#look at me with a frank for every occasion

[frnkiebby]

reblogging your posts is like taking my daily frankie vitamin :)

a frankie a day keeps the doctor away, or something like that.

right?

r i g h t???~🎃

(unless it’s frankie then you’re shit outta luck)

[pedrospatch]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[julietsf1]

Best Day Ever - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Oscar's win and Franco's first points have to be celebrated. With her best friend Lando playing matchmaker and the tension between Y/N and Franco simmering, the night promises to be anything but ordinary. Sparks fly on the dance floor, but is Y/N ready to admit what’s really going on?

Warnings: Questionable fashion choices from Charles, Jealous Franco

A N - okay so I never write but I couldn't help myself. another one lol. I adore this man, I really hope he'll get a seat next year:)

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I slipped into Lando’s hotel room, dodging the chaos of clothes strewn everywhere and the blast of upbeat music. As expected, the room was a disaster—a tornado of outfits scattered around, and Lando stood in front of the mirror with two shirts, looking deeply conflicted.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” I teased, dropping my bag on the bed and watching him as he inspected each shirt like it was a life-or-death decision.

Lando turned, giving me a dramatic sigh. “You don’t get it, darling. As tonight’s DJ, I need to look the part. No one’s gonna take me seriously behind the decks if I look like shit.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yes, because that’s exactly why people come to the club... for your shirt.”

He dramatically held up the two options for me to judge. “So? Bright white to make my tan pop? Or black for mysterious, sexy DJ vibes?”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I pulled out my dress. “The real question is, how long until you spill something on it?” I shot back with a grin.

Lando grinned right back at me, tossing the white shirt aside. “Good point. But now, your turn. What are we working with tonight, Y/N?”

I unzipped my bag and pulled out the stunning red dress I’d been waiting to wear. It was the kind of dress that would turn heads the second I walked into the club. Lando’s eyes widened dramatically when he saw it.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer to inspect the dress as if it were a priceless artifact. “What’s the occasion? Trying to murder Franco tonight or what? Because if I were him, I’d be dead on the spot.”

Rolling my eyes, I ignored the blush creeping up my cheeks. “It’s not for him. I just like looking good. Is that a crime?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Lando said, smirking. “But let’s be frank. Or should I say ‘frank-o’? Get it?”

I rolled my eyes again, groaning at his pun. Classic Lando.

Lando sighed dramatically at my lack of enthusiasm but pressed on. “Anyway, you’ve been on Franco’s mind all weekend. The way he’s been sneaking glances at you? Totally adorable.”

I slipped behind the dressing screen to change. “Franco sneaks glances at every girl. It’s his thing.”

“Ah, but here’s the kicker,” Lando leaned against the screen like he was sharing the world’s best-kept secret. “You’re the only one who acts like you don’t care. He finds it irresistible.”

I emerged from behind the screen, giving Lando a look. “I’m not here for his ego trip. I’m here to celebrate Oscar’s win. Now help me zip up, please.”

Lando smirked, walking over to help with the zipper. His fingers brushed lightly against my back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. That’s why you wore that dress. Totally not because of Franco.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I teased, adjusting the straps of my dress as I looked in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was more confident than I felt. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, making me feel bold despite the nerves bubbling in my chest.

Lando chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed his black shirt and pulled it over his head. “Just trying to help. You’ve got something going on with Franco, and I—your devilishly handsome sidekick—am here to make sure it happens.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I insisted, straightening the hem of my dress. “It’s just banter.”

Lando gave me a playful wink. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say. But tonight, when he sees you in that dress, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Man’s going to be speechless.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re in denial,” he shot back. “Now, let’s get going. The club’s not going to know what hit it.”

I grabbed my purse, shaking my head with a smile as we headed for the door. No matter how much Lando teased, there was something about his playful energy that always put me at ease. He knew how to turn any situation into a joke, and even if I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, the thought of Franco seeing me tonight had me feeling a little more excited than I should’ve been.

“Ready to knock ‘em dead?” Lando asked as we reached the elevator.

I smirked. “Let’s dance, baby.”

Lando grinned, pressing the button for the lobby. 

.

The second we stepped into the club, I could feel the shift in energy. The bass was pounding through the floor, neon lights flickering in rhythm with the music, and a sea of people already swaying to the beat. It was one of those nights where you could tell things were only going to get wilder as the hours passed.

Lando, naturally, was beaming as he led us toward our reserved table, his usual confidence on full display. “This is going to be legendary,” he grinned, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “You ready to make some memories?”

I smirked, adjusting the strap of my dress. “If by memories, you mean watching you make a fool of yourself on the dance floor, then absolutely.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Just wait until I start playing some tracks. You won’t know what hit you.”

As we approached the table, George was already making himself comfortable, adjusting his collar like the proper gentleman he always tried to be, while Alex slid in beside him, looking equally ready to unwind after the weekend.

“This place,” George mused, his eyes scanning the scene, “positively buzzes. I might even have to loosen a few buttons tonight, fellas.”

Alex laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh no, George Russell, loosing up? What is the world coming to?”

Before George could respond with one of his comebacks, the door to the club swung open, and in walked Max, Daniel, and Charles—each of them making an entrance like they owned the place. Max, already sipping on a gin tonic, had that relaxed grin he only ever showed when he was off-track, while Daniel was bouncing with energy as usual, ready to bring chaos. Charles, however, had topped them all, not only wearing his patchwork pants, but also sporting a pair of ridiculous neon pink sunglasses that instantly made me burst out laughing.

Lando, seeing Charles in all his glory, was quick to point out the obvious. “Alright, who let Charles dress himself? Where is Alexandra when we need her?”

Charles just grinned, pushing the sunglasses further up his nose. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Norris.”

Daniel, never one to miss a beat, clapped me on the back as he slid into the booth next to me. “Looking hot tonight, Y/N. I’m pretty sure jaws will drop.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to blush. “It’s just a dress, Daniel. Let’s focus on the real star of the night—Oscar.”

Oscar, ever the quiet one, gave me a sheepish smile from across the table. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Lando interjected, throwing an arm around Oscar. “You’re the man of the hour! We’re celebrating you tonight, mate. And Franco when he shows up of course.”

Max, already in full party mode, flagged down a waiter with a confident wave. “Gin tonics all around—and something stronger for Oscar. What do you say?”

Oscar chuckled awkwardly as Daniel threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing. “Yeah, mate. Time to get wild.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Max and Daniel continued to heap praise on Oscar, who was clearly not loving being the center of attention.

“He needs more than one drink for that,” I said, leaning back with a grin. “Oscar’s more the ‘quiet observer’ type.”

“That’s exactly what makes it more fun,” Lando added, his grin widening. “He’s like a ticking time bomb. You never know when he’s going to blow.”

Just then, the drinks arrived. Daniel raised his glass, holding it high for the group. “To my favorite fellow Aussie,” he declared, causing Oscar to smile awkwardly as Daniel continued, “And to a night we’re definitely not going to remember.”

“Cheers!” we all echoed, clinking glasses.

Max wasted no time, clapping Oscar on the back. “No sitting tonight, mate. Come on, time to dance.”

Oscar looked wide-eyed for a moment before Max and Daniel each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him onto the dance floor. He glanced back at us with a look that screamed help me.

I laughed as I watched Oscar get pulled into the chaos. “Well, there goes Oscar.”

Lando grinned, leaning in closer. “You know what Oscar needs to loosen up?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, not this again...”

“Tequila.” Lando’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come on, we’ve got shots to retrieve.”

Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bar, dodging people along the way. It was like Lando had some sort of radar for causing trouble, and tonight, tequila was at the center of his plans.

We reached the bar, and with a few charming words from Lando, the bartender handed over a full tray of tequila shots.

“Think this is enough?” I asked, eyeing the tray suspiciously.

Lando gave me a mock-serious look. “Not even close.”

As we carried the tray back to the table, I couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of our friends still tearing up the dance floor. Max and Daniel were already locked in some sort of ridiculous dance battle, while Charles, still sporting his horrible sunglasses, was swaying with his gin tonic in hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Oscar’s going to die out there,” I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Not if the tequila kicks in first,” Lando smirked, placing the tray down on the table.

Just as we settled back at the booth, the door to the club swung open once more, and in walked Carlos and Franco. Carlos, as always, looked effortlessly sexy, his dark shirt unbuttoned just enough to make every girl in the club swoon. But Franco? My heart skipped a beat when I saw him—his eyes immediately locking onto mine with that intense, playful glint that I was starting to recognize all too well.

He looked different tonight—glowing from the inside out, like the weight of proving himself had finally been lifted. The victory of his first points in F1 suited him. His confidence was always there, but now it had this newfound depth that made it impossible not to notice him.

Lando, ever the instigator, nudged me under the table, trying to hide his grin. “Look at your man, glowing,” he whispered with an exaggerated wink.

“Shut it,” I muttered, though my pulse had quickened at the sight of Franco.

As they made their way over, the group welcomed them with cheers and raised glasses. Carlos slid into the booth beside George, while Franco took the seat across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re late,” I teased, lifting my shot glass in his direction.

Franco grinned, his gaze flickering from the glass to my dress and back to my eyes. “Fashionably late, of course. You know how it is.”

“Always with an excuse,” I shot back, though I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Franco leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for me to hear. “Maybe I just wanted to make an entrance. Catch someone’s attention.”

Under the table, Lando kicked me again, even more subtly this time, though his grin was anything but subtle. I shot him a look, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” I said, keeping my tone light as I shook my head at Franco. “Nice try, though.”

Franco chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

Lando’s face lit up, his grin widening as he picked up one of the tequila shots. “Before we do anything else, we need to make a toast.”

Alex, George, and I exchanged glances as Lando raised his shot glass high, his voice carrying over the thumping music. “To Franco, for getting his first F1 points!” he declared, eyes twinkling with excitement. “He’s officially no longer just a pretty face—he can drive, too!”

Everyone laughed, Franco shaking his head with a mock roll of his eyes, but there was no denying the pride shining in his green eyes. He raised his glass, meeting Lando’s playful grin. “Thanks, mate,” he said with a smirk, his voice carrying that familiar flirty edge as he glanced over at me. “It’s about time I caught up.”

“To Franco!” Lando repeated, and the group joined in the chorus, clinking glasses before throwing back the shots.

