#frank would be too gross

[death-andtaxes]

I asked my boyfriend this and he replied Dennis which slightly concerned me. But then he said "Charlie smells".

This is a different question than favorite character I hope you understand

[zomtart]

Day Off (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

this is inspired by the lovely Tuna Team and also because I realized I’ve never seen a fic of reader taking care of sick Frank. No established relationship in this one but LOOOOOTS of tension they’re just both too stupid to realize it :D

Content Warnings: p*king (not too descriptive), brief mention of injuries, veeeeery sick Frank, reader who matches Frank’s stubbornness <3

Word Count: 1.3k

It was your day off, and you were making the most of it. You slept in until 10am, cooked your favorite breakfast, wore your softest pajamas, and grabbed your comfort book. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The world was at ease. 

…for about twenty minutes.

You were just about to brew your second cup of mocha when you heard the faint sound of groaning. Halting your reach for your coffee mug, the edges of your lips started to turn down as the noise continued. It seemed far away and muted. It seemed like it was…coming from next door.

You stared at the wall for a second before shaking your head. No. No! It was your day off. Frank had your number. He’d call you if he’d need you…right?

When has that ridiculous man ever asked for help?

But he only ever did his…job in the dark. And you had heard him come home last night, even checked out the door to ensure no trail of blood followed him. Surely he hadn’t gone out again. Surely he was fine. 

A loud crash erupted from the wall, so hard you could almost feel it shake in the floorboards.

Goddamnit.

You ran to the door immediately, snatching Frank’s spare key and not bothering with shoes. Stupid, stupid man. Couldn’t he stay out of trouble for one day? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with him, but you had to admit you’d much prefer spending time with him when it wasn’t stitching his wounds up.

The moment you stepped through the door you were calling out his name, looking for signs of a break-in or injury. There wasn’t any blood or weapons, but his kitchen table vase lay shattered on the floor. The sight made your stomach turn, along with the fact that he hadn’t seemed to notice you had come inside. Frank was nothing if not alert.

“Frank? Frank!” You swore under your breath, wishing you had brought your taser. “If you’re--if you’re fucking with me right now I swear to god…”

There was another groan from down the hallway and without thinking you ran down to the end of the hall and pushed open the bathroom door. 

“Frank—“

You immediately turned away at the sight of Frank kneeling over the toilet, a hand pressed over your mouth as you smelled puke. As a nurse, you unfortunately dealt with this a lot, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gross. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Frank sounded mad, and you couldn’t quite blame him. However, you weren’t about to let your own anger go so easily.

“I thought you were fucking dying! God, did you hook a boombox up to your intestines?”

“Leave,” he mumbled around a groan that lacked any sort of strength, and not just because his throat was hoarse. He sounded exhausted. More exhausted than you’ve ever heard him, including when he had bullet holes in his torso. He was clearly in no state to be alone. 

You blinked. “You do know there’s a broken vase on your kitchen floor right?”

He breathed your name, exhaling roughly through his nose. He closed the toilet and collapsed against it, letting his head hang backward. 

“I’m fine. You see I’m not dying, yeah? Now go.”

“Well you’re not far from it.” you crossed your arms. His grouchy mood would likely have turned most people away, but you knew him. Christ, you could see how much pain he was in. Sweat coated his temples, his face pale, his nose red. You knew he needed help, and a little arguing from him wasn’t going to scare you off. “Frank, you’re not fine. I don’t even think you can walk back to your bed. I’m not leaving you. Not like this.”

“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles, trying to stand up. Keyword: trying. He immediately stumbled, and you were right there to catch him. 

You grunted as his weight fell into yours, the two of you working to get him back upright. 

“Jesus—fucking—yeah. Yep, you can totally take care of yourself. Can totally stand on your own.” you shook your head, grabbing one of his arms and slinging it over your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

He mumbled something under his breath as he began to walk out of the bathroom with your support.

“That better have been a thank you.”

Once you got him into bed, with heavy groans from the both of you, you stared at him with your hands on your hips. 

“Alright. I’m gonna…well. Do you have food in this house that I can make into soup? Or just tubs of spam?” 

He pressed a pillow over his head, and that’s when you realized how badly he was sweating. And shaking. You swore under your breath and knelt down at this side, gently removing the pillow from his face and placing a hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up.” you murmured. “Where do you keep the towels?”

“No.” he responded immediately, flinching away from your touch. “I’m not getting you sick. It’s your day off, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re not going to g--how did you know that?”

“You told me,” he said nonchalantly, swallowing around a sore throat with a wince.

You blinked, recalling that you mentioned how you finally got a day off…but you could have sworn you told him that a week ago. Did he really remember that?

“I’m not going to sit here and give you whatever the hell I have.” he said roughly. “Just leave.”

“Did you hear me the first time?” you placed your hands on your hips. “I said no. You’re in no condition to be by yourself. I’m a nurse. I know when someone needs help. If I have to force you to accept that help, then so be it. Where do you keep your towels?”

There was a long bout of silence where you both stared at each other, the tension of your conjoined stubbornness almost tangible in the air. When he realized you weren’t going to give in, almost at the same time you realized he was finally too tired to fight you back on this, he sighed loudly. 

“Bathroom. Third drawer to the left.”

You huffed and started walking past him. “Thank you. Was that so difficult?”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” 

“Another weird way of saying thank you…” you trailed off as you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with lukewarm water.

“You never listen to anything I…say…” Frank’s arguing ceased as you pressed the washcloth to his forehead, and he just about melted in your hands. “Fuck…” 

“Feels nice, huh?” you smiled a little, feeling that familiar warmth you always got when you got to take care of people. Or Frank, specifically. You weren’t sure when that feeling had tailored to him exclusively. 

“Yeah, yeah…” his eyes drooped shut and he leaned against the towel, the edge of his cheek sinking into your palm. With your other hand, you brushed some of his sweaty hair away from his forehead. He hummed lowly, shamelessly reaching for your hand and pressing it back to his face. Your eyebrows shot up at the show of affection, a thing he rarely gave out.

It must be the fever. 

“I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

“No,” he groaned. “Head hurts. Just…just stay here. Need the towel.”

“You also need to eat.”

“Will you just listen to me?”

You rolled your eyes, using your index finger to tuck some hair behind his ear. “For a few more minutes.” 

In the end, it didn’t matter. He fell asleep within moments.

[mr-gallows]

James Sunderland Headcanons/Analysis! (SFW) Stuff about his job, dad, music, tidbits

These are based on Remake James! It's a little easier to come up with headcanons for remake James, since he's a bit more expressive here than the OG. Job:

James is an office clerk (this is confirmed canon), which means he has a job revolving around paying attention to detail. He keeps track of financial records, transactions, orders, supplies, and various other things that an office needs to run smoothly. He's messy, but he's good at his job and has a careful eye for detail. It makes sense for him since he's able to notice small things in Silent Hill that help him progress.

James is well-versed in using office software and spreadsheets, and sometimes is tasked with doing minor trouble-shooting for coworkers. James has an ongoing battle with a faulty office printer.

James prefers this kind of work, even if it doesn't exactly fill him with joy. He's definitely an introvert, but doesn't mind helping others if needed.

James does NOT participate in casual Friday. He always wears his button-down shirt and tie. Prefers not to get too casual about work; he likes to keep those spheres separate. Dad:

James sold his car to help with medical bills that weren't covered by his insurance. His father gave him his old 1977 Pontiac Ventura for free. It's the car his dad drove when he was growing up.

The car barely ran and James taught himself how to fix it. It was his only distraction from Mary's illness.

James has a strained relationship with his father, because he's just super weird. He's caught his dad saying and doing strange things, for instance, holding the box with Walter Sullivan's umbilical cord and just staring at it. One night, James came home from hanging out with his friends, and saw his dad in the kitchen, holding up a knife and staring at the wall as if in a trance. James was freaked out and decided to just come back home in the morning.

This might be dumb and random but I feel like Frank Sunderland doesn't have the best hygiene and his apartment smells. James is probably used to gross stuff. He doesn't like it, but he can deal with it.

James's mom left because she couldn't handle being around Frank anymore. James ended up growing up through his teen years with just his dad. Music:

James strikes me as the kind of guy who listens to The Police, Hall & Oates, maybe REM. Enjoys music with prominent bass lines. He probably listens mainly to hits from different bands as well.

Tends to prefer light rock. Metal isn't really his thing.

James's guilty pleasures are Duran Duran and Cocteau Twins.

I have his shuffle here!:

Tidbits:

James doesn't seem to laugh much, but he does have a sense of humor somewhere in there. Usually it's pretty dry and sarcastic. He appreciates observational humor.

Mary was fond of puns. He always pretended to hate them and roll his eyes, but would end up smiling or chuckling anyway.

James isn't much of a sweets guy, but his favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla. His favorite soda is Coke. He liked Coke floats as a kid. Favorite dessert is apple pie.

Drinks his coffee black.

Tried to tend to Mary's garden when she was sick, but he was overwhelmed by it and being unable to regrow the plants just made him feel worse. He didn't have her green thumb.

[richeeduvie]

hey👋 😊🤗

where’s wedding bells pt.2 😠😾🔫

Wedding Bells (Part Two)

Stewy H. x Reader, Roman R. x Reader (complicated), Kendall R x Reader (minor, minor as in what Baby was when she was groomed by him) here yall go damn!! (jk it's been long overdue after my failures I love u guys)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

PART ONE (OUT OF FIVE), AUTHOR MASTERLIST After assuring Roman that Stewy being your date was nothing but a platonic necessity for Shiv's wedding, the start of the night has decided on proving you wrong. It's much to your dismay...maybe not so much Stewy's (for the most part), but most certainly Kendall's. Knowing the aspects of the "DogandBone!AU" do help add content to both parts of this story, but you do not need to read anything prior to understand it. If you would like to, you can go onto my masterlist linked and browse through the masterlists/content of my succession characters. All are content for DAB!AU. Or you can simply search up the tag. (Stewy's POV next!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

The ceremony was beautiful, vows mandated. Knowing Tom as your technical boss, you're sure he wanted to say something from the heart. Knowing Shiv...Shiv, Shiv, your only girl friend Shiv...you know she wouldn't have that.

Roman took to looking bored next to Tabitha. You caught him making quips to her and you hate to wonder what he was saying, if he'd tell you the same things if you were his date.

Or maybe there's just some different with you that you wouldn't get the default comments out of Roman. Something just for you.

Maybe that's true for the past, before Tabitha and the now. You hate to think that, you think to not be over it already - you were asking Roman the what ifs of finding someone for you and you've got nothing to show for being ready to find that someone. That not-Roman.

Almost. Not really. No, you won't say you do have something to show for you. That something being taking looks at Stewy in the aisles.

Feeling your heart skip when he caught you taking those looks.

You were to not figure what the fuck Stewy was thinking at your stares when you were supposed to be gooey-goo over the new marriage of your friend. You were and are to not think about the way he met your eyes. You were to not notice the way Roman's head quickly, curtly snapped to follow where you were looking.

And now it's time for pictures!

"Has new, tanner dick brought you cause to lie to me?"

Roman kicks the grass, cut and too green underneath the both of you. What he's wearing isn't much different than his suits day to day at Waystar, but he looks nice. You don't know how to feel about how you don't feel the warm roll throughout your body at the sight of him handsome. Like he's not your boyfriend anymore.

He never was, he wasn't ever anything but the only person you've ever been in love with. Felt your loins on fire for, if you want to be gross about it.

You tilt your head.

"What?"

They're flashing pictures of just the bride and groom and it leaves Roman to whine to you on the sidelines. Stewy...in fact him and Kendall are nowhere to be found. You just know it's got something to do with whatever will ruin this family again. It'll be by tonight and forgiven in two weeks. At least the way you've grown into Roman over the years isn't something of a complete waste, you get understand the family you're working for for the rest of fucking time. Life.

Frank waves to you, you wave back.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

Roman's slapped your hand down mid-wave.

"You told me you just needed a date and you were too stupid to go with the obvious three-way Tabitha and I offered. Okay. I accepted that like I wasn't being fucked, but then you're fucking Stewy with your eyes, opening legs with your irises at my sister's wedding. Bridesmaid gangbang."

"...Are the bridesmaids gangbanging Stewy?"

Roman's brows are perpetually down, nose flared. You've shat on the grass, basically. The joke's bombed.

"You. Stewy...and his of color cock and his smarmy eyes. You think you can find out the number to his shaft shade by now? With all the times you've-"

Your eyes dart to where his fist opens and closes, then to where his neck rolls and head jolts. It's like a visual cough.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? Let me just not quip bullshit, I can be serious. I think I deserve that, maybe?" He sniffs.

And there it is...or there it isn't. No automatic, instinctual rush to comfort Roman and hold him or punish his insecurities with teases or insults punchier than his. Nothing.

Because you see Stewy coming up behind him.

You've always noticed he holds himself well, ever since you were younger. But now...no.

But then, you look into Roman's eyes, brown - facing rejection or no-care he's always so sure of. You sigh.

There it is. The rush.

Roman leans into your palm on his bicep.

"I'm going to ask if you've been keeping track of how many times you've ridden him. Or he's ridden you. You've taken to American Paint Horses."

"...When the fuck did you know pony breeds?"

"When you started fucking the brown kind."

Jesus. Roman.

"Roman! Fucking cool it. You're being...like, racist. Cartoonishly racist over something that you've made up in your head."

"It's not racist. Stewy's brown. Shocker. You went from me, not brown, to him. That's a fact. I didn't press negatives onto the color of his cock or our cultural differences in...fetishes."

Roman blinks, he turns to Stewy smiling at you before he's talking to Kendall.

"And did I make it up? Really."

You blink. You sigh.

It just slips out.

"You went from me to Tabitha. Should I whine?"

The words already leave a bad taste in your mouth once they leave it. They're not even particularly jealous-sounding, it's more of a casual tease to bite Roman and his hypocrisy. Still, it reeks on your tongue - it's a gag of admittance and by Roman's smug fucking face, you know he knows it too.

It's a slow growing smugness, too. First it's comprehension of what you said in the first place, then it's realization - life breathed onto his face.

Complete satisfaction.

....She still likes me. Wants me. Fuck it, knew it. Her vagina cares enough to be jealous. Knew it, knew it. Knew it. Thank God, I thought I was fucking done for and ready to be shot out back.

"I'm joking, but it's also a genuine question...because you're doing that over something you're making up in your head, Rom."

Roman puts his hands on his hips, lips pursing out.

"I just question the stares, you baby. That's all I'm doing. It's fair, they were like - fucky eyes."

No.

You don't know what they were.

"No. They weren't. And I-"

"Okay, now the family together!"

You turn to the photographer, Roman doesn't.

"I don't think you get to think over who I stare at, may-"

"Fuck you. Of course I do. I don't deny you from commenting on Tab's love for me as a result of pussy envy. I don't. I won't...and we..."

Roman turns to his family gathering, Shiv's blinking quick at him. It's like she's cursing at him to hurry the fuck up. He turns back.

"We can talk about it. Past the bullshit."

...Really?

"Really?"

The word on your tongue is more sarcastic than it is in your head. And there, in the pause...it's like Roman's pulling back from the openness of himself. Taking what he's put out away.

"Me and Tabitha and you...sure."

"...Mm. Shiv's waiting for you."

"Like, do I have to stop playing bits here and be fun for you to actually still have fun with me-"

"Roman, hurry the fuck up, dude! Seriously."

"Cool it! I don't care that it's your wedding, Shivy Ginge. I'll set fire to your minge."

He taps into his British roots there before he's off. Not before he kisses your knuckles, though.

"I just fucking miss you, weirdo. I want conversations. I just...I don't like...do things in spite - not towards you, even though you're being fucking weird. I don't make wounds and shove my dick into them as a gotcha."

It's said as he moves off. They take photos - the Roys...your Roys. You smile at Kendall when he smiles at you. Your thumb rubs your knuckle, you won't think about his kiss.

"Tabitha, just get it here."

But you don't think anything at all when they let Tabitha into the frame. It's easy for her. Rightfully so, but it's on your skin on a knife and you don't feel that's right.

But you don't feel it go away.

It hits you like the first time you cried as a child. It's a childish hurt and you can't make it go away as you watch the camera flash and Roys and Tabitha smile, as they bring Rava into the picture taking. Rightfully so.

It's a nail in the coffin, the confirmation what Roman has with Tabitha is real.

Your love, it still here thumping at your heart, is not.

Why are you about to cry?

"Hey, you."

You turn to the dark-haired, clean bearded man at your side. His knowing but soft voice.

"Hey, Stewy."

"What's with the glossy eyes?"

The burning is against the sudden, unwanted warmth you feel. You don't want to feel warmth at how Stewy's so close to you. You've been close to him before and nothing - nothing like what you feel with Roman.

But here, everything with what you feel with Roman. Maybe something new, something giddy that differs because Stewy isn't Roman, he's Stewy. He exists differently.

And now Roman exists away from you.

"Weddings, you know?"

Stewy smiles thin, brown eyes light.

"...Yeah. No. But even if it was yeah...I don't think it'd be Mr. and Mrs. Wambsgans getting me leaky. How's your legs from your formal-attire workout."

"...Upright planking?"

"Exactly."

You are sore. "It was a workout. At least I didn't have to listen to DIY vows. That would've been the real challenge."

