There was no excuse. None other than she knew that James had betrayed her several times with the man who knelt before her now. And she’d been so furious with him—furious that there was no proof other than James’s obsession with Sirius Black. So often she wondered if Black was a third member of their marriage or only a specter that haunted their bed. But he was always there in James’s mind. Always taunting her that Black, no matter what Lily did, would be there between them for the rest of her life.

“I’m going to kill you,” James hissed, striding forward, wand brandished and eyes round with fury.

Black, however, had pulled out his wand too.

“Right, you’ve said so before. Just before I had you spilling out over my hand. I was only hoping to make Evans do the same. Can I be blamed for my curiosity? For hers?”

Lily shoved Black’s hands from her legs. Woozily, she looked from her husband to the man he swore he hated, and she felt a misplaced swell of desire as she watched them. James’s indignation mingled with Black’s eagerness—a chill came over her as a misplaced and horrifying fantasy occurred to her. She imagined Black on his knees before James, his deft fingers unbuckling the belt and trousers that she and James had picked out together for this evening’s festivities. She imagined pressing her bare chest to her husband’s back, sucking on his neck as he moaned, arching into her as Black worked him with his mouth.

James was swearing at Black now, yet she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

She stood suddenly. The effort of it made her sway—Black wrapped an arm around her hips to keep her from overbalancing, but it was James she addressed.

“You’ve fucked him, haven’t you?” she said.

James choked. “I—”

“You have,” said Lily. “Don’t deny it. And Black’s right. I am curious.”

“Lily, listen, I can’t—I can’t—you don’t understand. He forced—”

“Ha!” Black expelled a false laugh. “Forced you? I forced you to beg for my—?”

“That’s enough,” Lily snapped at him. “Both of you. This is childish—whatever this is, whatever you’re doing. You’re both imbeciles—you’re married men. Lower your wands. Both of you. Now.”

Feeling emboldened, Lily broke from Black’s grasp and shook her finger at him like her grandmother used to do to the neighbor’s children.

“You,” she said furiously. “You’re a fraud.”

Black blinked at the accusation.

“Don’t pretend this isn’t a pathetic attempt to get one over James. You’d like to be something other than his enemy? Suppose you thought fucking me would help? You’re an idiot. Don’t waste my time. And you,” said Lily, turning her finger to James. “You’re worse. You’ve betrayed me—and now you’ve got the audacity to lie to me? I don’t believe for a minute he forced you to do anything. Do you take me for a fool, James? Do you think I didn’t know? Didn’t suspect?”

The air buzzed with tension; neither James nor Black spoke.

Lily took Black by the chin. Perhaps it was surprise that made him docile, that turned his face up to meet her gaze. His eyes, pale and clear, searched hers. Then, she saw it—a slight twitch of his brows, and he must have understood. Black knew what she wanted.

“James,” she said, “lock the door, please.”

James seemed rooted as if he didn’t know what she was asking. She told him to lock the door again, and this time, he doubled back to follow her command. By the time his footsteps returned, Black’s hands were already on Lily and unhooking the buttons down the front of her robes.

“Lily, you’re—you’d let him—”

Black chuckled. Without warning, he’d hooked an arm behind Lily’s knees and caught her before lowering her to the rug. Then, he tilted his head at James.

“I wonder,” said Black slowly, “do I get a prize if I can make you and your wife come at the same time? Or shall I force you to watch while I make her scream?”

James flew at Black. They collided, the breeze of it brushing her hair, and they fell backwards. At first, she was quite certain it was an unceremonious brawl they way they grappled at each other, grunting and struggling to force each other to the floor, but only as James wrested open Black’s robes at the collar did she realize the truth.

Lily watched, mesmerized. James had twisted a handful of Black’s hair in his fingers, eliciting a growl of pain; he scraped his teeth along the column of a pale throat as if he were itching to bite.

Before long, Black shoved James off of him.

“Bring me your wife,” he barked.

James hesitated—but Black did not. Lily yelped as he wrenched off the rest of her robes, leaving her almost entirely bare, and dragged her to sit over his knees. He wrapped a hand over her throat and snaked his arm around her waist to press her backside against his erection. He cupped her between the thighs, scooting her until her spine was flush with his chest.

“Now,” he said. Lily swallowed, feeling his hand constrict. “I rather feel as if we owe your wife an apology, Potter, and I heartily believe that the very best thing to do is make her come as many times as we have together between the two of us.”

His fingers softly stroked the silk of her underwear. Lily bit her lip as James stared; Black touched her delicately in a way that seemed almost sinister in its innocence.

“But first, she’s got to understand that you’re terribly ashamed. Kneel before her now, and tell her you’re sorry.”

“Fuck you,” snarled James.

Black was courteous enough not to make a joke of the insult, nor did he gloat as James dropped to his knees in front of them. Eyes swimming with guilt, James looked up at Lily; she had no choice but to catch his gaze as Black squeezed her jaw and tilted her face to her husband.

“Tell her,” Black ordered.

James searched Lily, imploring her forgiveness. Her eyes fell shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers, and she felt it—the cool breath of his almost-silent apology.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Now show her.”