The tequila burned, but it wasn’t just the alcohol that made my pulse race—it was the way Franco’s eyes lingered on me

“So,” Franco began, his voice low and smooth, “do you always look this good when you go out? Or is this just for me?”

I raised an eyebrow, trying my best not to smile. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Lando too much. His cockiness is rubbing off.”

Franco chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on mine. “Maybe. But I’m serious. You look… incredible.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t quite hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You say that to every girl, Franco.”

His grin widened, leaning in just enough to make my heart race. “Not like this. And not to every girl.”

It was the way he said it—calm, confident, and undeniably sincere—that made me falter. There was no denying the effect his words had on me, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

“Nice try,” I said, taking a sip of my drink, determined to stay unbothered. “But I’m not falling for it.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Who said I was trying anything? I’m just telling the truth.”

Carlos was still engrossed in conversation with Lando, leaving me to handle Franco on my own. Lando, however, didn’t miss the exchange, and I felt a not-so-subtle nudge from him under the table. “Told you,” he whispered, barely hiding his grin. “He’s got it bad.”

I shot Lando a look but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through me. Franco wasn’t making this easy.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation away from me.

Franco’s smile turned playful, his eyes never leaving mine. “Dance, maybe. If you’re up for it.”

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“Trust me, cariño,” Franco said, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down my spine, “I’ve had plenty of those already.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my composure. Franco’s flirty nature wasn’t new, but tonight, it felt different—more direct, more intentional. And the Spanish- oh my days. 

Before things could escalate further, I decided to save myself. I stood abruptly, grabbing Lando’s arm. “I need to dance,” I announced, pulling him up with me. “Come on, Norris. Let’s go.”

Lando blinked in surprise but quickly recovered, flashing Franco a smug grin. “Later, Colapinto,” he called as I dragged him toward the dance floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back soon.”

Grabbing Lando’s arm, I dragged him out of the booth and into the center of the dance floor, determined to drown out the tension with music and laughter.

“Whoa, easy there!” Lando exclaimed with a grin as I pulled him into the mass of bodies. The bass was so strong I could feel it reverberate through the floor and into my chest. Neon lights flickered over the crowd, casting everyone in shades of blue, purple, and red.

“I need to dance!” I shouted over the music, spinning him around as the beat dropped. “Get your head in the game, Norris!”

Lando, always ready for a bit of fun, didn’t miss a beat. “You’re lucky I’m the best dance partner you could ask for!” he laughed, immediately pulling me into a ridiculous salsa move that made me burst into giggles. His over-the-top style was exactly what I needed to shake off Franco’s intense gaze.

We danced together in sync for a while, Lando’s antics drawing more laughter from me than I’d had all night. He was twirling, dipping, and making exaggerated poses with every beat, reminding me how effortlessly fun it could be to just let go.

“You’re a nightmare,” I teased, dodging one of his particularly dramatic moves as he spun me around.

“And you’re loving every second of it!” Lando grinned, completely unbothered by how ridiculous he looked.

For a few blissful minutes, I allowed myself to get lost in the music. The lights, the crowd, and Lando’s contagious energy made everything else fade into the background. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the fun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Franco.

Even with the mass of people between us, I could feel his eyes on me. I stole a glance toward the bar and, sure enough, there he was, standing with Carlos, Alex, and George, his eyes fixed on me like a magnet. The intensity in his gaze was impossible to ignore, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Stop staring,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head to push the thought away. But even as I laughed it off, I couldn’t deny the way my heart sped up when I caught Franco watching.

Lando twirled me again, pulling me close to shout over the music. “Franco hasn’t stopped looking at you all night!”

I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference. “That’s just Franco being Franco. He’s like that with everyone.”

“Uh-huh, right.” Lando shot me a knowing grin. “Just with everyone? Come on, Y/N, you’re not fooling me.”

I groaned, pulling away slightly as we continued to dance. “Can we not talk about him right now? I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

“Sure, sure,” Lando laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “But you know he’s watching, right? Might as well give him a show.”

Before I could respond, Lando grabbed my hands and twirled me into a dramatic dip, making me squeal with laughter. It was ridiculous and playful, exactly the distraction I needed. But even as I danced, I couldn’t fully shake the sensation of Franco’s gaze burning into me.

Eventually, the heat of the dance floor got to me, and I pulled Lando off to the side, fanning myself as we made our way to the bar. “I need a drink,” I muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead.

“Good call,” Lando agreed, still grinning like a madman. “But I’ve got a better idea—why don’t you get some fresh air. You look like you’re about to combust.”

I nodded, following him toward the exit. The night breeze hit me like a wave of relief, cool and refreshing against my flushed skin. I let out a long breath, leaning against the side of the building as I tried to shake off the lingering tension.

Just as I was starting to feel a bit more grounded, Oscar appeared from the shadows, looking surprisingly calm despite the chaos happening inside.

“Oscar?” I blinked, surprised to see him outside. “What are you doing out here?”

Oscar, ever the quiet observer, gave a small shrug, his usual smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “Hiding of course. Max and Daniel are going way too hard in there.”

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. “I don’t blame you. It’s getting a bit crazy. I think I just saw Max crowdsurfing with Charles’s glasses on.”

We stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the music still thumping faintly in the background. I leaned against the wall, tilting my head back to take in the stars above. It felt good to breathe, to have a moment of peace before heading back into the chaos.

But Oscar, always perceptive, wasn’t one to let things slide. “You alright?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with meaning.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, just… trying to clear my head.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Franco, would it?”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat at the mention of his name. “What? No. Why would it?”

Oscar gave me a knowing look, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you’ve been acting tonight…”

I crossed my arms defensively, trying to brush it off. “He’s just being his usual flirty self. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Oscar leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as well. “Doesn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in my throat. Oscar was too good at reading people, and he wasn’t letting me get away with pretending everything was fine.

He sighed, glancing toward the club entrance. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But it’s pretty clear there’s something there. You can’t ignore it forever.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair.

Oscar offered a sympathetic smile, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Love always is a bit complicated, I think. But that doesn’t mean you should run away from it.”

We fell into silence again, the weight of his words hanging in the air. I wasn’t ready to confront whatever I was feeling, not yet. But Oscar’s insight had a way of sticking with me, whether I wanted it to or not.

After a few moments, Oscar pushed off the wall and gave me a small smile. “Come on, let’s head back inside. I think Lando’s getting ready to play.”

I nodded, following him back toward the entrance. The cool air had done little to calm my racing heart, and I knew I wasn’t ready to face Franco again. But there was no avoiding it. Not tonight.

As we stepped back into the club, the music hit me like a wave, and the energy inside was even more electric than before. Lando was at the DJ booth now, a massive grin on his face as he was preparing to take over the set. The dance floor was packed, and the flashing lights made everything feel surreal.

I spotted Franco near the bar, his eyes immediately locking onto mine as I walked back inside. He didn’t look away this time. Instead, he took a slow sip from his drink, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Oscar nudged me with his elbow, smirking. “Looks like you’ve got some unfinished business.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the sight of Franco watching me. “Let’s just dance,” I muttered, pulling Oscar onto the dance floor.

“Y/N! Oscar! Get over here! We were starting to think you’d run off!” Carlos shouted over the music, motioning me toward him.

Without thinking, I grabbed Oscar’s hand and pulled him toward the group. The music, the lights, and the laughter of my friends wrapped around me, easing the tension built up in me earlier. Oscar, clearly reluctant, laughed softly as I spun him around in the middle of the dance floor. His awkward moves were no match for my playful swaying, but it made the moment even funnier.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” I teased him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I never claimed to be a pro,” Oscar quipped, barely able to keep up. His shy smile only made me laugh harder.

Carlos was quick to join in, pulling me away from Oscar as he swayed confidently to the rhythm. The crowd around us blurred, and soon, it was just the familiar faces of my friends. Carlos twirled me once before leaning in playfully.

“Careful, Y/N,” he teased, “I might steal you away from everyone tonight.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “As if! You could try, though.”

Behind me, I could feel the heat of Franco’s gaze burning into the back of my neck. His eyes never left me. Every time Carlos spun me or made me laugh, I could sense Franco’s attention shifting, the tension in his stance growing tighter.

Carlos, always perceptive, picked up on it quickly. "Franco’s been eyeing you more than usual," he commented under his breath, smirking as he twirled me again. "What’s going on there?"

I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference. "Nothing. He’s just… being Franco."

Carlos chuckled, his grip on my waist tightening slightly as we moved in sync with the beat. "Right. Nothing. That’s why he’s looking like he wants to punch me."

I let out a huff, but the truth was, I could feel the tension between me and Franco bubbling beneath the surface. Every glance, every stolen look, felt like a promise—one I wasn’t sure I was ready to face yet.

As the song came to an end, I found myself needing a break. "I need a drink," I said, fanning myself as I pulled away from Carlos. "Anyone else?"

Carlos grinned, giving me a playful wink. "I’m good. Say hi to your lover boy from me please."

I laughed, waving him off as I made my way towards the bar. The crowd parted slightly as I moved, and for a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to reset. But I wasn’t alone for long.

Before I could even order my drink, Franco was there, sliding up beside me with an ease that made my heart skip a beat. His presence was overwhelming, his green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the noise of the club fade into the background.

"You and Carlos seem to be getting along pretty well," Franco commented, his tone casual but laced with something darker—something that sent a thrill down my spine.

I raised an eyebrow, turning to face him fully. "What’s it to you?" I asked, my voice light but teasing. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Franco stepped closer, his body brushing against mine as he leaned in. "Just making sure you’re not getting too comfortable with the wrong guy," he said, his voice low, almost possessive.

A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. "Jealous?" I teased, leaning into the challenge. His proximity was intoxicating, and it took everything in me not to show just how much he was affecting me.

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t step back. If anything, he moved closer, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Maybe," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to my lips before meeting my gaze again. "But you already knew that."

The air between us was charged, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his hand hovered near my waist as if he was waiting for permission to touch me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Lando’s voice cut through the air, announcing that he was about to take over the set. 

The music changed in an instant. The high-energy beats slowed, replaced by something smoother, more intimate. The kind of rhythm that forced people to get close—whether they wanted to or not.

Looking at the booth, I instantly made eye contact with Lando, who winked at me with the widest smirk ever. I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. It was his not-so-subtle attempt at playing matchmaker again, and as much as I hated to admit it, the slow, heavy beat was making it very hard to resist the magnetic pull I felt toward Franco.