Stewy leans you. You try not to breathe, you don't know why.

"I don't know, I think it'd be fun to see a Roy attempt romantics in public. Do you remember Ken's wedding with Rava?"

Yes. You won't be mean in your thoughts, genuinely.

"Yeah. The singing during the dinner was cute, I'm glad he chose to put that stunt there instead of the altar."

Stewy puts his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't that fucking right." His voice is warm, almost teasing - well...always teasing, even if the conversation is genuine. You know him well enough to know he's not fucking with you, laughing at you in the bore of small talk. It's just how he talks.

You also know him well enough to know his cologne is wearing off.

"You're not going to join the happy family photoshoot?"

"No. Have no reason to."

You and him haven't been facing each other in your talk, eyes to the Roy family with Tabitha and Rava as the reception beings to bustle inside.

You wonder if Stewy feels the tension too. If you're crazy - if you're childish for thinking he does or if you're both for feeling it yourself in the first place.

"That's a same, you're basically a fifth child. Which makes whatever you had with Roman incested. Which makes it less hot. I know, I'm weird, not...illegally weird, though. For the most part...so, the honorary incest is not hot, now that I think of it."

Stewy takes his hand out of his pocket. You see it out of the corner of your eye and you feel his touch on your back a couple seconds after.

You don't see how he pauses, you couldn't know how he thinks about how this touch is going to feel on his skin.

What the fuck happened, man? What happened that now things are...fucking coiling inside him. Like he's a boy - or no. Gross, cartoonish to describe it like...now it's just different with you. What fucking happened?"

Stewy smiles.

"You're perfume is disappearing on us. I don't want to be sniffing up on your sweat follicles while we're dancing, princess."

You shiver.

Why the fuck are you on fire in the best way possible?

"What a bore, right? Let's get inside."

Shiv fixes the waist of her dress.

"Yeah, honey. Photos are a bore, but important for our memoralization of our love...tonight, right? And I think we're supposed to let everyone go in first before we come crashing as bride and groom."

Photos are done. Everyone separates and even in the fire, you look to see if Roman's watching the flames. And....

Of course he is. But then you realize that you didn't tell Kendall that Stewy's your date. You didn't think you had to, but his eyes catching to where his best friend holds you is where you remember that yeah, Stewy's his best friend. The only reason why you know Stewy is because he's Kendall's best friend that he introduced when you were 14. You'll give him more leeway than you give to Roman. Even though it's still a date you needed, it must be weird for Kendall to see without context.

"I think you looked very beautiful up there."

You turn to Stewy, heart beating quick. Too quick for you to judge yourself for it.

"For Shiv's sake, I won't say you outdid her but...you were the closest bridesmaid to doing the out."

You smile to break away from that tension - between him and between how Kendall's hand drops from Rava's waist, how his eyes blink low from afar.

"You were examining all of us up there to figure that out?"

It's a joke you think warrants another smarmy-charming reply.

But all Stewy does is just hold his head up with something....serious along his face. Nothing under a tease, just eyes not blinking before he looks to the grass.

"No."

You can't stop your smile from falling before the photographer comes up to the both of you.

"Hey, you two want a photo? Cute couple."

"Oh, we're jus-"

"Sure. Have at us."

Stewy says it as charming as he says everything before he pulls you close by the waist.

"Oh, I can smell you better now. Smile, princess."

You do with every roll of fire on your skin. Your stomach turns over.

Maybe it's not childish...it's just new, it's just how you feel. What you hate is that you do, that it's Stewy. You have a right to new people, a new person to feel like this for...but not Stewy.

But it is, for some strange, new reason.

The camera shutters on you and him.

"Can I kiss you? It'll be modest. Cheeky."

It doesn't take you more than two seconds for it to slip out.

"...Sure. Yeah."

"Alright, yeah."

Stewy says it quietly before he kisses your cheek.

Oh, God.

The camera shutter, you might be...shuddering. You smile anyway. The photographer smiles too.

"Alright, make sure to catch the bouquet!"

They walk off and Stewy doesn't let go of you. You realize that he was holding it before the photographer came up for photos.

...Just breathe, just breathe.

And you do, Stewy's face doesn't stop you from breathing, you're able to breathe into it. Because of it - suddenly.

With his smile, with his smile.

...Maybe you'll indulge, maybe you have been indulging.

"I-"

You were going to, just before there's the sound of immense gagging. Vomiting.

"Fuck!"

"Rome?"

"Roman? What the fuck?"

Stewy turns to the commotion, brows rising up.

"Oh...oh. Fuck. That's disgusting."

It's Roman puking chunks onto the grass. Tabitha stands over him, complete ohs and rightful confusion on now knowing what to do. His father, Logan just looks completely disappointed.

Roman's hunches over. He's holding his head in what you know to be complete pain.

What the fuck?

"Roman?"

Of course, he doesn't answer you. You go to go up to him, but there's a hand on yours.

"I think we can go inside. Roman's vomit breath will meet us there, it looks like he's got enough people to check on him and his insides."

"I don't th-"

Even after everything, or because of everything, you still try and go to Roman. But Tabitha's hands rubbing his back stop you.

It takes the breath out of you.

Yeah, it's just...he'll meet you inside. Roman's got comfort, he decided it wouldn't be you and that'll stop hurting.

Roman will stop hurting a lot easier than you, you're sure. It'll be okay, you've got the rest of your life to take his insults of tonight.

"Okay, yeah. Let's go."

You hear the last of the gags as you and Stewy head inside to the start of the reception.

"I think they got my favorite desert, actually. I don't know how. If I'm feeling sultry and you're feeling consensual, I'll fork it into your mouth for you to try."

"...Sounds sultry. Okay"

You neither lean or move away from his hand on the small of your back. You let him pick something out of your hair.

"Roman, what the fuck? You okay, bro?"

"That was...you okay, son?"

You won't catch how Roman can't catch his breath. He can't recover. He can't come up from his knees. He actually lowers.

Tabitha's hands feels like bees, unfuckingfortunately. Roman crawls away and jolts at her palm finding him again.

"Stop! Just- it's fine. Stop. Sorry, sorry, Tab's. Dad, I'm good. I'm-"

He hacks. He can't breathe.

He knows why he can't breathe, but where are you? Where are the hands that actually feel like life digging back into his lungs?

Roman looks up.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Where are you?

"Roma-"

Whoever's talking to him gets interrupted by more vomiting. He's choking on it.

"Oh fucking Christ. I'm going, I'm going inside, Pinky. Someone get him water. Absolutely disgusting."

He would say he doesn't know what he did, but he does. He just doesn't...but he's sorry.

Where did you go? Why don't you come back?

"Roman, baby-"

"Don't fuckin-I said! I said stop. Sorry, you'll touch me later. I'm sorry."

He really fucking is, but someone else will be. If Roman sees Stewy in there...the bullet in Roman's head will be his to blame. That'll make him feel better.

Roman wipes his mouth, his eyes. He sniffles.

"Are you cry-"

"No! Tabitha, stop! Shiv - go get banged, it's your wedding day."

He can feel eyes. So, he's right. Staring does mean things.

"Fuck off!"

[sepublic]

Alright, let's talk about some details from the TOH pitch bible;

A lot of the stuff is what we've already seen and/or in line with the show. What's interesting is that King WAS a former King of Demons at one point, and we would've had an episode where he runs into his old gang and chooses Luz and Eda over them. It makes me wonder if he even had a connection to the Titan in earlier drafts, if he wasn't recognized as one back in the day because he just wasn't big enough, etc. Eda makes a deal to help remove the collar, which IS the source of King's woes, placed by a 'mysterious wizard', I wouldn't be surprised if it was Obron AKA Proto-Belos.

What gets me is that Tibbles originally started off as a friend to the protagonists, while Bump was an antagonist! Coupled with Tibbles being re-elected as mayor after Bump is deposed for corruption. I like the detail of Bump being a parasite controlling a body from the head, because it carried over into his final design with Frewin, and before we got confirmation Frewin was a separate entity, I loved the joke theory that the imp on Bump's head was the REAL Bump!!! Seems that was always the implied story of the design, I love it. Tibbles being the demon fan of human stuff would eventually become Gus instead, so this is technically Proto-Gus too…?

Interesting how Bump and Tibbles' alignments switch completely with one another, and it makes sense that with Lilith no longer the principal in the final draft, it goes to Bump, who ends up being really chill and a subversion in his own right! Interesting, but I do prefer the final Bump we got, and that's fine by me, because when the concepts aren't as interesting as the final product, it means we got the best possible version.

I've already discussed Obron and William in a separate post, and Pupa is someone we've been told about in a previous livestream. Lilith would've been both head of all covens (and not just the Emperor's Coven) AND principal at the same time, and she seems much more of a jerk to Eda in general; She has no qualms with cursing Eda because of a direct order from Obron.

Apparently the curse would've been an AGING spell, which settles my questions on how it would've been portrayed in earlier drafts! This goes along with Eda's older look. Likewise, there would've been a subplot of Eda considering Luz's sacrifice as a way to restore her youth, which likely goes hand in hand with Obron's orders to bring Luz to her, etc. The 'Bloom of Eternal Youth' quest, which Eda and Lilith go through together as their sisterly relationship is explored, feels like a carryover from this past idea.

I think I prefer the final draft; I like that the curse isn't just aging Eda, but also takes away her magic, makes her turn into a beast, etc. I like Lilith being a lot more complicated in her relationship with Eda, instead of just hating her and cursing her without hesitation. The redefining of the curse makes it less about age, and more a chronic illness metaphor, and I like how Eda in the final draft is upfront about having to learn to live with it, deal with it, on her own terms. She isn't trying to find a cure (although Lilith being promised one by Obron feels like a carryover of Eda's moral dilemma with Luz), and that adds another nice dimension to her conflict with Lilith, as well as Gwen. It's pretty frank in its own right about normalizing disability, and those who play an antagonistic role (however brief) are the real weirdoes for making such a fuss about it.

The Bat Queen would've had more of a recurring role based on the description, which saddens me; I always got the vibe she was planned for more, but between all of the other stuff the show had to juggle, plus the shortening, she ended up getting shafted despite being one of the earlier characters. Sashley, Pasha, and Bruno are also interesting, with Pasha in particular giving me freaking Philip Wittebane vibes with his grossness, beard, and anti-demon attitude; He even starts off as a potential friend to Luz because fellow human, only for his true bigotry to show. Makes me wonder if Philip ended up incorporating Pasha, we also have bodily transformation because of consuming magical stuff... P-names.

(Also, I like how in the drawing of typical Demon Realm denizens, I can see an eye demon who resembles a past drawing of Dana's!!!)

Eda was actually a late bloomer, which creates a parallel with Luz in one way, and their relationship is referred to as sisterly (in the final draft it’s explicitly maternal). So Eda wouldn't have been the talented youth, in fact things may have switched between her and Lilith; Lilith's disdain may have partially come from Eda not being as innately talented as her.

Luz and Amity's dynamic seems like it would've had Amity retain a lot of her more stand-offish, pragmatic personality even as a friend with Luz, and this would've come up more; So basically, she'd remain more like S1 Amity. That, or this part of their relationship would've lasted longer, and then we would've seen character development as Amity unlearns a lot of the issues her parents passed on. I also wonder if the Willow who cameos in the pilot was originally supposed to just be an extra separate from ‘Paulina’, but then they combined the two together.

The themes are exactly as I expected, glad to see they're still there, nothing changed! Luz becoming a witch and defying all odds to do so, putting in real work and passion. Celebrating individuality amidst conformity, plus Luz trying to impose her own fictional tropes onto the world, only to have to put that aside... Just like Wing it like Witches. It seems Amity would've had more involvement with Luz's journey to become a witch, though we still do have a carryover of that disconnect with her rant near the end of Covention.

I love the Demon Realm being situated BELOW the Human Realm, way to be subtle about being Hell you guys lol... Apparently portals to the human world are a lot rarer to find and use, which makes me wonder if the pilot's 'dimension port' doesn't have access to the human world; Meaning Amity is Luz's only way back, so her improved relationship with her is linked to getting back home. There's a gag about the Knee having service with the human world, but I can see how that didn't make the cut, for dramatic purposes; It seems like the premise for a S1 episode or at least a B-plot. Would Luz have struggled to communicate with Camila through this, or would her search for wi-fi be for mundane reasons?

Apparently Luz's magic would've required a lot more steps to complete, and I see why the show simplified things down to just glyphs. I wonder if there was always going to be the connection of glyphs as a gift from the Titan, or if the Titan and her story was going to be less intertwined in the overall narrative. There also don't seem to be nine main covens, just the many, many covens, some of which are pretty ridiculous, and Covention's sub-covens seem a callback to that.

Luz's first spell would've been levitation, and THEN she would've infiltrated Hexside, with Amity being a lot subtler about exposing Luz, though in the final draft she does figure that out as the way to go in I was a Teenage Abomination. Yeah, I prefer Light being her original spell, feels so much more symbolic and personal, etc. I wonder if the Titan is even as much of a character in early drafts, and if there's still the whole connection/relationship with the land and learning to respect it aspect. Some of these hypothetical episodes push the idea of Amity as a more episodic, typical popular kid antagonist, though in the final draft, the show goes through her character development and explores Amity's romantic relationship with Luz and its complications.

It seems the idea of the Mirror Ghost was split into Adegast and Vee, with Adegast being the one who offers the easier narrative for Luz to believe in about becoming a witch (only to be a fraud who uses uncanny puppets), and Vee being a doppelganger whom Luz communicates through with mirrors. Interesting how Yesterday's Lie was born from this. We saw the test animation from Spencer Wan for TOH, so I guess we know what Luz's puppet-doppelganger is called! And we can safely call her Proto-Vee. I wonder if she also would've been a sympathetic character, I always thought she reminded me of Lake from Infinity Train (and speculated her to be as such since Enchanting Grom Fright), and now the similarities are even MORE apparent!

Alas, The Good Witch Azura, or 'The Unassuming Princess' seems like it'd have been a lot less dear to Luz's heart, as the pilot also reflects; In the end, it turns out the author is just Eda's ex using her adventures as basis, and including private information. I remember when I once speculated that Raine, before we saw their face, would've been just like this as the author of Azura... Again, I think I prefer Azura as being a lot less mean-spirited in the final draft, and instead a celebration of who Luz is as a person, her relationship with fantasy and fiction, etc. We also would've had a Luz birthday party, the Quincenera we've been hoping for since S1...! In the final draft (and episode) we still get that Human-Demon Realm disconnect, though by that point, Luz is much more attuned and chill with the isles.

There’s definitely more of an episodic, sitcom feel to this pitch bible, especially when you compare Proto-Yesterday’s Lie to its final version. Makes sense, Dana is pitching this to Disney executives, though her statement on Understanding Willow feeling truly like her show makes me wonder if she always intended to push TOH in that more serious, emotional route we got.

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank's a part of your friend group and invites you to hang out one day, unaware of your massive crush on him. During the visit, you let it slip that you're very inexperienced, and he offers to teach you everything you've missed out on.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of sex, drinking, and smoking

Author's Note: Oh my god! It's finally here, my first fic series! I've had this idea for months now and I've finally got the courage to write it out and post it. I wanna say a huge thank you to @chellestrash and @suitsofwo3 for their continuous support on this series! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 5k

​​To say you had feelings for Frank Castle would be a gross understatement. It was truly nothing short of a schoolgirl crush, an all consuming infatuation that made you want him even more. Being anywhere near him made you feel like you were back in grade school with an uncontrollable flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and you knew you had to at least try and attempt to cease their movements.

But knowing and acting are two very different things, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to stop them. Not when every smile he flashes your way makes them beat their tiny wings so fast that you feel weak in the knees. You knew logically it couldn’t end well, not with him being in your friend group, but you had a feeling you could keep up the friendly facade and not let it slip that your feelings for him are much more intense. 

After all, he’s confident, handsome, and much older than you. How hard could it be?

“How hard could it be,” you repeat, whispering to yourself in the car. Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you as you listen while your GPS navigates you through the city. Frank had invited you over to his place after the last get-together the group had, where you admitted to the fact that you hadn’t seen his, apparently, favorite movie from the ‘80s. It was almost too perfect of a setup and you curse the universe for planning it all. Of all the movies you haven’t seen, you had to confess to this one?

In your defense, it was nearly impossible to decline his offer when his charm flared up like it had that night. Boisterous laughter, crinkles by his eyes when he grinned, and a, “Come on, you’ve gotta see it!” that was so warm and welcoming it had you agreeing before you thought about the implications of that damn nod you gave him.

Thinking back on that night, you nearly miss your turn onto the road that leads to his apartment. You catch it just in time though and as the automated voice informs you that he lives on the left, the anxiety sets in. You begin to focus on your breathing and you find an open parking spot right next to his black van, exactly where he said there would be. Mentally thanking him for eliminating some of the pressure of finding where to park, you pull into the spot and look towards the door with the metal numbers of his address bolted on the plaque beside it.

Once the car is parked and the ignition is off, you close your eyes and inhale enough air until your chest puffs out. “It’s just Frank,” you reassure yourself, attempting to slow down your heart rate. It does little use as his face flashes in your mind when you speak his name, so you decide not to delay the meeting any longer.

With a dry mouth and fidgeting hands you make your way to his apartment, giving yourself one last full breath before raising your hand to knock on his door. Your knuckles sound out against the wood, and there’s only a second of silence before you hear a muffled, “Coming!”