James, his cheeks scarlet, hesitated. The humiliation of Black’s command must have warred with his desire to do precisely what Black suggested. He kissed her, only it was the sort of kiss she rarely shared with James—it was a nervous, tentative, terrified thing. Lily reached, unable to move closer with Black’s hand on her throat and the other cupping her center; she pushed James deeper against her mouth, hoping he would understand that he wasn’t forgiven, but maybe someday he could be.

“How sweet,” said Black, his mouth at her ear. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

Lily moaned into James as the hand that rubbed gently against her slipped a finger between her folds, pressing the silk of her panties against the slick mess he was evoking. How could Black so adeptly seduce her husband and know precisely how to make her squirm? She’d never known anyone to be so dextrous in this way with men and women.

Black was too good, she realized. James rolled his thumbs over her breasts, swirling over her nipples as Black encouraged him. Lily writhed. Her breath hitched and the swell of pleasure spread through her core.

“Very good, James,” purred Black. “Take her legs, will you? Slide her down to the floor… Now, you know her best. Do what you will.”

James didn’t need Black to direct him from there. Perhaps it was only the heat of the moment that James allowed Black to bark orders at him, but James knew Lily. He knew precisely where to touch her, where to put his mouth, and where he ought to bite. Coaxing her legs apart, James bent forward as if he were about to pray and shoved his nose against the dampness where Black’s fingers had just been. His tongue flicked.

Lily buried hands in the wild hair she knew so well. James had a talented mouth, one that could bring her to a finish even through her underwear. But he grew tired of plunging his tongue against the silken barrier and eventually wrenched off them off before he devoured her with new urgency.

Black smothered her fresh outburst, hushing her with a quiet reminder that they hardly wanted to get caught. “Shh,” Black said. “The door’s locked, but it’s not soundproof.”

Shifting his hips, Black seemed to be uncomfortable. Lily felt his cock against the back of her head through his robes. She turned her gaze up at him, deliberately rubbing her skull against his erection, and he grinned down at her. He cupped her chin and forced his thumb into her mouth, pushing down on her tongue.

“You first,” he said, “then us.”

James eagerly destroyed her. Lily was afraid she’d bite off Black’s thumb as he gripped the lower half of her jaw.

“Suck it,” Black told her.

Lily couldn’t think, but she closed her mouth and pulled in her cheeks around his thumb.f James moaned into her center, his tongue delving deeper, while he rubbed against her clit with his fingers. His apology was abandoned—she could feel the contrition slip away, and now he was going to bring her to ruin as he had done hundreds of times before. This was what he did best—he was boasting to Black how well he knew her, but for how vigorously James worked, Black merely stroked lazily with his free hand against her nipples. All of it drove her mad, and she couldn’t stop the guttural scream that was forcing itself from her throat as James tipped her over the edge with his deep moan.

Black clapped his hand back over her mouth, snickering, and Lily, dazed, slumped in Black’s lap. Once her body slackened, he removed his hand.

“Well done,” he told James.

James, his mouth shining and his hair far more wild than usual, smiled at Black as if he were drunk.

“Want to know what she tastes like?”

Black nodded, and James crawled over Lily. Black met him with ardent kiss, groaning, grappling to thread his fingers in the unruly black hair. It was a very odd angle to witness a kiss, Lily mused, gazing up as her husband shoved the tongue that had just been inside of her into Black’s mouth.

The cock beneath her head pulsed.

James grunted when Lily took him by the trousers and pulled him forward until she was unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning the fly so she could slide the waistband of his trousers and underwear down, letting his cock free. It was feverish in her hands.

Her mouth watered as Black deepened his kiss. She was enthralled. She found her hand moving as if it had a mind of its own. James was returned Black’s attention hungrily, clasping Black by the hair, gasping into his mouth. Lily had known James was close, but the rush of warmth as it splattered across her breasts and neck and her lips surprised her.

James climbed off of her; Lily lurched up from Black’s lap and made to wipe her mouth when Black swept in and kissed her. His tongue made quick work of the mess, lapping down the column of her neck, sucking her clean until he was finished and teasing her nipples with his teeth through the lingerie.

“I think,” he said, voice hoarse, “We’ve been gone long enough.”

“But you didn’t—”

Black sucked on her breast with a small laugh.

His hair had come loose and hung heavily over his brow as if he were an old-fashioned Hollywood star. It was glossy and soft as she raked her fingers through it. Sirius Black, so enigmatic and so untouchable, allowed her to touch him, to coax him to her lips. Gently, obligingly, he left a tender kiss at the corner of her mouth and then another on her temple.

“I still owe you,” he told her. His eyes shifted to James. “Your boy—he’ll remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, won’t he?”

The mention of Harry snapped Lily and James back to reality, and Lily remembered with vague horror that she was someone’s mother.

“Oh, don’t worry, Potters,” said Black. “I’m sure your boy is darling, but I have no need of him. No, no, I’m simply hoping to repay my debt to Mrs. Potter. Perhaps you will find an invitation to a more exclusive party in the coming weeks.”