"Guess Lando’s got a sense of humor," Franco murmured, closing the distance between us again, his breath brushing against my ear.

I swallowed hard. He was close—too close. The tension that had been simmering all night was now palpable, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending it didn’t affect me. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, I was slowly losing my mind. 

Franco didn’t wait for me to respond. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me gently towards him. "Dance with me? Please." His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the sincerity in his eyes caught me off guard. This wasn’t the usual playful Franco I was used to—the one who flirted just for the sake of it. There was something deeper in his gaze, something real.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to catch my breath. "Franco…"

He leaned in, his lips hovering near my ear. "I’m not playing games tonight, Y/N," he whispered, his tone soft but firm. "This isn’t just me messing around."

I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in his eyes. He was being sincere. This wasn’t the usual charm or smooth lines he used with everyone else—this was real. And it scared me.

"I…" I started, but the words caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know if I could trust what I was feeling.

Franco’s hand slid from my back to my waist, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us. His breath was warm against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Just dance with me," he whispered again, his lips brushing my ear.

The music pulsed around us, slow and steady, and before I could think better of it, I nodded, slowly letting my guard down and giving in to the moment. Franco’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, and he guided me onto the dance floor, our bodies moving in sync with the beat.

For a few moments, we just swayed together, the tension between us crackling in the air. Every touch, every brush of his hand against my skin, sent electricity shooting through me. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, the steady thump of his heart against mine as we moved together.

"You know," Franco murmured, his voice a little rougher now, "I wasn’t lying earlier. About you."

I looked up at him, trying to keep my voice steady. "What do you mean?"

His green eyes met mine, filled with something I couldn’t quite place. "I know I make a lot of flirty jokes. With everyone. But with you? It’s different."

I blinked, the honesty in his words taking me by surprise. I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.

"I don’t want you to think I’m just… playing around. This isn’t just some game to me." His hand tightened slightly on my waist, pulling me closer. "You are special to me. I just… I want you to be mine. Just mine."

My heart was pounding in my chest, the world around us fading into the background. His words hung in the air between us, and for the first time, I didn’t know what to say.

Before I could respond, Franco’s hand slid from my waist to my lower back, his fingers brushing against the bare skin exposed by my dress. "I don’t like sharing you," he added, his voice low and filled with something darker, something possessive.

A shiver ran down my spine at the intensity of his words. My heart skipped a beat, my breath catching in my throat as I looked up at him, our faces inches apart.

"Who said you had to?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the music.

Franco didn’t wait for permission. In one swift motion, he closed the gap between us, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was like all the tension that had been building between us finally exploded in that one moment. His hands cupped my face, holding me close as his lips moved against mine with a desperation that matched my own. I responded with equal intensity, my hands threading through his hair as I pressed myself closer to him.

The world around us ceased to exist. The music, the crowd, the lights—it all faded into nothing as I lost myself in the kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, and every brush of his fingers against my skin sent a jolt of electricity through me.

He pulled me even closer, his hands sliding down my back, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest. My own pulse was racing, my thoughts spinning out of control as we stumbled slightly, moving toward the edge of the dance floor.

Franco’s back hit the wall, and he pulled me against him, his hands still gripping my waist as we kissed with a fervor I hadn’t known existed. His tongue brushed against mine, and I let out a soft gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair as I pressed my body against his.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Franco’s green eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he looked down at me.

"I’ve wanted to do that for so long," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

I smiled, my fingers still tangled in his hair. "You’re not the only one," I whispered back, my heart racing.

Franco chuckled softly, his hands still resting on my waist as he looked down at me with a mix of affection and desire. "I’m never letting you go now, hermosa."

The way he said it made my heart flutter, and without thinking, I leaned in for another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, but just as intense. We stayed like that for what felt like forever, lost in our own little world, oblivious to the party happening around us.

Finally, Franco pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Let’s get out of here," he murmured, his voice still rough with emotion.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Together, we slipped away from the dance floor, unnoticed by the rest of the party as we made our way outside.

The club’s energy still buzzed in my veins as Franco and I stepped outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat of the dance floor. He tugged me toward the beach, the soft sound of waves pulling us further away from the noise inside. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting the Baku coast in a beautiful gentle silver glow. I couldn’t help but smile at the shift in atmosphere, from the wild club scene to the quiet, intimate stillness of the beach.

Franco was glowing, that much was obvious. He hadn’t stopped smiling since we left the club. And I knew it wasn’t just the thrill of dancing. Scoring his first F1 points today had him on cloud nine, and it was infectious. I felt it, too—his joy, his excitement—it made him even more attractive, if that was possible.

“You’re really not tired?” I teased, bumping his shoulder lightly as we strolled along the sand. “It’s been a pretty big day for you.”

He turned to me, his green eyes sparkling under the moonlight. “Are you kidding? Best day of my life.”

I laughed softly, stopping to let the waves lap at my feet. “The points are a big deal, Colapinto. You’re a proper driver now.”

Franco chuckled, but when he looked at me, his expression softened. “Yeah, but it’s not just the points. Today… everything about it just feels right.”

I raised an eyebrow, playfully tilting my head. “Oh yeah? What’s so special about it?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I could see past all the flirting and teasing to something deeper. “You,” he said simply, stepping closer. “This.”

I blinked, my heart stumbling over itself at the sincerity in his voice. “Oh stop it…”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted gently, his voice dropping lower. “Today was incredible. But I’ve been wanting this moment with you for a while. And tonight… it’s just perfect.”

There it was again—that raw honesty that caught me off guard. He wasn’t playing games, wasn’t teasing. He meant it.

“I didn’t think anything could top your race today,” I said quietly, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

Franco smiled, his hand finding its way to my waist, pulling me a little closer. “The points were great. But this? Being here with you? This is better.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and before I knew it, we were kissing again. But this time, it was slower, more deliberate. The heat from earlier gave way to something softer, something that made my heart ache in the best way possible.

When we finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against his, still catching my breath. “Guess today really was your day, huh?”

Franco chuckled, his hand gently brushing my hair back. “Yeah. And it’s not over yet.”

[moonstruckme]

poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol, explicit themes/language (? like no smut just want of smut haha)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

At some point, your boyfriends had evidently decided that you’re not to be let out of sight. You’ve tried to go get another drink on several occasions, but no matter who you talk to, you always seem to end up right back on the Longbottom’s settee with one of the three of them. Now they’ve fixed you in Sirius’ lap, his hands spread firm and possessive over the curves of your hips to keep you from running off. Every time he shifts his leg even a little, the heat in your core intensifies. 

Now, he laughs at something someone says, body rumbling like a motor underneath yours, and you nearly whimper. You lean back until your head is on his shoulder. 

“Siri,” you murmur into his ear, “let’s go upstairs.” 

He turns his head into yours, smirking. “We are upstairs, sweet thing.” 

Oh. “Well, can we go somewhere else?” 

“Why, honey?” Sirius’ voice is smooth as always, and now it runs over your skin like velvet. You could almost shiver. “You bored?” 

You lean away just slightly so you can look him in the eyes, keeping your voice low. “I wanna fuck.” 

You watch surprise, then delight, and finally chagrin play one after the other over your boyfriend’s features. He presses a chaste kiss to the skin under your ear, repentant. “I wish I could,” he tells you, breath fanning over your neck and giving you goosebumps, “but it’ll have to wait.” 

“Why?” you whine. 

From the other side of the couch, James sends you an inquisitive look at the sound. Sirius pats your thigh consolingly. “It just will, baby. I’ll take care of you tomorrow, yeah? Let it go for now.” 

You don’t think you will. 

You start squirming in Sirius’ lap, trying to turn around so you can kiss him but not quite coordinated enough to manage it. As it turns out, your fidgeting is enough. His hold tightens on your hips, and he leans forward, murmuring a quiet “behave” into your ear. 

Your cunt pulses. Galvanized by this discovery, you repeat your new tactic, shuffling around on your boyfriend’s lap until his grip is punishing. You can feel the shape of his rings through the material of your bottoms. Sirius growls, and James’ head pops into view once again. 

“What’s going on over there?” he asks. 

“Sirius is being mean to me,” you whine before your boyfriend can get a word in. “He won’t let me move.” 

“I’ll bet.” James eyes Sirius’ flustered countenance, beckoning for you. “Come here, babydoll.” 

Sirius releases you into James hold. You notice him crossing his legs as soon as you’re away. James takes his boyfriend's trials as a cautionary tale, tucking you into his side rather than sitting you on his lap. 

“You’re in a troublesome mood, aren't you?” he asks fondly, rubbing up and down your arm. 

“M’not,” you object. “Sirius was just being mean. I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Mhm.” His disbelieving hum purrs through your bones. 

You cozy up to James, looking at him through your lashes. The material of his jumper feels nice against your cheek. “You’ll help me, won’t you?” 

He laughs raucously. You’re about to scowl, but he pecks you on the crown of your head, saving himself. “Just to be clear, are you asking me to fuck you in Alice and Frank’s new house while you’re sloppy drunk?” 

You nod impatiently. 

“Yeah, that’s not happening, darling.” He delivers another kiss to the top of your head to soften the blow. “But I do think I can persuade Remus to take us all home, how about that?” 

Just as quickly as disappointment takes root inside you, hope blooms in its stead. You smile so hugely your ear pops. “Yes, please,” you tell James. 

He squeezes your upper arm affectionately before leaning over, conveying something to Remus with a look that you might normally be able to interpret but currently can’t be bothered to. They’re going to take you home. You know what that means. There, you can fuck louder and nastier and longer than you ever would’ve been able to if you were trying to be discrete in the Longbottom’s spare bedroom. You can’t get there fast enough. 

James stands you up, and there’s a flurry of goodbyes and niceties as your boyfriends shepherd you out the door. Or, you know they must all be with you, but it’s sort of hard to keep track of three people at once. You’re not completely sure whose hand is on your forearm as you descend the steps outside, or who wrestles you into their jacket when you shiver at the brisk night air. You lean contentedly into the loving touches regardless. 

Eventually, it’s Sirius who gets you settled in the backseat, worriedly making Remus take your hands in his so you don’t stick them in the door when he closes it. 

“You don’t think you’re going to be sick?” he asks, and you have the vague impression he’d been upset with you not long ago, but you can’t recall what for and there’s none of that in his demeanor now. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear, lips pursed. “I can run back in and get a bag for the car ride.” 