The brief moment to plaster a relaxed smile on your face passes all too quickly and you’re suddenly met with Frank’s warm grin. Failing to ignore the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help your eyes immediately glancing at his bicep as it stretches the fabric of his sleeve. You quickly force your gaze back to his face and give yourself a mental shake.

“Hey, kid, glad you could make it,” he greets you kindly. You’d be lying if you said the nickname he reserved for you wasn’t bittersweet. It made you feel special that it only left his lips in reference to you, but logically you knew it was because you were the youngest in the group. The truly bitter part was hearing it and feeling your heart sink that little bit lower; you wondered if he ever saw you as more, if you’d ever be able to satisfy your steadfast crush.

But those spiral sessions are best had at home, so you push away the thoughts and focus on spending time with him. All you’ve ever wanted was time alone with him and you’re not sure when you’ll get the chance again after today.

“Yeah, of course,” your genuine smile takes over, ”I had to see what all the fuss was about.” He chuckles at your joke before stepping aside, gesturing for you to come in. Squeezing past his body, you step into the living room of his home. It’s bigger than you expected, housing a sectional couch and wooden coffee table in the center. There’s also a large television mounted to the wall that’s clearly the main focus of the room. One sweatshirt and a lone blanket are draped on the back of the couch, making up the only clutter in the space. You don’t realize Frank is watching you take it all in until he gently clears his throat.

“Is it as glorious as you expected?” His voice sounds out from behind you and you turn to face him. There’s a smirk on his face and you find yourself chuckling to avoid shrinking into yourself.

“Just… different than I pictured is all,” you gesture vaguely to the open space of the room. There’s a scoff before he walks past you and towards the light grey couch.

“‘Clean’, you mean?” There’s a huff surrounding the question as he plops down onto the couch.

“Well…” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. A smile slowly takes over his face as you tease him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he pats the cushion of the couch. You follow his instruction, opting to keep one seat between the two of you. There’s a pause for a moment and you let your eyes wander to his thighs. His legs are slightly spread on the couch and it’s hard to ignore the way the fabric of his denim jeans are struggling to make room for the muscles of his thighs.

“So you really haven’t seen the greatest film of all time?” He begins again, disbelief clear in his tone. His voice makes your line of sight shoot back up to his face and it’s now your turn to wear a smile.

“You sure are creating a lot of hype for this movie. I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” you laugh softly. His eyes grow wide as a look of shock takes over his face.

“‘Disappoint’? You kiddin’ me? I’m pretty sure this movie paved the way for cinema.” He gets up excitedly, walking towards one of the thin bookshelves that frame the television. His fingers scan the titles quickly, trailing down the rows until he finds one. He pulls the case out from where it was sandwiched between the others before turning around to show it off with a wave of his hand.

“Made sure to rewind it for you yesterday.” You try to ignore the way your brain jumps to conclusions at those few words. The thoughts are loud, however, and you hear them despite your wishes. He really thought this ahead? Was he actually looking forward to seeing you?

Frank pulls the tape from out of its case and kneels down in front of the television. There’s a large, grey VCR lying on the ground and he gently pushes the tape past the small hinge, a tiny whirring sound escaping as it accepts the tape.

“God, I’m really showing my age here, aren’t I?” He nods towards the old technology on the wooden floor.

“I mean, I’ve seen my parents use them before,” you answer honestly.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, bringing his palm to cover his face before dragging it down his cheeks. The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, he looks so cute each time you tease him. You love these moments and how effortless it is to joke around with him, unlike when your usually constant bashfulness is present. 

Once the tape is in, the static on the screen crackles to life and there’s a few seconds before the black fades into a dusty orange sky. As the opening scene begins to play, you feel like you recognize the actors’ names as they appear over the footage. Nothing immediately comes to mind though, so you ignore the nagging feeling of trying to place them and focus on the film.

That proves to be more difficult than you intended. Admittedly, all you can think about is his scent lingering in the space around you. It’s almost as if the couch is bathed in his smell and it feels as though you’re drowning in it in the best way. You halfway register the dialogue sounding out and decide to at least entertain the idea of paying attention. There’s a shot of the inside of an airport, and you watch as the word Diehard comes across the center of the screen. Chuckles erupt from you and Frank’s immediately turning to face you with a confused pout.

“You think Diehard is the greatest movie of all time?” Your words are unintentionally soaked in disbelief and you swear you can see his defensive guard come up.

“You tryna’ tell me it’s not?! Cause it’s clearly up there!”

“I don’t know, Frank,” you start. Each time the film is brought up around you, you hear that it’s either the best or it’s overrated. You just didn’t expect him to be this much of a fan.

“That’s right! You don’t know!” He seems proud of his argument and even laughs towards the end of his sentence. You shake your head as your smile begins to hurt your cheeks due to how long you’ve been wearing it for. He reaches for the old remote, its buttons faded with its age, and the screen halts to a stop as he presses pause.

“I’ll be right back,” Frank explains with a grunt as he pushes himself off of the couch. You turn and watch him walk to the kitchen, your eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and how they almost brush the open doorframe as he passes through it. Not wanting to let your thoughts continue any more down the path they’re already on, you force your attention back to the television and wait for him to return.

“Here you are,” his deep voice sounds out a moment later and you look up at him. He’s sitting down onto the couch cushion with the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the necks of two beer bottles. He stretches his arm towards you, offering one of the drinks and you’re distracted by the veins running up the inside of his forearm.

“What? S’there somethin’ wrong?” he asks confusedly, his own gaze glancing between your clasped hands and the bottles. You snap out of your trance and stare at the beers again, racking your brain for any excuse to use to decline the drink.

“No, thank you, I’m all good,” your voice comes out stiff. Real smooth, you curse yourself as you see Frank’s expression change. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to understand your sudden and strange behavior.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” he begins, setting the bottles down and leaning back into the couch. His entire body is turned towards you and it’s clear that you’re the new subject of the conversation. You swallow thickly, your nerves already acting up.

“Never seen you drink, never seen you smoke… Hell, I haven’t seen you do much of anything,” he continues, listing his examples off on each finger. “Why is that? You some goody two shoes or something?” he finishes with a raspy chuckle. He reaches for his beer, popping the lid off with the opener from the coffee table and taking a long sip as his eyes meet yours over the glass in his hand.

You wish you could come up with something, anything, to get you out of this situation before you’re forced to confess to him. You open your mouth, expecting your tongue to string the words together for you, but there’s nothing but silence in the room. Quickly, you begin grasping for an explanation, only to be left stuttering over your words. Frank’s eyebrows raise and there’s an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he puts his drink down again.

“Uh oh,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicker all around your face. “There’s somethin’ else there,” he whispers mostly to himself, “gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

If none of this was enough to make your face grow warm, it certainly is now that you’ve heard the pet name leave his mouth. You feel as if you’re curling inward on yourself and you hate that the ground won’t show you mercy by opening up and swallowing you whole. Fidgeting with your fingers, you wonder if there’s any lie you can try and deliver confidently this time. But who are you kidding? You were never good at it, and it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.

With one last glance up at him, you see he’s not going to budge until he gets an answer, so you give him what he’s looking for. “Yeah, that’s… ‘my deal’,” you phrase his words in air quotes. “I haven’t really done, well, anything, and I don’t really know where to start,” you admit, still not looking him in the eyes. Frank nods as he lets your voice fill the air and you notice him making another curious face.

“When you say ‘anything’, what exactly do you mean?” he asks in a softer tone this time, no hint of teasing in his words. It’s then that you finally meet his brown eyes and see the kindness in their warm color. You bring in a deep breath and prepare yourself for the worst possible reaction to your following words.

“Um—,” you cut yourself off with a sigh, letting out all the air in your lungs and attempting to stall the embarrassment a moment longer. “Okay, like drinking, smoking, drugs…” you continue the list and watch him nod after each addition. “Never had sex, never—,”

“Bullshit,” his rumbly voice interrupts you, shaking his head in disbelief. The pout that forms on your lips is involuntary; you feared he wouldn’t have believed it, but you suppose it’s better than him teasing you. From the corner of your eyes you watch his lips part and his jaw go slack as he realizes what you said was the truth.

“Christ, you… you’re serious?” he questions as he looks at you in shock. You only nod silently, not sure how to continue from here. There’s a long pause where Frank is still as stone, remaining silent but seemingly trying to process the new information he’s discovered. The air feels so thick you worry that if you open your mouth to speak you’ll only choke.

The sound of a rumbly chuckle fills the air and you look up to see his wide smile. He’s dragging his palm down his mouth and rubbing his jaw as he shifts his hips forward and leans back into the cushions once more. You feel anger bubbling up and it quickly replaces the mortification that had been consuming you for the past few minutes.

“Screw you! I knew you wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” You cross your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. You felt stupid for sharing this with him, and now he has the audacity to laugh? Over something this personal?

“No, no, sweetheart, hey—,“ the pet name again does nothing to dull the burning under the skin of your cheeks. “I wasn’t teasing it’s just…,” he sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a surprise, y’know?” 

As much as you want to stay upset with him, you’re not sure your resolve can last that long. You attempt to maintain your defensive position and don’t dare soften the angry glare you’re shooting at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he starts, but you don’t budge. “C’mon, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it, s’all. Kinda hard to believe, honestly.” Your head perks up at the last sentence and you shoot him a look of pure disbelief.

“Yeah, well… you’re obviously the only one who thinks that,” you mumble, the self-deprecating words falling past your lips before you even register them. Frank sighs deeply and you notice the way his eyes are flickering all around your face, presumably trying to gauge how upset you are.

“It’s not like I want this,” you huff, deflating into the couch, “but now it’s like even if I want to try stuff, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You begin picking at your fingers as the insecurity grows with his silence. “It’s like everybody did the crash course in high school and they have experience. I don't even know where to start…” As you trail off, the silence becomes deafening and you find yourself missing his laughter because at least that was something.

“Aaaaand I said too much. Sorry, it’s just something that’s frustrated me for years and… yeah,” you decide it’s better to end the conversation than wait on a reply that won’t come.

“You didn’t say too much,” he finally speaks up, and the weight on your chest begins to dissipate. “Was lettin’ you get it all out,” he explains. He holds his chin between his thumb and index finger, grazing his jaw lightly and tilting his head as he thinks over your confession. You find yourself subconsciously holding your breath as you prepare for the worst possible response he could give you.

“Said you didn’t know where to start, right? Why don’t we start with something small, hmm? How about that beer?” Frank nods his head once in the direction of the abandoned bottle he had grabbed for you. You eye it hesitantly and think over the worst that could happen. Coming up with virtually nothing, you nod back to him, deciding it would be one small victory to deal with today. 

As you wrap your fingers around the bottle, you raise your hand and turn to Frank. He mimics you, lifting his own in the air before clearing his throat.

“To…” he trails off, trying to come up with something as a cheer. His eyes drift off to somewhere else in the room, his lips parted as his eyebrows pull together. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his very serious thinking face. Not wanting him to hurt himself from racking his brain much longer, you speak up.

“To trying new things,” you say confidently, and the second the words leave your mouth you’re already regretting them. You physically wince at your word choice and now it’s Frank’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty lame,” you admit to him. “Sounded better in my head.”

“Think it sounded perfect,” he replies before tilting his bottle towards you. You follow his lead as he brings the drink to his lips and you don’t think twice before tilting your own head back. The second the flavor hits your tongue you can feel your face scrunching up involuntarily. You bring the bottle away immediately and your lips purse at the taste in your mouth. Frank’s laughter rumbles out deep from his chest and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it down with no reaction. 

“Attagirl, one thing down. That wasn't too hard now was it?” he speaks once he’s brought the glass bottle away from his mouth. Thankfully, the nasty beer is enough to distract you from reacting to his praise.

“You didn’t tell me it tasted like piss!” you exclaim, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand.

“This is actually one of the good ones,” you watch as he takes another swig. “But you’re right, it’s not all that great,” he admits before licking his lips and looking at you.

Any residual awkwardness you felt only moments before has all but vanished and you feel comfort just being here with him. You smile softly to yourself as you brush your thumb along the curved glass of the neck of the bottle.

“Thank you for this,” you speak up, “it feels nice to get something crossed off the list.”

“Any time, kid,” his voice is raspy and you try to dissuade your stomach from doing flips at his tone.

The smile on your face grows wider in the silence, feeling a small amount of pride bubbling in your chest knowing that you tried something new. It doesn’t seem like such a big feat once you’ve climbed over the hill, but there’s always been that fear that keeps you paralyzed and unable to even attempt to move forward. You truly meant your words, you’re thankful that he gave you that little push.

“Y’know, I could help… with the list, I mean.” You’re almost certain you’ve never felt your heart beat quite this hard before. Frank waits until your eyes have locked with his before he speaks slowly, carefully chooses his words as he continues. “O-Only if you want, obviously. Just… said you wish you knew how to do it the first time, right? So it wouldn’t be such a big deal?” You hesitantly nod, still not wanting to assume what he’s proposing until he explicitly says it.

“Yeah, so I figured we could have you practice? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you get out there,” he ends his sentence with a shrug, as if it’s the most nonchalant offer.

“What?” you desperately try to ignore the way your words shake slightly. “Like you’d teach me?” You can’t even help the incredulous tone your words are soaked in. You can hardly even fathom the idea of Frank Castle being the one to show you the ropes, much less actually acting those things out with him.

“Yeah? If that’s alright?” He smiles gently and you feel your body beginning to relax some. “Just… I saw how much it meant to you and I wanna help,” he explains further, and you swear you’ve never seen sincerity like the way it’s shining in his warm, brown eyes.

You swallow thickly as you think over his proposition. It feels like this is some sort of dream; you’re waiting for your alarm to ring out as your vision slowly fades, waking up in your bedroom alone. But no amount of pinching your skin will rip you from this moment. It feels too good to be true, but it’s happening regardless. He’s waiting on an answer and it’s honestly the best offer you could think of being handed to you on a silver platter.

“And hey, you absolutely don’t have to say—”

“Yes,” you finally decide. You can’t even believe you said it.

“You sure?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between your own. You think it’s sweet how he tries to make sure you’re certain of your decision. You smile widely as you nod at him, the butterflies returning to your stomach once again.

“Also, we don’t, like, have to have sex… just so you know. I know that’s a lot, but I can help with the stuff leading up to it?” You grin and nod again and Frank laughs lightly at your response. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

“I am! I’m just excited, sorry,” you fidget with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to channel all the newfound energy elsewhere. Frank’s chuckle grows louder and you wonder if you imagined the soft “cute” that was muttered under his breath.

“So…” he speaks up and you turn to face him completely. “How would you feel about crossin’ something else off the list?” You nod immediately as all the nervousness from before switches to excitement while it courses through you.

“Okay…” he laughs softly at your quick reaction. “Let’s see,” he pauses for a moment as he thinks before his eyes light up with an idea. “You ever been kissed?” You feel the familiar shyness creeping up again, but you choose to push it back down. Instead, you just softly shake your head and watch as he nods in understanding.

“You want to try it?” he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. You hum an agreement and watch as he moves a bit closer to you on the couch. Once again you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to be some sort of joke. But Frank only waits for you to take the initiative to close the space between the two of you.

Now that you’re facing each other on the couch, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you wait for him to make the first move. He smiles reassuringly before raising his hand and cradling the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your cheek as his long fingers curl around the back, holding you gently in place.

“You sure you want this?” he confirms. Again, you nod eagerly.

“I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart. That’s my rule,” he explains.

“Oh…” you whisper as you glance between his eyes and his lips, “yes.” You feel your heart swelling at the fact that he wants to make sure you truly want what he’s offering. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, muttering one last, “Okay,” before leaning forward.

The second his lips touch yours, you’re surprised at how soft they are. He’s gentle with his movements and softly sucks your lower lip between his own. It only takes a moment for you to kiss him back, careful to only mimic his actions and still let him lead. The kiss is warm and sweet and you feel the blood rushing through your cheeks and tingling down your neck. His thumb catches your bottom lip and pulls it down slowly, breaking the kiss. Frank breathes gently as he licks his lips, his eyes flickering between yours.

“How was that?” he asks, his breath fanning over your mouth as he speaks.

“It was good. I-I liked it,” you smile sheepishly, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to savor the feeling.

“Yeah?” he tilts his head as the question leaves his mouth, his eyes squinting as he glances from your eyes to your mouth. You once again nod before you even think to do it.

“Alright, now I wanna give you a real one.”

“A real one?” you pout and stare at him confusedly.

He only smirks before leaning forward again, pressing his lips to yours harder. This time, his palm guides your jaw to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss. The stubble lining his jaw scratches at your cheeks, and the prickling has you melting under his touch. You try your best to keep up, but his scent feels like it’s truly suffocating you now; you can hardly kiss him back with how overwhelmed you are. The next thing you register is the wet heat of his tongue brushing along your bottom lip, slowly tracing the shape before he pushes it inside your mouth. His tongue glides against your own and there's a small moan that escapes from your throat.

All too soon his lips leave yours and you open your eyes at the loss of contact. Frank’s own eyes are still shut and you watch as he clenches his jaw, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, worried you messed up somehow.