“Right,” snorted James. “Oh yes, Black, we’ll come knocking on Christmas Eve to suck your cock.”

When Black extracted himself from Lily, he smoothed back his hair, and she realized, startled, that only collar of his robes had been unbuttoned. Otherwise, he was fully-dressed, and he had put his hair back in order. His smile was broad and gleaming as he gazed down upon Lily and James, both of them thoroughly debauched, sweating, and panting. With a last smirk, he turned on his heel and left the library. He left the door ajar, allowing the sounds of the Ministry affair to flood the library.

Hastily, Lily and James scrambled to fetch their clothes.

“What the fuck just happened?” James hissed as he fumbled to button his robes. “What the fuck?”

Lily found her underwear and slipped them on. She left the shoes for last, stuffing her feet in them again, wincing. They fixed each other’s hair quickly.

When they reemerged, she was clutching James’s hand. They rejoined the circle of Aurors, and immediately, James fell into conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, his tight grip on her fingers the only indication that what had just happened hadn’t been a very odd dream. Across the hall, Black was supplying a glass of champagne to the gossip columnist Rita Skeeter with a dazzling smile, and their paths did not cross again for the rest of the evening.

However, when Lily and James arrived home hours later, she found a note in the pocket of her robe, scrawled hastily on a scrap of parchment.

Christmas Eve—ten o’clock. I’ll present myself at your gate to repay my debt.

#slytherin!sirius black #james potter #lily evans #jilypad #smut fic #my fics

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logarithmicpanda · 1 month ago

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25 in 2025

@asexualbookbird tagged me and I'm gonna combine it with @bookcub's tag of "books I'm excited to read in 2025:

Let's do it by 5: 5 books carrying over from last year, 5 new releases, 5 books from my physical tbr, 5 rereads, 5 library books

Ruin of Kings by Jenn Lyons

God Emperor of Dune by Frank Herbert

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

Starless by Jaqueline Carey

Lake of Souls by Ann Leckie

Oathbound by Tracy Deonn

The Martian Contingency by Mary Robinette Kowal

Everybody Wants to Rule the World Except Me by Django Wexler

The Incandescent by Emily Tesh

Brighter than Scale, Swifter than Flame by Neon Yang

Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao

Rebel Blade by Davinia Evans

The Fortunate Fall by Cameron Reed

Blood Over Bright Haven by M.L. Wang

Le Phare au Corbeau by Rozenn Illiano

The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

Exordia by Seth Dickinson

Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

Thunder City by Philip Reeve

Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura

The Blacktongue Thief by Christopher Buehlman

I have no idea who has done the tag already so uh @blueberreads @drawnecromancy @the-lightbulb-and-the-octopus @howlsmovinglibrary @agardenandlibrary @freckles-and-books @nerdishfeels

#tag games #2025 wrap up

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 3 months ago

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Angel of Small Death

A Halloween mini series!

Part 2

Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest! Matt Murdock, Dark! Frank Castle

Warnings: Injury, mentions of exorcisms, blasphemy.

The last time you'd seen Father Russo, you'd both been playing down at the nearby creek.

He was just Billy then, searching for rocks to skip while you dipped your toes into the cold water.

There were much more people living at the monastery, so much that no one missed two teenagers that had simply wandered off to explore.

You'd been listening to him talk about all the places he'd hoped to see on his travels, feeling your heart crack a little at the thought of losing your friend to faith.

You tried to be happy for him, this is what he wanted after all, to make a difference, to bring guidance and support to the wandering souls out there.

When you watch him leave later that week, it's with red eyes and his lingering scent on your cheeks where he'd squeezed you tight into his chest for just a moment.

The sister caring for you at the time had allowed it, despite the inappropriateness of two teenagers embracing in front of the monastery. She had truly understood what he had meant to you.

Now, you almost don't recognize him.

The crown of his head is wrapped in thick gauzy bandages, his hair is different, cropped short where he'd worn it at his shoulders in his early life.

“Billy?!”

His face has changed too, that pretty cleft chin now hidden beneath stubble. He blinks slowly at you, barely responding when you say his name in surprise.

“You know Father Russo?” The sister besides you asks in surprise.

Right, Father Russo was his name now, not Billy.

“Yes, apologies, he grew up in the monastery alongside me for a few years.”

She nods in understanding.

“We need to get him to the healer inside.” Someone says behind you, and you nod, stepping back to let them through.

“Does anyone know what happened?” You ask, looking around at the small group of people that had arrived with him.

Another priest steps forward, a cane in his hand, and a pair of red tinted spectacles over his eyes. You try not to react to the way your heart quickens its pace at his handsomeness, doing your best to avoid studying his mouth as he speaks.

“He had a fall,” The man answers, “We were- performing an exorcism, and just as the demon was banished, it lashed out, threw us backward, Father Russo hit his head when he fell.”

Your lips part in shock, dread and worry mixing for your longtime friend.

“And you? Are you hurt?”

He gives you a soft smile, one that makes you feel like a petulant child.