“No, m’fine.” You sit up extra straight to prove it, cheesing at him. “I’m excited to go home.” 

Sirius snickers and closes your door, but Remus cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“What exactly do you think is going to happen when we get home?” he asks. 

“We’re gonna fuck,” you say brightly. 

In the driver’s seat, James barks out a laugh at your crass language. Remus darts a look his way, looking like he might be biting back a smile of his own. 

“Dove,” he says, “we’re not doing that tonight. We’re going to have some water and go to sleep.” You must look crushed, because his smile turns near pitying. “You’re too drunk, sweetheart.” 

“But I want to,” you say brokenly. 

“If you wake up tomorrow feeling better, you can have whatever you want.” 

From the front seat, Sirius says, “I’ve tried to tell her this.” 

You make a plaintive whining sound, and Remus reaches around your face, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder consolingly. “You’re being so mean to me,” you lament. 

“Oh, I know,” he coos, patting your hair. “M’the worst.”

[bluexiao]

#monsieur neuvillette’s relationship headcanons

NOTES. finally a work after months. i missed this, tbh. but hey, here’s my new husband for you. might also have a part 2 of this i feel like i haven’t written everything yet

WARNING. real identity spoilers (nothing too explicit from the current archon quest i haven’t even done it yet oops)

NEUVILLETTE

(Before)

Before the relationship began, it took a long while for him to truly process what he had been feeling towards you—to be frank, he even thought he was getting sick (which was impossible. He never got sick.), though that thought comes to an end the moment he realizes that the effects only happen when he is around you. Only you.

He had heard of love before. Had seen love. Had read about love. Not just the platonic or familial ones, but also romance and more. And yet, he does not understand them, simply because he considers them as something someone like him would not eventually feel.

And yet, it all changed when he first saw you. Curiosity turns to admiration, and admiration turns to anxiety—which is never good; the sweating on his hands and the back of his neck, and the pressure on his chest whenever your presence comes.

He was only reminded of the term romance when he consulted Sigewinne about it.

“Does it only happen around a certain person, Monsieur?” “Monsieur, I think you are simply in love,” she says. “Humans do tend to have the same symptoms but it does not necessarily mean you are sick. It appears to me that you feel the same as well. Does their presence give you happiness?”

He did not even need to ponder over his answer. What he does ponder over is how he should deal with it. The evidence is overwhelming, and there is only one verdict. And yet, where does this lead to?

Contrary to popular belief, he will confess as soon as he is sure of his feelings. He is an honest and honorable man. He would confess his feelings if he could, but it did take some time knowing how busy his schedule was.

The only thing that probably was able to push him to go through was the Melusines. It took them weeks to have him clear his schedule up for a nice little dinner date that they had planned and suggested to the Monsieur.

“Recently, I have come to realize that I have developed a romantic interest with you, Y/n.”

“I do not intend to put pressure on you. I shall accept whatever judgment you make. I do not wish for you to change how you treat me in any way.”

“If you may… I can only ask to indulge in this meal with you for tonight. Your company eases me greatly.”

Brutally honest. It may even drive you crazy how this all seems so easy on him.

But in reality, his palms were sweating underneath his gloves and the slightly cool sensation of the utensils as he blurts out his intentions for setting up such an occasion. His heart was pounding but he could not process whether this was about how you looked especially good tonight or his nervousness with finally confessing his feelings for you.

Or maybe both. Either way, all evidence of such leads to only one thing—you.

Bonus; I do think he’ll reveal who he is first before he gets into a relationship with you but that really depends on how observant you are.

(During)

It was a surprise to him, at the very least, how he had managed to keep you as his lover despite what he lacks. He knew how he was not well-versed with “feelings” per se (just in his mind), but you, the angel that you’ve always been, chose to be with him.

The sudden change did not occur to him much, actually. But he did notice how much his mind lingers to you more often than not, and how he will end up recalling how you are now his one and only lover.

It takes time for him to adjust, but it all started with frequent conversations (much more than before), then sending flowers to your place every other day (constantly), though most of the time they’re delivered by someone else, knowing how busy he is as the Chief Justice.

Or when he started to first brush his gloved fingers to yours.

When he does something, it will be constant. (Maybe this also comes from being responsible and disciplined as shown by being the Chief Justice). All the things that he did before, he still does them now—unless you’ve told him no, of course.

He is definitely a man of his honor!!

And would always ask for your permission first before he touches your hand, or holds them, or hugs you, or kisses you.

He does like pampering and showering you with “offerings” though.

Stuff like buying your favorite flowers or trinkets once or twice a week, making sure you have enough supply of the best water out there. And even with how he always has an umbrella or parasol for you (ones he got ever since you got together; one in his office, one that’s foldable for him to carry under his coat, and one he gave to you for every time you leave the house.

Through the course of the relationship, he learned about the beauty of life, which is how he sometimes brings you flowers despite its short life. However, he still secretly prefers giving you trinkets for your hoard of gifts from him, mostly because it symbolizes his everlasting love for you. (He’s very romantic like that, even if he does not know he is)

He will also introduce every single Melusine in Fontaine. At first, it may surprise you how he knows all of their names, but it will surprise you even more the moment you realize you could do the same. If you do, he’ll love you even more (which he thought was impossible at first as he knew he already loves you very much).

The Melusines will treat you as their other parent the moment it is known amongst all of them that you’re his lover. Sigewinne, for one, would always give you a personalized gift. She would also always send you letters to ask how you are and probably be quite excited whenever you accept an invitation for a cup of tea.

Monsieur Neuvillete is not jealous, but he is possessive and territorial. It’s a dragon instinct, forgive him.

It also comes with being protective. Though he’s not feral, he would make sure to always shield you away from any harm, or anything that might take you away.

One time, he had to deal with a bunch of… shameless individuals who had tried to make a move on you, and though he has great trust on you, he cannot help but have the same self-deprecating voices in the back of his mind.

Though instinctively, he finds himself buying you trinkets or flowers again.

“Hm? You just gave me one earlier, didn’t you?” You look up with a confused look but still hold that smile that stirs butterflies in his chest.

He nodded. “The flowers reminded me of you, mon amour. I could not help but feel the urge to give it to you.”

It does not stop him from giving you offerings.

Of course, he cannot just give up on you. The ruling of whoever deserves your love and affection the most. Of course, he is at an advantage knowing that he’s already your lover.

“Is there something wrong?” You looked up to him, hearing the pitter patter of the rain outside through the taps on the windows. You had your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them with your palms.

“It’s nothing, mon cœur, no need to worry.” He flashes you a reassuring smile, and yet, at the back of his mind, he wondered how you could have thought to check on him. Is it perhaps the gloominess in the atmosphere?

You frown as you look at him intently, “There are times when you’d shower me gifts with a saddened look on you. I’m worried, is all.”

He stares at you then. Ah, so you noticed, he thought.

He chuckles as he shakes his head and stands right next to you. “May I?” He opens his arms and you nod and dive right into his chest. He enclosed you into an embrace, relishing the feeling of your warmth.

He kisses your forehead then. “Allow me to bask in your presence for a while.”

For short, one of the best. Definitely a 100/10.

[chvoswxtch]

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint. 

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth. 

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read. 

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison. 

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up. 

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far. 

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 3]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Things are starting to happen in this chapter, in more ways than one... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21 @sleepysleepymom @urlocalgeek @buckysvinyl @ragamuffin285 @lollulroofl @hazallem @hellooooooooooooooo @kezibear @dorothleah @juskonutoh @dreamtofus @capswife @lemon-world1 @marvelbros-oneshots

Rubbing one hand across your eyes, you tried to wipe the sleep from them as you pushed yourself upright in bed. The morning sunlight streamed into the room from around the corner of your blinds while the sound of early morning birdsong filtered in past your window. As you groggily felt consciousness returning to you, you found yourself thankful that it was finally the weekend and you'd gotten the much-needed opportunity to sleep in after yet another long week. You'd certainly needed the rest.

Gradually waking, you noticed a faint weight dipping the mattress beside your leg, the feel of it catching your attention. Hand falling away from your face and back to your side, your gaze landed down on Penny. She was standing with her chin resting on your bed as she stood beside it, her tail wagging excitedly as her blue eyes stared up at you. The moment your eyes met hers, her head tilted a bit to the side as her ears perked up. Briefly her tail paused its movements before it began again seconds later with even more enthusiasm than before.

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, reaching a hand out to gently pat her head. “You're hungry and you want to go out. I know, I'm getting up.”

As you began to push the sheets off of yourself, Penny removed her head from the mattress before happily trotting over to the bedroom door.  She paused in the threshold before impatiently staring back at you. Sluggishly, you tossed your legs over the side of the bed and rose to your feet, loosing a loud yawn as you did. Penny let out an irritated bark as she watched you stand there covering a hand over your mouth.

“Give me a minute,” you grumbled at her, shuffling over to your dresser. “I need a bra before we head downstairs.”

As you pulled the drawer to your dresser open, grabbing a bra to quickly throw on, you heard Penny let out one of her usual dissatisfied grumbles. You grinned at the sound, shaking your head as you closed the drawer.

“You know,” you told her as you began to shift your shirt around in order to slip the bra on, “we can't all wake up with the same level of energy as you. Some of us don't spend our days sleeping in cozy beds and watching the squirrels outside.” Readjusting your shirt once you'd secured your bra on yourself, your eyes landed back on Penny still impatiently standing in the doorway. “ Some of us have jobs and responsibilities to deal with which are draining,” you continued. “And on occasion those things make us forget to check the mail–which is what I need to do this morning. And why I unfortunately need a bra,” you said, muttering the last part to yourself.

Penny let out a dismissive bark at you the moment you'd finished dressing. You shot her a flat look, watching as she sent you a signature dramatic roll of her head before she bolted out of your bedroom and straight down the stairs in a rush. You figured she’d most likely stopped at the bottom of them in your living room like she did every morning as she continued to impatiently wait for you. 

With a sigh you made your way out of the bedroom and down the stairs after her, grateful you at least slept better last night than you had the previous night when Lily had stayed over and had woken from a nightmare. Despite the better night of sleep, though, you admittedly still weren't much of a morning person. 