“Yeah… just, that was the sweetest god damn thing I’ve heard.” His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down your spine. Out of all the times you’ve dreamt of having your first kiss, you never thought it would’ve been that good. And to think, an impulse decision to watch a movie with him led you to this plan to gain experience. You find yourself already missing the feeling of his tongue, of the scratch that his stubble gave when he deepened the kiss.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he knocks your knee softly with his own, attempting to grab your attention. “You’re being too quiet.”

“I just, well, I wanna do it again,” you admit, looking away nervously. In one sudden motion Frank tugs you into his lap and you yelp as you wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs softly as he stares up at you but doesn’t waste a second before kissing you even quicker than before. There’s only a few chances you can take to catch your breath because he hardly breaks the kiss. You never thought someone as attractive as him would want to kiss you this much, but confidence rushes through your body as his affection continues.

Frank’s mouth begins to wander, his lips finding new space that had otherwise been untouched. The corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw—he never stops kissing you until he gets to your throat. From there, his lips part and he begins sucking on your neck. A shaky gasp leaves you as his teeth make purchase on your skin, softly biting before brushing his tongue over the mark.

“Done two new things,” he mutters, his lips moving around the words but never leaving your body. “How’s it feel?”

“I really like this,” you say breathlessly as you feel his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of your neck. He hums into your throat, the vibration setting your skin alight before you finish your thought, “You can keep the beer though.”

Frank’s chuckle gets caught in his throat, resulting in the cutest snort you’ve ever heard. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and looks up at you with sweet, brown eyes.

“Sure, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

[chlorinatedpopsicle]

Recently, there's been a popular post on radblr discussing how women aren't allowed to have fun like men are, and how men get applauded for doing stupid shit while women get mocked.

I just stumbled upon an example of this in the wild.

Someone on r/stupidfood posted a vid of this woman who filled a fanny pack with spaghetti and ate it while skydiving. It was funny. She was clearly just being silly for silliness' sake.

Not only was the post tag calling her "stupid", the comments were like 95% making fun of her, calling her an idiot, criticizing her skydiving etiquette, saying the spaghetti looked gross, and just generally bitching about anything and everything.

I was SO GLAD to see these people in the comments pointing out how weird that is:

They're absolutely right. If it were a guy doing this, people would just think it's funny!!! People would be in the comments calling him a legend and a mad lad.

Filthy Frank could eat ravioli out of his shirt pocket as a stupid joke, and people could understand that he was doing a deliberately stupid thing as a funny bit. But when a woman does something similar, it must just be because she's stupid and annoying and probably trying too hard to be quirky. Fuck off.

[julieverne]

Maura kisses Jane when she's had a few drinks.

Not in, like, a gay way. She just looks up at Jane with shining eyes and plants one on her. Sometimes it's followed with a slurred 'I freaking love you', and sometimes it's preceded by it. Jane learns her tells pretty quickly, but she never has the heart to dodge them.

---

The first time was in The Dirty Robber. They'd been drinking after a case, and Frost had joined them. They sat on the same side of the booth so women wouldn't think one of them was with him; they didn't want to ruin his pickup game. Jane hadn't noticed the little flush of histamines on Maura's cheeks. She hadn't noticed Maura leaning against her, so involved with the conversation with Frost about their case that she'd merely slung an arm over her and kept talking. When Frost got up to get another round, Jane looked over, and Maura pulled her in close, hand fisted in the front of Jane's tee.

It hadn't been passionate, it had just been a kiss. The sort that bridesmaids give each other on a hens night, the kind that straight women gave each other when they had good news. Jane had chuckled awkwardly, and Maura pulled away from her closed mouth, looking up at Jane with a grin.

"You're so smart. I can't believe you caught that guy."

"It's your evidence that's going to put him away," Jane said gently, a little unsettled. A compliment and a kiss. It was a little too soft and girly for her, but Maura had always been a little too soft and girly for her. That was part of what she liked about her. Jane had enough rumours about her sexuality flying around the precinct, and this was a cop bar. She looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed. Jane hadn't minded; Maura had nice breath and she hadn't mauled her. It hadn't been gross or anything. It hadn't even been particularly unwanted. Part of her wondered if she should mind, but it was hardly a confession of love or attraction. It was just something drunk straight girls did, wasn't it? Maura reached for her glass, but tipped it over instead.

"You're drunk," Jane realised out loud, tightening her arm around Maura's shoulders, glad Frost hadn't seen the kiss. Even though he'd know there was nothing to it, he would heckle Jane relentlessly.

Frost came back with three drinks, and Jane pulled Maura's out of her reach. "You've had enough to drink," Jane said gently, and Maura pouted, slumping against Jane. Frost chuckled, jumping in where he'd left off, while Jane pointed out pretty women at the bar giving him glances.

---

The next time, Constance was staying over. She'd brought wine, and Maura had had a little more than one glass. Jane had had one; she didn't mind a wine or beer, but she stayed pretty sober. PTSD and drinking didn't mix well; she'd learned that fast after Hoyt. Then there was Tommy and Frank, examples that alcohol addiction didn't look good on Rizzolis. Even Jane was feeling the buzz, though; not too heavy, but enough that she excused herself from the table to get some water. She didn't want nightmares later, and she still had to drive home.

Maura joined her in the kitchen, giggling as she stumbled and Jane caught her.

She looked up at Jane, who held her with one arm around her, holding her by the hip, then she looked at Jane's chest, then back up at Jane, her eyes shining, her smile glorious.

"You always save me," Maura said, her voice so low that Jane had to lean down a little to hear her. Maura leaned up a little and pressed her lips to Jane's, quick and easy. "Thanks," Maura said, her cheeks flushed from wine.

Jane held the glass she'd filled from the sink and held it to the lips that had just touched hers until Maura gave in and drank from it.

"You need this more than me," Jane mumbled, her voice low and amused.

Constance and Angela, at the table, looked away when Jane glanced over at them. It was fine. They knew they were just friends. It wasn't like either of them were homophobic either - Constance had been talking about a queer exhibit she'd defended in West Virginia last month, and Angela had shook her head.

"How can anyone hate love," she'd said, looking over at Jane.

Maura drank half the glass before pulling away, shaking her head. Rather than dirty another glass, Jane finished the water and poured another. Her thumb rubbed the crest of Maura's hip, holding her close in case she stumbled again.

"Am I embarassing myself?" Maura asked, sotto voice. Jane chuckled and drank some more water. She turned to look at Maura, who focused her intense gaze on Jane's eyes, seeking an answer. Jane brought up a hand and used two fingers to brush a lock of hair away from Maura's forehead, tucking it behind her ear, then let those fingers drift onto Maura's cheek.

"You could never," Jane told her. "But you're definitely tipsy."

Maura's brow furrowed. She took the glass from Jane's hand and sipped from it.

"I'm being a terrible host," Maura confessed. "Leaving my guests alone at the dining table."

"They're fine. They both love you."

Maura looked uncertain, and it hurt Jane to see just how much she questioned people's affection for her.

"Everyone here loves you, Maura," Jane told her, and Maura's uncertainty turned into a shy smile. Jane knew she'd gotten through to her. Maura's arm wrapped around Jane's waist and she leaned against her. "Even if you are a lightweight," Jane added, rubbing Maura's back.

---

The next time was a Rizzoli gathering. They usually didn't drink, but Tommy was out of town, so it was just Frankie and Jane and Angela in Maura's courtyard, catching up over Sunday dinner. Jane and Frankie fought over who worked the barbeque, and Jane brought Maura her plate first, sitting beside her. Maura's skin glowed in the dusk light, her smile luminescent in twilight. Jane ducked her head to hide the smile on her face, to hide the way Maura made her smile. Maura, caught up in the silliness of Jane and Frankie, stole Jane's beer, wrinkling her nose at the taste of it. God, she was so cute Jane could barely stand it.

So she didn't complain when Maura hauled her inside to get the fresh berries they'd picked upstate for dessert. Maura paused at the counter, looking up at Jane, and Jane was kind of expecting it this time.

Maura got up on her tiptoes in her flats, one hand on Jane's hip, and she pressed her mouth against Jane's.

"Today was perfect. Thank you."

Jane shrugged shyly; it had just been the usual Rizzoli chaos. Maura was still looking up at her like she was a sunset or a fancy painting that coat more than Jane's condo. "I really freaking love you," Maura added. "And your family. I'm so glad I have you."

"Me too," Jane agreed. She snagged a blueberry, chewed it, then pressed her mouth to Maura's, hoping she tasted as good as Maura always did. Maura's smile was shy but no less beautiful for the blue staining her lips.

---

The next time was after the election. Giovanni had been depressed about his candidate, and he'd joined them for a drink. He'd hinted again at a threesome, but Maura, after a single drink this time, had kissed Jane solidly without flinching.

"I'm not sharing her," Maura said possessively, holding Jane's hand on the table. Jane had rolled her eyes when Frankie and Frost and Korsak gave her raised eyebrows from across the room, but she'd tucked her arm over Maura's shoulders and kissed her temple.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Jane said, shrugging.

"I'm hardly a horse, Jane,"

"Come on, I know you know the origin of that phrase."

"Typically a horse's age can be determined by the length and wear on their teeth. Are you saying I'm too old for you?"

"Christ," Jane said, exasperated. "Everything's an insult to you, isn't it? No, you're not old. You're not a horse. It's just something people say when they have something too good to be true. Something they don't think they deserve." Jane paused to realise the truth of that statement. Jane knew she wasn't good enough for Maura, but that was okay, because they weren't actually dating, just pretending.

Maura's eyes were big and teary, and Giovanni cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Jane's confession.

"I'm not something you need to deserve. I'm not something you need to earn."

"I know, but sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life." Jane wasn't surprised by the sincerity of her statements; she'd never felt good enough for Maura, and she knew she was lucky to have such a good friend. She'd taken in most of Jane's family, and Jane herself, in times of trouble. Maura's mouth trembled, a single tear spilling from her eye, and Jane caught it with the tip of her thumb, cradling Maura's face.

"Youse two are so sweet," Giovanni said. "I'm outta here before I gotta see a dentist." He joined Frost at the bar, and Jane pulled Maura closer.

"Don't cry," Jane whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise for crying."

"I'm not used to hearing that people - that anyone values me."

"You mean beyond your immense fortune?" Jane joked, and Maura gave her a watery smile. "Look, I know we put on an act for G, but I do value you. Our friendship is the most important relationship I've ever had in my life. I am lucky to have you. Most people don't like dead body talk at dinner, and you're the one that usually starts it. Most people don't like knowing their friends get shot at-"

"I don't like it when you get shot at. Or shot."

"But you haven't - people abandoned me, after Hoyt."

"I'd never." Maura shot Jane an incredulous look that she'd even suspect it of her.

"I know," Jane immediately reassured her. "Look, I'm not good at all the mushy feelings stuff, but I meant what I said. I'm lucky to have you. I don't know what I did right to have you in my life, but I'm forever grateful I do."

Another tear leaked from Maura's eye, and Jane caught that one too. Maura's eyes closed, and Jane let herself cup Maura's face.

"I think I'm the lucky one," Maura said, her voice low. Her eyes opened and she looked at Jane. Jane could see the lonely, neglected child Maura had been, could see the insecure woman she'd initially met. But she could also see the strong, independent Doctor Maura Isles that championed not just herself but Jane. The ire in her voice when she'd chastised a nurse for Jane's empty morphine pump. The way she'd stood between a woman with a knife and Jane. Maura blinked and her expression changed, something impossibly sweet in her eyes before she pressed her mouth against Jane's again. She pulled away with a little smirk, her confidence returned. "You're lucky I love you," she challenged Jane.

Jane let her hand fall from Maura's face, picked up her beer and took a sip, feeling a little regret that it was washing away the feel of Maura against her lips. She looked intently at her beer bottle.

"Yeah, I am," Jane admitted, hearing Maura's triumphant chuckle as a reward.

--

The next time was at Camille's wedding. Jane was wearing a simple dress Maura had chosen for her - one comfortable enough that she wouldn't fidget through the service, but elegant in its simplicity and the way it flattered Jane's lanky form. Jane had danced with Frost, and Cam, and Frankie, and even Camille and Robyn. Maura had been on her feet all night, always someone ready to take the next dance with her, even Angela and Susie. Jane looked over, saw her glowing under the fairy lights, and excused herself from the conversation she was having with Korsak.

"May I have this dance?" Jane asked.

"Only if we swap shoes," Maura said immediately, and a moment later Jane led her over to the chairs, examining Maura's feet. "I'm okay," Maura reassured her, but Jane pulled a band-aid from her purse and covered a blister on Maura's heel anyway, trading their shoes. She rolled her eyes when her toes got pinched.

"Great, it's not like I wasn't tall enough already," Jane complained, but she helped Maura to her feet. The additional couple of inches difference in their heights meant that Maura could rest her head against Jane's chest as they swayed more than danced to the song playing. "Have you had a good night?"

"I've had a lovely night. It makes me mad that they can't get married back home, that the state won't recognise their partnership."

"Sometimes the law sucks," Jane agreed, and Maura chuckled, her hand tightening on Jane's waist. The lights dimmed and Maura pulled back, seeking Jane's face in the darkness. She really had to stretch this time, to kiss Jane. She had a few drinks, but they'd been there for hours. She lingered there a moment this time, then dropped back down, resting her head against Jane's chest again. Jane looked around; the lights were coming up again, someone had plugged in the strand over the wedding arch again. Not that she minded, but they were at a lesbian wedding, and people might get the wrong idea.

"I really, really, freaking love you, Jane. Mostly for swapping our shoes, but also for your other contributions to my personal comfort levels."

Jane chuckled, holding Maura closer. She closed her eyes and felt Maura's head resting over her heart. As lovely a night as Maura might have had, Jane was sure hers had been nicer, because it was ending with Maura.

---

Even Casey being back in Boston didn't deter Maura. They'd come home, giggling and whispering, and Casey had come out, tousled, from Jane's bedroom. Jane liked how she felt with him. She liked that no one questioned their relationship, that no one thought she was too close to Maura. Because she had Casey. He eyed Maura, then sighed.

"Guess I'm taking the couch," he said, resigned, and she loved that he offered, loved him for offering. Loved that he knew Maura came first. She kissed him, then dragged Maura to the bedroom, still giggling.

Maura looked cute in Jane's pyjamas. Jane had bought them specifically for Maura; they had a pattern of crowns on the pants, and the top had the word 'Diva' in gold across the chest, with a little crown tilted over the 'd'. Maura used her toothbrush, then brushed her hair as she watched Jane brush her teeth. The giggles were gone, and the sombre mood had returned; they'd had a rough case, and it had been hard on both of them. Jane was glad Maura was here, because she'd hate to think of Maura all alone in her big bed in Beacon Hill, thinking too much about what she could have done to find the killer sooner so there wouldn't have been a second victim, while Jane lay awake across town in Casey's arms, feeling inexplicably like she'd gone wrong somewhere.

"I should have-" Jane started, seeing what she should have seen earlier. That poor kid would be alive if she'd seen it sooner. Maura took Jane's toothbrush and put it back in the cup. Jane and Maura's shared a cup; Casey's sat on the bench in a travel clip. She turned Jane to look at her.

"It's not your fault," Maura told her sternly.

"I could have done something," Jane said, aware her voice was shaking.

"You know you're not responsible. That awful man would have found some other way to-" Maura shook her head. "I could have-"

"There was no way of knowing." Jane tried to reassure her. "He covered his tracks. We were all taken in by him. I know we both feel like we should have seen it sooner, but you've said it before. Serial killers integrate incredibly well." Maura nodded sadly, and Jane's heart broke a little. Jane was allowed to blame herself, but Maura wasn't. She'd worked long hours, she'd worked tirelessly despite the minute amount of evidence she'd had. That she'd found anything at all was close to miraculous. Jane hugged her, and Maura clung to her, her shoulders shaking. Jane carefully helped her down the hall to the bedroom, sat her down on the bed. She took the left side, forcing Maura onto the side Jane usually slept on. She wasn't making Maura sleep where Casey slept.

"You did everything you could," Jane said, hearing Maura's uneven breathing in the dark. Maura rolled over and found Jane in the bed, hovered over her for a moment, her fingers finding Jane's mouth before her lips did.

"I didn't, but I love you for saying that, even if it's not true." Maura's breath ghosted over Jane's face. Her lips were always soft, but tonight they were salty with the tears that had fallen on them unchecked. Jane found Maura's cheeks in the dark, brushed her thumbs across them.

"How is it not true?"

"I could have found it earlier. He left it there for me. He was taunting me."

"It is so far out of standard operating procedure to check the upper intestines for the momentos of a serial killer. And the fact that the second victim died before we even found the first means there was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have stopped him. We have stopped him, and it's because your brilliant mind found his sick souvenirs."

"I appreciate you saying that."

"Everything that happened was because he was a monster. None of it, not the timing, not the second death - none of it is your fault."

"If it's not mine, then it's not yours either," Maura said, and Jane loved that Maura knew Jane was blaming herself. Maura had stopped crying, but Jane's hands still cradled her face. She pulled Maura down a little lower, too ashamed to ask, too scared to do it herself. But Maura knew her, Maura understood her. Maura placed a gentle kiss of absolution on Jane, and she felt the tension leave them both. Maura tucked herself up on Jane's chest, her hands gripping Jane like a teddy bear.