“Just a few cuts and bruises, nothing that time cannot heal.”

You nod.

“Sister Margaret, can you help these men get settled? I'll escort Father-?”

“Murdock.” He supplies.

“-Father Murdock to the infirmary to be checked.”

She nods, introducing herself to the men, before beginning to point out the stables for the horses.

You wait till everyone is far enough away, before you turn to look at Father Murdock.

“Do you require guidance?” You ask.

“Yes, unfortunately I am almost entirely blind.” He answers.

“Very well.” You allow him to hold your arm, and you both begin heading in the direction of the infirmary.

Something doesn't feel right, you can't put your finger on it, but it feels as though you're being observed from the shadows, as if the very walls have suddenly sprouted eyes that follow you.

“How long have you known Father Russo?” You ask, trying to fill the silence, a welcome distraction from the way you feel right now.

A stray wind blows, and you catch the scent of sandalwood, maybe from the man beside you, or maybe it's the incense from the church. Either way, you take another slow breath, delighting in the smell of it, allowing it to relax you.

“I met Billy around five years ago off the coast of Spain, a small island in the Balearic Sea, where a little girl had been taken hostage by an evil spirit. He was good at tracking, and I was better at performing exorcisms, and we began that way.”

You nod, smiling, deep in thought about your childhood friend.

“And, do you perform exorcisms often?” You continue, feeling the warmth of his palm through your sleeve.

“Yes, very, there is an abundance of evil in the world.”

You swallow, dropping your head.

“Oh.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your title here? I find it odd that you would be charged with escorting me. Where is the Mother Superior?”

You blink.

“That would be me.” You answer.

He stops in his tracks, and you do as well. You turn your head to look at him.

“You?” He asks with an incredulous tone.

Displeasure bubbles in your throat.

“Is there a problem with that, Father Murdock?” You ask softly, a hint of defiance in your tone.

“How old are you?” He continues rudely.

“I’m old enough.”

“I doubt that. You sound like you’re barely out of leading strings.”

“I find that comment offensive, Father. I am old enough and more than capable.”

“Are you?” he murmurs, stepping in close, “I can feel your heart beating faster the closer I draw to you. You have very limited control on your inner desires.”

“How dare you-” You pause, taking a deep breath, finding your anchor as you feel a surge of emotion. Sure, he might have been right, your heart had been pounding, but you were very much capable of keeping yourself in check.

“Regardless of your opinion, I am Mother Superior here. I am in charge of the dealings of this monastery until an abbott can be appointed. I was selected by vote, and I will do right by the people under my care.”

He pauses, as if realising there was no winning when it came to challenging your capacity to be in charge.

“I understand,” he says, beginning to walk once more and leaving you to catch up with him.

You grit your teeth, noting that he hadn't even apologised for his disrespect.

You wring the cold cloth between your hands, water dripping into the bowl for a moment before you press the cloth to his head.

His eyes are closed, but he makes a low humming sound as the cold cloth touches his feverish skin.

“It'll be alright, Billy.” You whisper to him, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids for a moment, responding to your voice.

He'd been like this for a few days now, coming in and out of consciousness, a low grade fever creating a red flush on his skin occasionally.

You pause, looking down at him, his stubble having grown a little longer in the time. He was so beautiful that you found difficulty in looking away.

Your eyes drop to his neck, and you feel something overcome you. You dip your cloth into the frigid bowl of water once more, squeezing half heartedly, before pressing the cloth to his chest.

You want to be thorough, tugging the sheets covering his bare chest lower, so that you can study him.

He's not the first man you've seen in such a bare state, but he's definitely the first one to make you feel… aware.

You drag the damp cloth over his skin, fingers dragging along his chest, you tilt your head to examine the small speckling of hair.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to think…

You breathe out a small laugh.

“You wouldn't believe the thoughts I once had about you, when we were younger, I would sneak off and crawl into the little space in the rafters above the baths in hopes that I would catch you bathing. What a wild one I was, Billy. I had thoughts of begging you to run away with me, the way you might react. I was such a child back then, I'm sorry I hated you for so long after you left. I'm not a child anymore.” You confess to him softly, dabbing at his forehead again.

You stay a little longer than necessary, and when his fever breaks fully, you decide that enough is enough, dropping the damp cloth into the bowl, and standing.

You gasp when he grabs your hand, you turn to look down at him, his eyes blinking in and out of focus.

“Billy?” You say hopeful, cupping his cheek to examine his eyes.

They're unfocused at first, but when they finally settle on you, his lips part in surprise.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, his fingers rising to push your veil behind your shoulder, his fingers tracing your cheek gently.

“What's your name?”