After drowsily descending the stairs, taking your time much to Penny’s sheer chagrin, you watched as she darted off once more the moment you reached the last step. Still trying to fully wake, you began to trudge your way after her through the living room and over towards your kitchen. 

Entering the room, you were met with the sight of the warm, golden sunlight cascading its way past the glass of your sliding door. The morning light coated your kitchen table and the small kitchen island, drawing forth a contented, sleepy smile on your face. This duplex never ceased to feel like a cozy home to you ever since you'd moved in years ago. It was something you'd always loved about living here.

You spotted Penny sitting exactly where you’d expected her to be–directly in front of her food bowl and staring expectantly back at you. Her expressive eyes showed her clear frustration at how long it was taking you to finally feed her, something that warranted a roll of your own eyes in return.

“You're not a typical dog,” you muttered, walking over to the dog food container and unscrewing the lid. “You know that, right? You're too smart. It's not normal.”

Penny didn't respond to you this time, too focused on watching you scoop food from the container. You poured it into her bowl and watched as she immediately and eagerly began to devour it the moment you were out of her way. After closing up the container of dog food, you grabbed her water bowl and brought it over to your sink to empty out and refill. By the time you'd finished and brought it back to set down for her, she'd already inhaled her breakfast. You watched as she got a fast drink of water before stepping over towards your sliding door and letting out a demanding bark, droplets of water dripping off of her muzzle.

“Alright, alright,” you told her as you made your way towards her. “I get it, you’ve got a very busy morning.”

One hand grabbing onto her collar, your other unlocked the sliding door and pulled it open. You led her outside a few steps before bending down and grabbing the lead which you kept staked further into the ground on your side of the yard. Crouching down, you clipped the lead onto her collar before staring her straight in her blue eyes with a look meant to show her you meant business.

“No shenanigans this morning or I'm withholding treats,” you warned her. “You hear me? I'm not in the mood for running around the neighborhood today. I want my coffee.”

Penny stood there staring at you in return, her tail wagging innocently back and forth. But you weren’t fooled by her act as you caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. Your own eyes narrowed back at her before you gradually straightened up, taking a step back towards your sliding door.

“I mean it,” you told her. “I'll withhold those peanut butter cookies Lily and I made for you. Don't test me, Pen.”

Without another word, you turned and headed back inside, closing the door after yourself. You maneuvered around your little kitchen island and over towards your espresso machine, turning it on and letting it begin to heat up. Covering another yawn with your hand, you shuffled out of your kitchen and through your living room once more. 

You stopped in front of your entry closet, swinging the door open and quickly slipping your feet into a pair of shoes. Yesterday you'd been far too busy to remember to grab your mail from the mailbox, just as you'd told Penny. You'd only remembered late last night when you were brushing your teeth before bed, and at that point you didn't feel like heading all the way back outside in the dark to grab it. 

Stepping out your front door, you wrapped your arms around your chest to shield yourself against the brisk early morning spring air. Heading down the length of your driveway in a hurry, you reached your mailbox and opened it. Sticking your hand inside, you were surprised when you pulled out a decent stack of mail. As you began to make your way back up the driveway to your front door, your eyes slowly began to scan the top envelope of the stack. 

Stepping back inside your place, you closed the front door after yourself before walking over to your entryway closet that you’d left open. Kicking out of your shoes, you flipped to the next envelope in your hand, frowning when you saw it was a bill. With a sigh you closed your closet door, turning and making your way back to the kitchen. Still distracted by the mail in your hands, you visibly startled and almost tossed the stack of envelopes to the floor when two loud knocks came from your back door. 

Eyes flying upwards as you paused in the space between your kitchen and living room, you were shocked to see your new neighbor, Frank, standing there with a faint smile on his face. He sent you a small wave with one hand, but your eyes quickly dropped down and spotted that his right hand was holding onto Penny's collar. Your dog was standing there with her tail lowered, a guilty look on her always-so-expressive face. The sight was comical despite you feeling rather confused at the unexpected view of the pair of them.

Brows knitting together as you curiously eyed them, you made your way through the kitchen, absently tossing the stack of mail in your hand onto your small island as you passed it. When you reached the sliding door, you quickly opened it and stepped out of Penny's way as she shamefully slipped inside past you. You shot her a quizzical glance before focusing back on Frank.

“Sorry to bother you this morning,” he began, his smile turning to one of amusement as he spoke. “Just thought you might like to know I caught that one–” he raised a hand, pointing a finger at Penny behind you, “–trying to crawl out beneath the fence out back. Somehow got outta her collar, too.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, you shot Penny an exasperated look. “Penny!” you scolded her. “What had I just finished saying to you this morning? Not cool!”

Penny dropped down to the floor of the kitchen with a faint grumble, resting her chin over her paws as she shot you her sad puppy eyes. You shook your head at her before returning your attention to Frank when you heard him continue.

“Hope you don't mind that I caught her and brought her back,” he said. “I just saw her from my kitchen window. Figured you didn't want her gettin’ out.”

You waved a dismissive hand immediately at him, shaking your head quickly. “I absolutely don't mind at all,” you assured him. “You honestly just saved my morning. Seriously, thank you. She's been a little escape artist ever since I brought her home. I have no idea how she keeps slipping her collar and getting out of that damn backyard, though. I mean it’s fenced in .”

“There's a dip in the ground by those bushes out there near the far corner of the fence,” Frank told you, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “Caught her tryin’ to squeeze herself under it. But I didn’t see how she got outta her collar.”

Turning to look over your shoulder at Penny once more, you raised your brows at your dog. At least she had the audacity to look guilty this time, burying her muzzle into her paws as she averted her gaze.

“I told you no more shenanigans today,” you warned her. Returning your attention back to a grinning Frank, you sent him another grateful smile. “Thank you again. Really. You didn't have to grab her but I appreciate it. I'll try to find something to at least block that part of the fence with this weekend. Maybe that’ll stop her from at least getting out of the yard.”

“‘S'no problem,” Frank said with a shrug, taking a step backwards on your patio. “Just glad she didn't get loose and have somethin’ happen to her.”

Chewing your lip as you eyed him, you briefly wondered if it would be weird to invite him inside for a minute. Especially after the fact that he’d just saved you a whole hell of a lot of trouble this morning. And you certainly refused to think there was any other reason as to why you suddenly wanted to chat with him besides that.

“Hey, I uh, was about to make a latte,” you began, the offer spilling out of you before you could stop it. “Would you like one? As like a sort of thank you?”

Frank's weight shifted back and forth between his feet as he stood on your back patio, his smile morphing into something almost sheepish before his gaze dropped down to his feet. You watched him curiously as one of his hands rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don't wanna put you out,” he replied. “Really wasn’t any trouble.”

“You’re not putting me out at all,” you assured him. “Like I said, you just saved my morning. If you hadn't caught this little furry fugitive here I'd have been out running around all morning searching the whole neighborhood for her myself. And I really didn’t feel like doing that.”

Frank’s head rose up slightly, his eyes focusing on you from beneath his lashes. You could see the way he was contemplating your offer, his lips visibly twisting in thought. Eventually he gave you a brief nod, a smile growing wide across his mouth as his hand dropped back to his side. 

He certainly looked pretty damn good when he smiled like that.

“Alright, if I’m not botherin’ you,” he conceded.

You slid your back door open wider, waving him inside with a hand. “Absolutely not. Come on in.”

Frank stepped into your kitchen, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans as he did. You closed the door after him before gesturing to your kitchen table.

“You can sit,” you told him. “Make yourself comfortable. It'll just be a minute.”

“Alright,” he said.

As you made your way around the small island of your kitchen and over towards your espresso machine, Frank pulled out a chair at your table. You heard him settle down into it, something stirring nervously in your stomach as he did. You couldn't recall the last time a man was here in your kitchen while you made him a morning coffee.

That's not what this is , you quickly reminded yourself. It’s just a thank you.

Beginning to grind a fresh batch of coffee beans into the basket of the portafilter, the soft whirring noise filling your kitchen, you focused on making Frank a latte. But by the time you were tamping the grounds down, you distinctly heard the sound of Penny rising up onto her feet, her nails clicking along the floor. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw her make her way over to Frank with her ears somewhat lowered in something like apology. You rolled your eyes at your dog, shaking your head and grinning as she padded her way over to Frank.

“Think she's trying to make amends with you,” you told Frank, focusing back on the machine before you. Locking the portafilter in place, you reached up into the nearby cabinet and grabbed a mug. “Now she's going to give you the sad puppy face as an apology, but I can assure you she's not done trying to cause trouble. It’s just too much in her nature.”

Frank chuckled, the warm sound only growing your smile as you began extracting the shot of espresso into the mug. Turning around, you rested your back against the counter and watched as Frank's large hands affectionately scratched at Penny's ears. Her eyes were partially closed in delight, her tongue half hanging out of her mouth as her tail wagged ecstatically back and forth. She looked like she was in heaven, and honestly, you almost couldn’t blame her.

“Don't worry,” Frank said, his eyes focusing on you, his large hands still petting Penny, “I don’t fool easy.”

“Good,” you said, laughing lightly. “Because that's exactly what she expects.”

As the espresso finished pouring out into the mug behind you, you tried to ignore the warmth in your chest as you watched Frank. He looked so content sitting there at your table, the morning light casting a soft, warm glow over his face as he pet Penny who was happily soaking up the attention. It wasn't just Lily that he was apparently good with, which only had you biting your lip, admiring the curve of the smile on his mouth and the way his gray sleeved shirt clung to the muscles on his chest.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head and forced those thoughts straight out of your mind. Spinning back around towards your espresso machine when you heard the extraction end, you mentally chastised yourself. You shouldn't be standing here thinking about your neighbor like that, especially not when you barely knew him. 

“So,” you began, removing the mug and working on emptying the used puck from the portafilter into your garbage beside the counter, “how are you liking your first week here? I mean, I know it's not the most exciting place to live, but are you settling in alright?”

“Yeah,” Frank answered from behind you. “Been doing just fine. Got a job lined up already. Startin’ on Monday.”

“Oh?” you mused, heading back over to the kitchen counter and readying the frothing pitcher with milk next. “That was fast. You’ve barely been here more than a few days.”

“Apparently that Elite Construction Company was hiring,” he told you. “They had a few open positions and I have past experience workin’ in construction myself. Everything kinda just…worked out.”