It was only then that Jane remembered Casey in the other room, the smell of his aftershave on her sheets. Shouldn't she want to be in his arms, after a day like that? He'd understand, wouldn't he? All the self-recriminations, all the things Jane saw on the job. He'd understand.

But he didn't know Jane. Not the way Maura knew Jane. He didn't know how to ease her guilt with a single kiss.

And that made her feel even guiltier.

---

Jane had been checked over by medics before heading to Maura's. She knew Angela was out, and she hoped no one had told Maura what had happened. Casey was gone again, and all Jane had to show for it was an email saying it wasn't going to work out.

It hadn't mentioned Maura.

It hadn't had to.

Maura was at the counter when Jane came in. She turned and stormed towards Jane so angrily that Jane backed up into the door behind her, swallowing.

Maura audited Jane now that she had her trapped, her fingers frisking her like she was a perp, pressing against Jane's ribs to find extra give or bruising, looking for bandages under her shirt.

Jane submitted guiltily to the search, pulling off her jacket and holding out her arm. She'd had a tetanus shot too, which was tender when Maura touched her ass. Barbed wire. She'd been shot at, but it was the barbed wire that got her.

Evidently satisfied Jane was relatively unmarred, some of Maura's ire dissipated. She held Jane's hand and stroked the line of the scar, then lifted her hand to Jane's stomach, where a bullet had gone through her. The other hand trailed up to Jane's throat, where a serial killer had cut her more than once.

Then Maura's lips were on hers, harder and angrier than they'd ever been. A fierce, scared kiss that wasn't the sort a friend would give a friend. Maura pulled away, her finger still on Jane's throat. She kissed the mark on Jane's throat too, the mark that matched hers. When she pulled away, Jane's fingers sought the matching mark, then she gently pressed her lips against the little scar Jane had left on Maura's life.

"Don't you know how much I-" Maura started. Jane pulled away, worried. Maura started to cry, and Jane held her. "Don't you know how much I worry about you?" Maura asked, and it hadn't been what Jane had been expecting to hear.

"I know," Jane reassured her. "I'm okay, I promise." She cradled the back of Maura's head, her other hand rubbing her back as Maura gripped her tightly, her tears wet against Jane's chest. "I came here so you could see for yourself. See? I'm okay."

"Next time you might not be," Maura said fiercely. "No going in without backup. You agreed."

"He wasn't a suspect."

Maura grunted with frustration. Jane ran her fingers through Maura's hair. It hurt when Maura was hurt. But it felt good to have Maura worry about her. It felt good to have that anger aimed at her, because it was easier than all the other things Maura aimed at her. The soft kisses and gentle words. The way she took care of Jane and her family. Maura was too soft and girly for her, and she wished she was softer and girlier for Maura in a way she'd never wanted to be for Casey. She wanted to be the sort of woman who could do Maura's makeup and kiss her in public. She wanted to be the sort of woman who didn't make Maura stay up late worrying about her.

"I never meant to scare you," Jane started. Maura sniffed and pulled away, wiping at her face, pulling away again when Jane reached for her cheeks.

"You have a partner for a reason. How can you expect Frost to watch your back when you take off on your own?"

"I'm sorry," Jane said gently. "He was at lunch, and I didn't think this guy was a threat."

"Can you at least let me know before you do something stupid like that, so I can tell you how stupid you're being?"

"I can try."

"Okay." Maura pouted once more, then gave Jane a weak smile. "Okay."

It was only then that Jane realised that Maura hadn't tasted of wine or beer. She'd been sober. Jane's stomach clenched painfully. It was too real. It wasn't something friends did. Friends didn't kiss - not like that - not sober. She headed for the fridge, grabbing a beer, hoping it would make her feel better. Hoping it would drown out the hope that Maura might actually mean it when she kissed her.

---

Maura smiled when Jane came in after parking the car, but Jane shook her head, serious and quiet. She approached Maura in the kitchen, seeing Maura's uncertainty as Jane advanced on her. Jane kept going until she had Maura pinned against the fridge, the sensor turning the light on, illuminating Maura with a tantalising glow.

Jane lowered her mouth, seeing how Maura's tilted up to hers, then skirted sideways, pressing her lips to the little freckles on the right side of Maura's throat that she'd always wanted to kiss, then around over those collarbones, to the scar she always felt guilty about when Maura didn't cover it in concealer. Maura started to ask a question, but Jane's mouth covered hers and swallowed it. Jane's mouth was usually closed when Maura kissed her; she opened herself up for Maura tonight, and Maura melted between Jane and the fridge. Jane drove on; Maura always had been too soft and girly for her. Jane was used to being forthright and direct, and her lips asked permission that Maura fervently granted, her mouth dropping open to welcome Jane, her hands pulling Jane closer, pressing her hips into Jane, a desperate little whimper escaping from her lungs into Jane's. Jane pulled away, worried she'd hurt her, then saw Maura's plump lips and mildly dilated pupils and flushed chest. She put a hand to Maura's forehead.

"Your temperature is raised," Jane said in wonder. Maura rolled her eyes.

"Did you think I was telling you the signs of female arousal so you'd know when men are attracted to you?" Maura scoffed, pulling Jane back to her, hand on the back of her neck. She matched Jane's energy with her own, hands scrambling at Jane's shirts, with her pants, giving up and threading through Jane's hair, grasping her scalp and making sure Jane didn't pull away.

The front door opened and closed, and Angela coughed as she placed something on the kitchen counter behind them. They pulled apart, flushed and trembling.

"I got takeaway, since you two prefer to eat out," Angela said, taking one bag and heading for the door with a smirk. Jane and Maura stared after her.

"Do you - do you think she knows what that means?" Jane asked finally. Maura shrugged, her attention back on Jane's lips - lips that weren't kissing hers. Lips that should be kissing hers.

Jane pulled away reluctantly.

"I got the rest of my life to kiss you, but that food will be cold by the time I'm done with you."

"How long are you expecting it to take?" Maura asked, following Jane to the food, hiking up her shirt at the back so she could palm her stomach from behind.

"Hmm?" Jane was distracted by dishing out the meals, but also by Maura's hand sliding slowly up her shirt. Maura could be asking how long Jane expected the rest of her life to take, which clearly neither of them knew, or she could be asking how long Jane expected it to take to thoroughly satisfy Maura, which she'd have to budget a few hours for - her lips were so kissable and addictive that she kind of wanted to just do that forever, aware as she was of the building tension as Maura's hand slid lower. Or she could be asking...

"How long until you think you'll be done with me?"

Maura's voice was coy, but Jane heard the question and turned, taking both hands so Maura had to listen to her.

"Just said. Rest of my life. Probably won't be long enough, but I'm never going to be done loving you."

Maura, stunned, freed one hand and pressed it over Jane's heart.

"I meant. You know. The, um. Are we going to?"

"Oh, the sex? When we'll be done having sex? Until neither of us can move anymore, I guess," Jane said casually, squeaking when Maura hauled her out of the kitchen, giving their deserted meal one last longing look before giving up and following Maura up the stairs.

---

Maura kisses Jane when she hasn't had a drink.

In, like, a gay way. She just looks up at Jane with shining eyes and plants one on her. Sometimes it's followed with an 'I love you', and sometimes it's preceded by it. Jane beats her to it more than half the time.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

[aimasup]

Spoilers for The March 2024 Welcome Home Update, LONG post warning:

The Eddie Scene

Let's establish two realities: The Neighbourhood (theirs) and The Show (the humans').

(The third is ours, here, actually real, no black gunk and Welcome Home is just a really cool fictional horror project. Irrelevant, just wanted to bring us down to earth)

I like to believe it's an unaware Wreck-It-Ralph situation: The Neighbourhood exists as The Show because that's how they live and what they were created for.

They have a happy home in the commercials and episodes, interviews with humans and playfully leaning on the fourth wall (via Narrator). And when Playfellow Workshop had a really good influential show, they quite literally brought these puppets to life, perhaps too much.

That's where the trouble comes in; we don't know if the puppets being sentient was ever revealed to the public, or what the black rot even is yet. Personally I can't really even guess how much the other puppets know at the moment, not even Home. All we know is that Wally was the first to 'wake up', likely.

So I'm just gonna say what I think about the Eddie segment at the end of the commercial compilation from his perspective alone (bravo to the voice actors and artists my god).

The Neighbourhood...

The Show.

Here's what I assume: both in the Neighbourhood and The Show, Eddie is being given a break from working so hard. Because I believe the script/special was supposed to end here:

Eddie Dear was happy.

[calm jazz music as the title card fades in] And a Happy Homewarming to one and all! Ho Ho Ho!!

End.

Because it makes no sense why The Show staff would spend extra resources to give the puppet Not Quirky Anxiety and end their Christmas special on a worrying note for general audiences.

I think The Show staff wrapped up that scene and left to go check on the rest of the set or something, and the Eddie puppet was left there, alone in Wally's room set because its job is done. Except it isn't, and Eddie became aware somehow.

He sees Home, his friend, and something isn't right

I don't know what this is: my first thought was that it was Home's hand crank, and Eddie was seeing but not understanding the puppets behind the scenes

"Sources say, however, that this puppet’s (Home's) eyes could move through a hand crank on the other side of the prop facing away from the camera."

-(welcomehomerestorationproject.net)

His friend's eyes look dead but they're moving, I thought. But looking at it again, it looks more like a microphone stand a Show staff is holding? Some sort of set equipment. Speaking of the set

Wally's room is too big and leads to nowhere. Is this a visual representation for Eddie's mental state? Did they literally turn the lights off on set? Or can he not see everything right now because his poor fictional brain can't handle our reality just yet?

His hands are fuzzy but there's something in them. Something was under his skin just now. They don't feel like his hands.

"Eddie was a live-hand puppet who required two puppeteers to operate."

-(welcomehomerestorationproject.net)

I imagine he's in a limbo of awareness, he's seeing so many things and not quite understanding what they are, and he's getting more lost and panicked

Can you imagine how overstimulating it must be to go from a clean, happy children's fantasy reality to a world with the laws of physics?

The clock's ticking doesn't quiet down and it's constant. He's sweating when nothing is wrong (?). Gravy was poured on the tree ornament, he's always helped do that, but now it's dripping onto the floor and it's making a gross mess. Little things like that don't have consequences unless the script calls for it. Eddie doesn't know that, and especially he's freaked out by the breathing and the heartbeat.

Maybe it's Home's, or his own, or both, idk.

What's curious is that Frank and Sally are fine and talking about the day's events. This means that Eddie should've been fine after the episode too, relaxed like normal, but he didn't get to. He probably didn't even know when they got there or when Sally left.

This image right here? I think it symbolises the scary clash between both realities by now.

2 (Eddie and Wally) or 4 (counting Sally and Home) out of 9 neighbours being aware is too many. Frank wasn't supposed to have to comfort Eddie. The episode was supposed to end and Eddie can see all of it.

(and yeah maybe romance is an additional factor here)

We don't know if people remember seeing this scene on their televisions. Maybe the episode ended as normal for them. The cameras weren't rolling, so currently, we only get to witness the puppets' descent into decay because someone behind the television is Letting The Neighbourhood In, bit by bit.

Maybe we'll get to see all the other puppets go through the same awareness crisis as the website keeps updating. Personally, I don't think there's an ulterior motive for Home, nor do I think any of the puppets are under strict supervision to behave a certain way for filming episodes, like celebrities.

What freaks me out is that they banter with the narrator and do commercials for real products. They're aware of the fourth wall but only because the fourth wall let them be aware. And it even got me thinking about the nature of existing as a concept (they're fictional characters. they don't really exist? Not in the same way individual humans do anyway. They aren't really supposed to belong to themselves.)

Sorry this turned into ramble rubbish, these are just my thoughts, could be entirely wrong about everything. Welcome Home is just super neat and the amount of effort gone into it shows. Lemme know what yall think, kudos if you read this far

For your troubles 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍯🥛🍵☕🍶

Extra note: I don't think they require the puppeteers to function outside of episodes either. They just live their lives chilling, don't even know there's a Show. Maybe there's an explanation but for now I'm content with 'it's magic'.

That being said I've seen other theories about the peas and the isolation of Eddie specifically those are real neat

[otherone12]

High School Stuff

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I recently realized that I had never written a Basement Gerard fic, so I made this one. I also never did a DD era too, but soon I will… idk if i really liked this one, but I hope you like it! <3

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: Gerard alwas has a crush on you, but you're part of "popular" world, so he didn't get any hope to be with you. Little did he know that you liked him as much as he liked you. (I know that canonically basemant gee would already be an adult, but in this fic he is like 17 years old.)

- Word Count: 2.850

- Warnings: None, but this fic is a teenage cliché, and swach from the 1st person to the 3rd person POVs a lot.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

3 Person POV

- They're so perfect! - Gerard sighed, daydreaming, and drawing them in his sketchbook - Like... all pretty, and so kind, so smart... fuck!

It wasn't the first time he did this, everytime they passed through him in the school corridors, he spent the morning talking about this. In the beginning, it was cute, but it turned out to be a bother.

Spending lunch listening to him talk wouldn't be a problem if the topics were different, but before he could continue declaring himself to his own drawing, Frank couldn't contain himself.

- Gee, we know that you're in love. - He began, still chewing his sandwich - Hm... But can you shut up about this for once?!

Without Stopping looking at what he was scribbling, Gerard sighed once more.

- Sorry...

His sad voice made the boys exchange glances, a little regretful for cutting off their friend. But that didn't last long, because he went back to talking as if nothing had happened.

- But I could literally kill for a kiss! - Gerard growled - Nothing is ever gonna happen,I know, but I can dream, can't I?

Frank huffed, burying his face in his hands, while Ray found himself in need of interfering before they ended up being rude to Gerard.

- Sure you can, dude. - Ray's comforting smile didn't mask the fact that they couldn't take it anymore.  - But I think Frank is right... you talk too much about them.

- But the draw is pretty cool, by the way. - Mikey smiles, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

- Thanks, Mikey... - An awkward smile filled his face -  I'll stop talking about this... I didn't mean to bother you, guys.

- That's fine, Gee. - Mikey said, while he chuckles -  We know you can't help it.

It wasn't long before the bell rang, causing each of the boys to go to their respective classrooms. Before going to the classroom, Gerard needed to stop by his locker to get the right books.

1st Person POV

- Want me to go with you? - My friend asked me, after we heard the bell rings. - I'll skip the next class anyway...

- No need, I'll manage. - I chuckled, getting up - Thanks... if you get bored, text me!

Walking through the school's corridor, going to my locker, I couldn't help but stare at Gerard, who was in the middle of the crowd of teenagers, walking to his locker too. He always looks so cute...

I never had the chance to talk to him, but, discreetly, I've heard him talking about comics, movies, rock bands... but whenever I had the opportunity to talk to him, my friends ended up stopping me in some way. 

They say he's weird, he stinks, his locker is gross... Once, my friend said he has a dungeon in his basement. Still, I think he's interesting.

I made my way towards him, thinking that would be my chance to talk to him, but I wasn't fast enough, and he got in the classroom.  It's been months trying, but something always goes wrong.

Well, my class went smoothly, but I still couldn't get him out of my mind.  I think if something was going to happen, it would have already happened. If he had any feelings, he would have told me, right? Or is the lack of opportunity mutual? Anyways, the next class is my favorite... Gerard sits in front of me, but his science partner doesn't stop talking for a minute.

The teacher arrived in the room, and the noise of the conversations stopped. Nobody really likes her, but she sure is scary.

- Good afternoon, class! - she starts, with a fake sympathy - Well, today we're gonna do something different. I'm gonna change your partners.

The whole class booed, but soon the noise stopped. 

- Calm down, everyone! It's just for today. But... I'm gonna choose.

She started to separate the pairs, in the end I think I ended up without one. 

- Are you left without a partner? - She asked, with the least kindness a human being could have.

- I guess so... - I responded, I won't lie, the feeling of being alone is bad, but I faked confidence  - But I can do it by myself.

She took a quick look around the room, and her gaze landed on the only person who was oblivious to the whole situation, with his headphones on full volume and his head buried in a sketchbook.

- I think mr. Way has no partner too... Well, now you both have.

Finally it was my chance, I didn't take long and got close to his table, I didn't know exactly how to get his attention, Gerard seemed to be in his own world, very completely distant.  

My body ended up casting a shadow over his drawing, causing Gerard to look in my direction. His eyes widened, and he quickly took off his headphones.

- Hey! Gerard, right? - Obviously I knew who he was, but since we never talked, it would be weird if I said I knew a lot about him. 

- Y-yes - His face turned light red, and he swallowed hard. 

- I'm-

- I know who you are - Panic took hold of him, turning him even more red, as he realized what he had said without thinking. - I-i mean, you're one of the p-popular ones, so e-everybody knows you and-

- I got it - I smiled at him, taking a seat in the chair by his side. -  good thing, I didn't waste time with introductions. 

He stared at me, his eyes were even more beautiful up close... well, if I didn't speak, he wouldn't either, so I started

- Well, I think we're partners for the class today...

- A-are we? - A shy smile appeared on his face - That's n-nice...

Gerard put a lock of his black hair behind his ear, damn he's so strangely handsome... That shy way of his, I've actually never heard him stutter, could it be because of me? 

Not giving a damn about the work the teacher had given, and realizing that he wasn't paying attention either, I started to bring up a subject. 

- I saw you were drawing... - I looked towards his notebook, but unfortunately he had already quickly closed it when I sat down next to him.  - May I see?