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #dark!billy russo #dark!matt murdock #dark!frank castle #frank castle

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writingsinashes · 9 days ago

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So Nathan Drake's FC is now changing from Tom Holland to Bradley Cooper because I'm playing the game and it just clicks 🤣

★ James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes (Marvel) ★ Steven Grant Rogers (Marvel) ★ Anthony Edward Stark (Marvel) ★ Loki Odinson (Marvel) ★ Raven Darkholme (Marvel) ★ Frank Castle (Marvel) ★ Katherine “Kitty” Pryde (Marvel) ★ Elizabeth “Betty” Ross (Marvel) ★ Yelena Belova (Marvel) ★ Clint Barton (Marvel) ★ Kate Bishop (Marvel) ★ Antonia “Toni” Stark (Marvel) ★ Wade Wilson (Marvel) (Deadpool) ★ Erik Lehnsherr (Marvel) (X-Men Origins) ★ Charles Xavier (Marvel) (X-Men Origins) ★ James “Logan” Howlett (Marvel) ★ Peter Parker (Marvel) {TASM - FC: Andrew Garfield} ★ Gwendolyn “Gwen” Stacy (Marvel) {TASM - FC: Emma Stone} ★ Eddie Brock/Venom (Marvel) ★ Steven Strange (Marvel) ★ Marc Spector | Steven Grant | Jake Lockley (Marvel) (Moon Knight)

★ Sirius Black (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Remus Lupin (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ James Potter (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Lily Evans (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Severus Snape (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Bellatrix LeStrange (Marauders!Era Harry Potter) ★ Hermione Granger (Harry Potter) ★ Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them) ★ Albus Dumbledore (Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them) {FC: Jude Law}

★ John Silver (Black Sails) ★ James Flint (Black Sails) ★ Max the Whore (Black Sails) ★ Eleanor Guthrie (Black Sails) ★ Jack Ratham (Black Sails) ★ Charles Vane (Black Sails) ★ Billy Bones (Black Sails)

★ Steve Trevor (DC Universe) ★ Diana Prince (DC Universe) ★ Arthur Curry (DC Universe) ★ Bruce Wayne (DC Universe) {FC: Ben Affleck} ★ The Joker (Many DC Universes) {FC: Dependant on Verse} ★ Barry Allen (DC Universe) ★ Clark Kent (DC Universe) ★ Steve Trevor (DC Universe) ★ Lex Luthor (DC) (FC: Jessie Eisenberg) ★ Catwoman | Serena Kyle (DC Universe) {FC: Anne Hathaway}

★ King Arthur Pendragon (King Arthur) ★ Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotts (Reign) ★ Anne Boleyn (The Tudors) ★ Hades; Lord of the Underworld {Mythological} {FC: Tom Ellis} ★ Poseidon; God of the Seas {Mythological} {FC: Jason Momoa} ★ Eros; God of Love {Mythological} {FC: Andrew Garfield} ★ Zeus; God of the Sky {Mythological} {FC: Jamie Dornan} ★ Apollo; God of the Sun {Mythological} {FC: Sam Clafin} ★ Dionysus; God of Wine {Mythological} {FC: Josh Duhamel} ★ Hermes; God of Thieves {Mythological} {FC: Alex Pettyfer} ★ Morpheus; God of Sleep {Mythological} {FC: John Bernthal} ★ Heracles; God of Strength {Mythological} {FC: Kellan Lutz} ★ Ares; God of War {Mythological} {FC: Henry Cavill} ★ Hephaestus, God of the Artisans (Mythological) (FC: Ben Affleck) ★ Prometheus; God of Fire {Mythological} (FC: Cillian Murphy) ★ Aphrodite; Goddess of Love {Mythological} {FC: Blake Lively} ★ Athena; Goddess of Wisdom {Mythological} {FC: Lauren Cohan} ★ Artemis; Goddess of Hunt {Mythological} {FC: Mackenzie Foy} ★ Hera; Goddess of Nature {Mythological} {FC: Mariana Davalos} ★ Nyx; Goddess of Night {Mythological} {FC: Leticia Castro} ★ Zyiah; Demon of Spite (OC- Demon) (FC: David Beckham) ★ Persephone; Queen of the Underworld {Mythological} {FC: Rosario Dawson}

★ Bayak of Siwa (Assassin’s Creed: Origins) {FC: Oscar Isaac} ★ Ezio Auditore da Firenze (Assassin’s Creed: Ezio Trilogy) {FC: Ben Barnes} ★ Edward Kenway (Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag) {FC: Charlie Hunnam} ★ Alexios of Sparta (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey) {FC: Theo James} ★ Brasidas of Sparta (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey) {FC: Gerard Butler} ★ Hytham Sám Nakjavani (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla) {FC: Michele Morrone} ★ Basim Ibn Ishaq (Assassin’s Creed: Mirage) {FC: Dev Patel} ★ Eivor Wolf-Kissed (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla) {FC: Henry Cavill} ★ Nathan Drake (Uncharted) {FC: Bradley Cooper} ★ Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call Of Duty) {FC: Charlie Hunnam} ★ John Price (Call Of Duty) {FC: Barry Salone} ★ John “Soap” MacTavish (Call Of Duty) {FC: Neil Ellice} ★ Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Call Of Duty) {FC: Elliot Knight}

★ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) ★ Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (Star Wars) ★ Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

★ Joel Miller (The Last of Us) ★ Ellie Williams (The Last of Us) ★ Tommy Miller (The Last of Us) {FC: Adam Driver}