As you held the pitcher in place under the steamer wand, the familiar, soft hissing noise of the milk being frothed filled your kitchen. Glancing back over your shoulder at where Frank sat, your brows rose up onto your forehead. 

“Elite Construction?” you asked. “My brother works there, too. I'm sure you'll end up meeting him since he’s always pulling as many hours as he can there. He seems to like it.”

“Good to know,” Frank said with a nod.

“So besides that,” you continued, “I take it the town has been treating you well so far?”

“Yeah, I've been settling in fine,” he continued with a shrug. “Nothin’ too exciting going on ‘round here, but that's what I was hoping for. Somewhere quiet. Calm.”

“Ahh yes, well you came to the right boring little town,” you said with a laugh, turning back around and shutting off the steamer. “Nothing ever really happens in Elmdale. Think our biggest event is a yearly summer block party downtown.” You tapped the pitcher on your counter lightly twice before beginning to gently pour out the frothed milk into the mug for Frank, perfectly drawing a rosetta across the surface. “It's basically just an excuse for The Crooked Antler and Half Moon to sell more beer to everyone. Except instead of sitting inside in the musty old bar, everyone sits outside all day eating burgers and listening to whatever bands they can pull together.”

Carrying the full mug in your hand, you made your way around your kitchen island and over towards Frank at the table. You set the latte down on the table in front of him, suddenly feeling a little nervous. You knew the two times that you'd seen him come into Common Grounds he'd only ordered a black coffee. What if he thought your lattes were terrible?

“Hopefully you like it,” you said, gesturing to the mug. “It's the same roast we use for lattes at the shop and I added just a little vanilla–you don't seem like a guy who enjoys overly sweet coffee.”

One of his dark brows rose up onto his forehead, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. His head cocked to the side as he eyed you.

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Because you order your coffee black,” you told him. “And not something with tons of milk or various syrup flavors in it. So I imagine you can appreciate the taste of a good roast.”

“Hmm,” he hummed out.

One of his large hands finally left Penny’s head from where it rested along his thick thigh. Anxiously you stood there, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watched him grab the handle of the mug and raise it halfway to his mouth. He paused though, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he inspected the delicate design sitting on the top of his coffee. You nearly stopped breathing when he wordlessly drew the cup the rest of the way to his mouth and took a sip, eagerly watching his face.

Frank looked taken aback for a moment, swallowing the coffee down before lowering the mug and staring almost incredulously at it. Nerves melting away, a triumphant smile slipped across your lips. He liked it, you could tell.

“This is good,” he told you, his brown eyes flying up to meet yours, his brows drawing lightly together. “Never ordered a latte before. This how they always taste?”

You shrugged before turning and making your way back to your espresso machine. “Not necessarily,” you answered him, beginning to start the process over in order to make your own drink. “Depends where you go. What roasts you use. Type of milk. Amount of sweetener. Though that is how I prefer my lattes–a good dark roast, freshly made, with only a dash of sweetener. Extracted properly, the coffee itself does all the work.”

“Huh,” Frank mused behind you. “Take it you really like your coffee then.”

You paused your tamping of the portafilter, shooting Frank a grin over your shoulder. “Well yeah, that’s sort of why I opened a coffee shop,” you half-joked. “Maybe it’s a silly passion,” you continued, focusing back on making your drink, “but I think starting your day off with a good cup of coffee–or tea, if that’s what someone prefers–can make a world of difference. Maybe even turn someone’s day around.”

Continuing to work on your coffee, you remained distracted for the next couple of minutes. But it was impossible to forget about Frank’s presence behind you as you worked, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as if you could somehow tell when his eyes were on you. 

“So no little shadow following you around today?” Frank asked, breaking the silence.

“You mean Lily?” you questioned back, pouring the frothed milk into your own coffee mug. “My niece? Probably not today, no. Jaime usually has Saturdays and Sundays off, though sometimes he’ll take a late shift at The Crooked Antler on a weekend to make some extra cash.”

“It’s nice that you help your brother out like that,” he replied. 

“Yeah, well,” you began, carrying your coffee over towards the kitchen table and taking a seat beside Frank, “I couldn’t possibly leave him and Lily hanging. That’s just not me.”

Frank sat forward in his chair, both of his hands coming to wrap around his half-finished coffee. “Mother not in the picture? If you don’t mind me asking’.”

Swallowing down the sip of coffee, you shrugged a shoulder as you lowered your own cup back to the table. “Whole town already knows the story,” you answered. “Not really a secret. Lily’s mother had her issues, though I think Jaime was always secretly hoping the pregnancy would’ve helped her grow out of them. Take responsibility. She lasted maybe three weeks after Lily was born before she took off though.” Your eyes dropped down to your coffee mug, distinctly remembering the early morning call from your brother. “She’d just said she couldn’t do it. Didn’t want to be a mom and just…left. He’s never heard from her since.”

“That right?” Frank mused. “Shit, don’t know how someone could just take off on their own kid like that.”

“I’m right there with you,” you agreed, glancing back up at him with a sad smile on your lips. “Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents, I guess. Which is a shame for Lily, really. She’s asked about her mom now that she’s older and it’s heartbreaking to try to explain to a four year old that she’s just gone. I can’t even imagine how much that must hurt her.”

“She’s got you, though,” Frank pointed out.

“I do my best,” you admitted, drawing your mug back up to your lips, “but I’m not able to make up for what she’s really missing.”

Something flashed across Frank’s eyes at your words, an emotion you briefly caught flicker past them before his focus dropped down to the coffee mug in front of himself. His fingers began to nervously fidget with his mug, his expression suddenly difficult to read as his fingers tapped against the ceramic. For a moment you remembered last night how he’d mentioned having a daughter in the past tense and you wondered if that’s where his own thoughts had taken him now. To a family he was missing.

“So what about you?” he asked, his expression abruptly shifting back to something masked and neutral as he met your eyes again. “Always taking care of your niece and helping out your brother. There someone you got lookin’ out for you?”

The question had caught you off guard and you quickly tried to hide your surprise. Had he just asked you if you were seeing someone? Was that what he’d done? Nervously you cleared your throat, ducking your head and trying to fight the flush from rising to your cheeks. That had certainly been an unexpected question.

“Uh, well, no,” you admitted awkwardly. “Don’t exactly have time for, well, that. And there aren’t exactly a lot of prime options here in Elmdale, either. Not unless you like your man hitting up a bar blowing through his paycheck every night at seven.”

“Take it you say that from experience?” he asked.

Releasing a humorless laugh, you nodded. “Yeah, you could say that,” you told him. “Not a lot of real winners to choose from here, I’ll be honest. And it’s not like I’ve got time to make dating a priority right now. But it’s–it’s fine. The shop and Lily keep me busy.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him raise his coffee mug to his mouth, drinking more of it down. Biting your lip, you shyly looked back up at him, contemplating the curious question of your own that was dancing on your tongue. Surely asking him in return after he’d brought up the topic wasn’t out of line, was it? It was a normal thing to ask someone you were getting to know, wasn’t it?

“What about you?” you blurted out before you could change your mind. “I know you mentioned having a daughter?”

Frank’s eyes met yours, his throat visibly bobbing as he swallowed the mouthful of his coffee down. Gradually he lowered the mug back to your table without a word, a crease forming between his brow. That sad, hard to decipher expression was on his face again, though this time it looked raw and painful. He looked more vulnerable than he’d appeared to you in any other interaction you’d had with him yet, even the one with Lily late last night when he’d first mentioned having a daughter. You immediately felt regretful for bringing anything up.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately began, shaking your head. “You don’t have to answer that. I don’t mean to pry.”

“‘S’alright,” he murmured. “I was married for a while. Had two kids, a daughter and a son.” He paused, a faraway look forming in his eyes as he spoke, his attention suddenly shifting to a spot just over your shoulder. “Loved them more than anything. Truly were the brightest parts of my life, but…one day they were just taken from me.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you breathed out. “I–I can’t even imagine.”

  His eyes fell down towards your table, his lips thinning out along his face. “Wasn’t your fault,” he muttered. “Can’t exactly change the past now, neither. But…I miss them. Every day. Your niece though,” he continued softly, his sad gaze raising up to hold your own, “she reminds me a lot of my daughter when she was that age. Lisa was her name.”

A sad smile ghosted across your lips at his words. “She likes you,” you found yourself admitting. “Lily, I mean.”

Frank huffed out an amused breath, nodding lightly. “I like her, too. Definitely a spirited kid. Your brother is gonna have his hands full with her.”

You laughed lightly, nodding in agreement. “I tell him that all the time,” you said. “She’s stubborn and outgoing and cannot be persuaded when she gets something in her head. I can already picture her as a teenager. But she’s got a big heart.”

A silence settled in your kitchen among the pair of you. You couldn’t help but study Frank out of the corner of your eye, observing the quiet sadness that seemed to be emanating from him now. A sadness that hadn’t been quite so noticeable when he first showed up. You wished you knew what to say or do to comfort him, but anything that came to your mind felt vastly inappropriate, so instead you awkwardly chewed your lip, staring at your coffee mug.

“I should probably head back,” he eventually said. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do today and I’ve got a few errands to run myself.”

Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the disappointment that fell into your gut. Though you knew he was right, realistically he couldn’t stay here and chat with you all morning, even if you had found yourself oddly enjoying his company.

“Right, of course,” you told him.

“Thank you for the coffee,” he said, sliding the chair back and rising up to his feet. “Maybe I’ll have to order something different at your shop next time.”

“I’d be happy to see you back there,” you told him, immediately cringing internally at how that had come out as you also rose to your feet. “Because there’s uh, certainly plenty to choose from to order.”

Frank shot you a polite smile as he made his way around your table and back over to the sliding door. You followed a few feet behind, awkwardly wrapping your arms across your chest as you watched him pull the door open.

“Thanks again for catching Penny,” you said. 

“Wasn’t a problem,” he assured you, stepping out onto your patio. “But if you need a hand tryin’ to fix something up to block that side of the fence, you just let me know, alright? I’m sure I can probably come up with somethin’ if you need help.”

“I will most certainly keep that in mind, thank you,” you replied with a smile.

Frank gave you a curt nod before he slid your door shut, and then he turned and made his way back next door to his side of the duplex. Silently you watched him, your eyes trailing over the broad muscles of his shoulders and back as he walked. Though you could still see the tension in him as he moved, the weight of what you now knew as grief just noticeable in his steps.