- I-i don't know... - Strangely, he turned the notebook over, handpicking the drawing he was going to show me. - M-maybe this one-

Before he could turn the notebook over, a sheet fell out of it, gliding delicately to the floor, right next to my foot. 

In an effort to help, I bent down and picked up the sheet from the floor. As soon as I did it, I couldn't help but look at the drawing on it. 

- I-is that... me? - I stared in disbelief at the drawing, then back at him, who was about to pass out, trying to hide every inch of his beautiful face in his hands.  -  What's wrong? That's fucking awesome! 

- Y-you not supposed to see this... - he whined, shaking his mug in disappointment 

- Why not?! - The more I looked at the drawing, the more I loved every detail... but I didn't understand why he didn't want to show it to me... or why he chose to draw me... among so many people. - The drawing is perfect! 

- D-do you think so? - Little by little he was digging his face out of his hands.- D-don't you think it is c-creepy or something? 

- No way! I'm even flattered! - He let out a proud smile, but his shyness was still visible. - I was thinking... maybe we could-

Before I could say anything, and finally make plans for us to go outside this damn school, but it turned out that the bell rang right on time and my friend came running and grabbed me by the arm.

- 'Cmon, I have a million things to tell you.

It all happened so fast that I didn't even get to say goodbye to him. But I don't plan on telling anyone about his drawing... if he got nervous just because I saw it, imagine if other people knew. 

Even though they told me a million things, I couldn't absorb anything, my mind was still lost in the science period I spent with Gerard. 

3 Person POV

Gerard stood there, Sitting in class and putting materials in the backpack. He was taking in everything that had just happened. It was a mixture of joy, at having finally talked to them, and fear that they would find him even more weird.

Knowing where he would find his friends, Gerard left the room and ran to tell them every detail.

- ... And then they saw one of the drawings I made of them.

The boys looked at each other, already expecting the worst, then Mikey asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

- So now they think you're a perv?

Gerard was embarrassed, remembering the exact moment it all happened, but a small, hopeful smile appeared on his slightly flushed face.

- I-i don't think so... - the excitement in his voice was becoming more evident   - They said they were flattered, so...

The worried expressions soon turned into smiles, and Gerard sighed in relief.

- Man, that's a great thing... - Ray put his hand on Gerard's shoulder, encouraging his friend. - I don't want to get your hopes up, but you should talk to them.

- You think? - His hazel eyes glowed.

- I'm sure! - Ray almost screamed, but he didn't care.

Before they could celebrate, Frank raised an extremely important point that none of the others had thought of.

- But you have to find them alone - He suggested, seriously  -  'cause their friends are jerks and gonna humiliate you.

- Frank! - Mikey widens his eyes, afraid that this would make his brother give up.

- But it's true! - Frank defended himself - I already heard them saying shit about you, about us, actually...

- You're right... I should meet them alone... - Gerard took a deep breath, pausing for a moment to think about when he could actually have a conversation without their friends around. - But it's almost impossible... they're always with a friend.

1st Person POV

A few days have passed and I still can't get him out of my mind. All I want to do is chat about him to someone, but my friends definitely won't take it easy. Sometimes I wonder if they're really my friends, or if we just decided it was socially appropriate for us to hang out together. Like, I disagree with almost all the things they do, the way they talk about people is just not nice and once in a while I ask myself if they talk shit about me too.

Well, my parents aren't a good option either, they think that dating at my age is a waste of time or whatever. So I have to keep it to myself... I wish I had asked him to give me the drawing he did, y'know, just to make sure i didn't make it all up in my head.

Well, the days went by, one more boring than the other, until one ordinary morning, I was in the corridor again, and I saw Gerard approaching, I couldn't help but let a smile grow on my face

- Hey!  - He said a bit shy.

- Hi! - I smiled at him, excited that we were finally talking again - How’s it going? 

- I’m fine! How ‘bout you? 

- Better now - He took a deep breath and scratched his hand behind his neck - i…hm… i wanted to ask if you wan- 

I wanted to hear it, but then a couple of my friends showed up, interrupting, like always. They looked at us, trying to understand the situation and expressing their annoyance that Gerard was there.

- Does he really think he can talk to you? - He chuckled, pointing to Gerard with disgust.

I saw Gerard's gaze change completely, one second ago I saw the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and now he was looking down, avoiding any eye contact, embarrassed.

- Dude, you have no chance here - She said threateningly, stucking up her nose - so why don't you just get away, you freak!

Gerard gave me a brief look, making his way to leave, and before he could really do it, thinking I would act like my "friends", I didn't help myself back and stared at them in an unafraid way.

- I was actually talking to him, so I think you guys really should leave. - I was calm, but ready if they wanted to discuss.

Gerard's eyes wide, unexpecting me say that. A light smile appeared in his face,

- Are you trading us for this thing?! - She was shocked. Her eyebrows furrowed, and almost screamed in the hallway.

- Yep, - I wrapped my arm around Gerard's waist and he gasped. I keep eye contact with my not-friend-anymore and mocked- it's that hard for you to get it? I thought you're smarter than that. 

- So now you're dating this? - He curled his lips, looking at the top from the bottom of us. - How gross.

Carried by the heat of the moment and wanting them to leave, I held Gerard's face, pulling him close enough for me to reach his lips. Damn how I wanted this kiss. I got drunk on the taste of coffee and cigarettes in their mouths, for a second I even forgot that they were looking at us.

Surprisingly, he kept kissing me, so I didn't break it until I really needed to breathe. The soft skin of his face in my hand and the feeling of his lips on mine was so perfect, I wanted this never to end.

Letting go of his mouth, I smiled at him, which was clearly still holding his breath, and didn't know how to react. I ignored the disgusted looks our audience were giving us, just smiling at him, as he did the same, blushing hard.

- I am - I answered, confident - Right, Gee?

When I looked at him, Gerard passed his hand behind my back, not even looking at the idiots in front of us.

- Y-yeah! - He was still stunned, but in a good way, I think.

they exchanged looks, chuckling, i was supposed to feel embarrassed or something like that, but being by Gerard made things seem different. Is not like he was confident, but at least I wasn't alone.

- Don't you ever talk with us again. - He said, and they walked away.

I waved at them, playfully, trying to have fun with the situation , but I knew that they wouldn't leave Gee alone, quite the opposite, now I was a brand new target. Anyway, at that moment, the only thing I could think was "what if he didn't want me to kiss him?!".

- I-i'm, sorry for the kiss. - Desperately and not wanting him to think I was weird or he saying that he didn't like me that way, I started to apologize  - I didn't mean to. Like, i did, i want it really bad, but i shouldn't have-

Without warning, he cut me off, kissing me with his soft lips, his two hands holding my face. The kiss was not delicate, but messy and inexperienced. My hands went up to his greasy hair, and I could hear little moans coming from his mouth as my tongue made its way over his lower lip. There were people in the corridor, but I didn't care, and neither did he. Again, we ran out of steam, slowly separating from each other. I licked my lips, absorbing the situation.

- Don't worry, i wanted it too, you can't even imagine how much - He admitted, without any sort of shame - and thanks for defending me. I am used to them doing this kind of thing, you don't need to worry...

-You shouldn't have to get used to this. - I sighed - The least I could do was be by your side.

I turned my attention to the materials in my locker, picking up the things I would need for the next lesson, but he didn't seem completely satisfied. His eyes remained on me, not a bad feeling, but I was curious to know what he was thinking. Gerard snorted, and I closed the cupboard, looking at him again.

- So... you said we were dating - He sounded confused and innocent, so fucking cute - Were you serious? I mean, I know we're not dating, but would you?

- Well, I really like you, but before we could properly date, I think we should hang out, if you wanted to, of course.

With every word that came out of my mouth, I saw his eyes shine brighter and brighter, he looked like a child who just got a new toy

- Yes! I want, I always wanted! - He cheered, trying to hold his enthusiasm - Are you up to get to starbucks after school?

- Sure! - my joy was cut off by the school bell - But I really gotta go now... math test.

- May I accompany you there? - He let out a shy smile

- Yes, please. - I giggled.

Gerard extended his hand, and I held it. I'm not gonna lie, it was weird at first, 'cause his hands were sticky, but after a couple steps, i didn't mind anymore. 

He was practically jumpping, and I followed suit down the corridor, taking advantage of the company I could get from him in that moment.

___________________________________________

~Soo, that's it! hope u enjoyed. ;)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

No Moon, No Stars

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, non-graphic descriptions of wounds and violence, heavy drinking, descriptions of making out, men being gross and controlling (nothing happens), slightly yandere!Frank if you squint, sunshine FINALLY standing up for herself

a/n: Hopefully this chapter is at least a little gratifying even though they haven't made up yet. You're halfway through the angst arc now, everyone. Resolution is coming! As always, please reply and reblog with your reactions/feedback!!

w/c: 4.5k

Jerking awake to the sounds of nonexistent screaming, Frank's eyes flew open, his limbs flailing to stabilize him as he nearly toppled out of bed. Gripping the headboard with one fist, he hauled himself upright, tugging at his sweaty hair with his other hand. His body was taught with stress and guilt, the images of your crumpling face and his wife's smile clashing in his brain relentlessly.

Something warm and slick trickled over his side. Absentmindedly swiping at what he thought was sweat, his thumb collided with a fresh set of stitches—sending a shock of pain through his skin.

Right. He'd been shot last night. Somewhere in a jumble of exhaustion and blind rage he'd neglected to protect his exposed waist while dismantling a trafficking operation.

After stumbling home with a palm pressed to the wound, he'd fished the bullet out and crudely stitched the gash before collapsing into bed for a mere 3 hours of unconsciousness. Apparently in the midst of a tumultuous sleep, he'd popped a few of the crappy sutures. Studying the blood that had coated his fingertips, he blew out a frustrated sigh, knowing this set of sheets and his shirt would need to be washed now.

Shoving that thought to the back of his mind, he slid off the bed, shuffling into the bathroom as every muscle in his body ached in protest. Despite his best intentions, his eyes landed on his reflection as the pallid bathroom light flickered on. His face was a mottled canvas of bruises—all in various stages of healing. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, accentuated by the parallel dark circles that had blossomed underneath them from his continuous loss of sleep.

He looked miserable. Pathetic. Broken. All of which were accurate descriptions and apt punishments for the hell he'd put his family through, put you through.

Gaze falling from the mirror, he scanned the various medical supplies still littering the bathroom counter, pulling out a fresh needle and thread from the mess. It took far too long to thread the damn thing, his hands trembling violently as he tried over and over to prep it. Gritting his teeth, he finally managed to pull the filament through the eye.

Frank was no stranger to pain. In fact, he craved it. Pain was reliable, grounding. A focal point amidst life’s vile chaos. A reminder that he was alive, of what he had accomplished, what he'd been through. It was what he had left of his family, of Billy, of his past. Which is why he didn't regret it, or shy away from it. Not normally.

Until you'd come into his life, and everything had changed.

You were patient, sweet, and funny; You didn't judge him for his habits and quirks, you accepted him as he was. You treated him as if he was fragile, not out of pity, but out of kindness. You saw the pain he put himself through and made it your job to alleviate as much as you could. To help him bear the burden of everything he'd lost.

He had no idea what had compelled you to look twice at him, to treat him with respect and compassion so immediately. As far as he could tell, that's just who you were. The world continued to spew its current of cruelty and misfortune, and you'd smile through it–helping as many people remain afloat as you could.

It made no sense to him. You made no sense to him–which is why he found you fascinating. He was drawn to you in a way he hadn't expected to experience ever again. Every glance, every smile, every touch you'd given him...he had cherished them all. He still did.

Which is why each prick of the needle in and out of his skin was so agonizing. Every strike of the sliver of steel against his flesh was a reminder of what he'd given up when he broke off your friendship. The tenderness that he’d never feel again.

He regretted forcing you away, but it was necessary. If he didn't create distance...well, he had vague ideas of what would have happened given how far gone he already was for you. He couldn’t risk falling in love again. Not when Maria’s death still felt new to him or when he was still struggling to properly grieve. He couldn’t move one, didn’t want to move on–and it wouldn’t be fair to you or his family for him to try. So, he chose to distance himself.

The distance would help in time, but right now he was still weak.

It took every fiber of his resolve to keep from giving in to his deepest desires. To let Maria and Lisa and Frankie fade into oblivion for his own comfort. To crawl over to your place and beg for your forgiveness. To let you caress him and hold him and care for him in a way he didn't deserve.

But that wasn't an option for him anymore. He'd ruined that too.

Tearing his stained shirt over his head by the collar, he tossed it aside before tying off the new line of sutures. Breathing heavily, he held the needle in a white-knuckle grip before dropping it in the overflowing trash can. His vision blurred as he continued to stare wearily at the sink basin, tinged pink with remnants of his blood.

Cranking the sink on, he leaned forwards—resting his elbows on the grimy porcelain as he stuck his hands under the frigid stream. Bringing his face closer to the faucet, he threw a handful of water into his face, then another, using his fingers to rub it around and rid his skin of the leftover dirt and sweat he'd ignored last night.

Ripping the damp hand towel from its ring, he scrubbed at his face. With the evidence of his nightly activities washed off his hands and face, he stepped out the bathroom and returned to his mattress, tumbling onto the blood-streaked sheets with a shaky exhale.

Rocking your hips to the beat of the altered pop song, your lips parted with a grin as your hazy brain spun with the movement. You were pleasantly inebriated, limbs warmed from the inside by the few drinks you’d consumed moments ago. As you danced, the fabric of your short dress whisked over your thighs, letting the thick air of the club wrap around your exposed skin.

The atmosphere was stifling. Or, rather, should have been stifling. Given the alcohol in your system and your primal need to be held by someone, the closeness of the people around you was more comforting than bothersome. Linking your little finger with Stacy’s, your cheeks ached as your smile grew impossibly wider–the joy bubbling in your chest only encouraged by Stacy’s own enjoyment of the evening.

As the beat to a new song started playing, the small woman gasped, turning towards Leo who had been abandoned at the bar to fetch another round. “It’s our song, Leo!” She crowed, letting go of your pinky and shoving through the crowd towards your tall friend.

Swaying alone on the sticky floor, you wrinkled your nose as the bass blared wonkily for a moment. Once it had righted itself and the volume evened out, you hummed appreciatively, adjusting your movement to the tempo of the music.

The lack of a body leaning into yours allowed cooler air to surround you, making you shiver. Running a hand over your arms as they prickled, you exhaled in relief as you felt someone step in closer to you once again. “Thank god. I thought maybe you got lo–”

Turning to face them, the words retreated suddenly as you realized it was not Stacy returning with Leo in tow. Instead, an incredibly handsome, broad-shouldered man stood before you. His deep green eyes glinted in the flickering colored lights, as did his dangerously charming smile. Chuckling softly, he studied you with an expression all too similar to pity. “Expecting me, were you?”

Surprise wearing off, you found yourself unusually comfortable with the newcomer. Your biological desires were quickly taking a seat at the helm, overriding your critical thinking skills as you sidled towards the beautiful stranger.

“And what if I was?” You chirped seductively, hoping he could hear you over the music. His eyes widened and you tilted your head innocently.

“Then I’m sorry to have kept a beautiful thing like you waiting.” He apologized, holding out a hand to you. “I’m Blake, and you are?”

Shoving down the brief burst of displeasure at his comment, you introduced yourself. He chose to forego a handshake, instead bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing it delicately–making you giggle awkwardly.

A small voice in the back of your head pinged, trying to spark any persistent feelings of disgust over his demeanor, but your tequila-soaked brain wasn't listening. Curtsying clumsily in response, you beamed up at the man–the feeling of his five o’ clock shadow scratching against your clammy skin causing a shudder to roll down your spine. You couldn’t possibly be that touch starved, could you?

“So tell me,” Blake drawled, your name tumbling off his lips. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shithole like this?”

Scoffing a laugh at his apt description of the run-down bar, you let him press in closer until he was practically on top of you. “Getting drunk, mostly. What brings you here?”

“Oh you know, mending a newly broken heart and all that.” He pouted, hanging his head dramatically as you brought your fingers up to run through his hair. Playing into what was likely a complete lie, your brow furrowed.

“Poor thing.” You cooed, tugging gently at his hair which was overly saturated with product. “Who would ever dare to break your heart?”

“Not you, would you sweetheart?” He asks raspily, scratching one finger on the underside of your jaw.

You shook your head, your dangling earrings chiming gently as they were swung back and forth. Cupping your chin, he pulled your face towards his. “Care to have some fun?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You grinned at him, your flirtatious remark breaking off into a hitch of breath as he dove towards your neck. 

Tugging at the hem of his nondescript hoodie, Frank grit his teeth against the wave of annoyance that hit him. This bar was by no means his cup of tea. It was muggy and loud, packed to the brim with 30 year olds who were desperate to be 20 again. People trying too hard to be young, to be cool, to be liked. Assholes, the lot of them.

Taking a swig of his watered down beer, he clenched his hand around the glass as some preppy douchebag stumbled into him from behind.

“Woah, sorry man.” The kid chuckled, sending a sneer to his two friends as he held up a hand in faux apology.

Frank ignored him–turning back to his glass and the scantily clad employees behind the bar. The men laughed to themselves, wading into the crowd. As he felt himself bristle with annoyance, a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Another round of tequila shots, please!”