★ Dean Winchester (Supernatural) ★ Sam Winchester (Supernatural) ★ John Winchester (Supernatural)

★ Fiona Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Ian Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Phillip “Lip” Gallagher (Shameless) ★ Jimmy “Steve” Lishman (Shameless) ★ Mikhailo "Mickey" Milkovich (Shameless)

★ Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games) ★ Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games) ★ Gale Hawthorne (The Hunger Games) ★ Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games) ★ Johanna Mason (The Hunger Games)

★ Diego Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) ★ Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

★ Merida of DunBroch (Brave) {FC: Amy Manson} ★ Jasmine of Agrabah (Aladdin) {FC: Naomi Scott} ★ Elsa of Arendelle (Frozen) {FC: Natalie Dormer} ★ Rapunzel of Corona (Tangled) {FC: Amanda Seyfried} ★ Periwinkle the Frost Fairy (Tinkerbell) {FC: Dove Cameron} ★ Tinkerbell of Pixie Hollow (Tinkerbell) {FC: Dove Cameron} ★ Hiccup Horrendous Haddock (HTTYD) {FC: Andrew Garfield}

★ Benny Miller (Triple Frontier) ★ William Miller (Triple Frontier) ★ Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier) ★ Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier) ★ Tom Davis (Triple Frontier)

★ Rick O’Connell (The Mummy) ★ Jack Dawson (Titanic) ★ Javier Peña (Narcos) ★ Tiffany Maxwell (Silver Linings Playbook) ★ Dr. Gregory House (House) ★ Raleigh Beckett (Pacific Rim) ★ Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II) ★ Rue Bennett (EUPHORIA) ★ Independent Barbie (Barbie) ★ Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park) ★ Katherine Pierce (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Caroline Forbes (The Vampire Diaries) ★ Elliot Stabler (Law and Order: SVU) ★ Rafael Barba (Law & Order: SVU) ★ William Turner (Pirates of the Caribbean) ★ Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean) ★ Jake Sully | Tsyeyk Suli (Avatar) ★ Lo'ak Sully (Avatar: The Way of Water) ★ Michael Guiren (Roswell) ★ Max Evans (Roswell) ★ Liz Parker (Roswell) ★ Kyle Valenti (Roswell) ★ Shane Walsh (The Walking Dead) ★ Rick Grimes (The Walking Dead) ★ Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) ★ Glenn Rhee (The Walking Dead) ★ Maggie Greene (The Walking Dead) ★ Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) (TBA) ★ Richard ‘Richie’ Jerimovich (The Bear) ★ Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto (The Bear) ★ Michael ‘Mikey’ Berzatto (The Bear) ★ Emmett Cullen (Twilight) ★ Edward Cullen (Twilight) ★ Carslile Cullen (Twilight) ★ Jacob Black (Twilight) ★ Paul Lahote (Twilight) ★ Jasper Hale (Twilight)

★ Caraxes (Dragon; House of the Dragon) ★ Toruk (Great Leonopteryx; Avatar) ★ Ikaros (Eagle; Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey) ★ Lockheed (Dragon; Marvel)

★ Daemon Targaryen (House of the Dragon) ★ Jamie Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Tyrion Lannister (Game of Thrones) ★ Jon Snow (Game of Thrones) ★ Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones) ★ Khal Drogo (Game of Thrones) ★ Robb Stark (Game of Thrones) ★ Sansa Stark (Game of Thrones) ★ Margaery Tyrell (Game of Thrones) ★ Obyren Martell (Game of Thrones)

#BEEP BEEP #PROMO TRAIN #DO THE THING #{Shameless Self Promo}#Multi Thread #Multi Ship #Multi Para #PLEASE FEEL FREE TO REBLOG!!!#{Out Of Sah}#{The Sah update no one asked for}#{New Muses}#{Current Updated Muse List}#CURRENT UPDATED CANON MUSE LIST #OC MUSE LIST IS IN THE WORKS.

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hunny-bean · 2 years ago

Note

Got a Frank Castle request. How about a little vacation with him. A cabin by the lake and a campfire with marshmallows .

Out Of Mind

Pairing: Frank Castle/F!Reader

Summary: You finally managed to persuade Frank to take a break with you. He happened to know the perfect place.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Um.... yeah, none. Teensy bit of swearing. Mentions of violence?? Maybe?? Pretty much straight fluff. This was so calming to write.

A/N: I really enjoyed making this one! There wasn't as much stress about it being enjoyable because it's all stuff I'm used to. Somehow it turned into a sort of angstless hurt/comfort. Don't ask how, I've got no idea. Let me know what you think! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"Are you sure this is the right spot?" you asked, looking out your window at the sea of orange leaves around you.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Frank promised. "But we'll have to walk a little while to get to the lake."

He hopped out of the driver's side and walked around to the back of the truck to gather your things. You sighed, standing up and stretching to prepare yourself for the last part of your journey.

"How much is a little while?" you wondered, knowing Frank's tendency to be vague about not-so-ideal situations.