When he was out of sight you turned, releasing a sigh as you spotted Penny laying on the floor near the chair Frank had been sitting in. You shot her a pointed look, eyes narrowing.

“You need to relax on the escaping thing, girl,” you told her. “I don’t have time to deal with that, alright?”

You were about to head back over to your cup of coffee and finish it until your eyes landed on the stack of mail you’d tossed onto your small island counter. Making your way back over to the stack, you continued rifling through the envelopes, sorting out bills and junk mail alike. Though your hands eventually came upon a slip of paper folded in half that wasn't even inside an envelope. It appeared as if someone had just slid it in between the stack of mail in your mailbox. 

Curiously you picked up the sheet of paper, setting aside the other few unopened envelopes on your counter as you unfolded it. You were surprised to see a single line of typed text at the top of the page. Though as your eyes scanned the short sentence over multiple times, trying to make sense of it, a cold trickle of fear shot itself through your veins.

You owe me.

With sweat dampening your hands, you crumpled the sheet up into a ball, your heart beating a little faster as you stepped over to the garbage beside your counter. Tossing the paper away, you attempted to swallow down the lump forming in your throat as you stood rooted to the spot staring at the garbage can. 

That had to have been just some weird neighborhood prank, right? Something a teenager was just slipping inside people’s mailboxes because they thought it would be funny? There couldn’t possibly be anything more behind it than that. Because who else would’ve sent you a message like that?

[frvnkcastles]

Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.

Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)

There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.

He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.

”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.

”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”

He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”

And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.

”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.

”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.

”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.

”Never been more sure of anything.”

He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.

He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.

The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.

”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.

”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.

”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.

”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”

Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.

”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”

Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.

”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.

”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

He really would have done anything for you.

[amuseoffyre]

"A weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy"

The framing and angle on Stede in this shot from 2x07 absolutely reminded me of this scene with his father from 1x01.

It's also the only occasion I can think of where the camera work makes Izzy look taller than Stede. In almost every other scene they're in together, Stede's presence looms over Izzy, but here? Now? When Stede is at his most vulnerable? Izzy towers over him.

As far as Stede knows, he's done everything right according to his father's cruel and narrow view of the world, but it's driven away the man he loves and now, he's trying to convince himself that he has surrounded himself with "real" friends, who "like me for me".

To add insult to injury, he thought he had elevated himself in the pirate community, but then Izzy - an older man - steps into the space and dismisses the people around him with barely a word. Stede's authority, acceptance and sense of control is sliced out from under him.

"You like me for me" counts for nothing. He is nothing. Everything can be taken away from him so easily. He looks small and lost and child-like, looking up at Izzy and immediately expecting the same kind of derision and cruelty he has received in the past in the form of a victory lap. He even tries to get ahead of it, lashing out with passive aggression before Izzy can hurt him.

In S1, Izzy would absolutely have taken pleasure in it, but this is the Izzy who has been through the meatgrinder of the Kraken. He has faced the worst, lost parts of himself and found parts of himself he didn't even know existed. He's been the one left behind and he's grown and changed.

Instead of taking an easy shot, he is frank and honest about what he sees in them. It's a kindness and a reassurance when Stede is bristling and brittle and chafing to lash out. He reminds Stede it's not all about him - "[Ed]'s a complicated man". Izzy comforts him, in his way, and this is coming from the man who does have the authority, respect and credibility in the world of pirates.

As the scene continues, Izzy brings himself to Stede's level, sitting next to him, reframing them as equals, which is a lovely touch. They're not overpowering each other anymore. They're not jostling for authority. They're side-by-side.

The difference between the way Stede's father treated him as a child and the way Izzy is now treating him as a man is so beautiful to me. Izzy is from the most brutal and violent of worlds, but is showing compassion, while Stede's father was part of the so-called "civilised" world and only ever chose cruelty.

It's a quiet and subtle way to show Stede that his father's ideals aren't the only way.

[marley-manson]

Hawkeye and Frank are the two most diametrically opposed characters on Mash. They clash politically, ideologically, emotionally, intellectually, and even physically on more than one occasion. There is virtually nothing they agree on. But they do have one significant similarity: both Hawkeye and Frank are notably, pointedly effeminate.

Hawkeye is the central protagonist, so he's written to be likeable, even admirable, especially in the first five seasons of the show when satire dominated rather than character drama. He's the character who makes the correct political points and voices the show's ideology, and male audience members are encouraged to identify with him and aspire to be like him. He's witty, he's smart, he's charismatic, he dodges consequences a lot, he's highly skilled in his work, and he has a strong personality and natural leadership qualities.

Frank is the main antagonist up until the end of season five. He's written for audiences to hate him, mock him, and occasionally be horrified by him. He's dull-witted, incompetent, awkward, easily led and manipulated, and always gets his comeuppance. Few audience members are likely to aspire to be more like Frank Burns.

And yet, while most likeable protagonist/detestable antagonist duos in American popular media would also be differentiated in terms of gender performance as a matter of course - the effeminate villain being a standard stock character, always set against a ruggedly masculine hero - Mash takes a different approach.

From his core personality as a sniveling, weak-willed follower, to the way other characters, including Hawkeye, routinely make fun of him by comparing him to a woman or insinuating that he's gay, Frank Burns certainly fits the part of weak, emasculated villain. What's more interesting, and much less commonly seen in Hollywood media, is that Hawkeye is portrayed as just as unmanly, and just as, if not more prone to having it pointed out in the show.

Often Hawkeye's jokes at Frank's expense include the implication that Hawkeye is attracted to him himself, and not necessarily as "the man." He jokes, "Guess it's a marriage, Frank. I know I can do better, but at my age, can I wait?" in Hawkeye, Get Your Gun; he switches from calling Frank one of his vampire brides to taking the feminine part in post-coital pillow talk after siphoning his blood in Germ Warfare; he kisses or tells Frank to kiss him in Major Fred C. Dobbs, For the Good of the Outfit, and Bulletin Board, etc.

Other times, the jokes Hawkeye makes about himself are virtually identical to the jokes made at Frank's expense - their respective attractions to Margaret as a potentially dominant sexual partner, eg, with both Frank and Hawkeye portrayed as eagerly submissive. For instance, in 5 O'Clock Charlie Hawkeye jokes about tying Frank to Margaret's tent, then dismisses the thought with, "He'd probably love it. I know I would." And Hawkeye/Trapper and Frank/Margaret are sometimes paralleled as dual couples, Hawkeye and Frank usually being framed as the more feminine partner in each.

And of course, unconnected to Frank, there are many, many more examples of Hawkeye's effeminacy, both in jokes and in personality traits.

Hawkeye is a self-professed coward who is loud and proud about how terrified he is to be stuck in a war zone. He's emotionally open and highly empathetic, always willing to listen to others' problems and discuss (or scream about) his own. He abhors institutional violence and faces every enemy combatant with his hands firmly in the air. When authority is thrust upon him he strives to relinquish it, and uses it as little as possible.

More shallowly, he has little interest in sports and exercise, derides masculine hobby magazines like Field and Stream and Popular Mechanics, is incapable of performing mechanical tasks to the exasperation of others at least four times (Comrades in Arms which explicitly frames this emasculating, In Love and War, Patent 4077, and Hey, Look Me Over), mocks traditional masculinity in many ways, and enjoys musical theatre and Hollywood gossip. And he makes and takes literally hundreds of jokes about being unmanly and having sex with men himself, many more than he makes at Frank's expense.

But while the jokes are at Frank's expense and meant to belittle him, they're rarely made at Hawkeye's expense, especially in the first five seasons. Hawkeye doesn't make the jokes out of self-deprecation, he makes them out of pride and a desire to differentiate himself from the army men he's surrounded by. He's almost always in on the jokes others make about him, rather than offended - Potter telling him to file a paternity suit against his rival in Hepatitis makes him laugh delightedly, and Trapper's remarks on his effeminacy, such as Miz Hawkeye in Hot Lips and Empty Arms, are sometimes lightly teasing but always a regular aspect of their dynamic that Hawkeye enjoys playing up. Frank doesn't make any jokes directly mocking Hawkeye's masculinity that I can recall, beyond vague "pervert" and "degenerate" remarks, which, while often historically homophobic, in the show's context tend to be treated as a reference to his heterosexual endeavours.

Frank's effeminacy is a point of mockery and derision, but Hawkeye's is a point of pride, and not intended to make him any less likeable to an audience. Antagonists don't get to score points off of Hawkeye by mocking his feminine traits, but Hawkeye makes fun of Frank regularly by mocking his feminine traits.

This difference in framing can partially be explained by the nature of their respective gender performances.

While Hawkeye and Frank are both effeminate, they're effeminate in many opposite ways. Frank is weak-willed while Hawkeye is strong-willed. Frank is unappealing to most women, while Hawkeye is something of a lady's man. Frank cannot face his fears to rise to a challenge, but Hawkeye can. But on the flipside, Frank refuses to admit to fear while Hawkeye openly proclaims it. Frank strives to attain authority while Hawkeye refuses it or takes it on only begrudgingly. Frank is obsessed with guns to a freudian extent while one of Hawkeye's most famous monologues of the show is a speech about refusing to carry one. Frank worships the concept of traditional masculinity even while he can't perform it himself, while Hawkeye mocks the concept and would refuse to perform it even if he could.

The Sniper is an excellent case study of these contrasts. In this episode, Hawkeye is effeminate and at ease with it, while Frank is desperate to prove himself masculine. Frank and Margaret flirt with strong Freudian overtones while Frank shoots a gun while nearby Hawkeye flirts with with a nurse with a line about "tasting" her. Hawkeye connects with the nurse he's wooing by relating to how scared she is and huddling in fear with her, while Margaret demands that Frank prove his masculinity by going out and taking down the sniper himself. Frank carries a gun while trying to approach the sniper, while Hawkeye carries a white flag. Frank tries to make fun of Hawkeye for wanting to surrender, but he can't bring himself to approach the sniper while Hawkeye does.

This contrast of gender performance is a consistent aspect of Hawkeye and Frank's dynamic throughout the show, but The Sniper makes it a central theme so it's a useful example to show how their relationships to masculinity are a deliberate aspect of their dynamic.