Sliding his gaze towards the speaker as innocuously as he could, he felt a wave of nausea when he spotted you. You were glistening from the heat of the bar, and probably the alcohol in your system, wearing a version of the beautiful smile that had haunted him all week.

His stomach twisted with a revolting combination of guilt and relief. After your awkward run-in when he took Max for a walk, he'd spiraled thinking about the sheer amount of alcohol you'd been carrying. Reason and conscience be damned, he wanted you to be safe. He needed you to be safe. So, when the hour of his evening had rolled around where his demons became unbearable without the help of liquor, he ventured down the street to this shithole rather than wasting away on his couch for the third night in a row.

He wasn't stupid. He knew why he ended up in the bar you'd repeatedly told him about–and it wasn't for a decently priced beer, of that much he was certain. He'd followed you here. Not literally–he'd just anticipated your plans accurately enough to be seated at the bar when you ordered your next drink.

And that was where the sparks of residual guilt over his blow-up had ignited a searing brand of shame deep in his gut. It was wrong to allow himself to close the distance between you after he’d demanded it so harshly. It was wrong to use his tactical knowledge to see your happiness again without your permission. More than anything it was still wrong to let himself crave your company even though he wasn’t over his wife–but he was helpless. Regardless of what he'd said and done, you were still firmly embedded under his skin.

Flagging down the bartender, Frank ordered a stiffer drink. Once the double pour of whiskey was in his grasp, he threw it back, stifling a grimace as it burned his tongue and throat. Nodding his thanks, he passed over a few bills to cover his tab, turning to stand from the stool and retreat to his apartment to atone for his decisions.

As he planted his feet on the wobbly floor boards, the aggressively fluorescent lights flashed over the crowd. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pair of yuppies on the dance floor whose mouths were interlocked. Another flare from the strobe illuminated the woman as she broke the kiss, and his heart sank.

Watching you bashfully blink your doe eyes at the asshole who'd nearly bowled him over 20 minutes ago was enough for him to spin back towards the bar. Yanking another handful of bills from his pocket, he ordered another double.

A pleased noise escaped you as lips touched your pulse point, locking onto the spot with fervor. Knees buckling, you let Blake tug you flush against his body as he drew back with a hefty exhale. “Liked that, huh? You’re a proper little slut. Out looking for a man in that skimpy dress.”

His chuckle turned almost sinister, your heart clenching as he insulted you. Smile weakening, you grit your teeth. He’s just trying to turn you on. You reminded yourself. You aren’t going home with him. It doesn’t matter if he’s nice.

Gripping your nape between his fingers, he yanked you upwards, locking his lips around yours when you parted them to allow his tongue entry. The kiss was sloppy. His nose mashed against yours with bruising force, his teeth clashing with yours as he asserted dominance. Your tongue slid against his, tasting the dry whiskey he’d apparently chugged before trying to devour you.

It wasn’t enjoyable, necessarily, but at least you knew what he was looking for. Sadly, it once again seemed that your interests didn't align. What was with you recently? A man was literally throwing himself at you and suddenly you weren't desperate for male attention? Mood souring, your heart sank into your stomach like a rock through water. The moment was over, and you needed to make your escape.

Unlatching his mouth from yours as you gave his chest a small shove, you laughed quietly. “Sorry handsome, need to catch my breath.”

Grinning deviously, he shrugged. “I don’t mind, sweetheart.” Diving back towards your neck, he licked a stripe under your jaw before beginning to drop nips and open-mouthed pecks in a line towards your clavicle.

Across the room, you caught a glimpse of your friends’ amused looks, a particularly bright beam from a nearby strobe light illuminating them in the distance. Sending an annoyed look back, their perception was the nail in the coffin. As Blake started to grind his pelvis towards your hips, you tried to untangle yourself from his hold.

“I’m so sorry, handsome. My friends are looking for me. Can we put a pin in this?” You asked, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes in an attempt to lessen his suspicions about your abrupt exit.

“Sure,” The guy was definitely miffed, the smile he flashed you nowhere close to reaching his eyes. “I'll just...grab another drink while I wait.“

Shoving down the guilt that blossomed in your chest as you lied to him, you waved goodbye and slid through the crowd towards your friends.

They were already on the edge of laughter when you reached them. You felt heat flood your cheeks as they gave you pitying looks.

”Time to eject?“ Leo asked, seemingly ok with the idea as they offered up your belongings that they'd been holding on to for safe keeping.

Nodding sheepishly, you took your purse from their outstretched hand. ”I thought it would help. It didn't. Can we go?“

”Ugh, already? We just got here!“ Stacy whined, her normal indifference relinquished about three shots ago.

”Stace–“ Leo patted her shoulder, sending a pointed nod towards you.

”It's ok, you two can stay, I'll just take a cab.” You assured, slinging your purse strap over your shoulder.

“Absolutely not, princess. You're stuck with us.” Stacy sighed, tossing the remainder of Leo's drink into her mouth before hopping down from her high-top seat.

“You owe me three dollars for that, missy.” Leo shook their head following the two of you as you maneuvered towards the door.

Given the size of the crowd, you weren't too worried about Blake spotting you. The lights were dim and strobing in random directions, your dress was cute but not particularly flashy. One variable you'd neglected to consider, however, was your ability to attract the worst case scenario at every opportunity.

As you and your friends wove through the crowd, your path was suddenly blocked by a sturdy man. The alcohol on his breath carried as he spoke. “Leaving so soon?”

Blake, backed by two men who could've been football players, frowned at you, eyes glowing with a barely concealed threat.

“Sorry, handsome!” You tried for a calm tone, but your voice and posture both wavered. Shrinking back ever so slightly, you turned your lips up in an attempt to explain. “Family emergency, I couldn't see you anywhere and thought–”

“Cut the crap.” Blake hissed, any charm he'd been using before was long forgotten.

“Ok fine. I recently got out of a...relationship of sorts and bit off more than I could chew. I'm sorry to have led you on, but I'm not ready to do anything tonight.” You reasoned, feeling Leo's hand rest on your shoulder in a display of support.

“And you think that's your decision to make?” The man to Blake's left snorted.

Disbelief and rage building in your chest, you crossed your arms. “Uh yah. I do, actually.”

The three men widened their stance, clearly trying to prevent you from leaving. Realization slowly dawned on you, your limbs going stiff as adrenaline flooded your body.

Leo wormed his way in between you and the aggressors, using their body as a barricade. ”Look, I get that this night isn't going how you imagined, but she doesn't owe you anything. Move aside and let us through.“

”Or what, pretty boy?“ The goon on the right side asked with a cocky smirk.

“They said get out of our fucking way, asshat.“ Stacy called, shoving her way between you and Leo and attempting to get past the human blockade.

You must've blinked at the exact moment the movement started, because you opened your eyes and everything had gone to shit. As Stacy pushed forward, she was thrown back into you. You both crashed to the ground, your head clanking against a chair leg in the process. Though the impact wasn't that hard, you were already slightly dizzy because of the alcohol you'd consumed, making the collision incredibly unpleasant.

Clambering back to your feet, you felt a pair of rough hands land on your shoulders. Your vision was swimming in all the commotion, the flashing lights behind you making the effect much worse, so the sensation of distinctly male hands against your bare skin made you screech.

Flailing away from him, you attempted to grapple your way to freedom. ”Let me go. Blake, I swear. Let me go or I'll scream.”

Whipping your head around to look for a way out, a familiar voice caught you off guard. “It's just me, sunshine. Just me.”

Your breath shook as your heart pounded in your throat. tilting your head to face forward, your clouded vision centered around a face you had been trying to forget.

Frank Castle was clad in his usual dark attire, surely dying of heat under his sweatshirt and beanie in the humidity of the bar. His face held a stony mix of fury and concern, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury.

For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped. You were frozen in place, staring incredulously at your rescuer. Apparently you'd been on the ground for longer than you thought, given that your friends were currently being escorted out by bouncers around the three vengeful men who were writhing in pain on the ground.

Mouth slightly ajar, you stared at Frank as your brain frantically tried to corral the myriad of emotions pinging around in your mind. Amazement and relief, then awe–quickly followed by hurt and pure anger.

Yanking yourself out of his grip, you shut your mouth forcefully as rage began to consume you. Before you could say anything, an irritated bouncer pointed a finger at you.

“You two, out. Now.”

Nodding in resignation, Frank reached for you again. “A'right, a'right. We're leavin'.”

“The fuck we are.” You bit out, glaring at him. “I'm not going anywhere with you, Frank.”

“Lady, don't make me haul your ass outta here.” Groaned the bouncer, not giving a single shit about your emotional distress.

“Give me a minute,” You grumbled, bending down to pick up your purse before you instigated anything else. As your gaze left Frank's face, you were left unguarded, his massive hands engulfing your waist and scooping you up to carry you out. “Christ! Frank, put me down!”

The large man ignored you, letting you meekly pummel him with your fists and hurl expletives at him as he carted you out of the bar. Eventually, crisp air wafted over your bare skin and Frank set you down on the concrete outside of the establishment.

The jarring shift from being draped over his shoulder to standing on your own two feet wasn't one your constitution could handle at the moment. Stumbling over the sidewalk, you splayed your hands out to regain your balance. Righting yourself, you saw Frank go to steady you and your bitter wrath boiled over.

“Absolutely not. Don't fucking touch me, Frank.” Arms crossing over your stomach, you curled in on yourself, backing away from him. His eyes widened, face stiffening into a grim expression.

“Ok, ok. I won't touch ya.” He withdrew his hands, intentionally exaggerating the movement to calm you down.

“Don’t touch me.” You murmured, huddling in your own embrace as your throat constricted. 

“Would ya rather I let you get thrown out yourself? Worse, you want me to let you get arrested?” Frank's scowl transitioned into a cocky smirk at the idea.

“Why?” You asked with a huff.

“Why..what?” He snorted, eyes sparkling with far too much pride for what he’d done. 

“Why do you care?” You threw your arms in the air. “I mean I’m sure you’re very busy taking care of people who actually matter to you.”

With a scoff, Frank's eyes flashed with displeasure–a reflection of the resentment in your tone. “Oh so that’s how it is?”

“Yeah that’s how it is, Frank. I didn’t need your help.” You pouted, arms wrapping back around yourself as your throat constricted.

“Sure. Next time I’ll let you stay on the floor like a piece of fuckin' furniture. Would that make ya happy?”

“I had it handled.” You groused, avoiding his eyes, though he saw right through your lie anyway.

Laughing sardonically at your childish argument, he nodded. “Sure you did, sunshine. Next time I’ll let you ‘handle it” ok?”

“Next time? What, like I’m some damsel in distress that needs a big man to come save her because she’s too helpless to take care of herself?” You were yelling now, attracting gazes from bystanders around the club.

“I wasn’t sayin’ that.” His jaw was set, an indication that he wasn't in the mood to listen to you. But you weren't about to let this slide after what he'd put you through.

“Then what were you saying, Frank? Because it sounds like you suddenly care if a man forces himself on me.” Tears were blurring your vision against your will. Hastily wiping them aside, you bit your tongue to avoid choking out a sob at the memory of leaving the construction site.

“Suddenly? What–” Anger momentarily vanishing, his face fell at the notion.

“Don’t play dumb, Frank, you’re  a man, you know how men think. How they act. How they... Don’t try to pretend that you give a shit now.” You glowered, keeping your eyes trained to the ground so he couldn't see them shining with your frustrated tears.

“I’m not–who forced themself on you?” Changing his focus mid-sentence, he stepped forward, as if to cradle you to his chest but you shuffled away stubbornly.

Despite your futile attempts to keep your face from betraying you, droplets of saline trailed down your cheeks as you laughed bitterly. “Who do you fucking think? You think those douchebags at your work only whale on you? No, a humiliated little girl is a lot less of a challenge.”

“Fuck, honey, I didn’t–” Tugging his hair, Frank growled

“I know you didn't. Because I'm not your wife, Frank.” Your voice broke as you voiced the words. “I’m not your ‘anything’ am I? Just another mistake to regret later, right?”

“Another mistake?” Frank called your name mournfully, his eyes locked on your crumpled face as you sobbed quietly just out of his reach.

 “Just… go home, Frank. I'll handle my own shit ‘next time’. Wouldn’t want someone to get the wrong idea.”

Digging the heel of your hand into your glassy eyes, you saw Leo and Stacy jogging towards the pair of you, elbowing people out of the way. Striding past Frank, you didn't bother to look back before running to your friends.

”Are you ok?“ Leo, who was sporting a split lip, tilted your face up with two fingers, examining it while Stacy wrapped you in a one-armed hug.

”Yah.“ You exhaled shakily, your body tense from recent events and unused adrenaline. ”Can we get out of here?”

Pressing a kiss to your head, Leo nodded. “Of course. C'mon, you two are staying at mine tonight.”

As you were waiting for a taxi, you snuck a glance over your shoulder, but the man you'd chewed out was nowhere to be found.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[acesartemis]

yearning (g, Eddie pov, buddietommy)

my take on a queer/asexual/questioning eddie

“Eddie, I want you to do a little research” —

Eddie bit his lip to contain his groan at the word ‘research’. He had come to have the kneejerk reaction to it due to Buck’s insistent need to research everything. It was endearing, don't get him wrong, but he could easily get tired of the yapping.

—“on the orientation of Asexuality,” Frank suggested close to the end of Eddie’s therapy session. “Maybe its romantic counterpart of aromanticism, too, wouldn’t hurt. Whom you are attracted to does not garner the same amount of distress in you as much as the how.  I think the asexual spectrum may be of comfort to you, considering what we’ve discussed previously of your views towards sex and dating feeling like you have to perform in those situations.

“Unfortunately, I cannot—and I would not—tell you what you should identify as, but I feel like, even if you’re not asexual, learning that it is a possibility may help you feel more settled. Furthermore, it may open the door to more exploration if you so choose. Once you have a baseline of information, we can discuss further, if needed, at the next session. ‘Sound good?”

At Eddie’s overwhelmed look, Frank gave a tiny chuckle. “Here, I’ll write it down so it's easier to remember for you.” 

Eddie took the paper from the therapist and gave him a hearty handshake. “I will. Thanks again, man.”

—♠—

The paper sat on his bedside table for three and a half days until a restless and hot night after a whirlwind of saving people from themselves and other members of humanity left Eddie unable to get comfortable enough to sleep.

With a sigh, Eddie reached for the paper, illuminated red by his alarm clock, and his phone. Might as well do some reading at 3:37 in the morning.

“Asexuality,” Google read, “is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or the low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity.”

Well, what a loaded definition.

Eddie’s head thunked against his headboard, dropping his phone to his chest as he stared at the ceiling. Yes, he’s described dating and sex as feeling like a performance. With Shannon, it was his first real relationship, them being so young. The Church and his culture told him to be a man he needed to find himself a good woman and only bed her after they were married. That was fine with him. But the act itself felt gross that first night. The noises, the sweat, the skin to skin contact, and the dirty talk always felt so awkward to him. And he hated the anxiety of making sure she felt good, that she was always satisfied. Eddie could stick his gloved hands in bloodied flesh all day long, but the thought of reaching into a woman just to find a bunch of nerves—no.

Then Shannon got pregnant, their marital-duty fulfilled, and Eddie found his out in the military where he went years without having sex, and truthfully didn't think much of it at all.

But touching he missed. And kissing. He could never get enough. The closeness, the intimacy, the soft caresses, the security of having someone or being in someone’s arms… His soul craved for it when he was gone. 

Hmm, maybe the doc was on to something.

But what really caught his attention was queerplatonic relationships: a type of relationship, most commonly non-romantic, where there is an intense emotional connection that goes beyond a traditional friendship.

Well, damn, that was him and Buck to a tee. Buck, whose attention he sought out, whose comfort he craved (even more so than Shannon, truly), who had wormed his way into the fabric of Eddie’s life to the point that he felt secure in leaving Christopher to in the event of his death.

And Buck, whom Christopher had attached himself to like a leech moreso than any other partner Eddie has had.

But was what he felt for Buck considered romantic? True, Eddie had craved to press his lips against Buck’s after the tsunami, and the lightning, but was that inherently romantic? Who could say. For right now though, queerplatonic partners had a nice ring to it. He would ask Frank at their next session.

—♠—

Then Tommy flew into the picture and Buck was suddenly bisexual and what Eddie had wanted to label their relationship all went up in smoke.

“What Buck feels does not negate what you do.” Frank’s advice rolled around his head for days. “And you don't know what he truly feels until you ask.”

Eddie truly couldn't blame the guy. Eddie wasn't sure what his attraction level was yet, having settled on calling himself merely queer for now and quite possibly never having a specific answer was quite alright with him, but he had to admit that Tommy was an Adonis of a guy. The envy of straight and queer men alike, for their respective reasons. And Tommy was the epitome of cool. Flying his new friends to Vegas in a helicopter? Strong, intelligent, and witty? He understood the baggage Eddie carried of misogyny and the military. His arms were big enough to envelop anyone, making them feel absolutely safe and secure.

Eddie hadn't felt that way with another person since Buck.

Oh, shit.

—♠—

During a frantic phone call during a break in the activity of Eddie's work day, Frank said, “Eddie, yes, it is okay to feel like this with more than one person. You’re friends with more than one person, right? And we all have different needs that can't always be met by the same person.”