"'Bout two miles. It's not that bad," he answered nonchalantly, throwing a leg over the side of the truck bed. Your eyes shot open wide, and you let out a surprised laugh. You were pretty good about walking long distances from growing up in the city, but you weren't looking forward to dragging your bags for half an hour through a damp, rocky forest.

"Why are we parking two miles away from the lake?"

"So if someone comes looking for us," Frank replied, lowering your favorite duffel bag into your arms, "we can hide without them knowing immediately that we're there."

"No one's gonna come looking for us," you assured him. "Everyone thinks you're dead, remember?"

"I'm just trying to keep us safe, sweetheart. You never know what could happen."

The two of you were standing on the side of an old dirt road, your truck tucked behind a cluster of large trees to keep it hidden from view. Looking around, you saw there wasn't a path, clearing, or bike trail in sight. Evidently, Frank was determined to do everything the hard way.

You couldn't really complain, though. You were on your first vacation with the love of your life, and you were planning to enjoy every single moment of it. You expected Frank to hand you another bag, but he just leaned in to kiss your forehead before arranging the other three on his body and starting off into the forest. You followed close behind, allowing him to clear the way of vines and thorns before stepping carefully after him.

After eighteen months spent staring at and studying the gorgeous figure and mannerisms of the man in front of you, you had learned a few things about him. Because of this, you could tell that Frank was a bit upset about something. He seemed tense, and he was ripping at the twigs and spiderwebs more aggressively than was necessary, almost like he was trying to work out some unwanted feelings. It took you a moment to decide how to approach the subject. He wasn't exactly known for being super open about his emotions.

"Is there something bothering you?" you asked offhandedly.

Frank stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you, his head cocked to the side and his forehead scrunched in confusion. He seemed amused by your attempt at casualness.

"Why do you ask?" he responded, ripping up a dead branch that had been in your way.

"I don't know. I just thought you looked a little nervous."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again as he decided against it. He stood there thinking for a while, but right when you thought he might give you an answer, he turned away from you and kept on walking without saying anything. The two of you continued on like that for what seemed like hours, just making your way to the lake in silence. You thought that was the end of that conversation, but after shredding a few more twigs, he finally spoke.

"I guess I just don't have the greatest track record with things like this," he admitted.

"Like what? Vacations?" you asked hesitantly, afraid he might go silent again. Thankfully, he seemed ready to talk whatever was upsetting him.

"Yeah? I guess so," he began. "I think I'm just kinda on edge because, uh, whenever I let my guard down or try to be happy. . . things tend to go wrong." He sounded like he was figuring it out for himself as he spoke, as if he was telling both of you instead of just you.

Hearing this, you sped up to stand beside him and grabbed onto his arm. He let you, but he didn't look over at you like he usually did. You knew from past experiences that Frank wasn't the biggest fan of feeling vulnerable.

"Nothing's gonna go wrong this time. I promise," you said, leaning in close to him.

"I appreciate that, baby, but you can't possibly know what's gonna happen," he mumbled.

You couldn't exactly argue with that. There were tons of things that could go wrong when you were in the middle of nowhere. You could only be as careful as possible and put all your energy into making sure Frank enjoyed this trip as much as you were planning to. Suddenly, you were struck with an idea.

"Why don't you list all the things you think could happen while we're out here, and I'll tell you all the reasons why they won't," you suggested, smiling brightly at him.

He took a moment to consider your proposition, but you could tell he was on board. You were hoping you could turn this into a game of sorts that you could play whenever one of you was worried about something.

"Alright," he decided. "One of us could. . . trip over a rock." It was a rather tame first suggestion, so you brushed it off pretty easily. You knew he wasn't actually worried about rocks. He was just testing the waters.

"We've got, like, four first-aid kits and we know how to catch ourselves. I don't think that'll be an issue," you teased. You saw his lips quirk up on one side. Your master plan was working.

"Okay. Someone could find us and try to kill us." That was definitely more what he was worried about. It was certainly a valid fear, but you were still determined to help him let go of it until you returned to your normal lives.

"It's very unlikely that someone's actively trying to find either of us right now," you reasoned. "We've been really good at laying low; you especially. Even if someone accidentally stumbled upon us, they probably wouldn't try to kill us because they wouldn't know who you were. Even if they figured it out and attacked you, there's a ninety-five percent chance that you'd win. Need I go on?"

It would take more than that to completely comfort him, but it was easy to see you were making progress.

"I think you're okay," he said, shifting his arm so yours were linked together. You looked up to see him thinking intently about something that he very obviously found entertaining.

"What is it?" you pried, smiling back on instinct. You couldn't help it. Everything about Frank's happiness was contagious to you. He could be laughing at the goddamn apocalypse and you'd still be laughing with him.

"You really think I'd lose to five percent of the population?"

You scoffed, bumping into him playfully. "I don't know, I was just throwing out a random number. It's probably more like ninety-nine," you amended. "Besides, if you're that confident in your abilities, then why are you worried about losing?"

"If focusing on the one percent is what keeps you safe, then that's what I'm gonna do," he asserted.

"Well you're welcome to, just not this week. You chose this place specifically because it was safe. You know you're allowed to feel safe, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. I guess that's just not as easy as it sounds," Frank joked pessimistically.

"Well, we're gonna keep working on it. Anything else you think could go wrong?"

"We could drop all our bags in the lake."

The two of you kept playing for a long while, walking arm-in-arm through the fallen leaves, enjoying the crisp early-autumn air. As time went on and you ran out of ideas, the suggestions and rebuttals grew increasingly more outlandish until you were both cracking up, all your previous concerns forgotten about. Just when your shoulder was beginning to ache from the weight slung over it, you heard the soft sound of moving water in the distance. As you got closer to the sound, the air began to smell like lake water, which would have been unpleasant had it not carried so much nostalgia with it.

"It should be right over here," Frank announced as soon as the shimmering waves came into view. Sure enough, just barely visible in the distance, hidden in the shadows cast by the setting sun, was the silhouette of a small, cozy log cabin.

"This place is incredible," you marveled, excitedly hopping up the front steps. You stepped to the side, looking around the front porch as you waited for Frank to dig the key out of his pocket and unlock the door.

"My dad and some friends of his built this place in their early thirties. This was their special spot growing up and they wanted to preserve it in some way," he recounted, twisting the key as hard as he could until he managed to open it with a hard shove and a loud creak.

The inside was just as quaint and inviting as the outside, despite the dust and cobwebs that had formed after years of disuse. It was obvious what you'd be spending your first evening doing. Thankfully, you'd anticipated this, and had packed a whole gallon-sized bag full of old rags and cleaning spray. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a convenient broom propped up against the wall. That certainly wasn't the only thing you noticed though.

On the wall opposite you, directly across from the front door, there was a stone fireplace that fit in nicely with the wooden interior. In front of the fireplace, there was a soft red and orange rug with dusty pillows strewn across it that were clearly meant to be sat on. On one side of the room, there was a tall oak table with a simplistic design and four matching chairs around it. There were a few windows in the cabin, positioned in a way that told you they would light up the whole room in the early morning. For the night, there were candles literally everywhere, some in elegant holders, others tossed haphazardly on their sides. On the other side of the room, there was a door leading to a teeny little bedroom with nothing but a queen sized bed, a small nightstand, and a dark wooden dresser on the wall. With a little love, you knew it would be the perfect place for you two to relax away from all the noise and danger of the city.

"So. . . what do you think?" Frank asked, taking in your awestruck expression.

"I absolutely love it," you told him, dropping your bag and turning around to pull him into a giant hug. "And I love you. So much," you added, kissing him sweetly before pulling away to start unpacking.

Frank whistled, taking in the state of the place after sitting empty for so long. "I guess we'd better get to work, huh?" he sighed.

"The sooner we start, the sooner we'll be finished."

And so you worked until the sun finished its descent, dusting furniture, fluffing pillows, scrubbing windows, sweeping floors, taking snack breaks, and changing sheets until you were finally finished. Now, it was definitely perfect.

"It looks just like it used to when I was a kid," Frank reminisced, inspecting the various trinkets scattered across the mantel.

"Sounds like we did a good job then," you grinned.

"I'd say so too," he said, spinning you around and pulling you close to him. "What would you like to do now?" he asked.

"Hmm..." You thought for a moment, considering all your options. Suddenly, you remembered something you had seen on your way up to the door. "Do you wanna start a fire?" you suggested, beaming.

"That sounds nice, baby."

"Yay! You go ahead and get it going. I'll grab the blankets and marshmallows," you directed.

"You packed marshmallows?" Frank teased lightly.

"Well, it wouldn't be a camping trip without them!"

When you made it outside, you found Frank crouched over the cleared out firepit, lighting a stick on fire and using it to create several little flames throughout the pile. The pit was dug into the ground with a circle of large rocks surrounding it for people to sit on. Once you got the fire going, you and Frank shared the largest stone, wrapped up together in a cozy blanket and carefully toasting your marshmallows to perfection.

Well, not really to perfection. You both had yours catch on fire several times before you figured out the right technique. You never quite got yours exactly how you wanted it, but Frank was toasting masterpieces before too long. It didn't bother you though, because he always gave you his best ones.

The warmth of the fire and the body next to you had you feeling sleepy after a while, and you began nodding off with your head on Frank's shoulder. The comforting smell of the shifting leaves and the curling smoke created an atmosphere that you never wanted to escape. You were truly free of all the stress of your everyday-life. Every responsibility, every problem, every tough decision; they were all officially out of sight, out of mind.

"I think this is gonna be the best week of my life," you mumbled, melting into his strong embrace.

"Me too, baby. Me too," he whispered.

After a long moment, the silence became heavier and the dying fire got somehow louder. You knew there was something else he wanted to say, and you waited for it patiently.

"I thought of another worst-case-scenario," he said at last, rubbing your arm gently.

"What's that?"

"You could leave me." You turned your head to kiss his shoulder lovingly.

"Never."

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A/N: Not my best work but I kinda like it! Anyway, thanks for reading!<3

#jon bernthal #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal x reader #frank castle fanfiction #punisher

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