—♠—

Eddie’s stomach was in knots. He made uncharacteristic mistakes on calls to the point where Hen decided to body-check him out of the way while looking after a patient and it was obvious Buck noticed. Of course Buck noticed. And Tommy too, as Eddie fiddled with his wine glass the next time the trio had gathered at Tommy’s to watch a fight on ESPN.

“Spill it,” Tommy softly demanded, reaching over to rescue the fragile glass from his fingers.

“Yeah, you’ve been off," Buck agreed. His lips turned down in a worried frown. "Is it us? We have both been extra careful not to make you uncomfortable—”

Eddie groaned. “Buck, no. It definitely is not you guys. Well, it is, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“You can tell us anything, you know. This is all a whirlwind to us too,” Tommy assured and Eddie just yearned.

That's what it was. It all finally clicked in his brain. Eddie was yearning. He already had Buck and knew he always would, but he yearned for more. Tommy made Buck so happy in a way Eddie could not. And while that didn't truly matter to him, he was developing the feeling of being the outsider looking in.

“Eddie?” Buck urged so carefully, so softly, like he was terrified.

“I want—” Eddie breathed, clearing the lump of anticipation and anxiety from his throat. “I yearn for… both of you. I… relish in your hugs and touches, and I want… more. I’ve been talking to Frank and I know I'm not bisexual in the traditional sense, and I might be somewhere on the asexual spectrum but I don't care. I just know deep in my bones that I want you. Both of you, in my life forever. To talk to, to cry and laugh with, to take care of my son with. To have and to hold and to kiss… but nothing sexual.”

“So like we’re already doing, but with more of this?” 

Eddie’s breath hitched as Tommy’s warm hand encircled his wrist. He gave a small tug and Eddie complied eagerly as the man wrapped his arms around him and tucked Eddie against his chest. His breath tickled his ear as he pressed chapped lips to his temple.

Eddie’s heart felt like it were to explode.

A small whine fell from Buck’s lips. “Don't leave me out!”

Eddie chuckled as he and Tommy opened opposite arms to make room for Buck, quickly bracketing the man into their shared embrace. “Aw yes. Lifetime achievement unlocked!”

“You’re a dork, Buck.”

“But you love it.”

“So this is good?” Tommy asked, locking eyes with Eddie and giving a soft but pointed look. Buck would roll with anything, they both knew, but Tommy had the experience to know he needed to step lightly with this. 

“Yes, it and you.” Eddie aimed to brush a kiss to Buck’s cheek but was surprised to find Buck's lips instead, the attacker giggling as they separated. Eddie then turned his head to kiss the underside of Tommy’s jaw, ensuring the older man didn’t feel left out either.

Eddie gave him a firm nod, and delighted when Tommy brushed their lips together for the first time. The kiss was feather light but it made Eddie see stars anyway.

Eddie didn't care what he was. He loved Buck and Tommy and they loved him back and that's all that mattered to him.

[dalekofchaos]

Chloe Price is a lesbian

Every now and then I see people headcanon Chloe as Bi or pan. While that isn't bad, I just have to strongly disagree and I would just ignore people's opinions I disagree with. Then I see some disgusting people shipping Chloe with David, Nathan, Frank and Damon and....I just have to make this post.

Chloe Price is a lesbian. There is no evidence of her being interested in men. People can experiment and then realize they are gay and only interested in one specific gender. Just like Willow Rosenberg is a lesbian.

“But Joyce said Chloe had a boytoy phase and had condoms” Joyce is an idiot. Also, that really confirms that it was nothing ever really serious for Chloe. most lesbians dated/kissed/fucked guys before realizing they had no REAL attraction to guys or accepting that. Compulsory heterosexuality guys. If she really feels attraction to guys than yes she is bi but there is a possibility she was with guys because she didn’t realized she had no attraction to them or didn’t accept that.

As for condoms. Condoms aren’t used just on guy’s dicks, they can be used on sex toys to have safe sex with cis girls too (btw yes you can get stds by sharing sex toys in sex without using condoms or sharing the same condom while doing it). and also consider this: trans girls

Before you say Chloe said Jeffershit is “hot for a teacher” gay people can say someone of the opposite sex is attractive, that doesn’t make them Bi or straight. They can see beauty but know they aren’t really attracted, also she was just fucking with Max. You do realize Chloe was fucking with Max, right?

In the scene “boys are so gross”, calls her boy toy phase hella stupid and when max mentions that she couldn’t see Chloe with any of the boys there she says “that’s because you have a good eye” and that she was glad that Rachel had rescued her which to me sounds like a “I thought a had thing for boys and had boy toy phase (as she calls it) but then Rachel made me realize I actually like girls only”

There is literally enough evidence in BTS and LIS to deduce that Chloe Price is interested in girls only. 

in 2015 Ashly Burch said “I think Chloe is sexually fluid. I don’t think she really likes to label herself in any particular way” buuuuuuut

in 2018 in the farewell stream:

“When they read over their predictions Ashly said (in reference to the thing about them each being on their 2nd boyfriend) ‘clearly Chloe hadn’t realized some stuff yet’ lol” (as in she didn’t realized yet that she didn’t like boys and liked girls aka lesbian)

Then in LIS:TC Wavelengths. Chloe says this in Steph's flashback

"Check out all these booths pretending they give a shit about us for one month out of the year."

Vocal confirmation about Chloe's sexuality.

Also Chloe's concept art, you literally couldn't get a more queer answer if Ann Bony rose from the grave and slapped you with a pride flag

I blame DONTNOD/Deck 9 and Square Enix for not allowing Chloe to be more overtly forward with her queerness. To me, Chloe is a butch lesbian and Zak Garriss can go to hell with his "probably gay" bullshit.

Say it with me kids. Chloe Price is a lesbian.

[infectiouspiss]

i think if i dunked him in tea until he fell apart like a digestive and then i let his gross mushy body sit at the bottom of my mug until it moulded and started trying to sing i think i could split the mould colony into multiple smaller pieces and grow a new band of just franks who will never be able to put on a show because they'd all be trying to make out with each other and thrash around until their beefy little bodies were battered and bruised they'd all be barking and moaning every show would be unfinished as they all curl up in a pile on the side of the stage because they're the beatles of cumming too quick and now freak ass mclennon and rabid ringo over there are too sleepy to keep playing music

[the-primordial-archivist]

(I promise I reach a conclusion at the end bear with me)

Something I've really noticed is that whenever people are around, Apollo gets really queasy when it comes to the human body. An example is The Grey Sisters' eyeball, he immediately got squeamish and screamed about how gross that was. He becomes an awful doctor/healer, randomly prescribing aspirin to everything.

But the moment there isn't someone around or a healer in sight he immediately becomes the best doctor in the world??? He got grossed out by an eyeball but as soon as he saw Lu's cut-off and mutilated arms, he didn't flinch and healed her almost fully with a tiny speck of godly power and a first aid kit.

Same thing with Frank he panicked and went straight to business as he realized that action needed to be taken immediately and cutting off his reunion with Artemis.

And I say he does this on purpose to encourage maybe his children to take action in situations he knows they can and he won't show off vital skills just like that. Apollo lets people do it because they need to learn this in order to survive, and my guess is he's been doing this for millennia to let humans and demigods alike to grow more proficient and confident in their skills so that they do not need him.

When Artemis said Apollo wasn't as good as Asclepius in healing because he didn't really practice and didn't care and that it would take too much time, she was wrong. He probably worked on his healing ability for centuries and just wouldn't show it. When Frank fainted, immediately his reflexes kicked in to save him which is an obvious sign.

Not only that, he said so himself that he had collected the spit of so many animals to check their healing properties in the first book, and unfortunately did not do lions. That just shows commitment.

What am I trying to prove here? Not a clue, just that everyone's wrong about him and he's an actual healer god, one of the best there is, but just doesn't show it to encourage others to become doctors and save people, which is literally the best thing they can do in life. Apollo is gifting them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do so much good.

The main point of ToA is healing and recovery. Mostly from Zeus' abuse in this case and how he tried to save everyone unlike the god of destruction everyone thinks he is.

My belief is that Apollo's main domain is healing and all his other ones are kinda a part of that. Music no need to go into, the sun is rejuvenating and represents a fresh start, prophecies are all about knowledge, which can also be healing, plague is needed to balance it out and is needed sometimes for recovery, and archery connects with the plague which shows death is needed for life and is in fact vital.

Apollo is the god of healing.

[theres-a-body-here]

I Luv Halloween

Frank Morrison x Reader

Can anyone recognize the reference?

The cold air bit at your nose as you leaned on the picket fence belonging to Frank's place. You swirled a lollipop in your mouth as you waited for Frank. You played with the strings on your hoodie. A red hoodie with horns, your makeshift devil costume for tonight.

He sure was taking his time getting ready. The sun was already setting and you wanted an early start. You rub your shoulders absentmindedly. Ormond was pretty freezing this time of year; however, that doesn't mean squat to the kids who would stop at nothing for some candy. Some real sugar fiends.

You turned your head when you heard footsteps. Frank walked towards you in his legion mask and hoodie. Risky, but you doubt anyone would notice in a sea of other costumed kids. He stopped in front of you and looked around. "Where are the others?"

You took the lollipop out of your mouth. "Joey's sick with aids or some shit, and Jules and Susie are off scissoring each other."

Frank lets out a long playful groan. "So I'm stuck with you for tonight?"

"Ouch," you say in a deadpan voice. You raise your hand to show off your pumpkin-shaped pail. "Where's your candy bucket?"

Frank rolls his eyes before taking a paper bag from his jacket pocket. He holds it up so you can see inside; there's nothing but crinkling noise coming from within.

"Here's my candy bucket." He said quite proudly. "Now, let's get going already!"

You nod and start walking toward the first house, with Frank keeping pace beside you. "let's see if old Ms. Richards has anything good," you suggest as you see her house up ahead. Frank gives you a nod in agreement. You toss your lollipop away, expecting something better to replace it.

As You approach her house, You notice she doesn't have any Halloween decorations outside. It makes you wonder why someone wouldn't want to join in on all the fun. You and Frank walk up to her porch and ring the bell. After waiting for a few moments, no one answers.

"Seriously?" groaned Frank as he shifted impatiently.

Before you can ring the door bell again she opens the door. The old crone adjusts her glasses as she scans the two of you over, holding a bowl of....oh god.

"Trick or treat..." you and frank say in a bored tone.

She gives the both of you an apple before slamming the door in your faces.

Rude rotting bitch.

You wait until you're back on the sidewalk to start complaining.

Frank looks disappointed with the first haul. "An apple? Seriously? That's just fucking stupid."

"Did you see the look she gave us? Maybe she thinks we're getting too old for Halloween," You muse as you inspect the apple in your hand. It's a Red Delicious. The old hag couldn't even bother to get the good stuff, like a Fuji or something.

Frank rolls his eyes. "We're barely nineteen! Besides, I still love dressing up like a psycho killer every year."

He lifts his mask up a bit to take a bite out of his apple. You see his lips curl into disgust before spitting it back out immediately. "Ugh, these things taste gross."

"Maybe Ms. Richards needs a trick to set her straight," You suggest casually as you put the apple into your pail.

"What did you have in mind?" Frank asks curiously while tossing his apple over his shoulder and into some bushes behind him.

"Just follow me," you reply as you turn to walk down the street. Frank follows closely behind you, his curiosity piqued by whatever plan you might have cooked up.

Together, you make your way through town. Frank begins to recognize the path as he remembers you live around this part of town. It's confirmed when he sees your house down the street.

You stop in front of your house and walk up to your door to open it, motioning for frank to follow you inside. Frank hesitantly enters your home, looking around suspiciously. He notices how tidy everything is compared to his own messy abode.

"Alright, what's this big plan of yours?" He impatiently asks once you close the door behind him.

"Wait at the table," You point at your kitchen counter as you head to the bathroom. Frank waits as he hears you open cabinets. He glances around to take in your decor.

You come out of the bathroom with a box of razor blades and sit at table with him. You take out the apple from your pail.

"Watch and learn from a master," you say, smiling as you open the box and begin to carefully push razor after razor into the apple's flesh.

Frank watches intently as you stuff more than five razors into the fruit. His face twists into pride under his mask when you finish and hold it up triumphantly. It looks normal and unsuspecting enough.

"Shit, you really went all out on this thing..." Frank comments.

"What a beauty. Some of my best work to be honest," you declare as you put the apple back into your plastic pail.

"Well done," Frank congratulates you. "But now comes the tricky part – actually giving it back to her without getting caught."

You smirk. "It's not for her," you reveal as make your way out your front door, waiting for frank to follow.

Frank raises an eyebrow but goes along with you anyway after locking the door behind him. Once outside, he realizes you aren't heading towards Ms. Richard's house anymore. Instead, you seem to be going in the opposite direction entirely.

"Hang on, where are we going?" he asks curiously.

"That bakery near Elm street, where all the pigs hang out at," you say nonchalantly as you keep walking.

"Oh, right...that place." Frank remembers seeing several police officers frequent that particular establishment during their nightly patrols. Nodding to himself, he continues following you.

Together, you arrive at the bakery just as a group of officers enter the shop themselves. They exchange friendly greetings with the owner before ordering various pastries and treats.

"Wait out here, most of these uniforms have your case worker on speed dial," you say chuckling.

Frank grumbles something under his breath about crooked cops but agrees to stay outside. Meanwhile, you confidently march into the bakery and walk up to the counter. The owner recognizes you and waves hello while setting down menus for everyone else.

You put on your best smile. "Trick or treat!" you exclaim as you hold the plastic pail out.

The owner smiles warmly and begins filling your pail with some candy from a bowl she has placed to her side. After she goes back to taking orders at a different table. While she works, you glance over at the officers who are busy chatting amongst themselves and paying no attention to you whatsoever.

You walk up to the table of cops and smile. "having a nice night officers?" you ask, trying to sound as polite and bootlicking as possible.

One officer turns to address you directly. "Yes, we've had a quiet evening thus far. How about yourself?"

You fake a sigh and a look of disappointment. "Not good. This Halloween is already starting out pretty bad," you lament, pulling out the seemingly normal apple from your candy bucket. "That cheap Ms. Richards, always giving out apples year after year."

The officer chuckles. "Ah yes, we know her pretty well ourselves. Always keeping tabs on those pesky teens causing trouble. We get a call from her every day about kids running around her yard."

"Well I don't want this. Do any of you want it?" You remark casually as you hold the apple out to the table of cops. "It'd be a shame to waste a perfectly good fruit."

At first, none of them seem interested in accepting your gift. But then one of them glances over to his coworkers and shrugs. "Sure, why not? Give it 'ere." he says as he holds his hand out.

You gently drop the apple into his open palm as you say a polite goodbye before walking out and standing next to frank. You nudge his side and motion for him to watch. You can barely hold in your smile as you see the cop bring the razor filled apple to his mouth.

As soon as the officer takes a large bite, his expression immediately changes to pained horror. Blood starts pouring out of his mouth as he drops the fruit onto the floor and grabs at his throat in pain. Everyone else in the bakery jumps up and rushes over to help him, including the remaining officers, screaming and yelling as they call for help.

"Wicked," Frank says as he lets out a low whistle.

"Alright, let's head back and watch shit unfold," you say as you grab his hand before pulling him along. He gives your hand a squeeze as he follows you.

You and Frank stood side by side within the crowd that had formed around Ms. Richards's house as the police broke her door down and stormed her house.

Frank chuckles under his breath. "Damn, she's really taking the fall for this one."

The two of you watch silently as the police lead Mrs. Richards away in handcuffs, protesting her innocence all the while. It seems they believe her story about not knowing anything about the incident involving the deadly apple.

You and Frank watch as the car drives away with the old hag in the backseat.

"Well now I'm bored," you sigh as you look at your wristwatch. "And it's late. Houses are already starting to turn their lights off."

Frank glances around, noticing houses have in fact begun putting out their lanterns and lights. "Looks like we'd better call it quits for tonight then. Wanna head back to my place?"

"Are your fosters home?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Frank snorts derisively. "No, thank god. They're probably passed out drunk somewhere."

"Alright, but first let's get some candy from the store," you suggest, not wanting this night to be a total waste.

"Fine by me." Frank replies. Together, the two of you leave the scene and make your way to the local convenience store. Franks take off his mask and stuffs it into his hoodie before entering the store.

Once inside, you grab a couple of large bags of assorted candies and approach the register. As expected, most people have gone home for the night, so there's only one clerk working tonight. She rings up your purchase quickly and hands you a receipt without saying a word.

As you step outside, you notice that the streets are eerily quiet. Most houses have shut off their porch lights, signaling an end to trick or treating festivities. Feeling satisfied with your loot, you hold Frank's hand and begin walking back towards his place.

"Hey frank," you whisper as a few giddy chuckles leave your lips.

"Hmm?" Frank asks absentmindedly, distracted with thoughts of devouring candy with you at home.

You reach into your pocket to show him you shoplifted some condoms and lube. Your lips curve into a sly smirk.

Frank's eyes widen in surprise before turning into a mischievous grin. "Is that so? Well then, I guess we're having sugar fueled sex tonight."

"It's gonna be a real frenzy," you retort.

He laughs before gripping your hand tighter and pulls you along as he picks up the pace.

It seems that this Halloween night won't be as bad as you first thought it to be.