And while Hawkeye makes fun of Frank's femininity, it's significant that he also regularly makes fun of Frank's masculinity - his love of guns (eg The Sniper), his sexual affairs (eg the exchange about Frank as a "fantastic performer" in Yankee Doodle Doctor), his numerous attempts to exert authority (eg Welcome to Korea), his desire for socially approved success (eg Hot Lips and Empty Arms), etc.

Both masculine and feminine sides of Frank are comprised of negative character traits, while Hawkeye embodies the best of both - emotional expression and healthy ways of coping by talking about his feelings; bravery but not machismo; intelligence and skill as a doctor rather than an officer; empathy and a willingness to listen; sexual prowess but largely through his love of foreplay rather than his dick game (which, in the context of the early 70s, is a somewhat feminine attribute that distinguishes him from a typical traditionally masculine man); etc.

Hawkeye demonstrates some of the most appealing and healthy qualities of both masculinity and femininity while Frank demonstrates, or strives to demonstrate, the more toxic qualities of both. Through including a few positive masculine traits in the mix, the narrative is able to depict Hawkeye as likeable, admirable, and desirable in his effeminacy while Frank is depicted as loathesome in his. Hawkeye gets one of many, many women in The Sniper by showing vulnerability, while Frank only appeals to Margaret, and Margaret is portrayed as borderline pathological in her sexual attraction to violent masculinity (the scene where Frank excites her with his gun, for example, also includes an electra complex joke, and there's a running rape kink gag in this episode as well).

Another aspect to consider when it comes to differentiating Hawkeye and Frank's respective femininities is hypocrisy. Similar to how Frank and Margaret's affair is mocked because they can't admit to it while Hawkeye and Trapper's affairs are glorified, part of what makes Frank's effeminacy so mock-worthy, while Hawkeye's feminine qualities are a source of pride and rebellion, is that Frank refuses to admit to them.

Frank desperately wants to be the ideal heroic army man and often play-acts the part, poorly. When Hawkeye mocks him by calling him a woman, for example, he's drawing attention to Frank's failure to live up to his own ideals. And when Hawkeye calls himself a woman, he's mocking those same ideals. The message is that Frank is pathetic not so much for failing to be traditionally masculine, but for wanting to be traditionally masculine at all.

Ultimately the ways Hawkeye and Frank perform masculinity and femininity are pointedly in opposition, from which masc and fem traits they embody, to how proudly they embody them. The show itself draws attention to these gendered similarities and differences between Frank and Hawkeye through a constant barrage of jokes, and even whole scenes and episodes. In this way the show portrays Frank as a hypocritical loser who wants to be masculine but fails to embody all but the worst traits, and Hawkeye as a cool, admirable guy who disdains the traditional pillars of masculinity and embraces his own effeminacy.

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter 1: I'm a puppet on a string

A/N: Ok guys, here we go! Thank you all for your love and support, and most of all, for waiting for this last book.  Summary: We are starting on season 15 for a little sneak peak of our lovebirds getting ready for their last day at the BAU. Spencer and his cherie have been married for some time now, and things are going great, until they don't, as they usually do. Let's join for a big flashback and understand all that happened from season 9 to season 15 that lead them to their last day at the BAU. Word count: 7.680 words.  Warnings: Alcohol consumption, fluff, angst, confusion and babies.  

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Next chapter

Spencer's point of view

Thomas Merton once wrote, "Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it with another."

Life has never been this good, not like this. I know I haven't slept well in over seven years, due to the constant demands of parenthood, but I don't mind. In fact, I think I love it. I was not a good sleeper before becoming a dad if we are sincere. But waking up ten times every night to change diapers, check for monsters under the bed, or scoot over and allow my kids to sleep next to me, kicking my ribs for the entire night has never been a problem. Because they are my babies, and I would do anything for my kids.

I no longer have every night during the week to bury my head in hundreds of books. I haven't read more than a few every week since Raven was born, seven years ago. Now, my evenings are filled with baby rambles and kids' voices as we play games and read bedtime stories.

My kids. I never thought I could ever say those words. And now look at me, father of three healthy, bright, and beautiful kids. Not even in my wildest dreams I ever imagined being alive could be so fulfilling. Now I have an honest reason to be a better person every day. My babies. My wife. My family. They are my whole life.

I have everything I ever dreamt of: me and (Y/N) have been married for almost nine years. Nine years of waking up next to her, good morning kisses, and cuddles. I still find it hard to believe that she is my wife. The love of my life. The woman I would die for. Just ask me and I will give up everything for her safety and happiness. Yes, as cheesy as it sounds. And with our career choice, a decision that we've had to make more times than we imagined.

Our eldest daughter, Raven Marie, turned seven this year. She is bright and cheerful. She is just like her mother: a natural leader and the light of my day. Vincent is four years old, and he was born an artist. He loves painting and drawing, especially on the walls when no one is watching. We enjoy our trips to the museum together, even more if we get ice cream afterward. And baby Matilda is just three months old. I love holding her in my arms as she sleeps safe and sound. It makes the whole world stop. And the way her big brown eyes stare at me, I swear she can understand every word I say. The three of them make me feel loved in a way I never even imagined.

We live in a beautiful house just outside town, which is perfect for raising our family. It has a large backyard where our kids can play. It even has a tree, so I plan to build a treehouse next summer, probably with Mikey's and Frank's help.

This is everything I always dreamed of and never thought I could have. That is why (Y/N) and I decided we would never let anything jeopardize what we have accomplished. There is nothing more important to us than our babies.

That is why it's time to leave the BAU for good.

Today is our last day as Supervisory Special Agents with the FBI. And though I always thought if this day ever came, I would be devastated, I'm looking forward to this new stage in our lives. As long as we have each other, everything is going to be ok.

I roll in bed and stare at my darling wife asleep beside me. I take in all her features, nose, and closed eyes fluttering occasionally. There are a few gray hairs already showing, stressing her out. I find them sexy if you ask me. We are already 39 years old, I have a few gray hairs myself. My wife's skin looks so soft, so tempting. I wanna mark her mine again, leaving sweet bruises from her neck to her breasts, which are almost exposed underneath her pajamas. The hickies I did last week are barely visible anymore.

But before I get into action to wake (Y/N) with hot kisses all over her body, sweet blabbing sounds coming from the small crib next to our bed catch my attention. Our baby girl is already awake. It's still too early for Matilda to open her eyes, so I roll in bed and hold my baby daughter, rocking her in my arms as we walk around the room.

- "Good morning, Jelly Bean."- I whisper and kiss her forehead- "Thank you for almost letting us sleep through the night last night. Your mom and I have a decisive day today."- Tilly stares at me with her big chocolate eyes and smiles as her tiny finger holds mine tight.

- "Yes baby. Today is your parent's last day working at the BAU, after over fifteen years of service for your mom and seventeen for me."

The words should shock me, or maybe even cause angst or pain. But nothing could be farther from the truth. I'm excited to become a full-time professor at Georgetown, come home every night, and spend time with my kids. No more travels unless they are on vacation, no more chasing psychopaths. I'm ready to leave that life behind me and take care of my loved ones daily.

I walk around the house, enjoying how it's still silent. Holding Tilly close against my chest, I open Vincent's door and watch him sleeping on his little bed. I walk over and cover him with his blanket, knowing in about forty minutes he will be running downstairs, demanding breakfast. Today is hotcakes Friday, I could start the batter and get the coffee ready after I put an eye on the kids.

I head to Raven's room and find her awake. She is sitting on her bed, holding her teddy bear hidden behind Moby Dick.

- "Birdie, what are you doing awake? it's six in the morning"- I whisper as I walk over to her and she widens her eyes, clearly busted.

- "Sorry dadda. I just woke up. I swear."

- "What happens when we don't get enough REM sleep?"- I ask her as I sit by her side, and take her book from her tiny hands.

- "It interferes with memory formation, altering my learning process."

- "Very good. So if you know why you must have nine hours of sleep, why are you awake so early?"- my older daughter giggles and hides underneath her blanket for a moment. I wait for her to show me her face one more time as she whispers.

- "I wanted to know what happened to the giant whale."

- "But this is our bedtime story, Raven. We have to read it together every night."- I try to look serious, but frankly, I feel so proud. I love being able to share my passion for reading with my daughter. Raven fixes her pillow underneath her head and covers herself with her purple blanket.

- "But I'm no longer sleepy, dadda."

- "Just close your eyes for a bit, Birdie. Try to rest and I'll make breakfast. I'll call you when the food is ready, ok?"

- "Can we read two chapters tonight, dadda? Please?"- she looks at me with pleading eyes as I place the book back on her bedside table.

- "Only if you get some more sleep now, ok?"

- "Fine... good night dadda... or is it good morning already?"- I chuckle and kiss her forehead.

- "If you are going to sleep, we still say good night, birdy."

Sometimes I'm sure I'll wake up alone at my old apartment, all this would have been a dream. I never imagined I would love something or someone more than I loved my work. The FBI was my life for so long. But this, my babies, my wife sleeping safe and sound in our house, that means more than anything I could ever achieve at the bureau.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I wake up in bed and immediately feel the cold, empty space beside me, and I don't like it. I'm used to waking up with the warmth of Spencer's arms around me or any of my kids hovering over the covers or sleeping on me. But not today. Today, I am alone on this gigantic bed, and neither my children nor my husband are in sight.

The sweet sound of my kids' laughter somewhere in the house and the smell of hotcakes catches my attention in a second. I could get used to waking up like this. No text warning me that we have to catch a serial killer. No one is trying to hurt my family. No psycho plotting to ruin our lives. Just us in our house, living our sweet dreams.

The last couple of years have been rough, to call it somewhat. Everything we ever tried to avoid from working at the BAU hit us. For a moment it felt like everything that could go wrong, did. And when I say "everything", I mean it. But I don't wanna think of those dark times, I don't wanna start this last day with sorrow. I wanna start it with coffee, hotcakes, and sweet kisses from my babies.

- "Something smells extra good in here!"- I walk into the kitchen and find Spencer flipping hotcakes in a pan, as Raven and Vincent are sitting at the table, eating already and chatting nonstop. My husband smiles as I walk to him and kiss his lips sweetly.

- "How are you today Tilly?"- I whisper as I stare at her, she is asleep against Spencer's chest, in a baby wrap we got when Raven was born, and that my husband loves beyond life itself. Try to take it from him, it's impossible. He loves carrying our kids around in that thing. And when they are too old to fit in, he just carries them on his shoulders or arms all over.

- "One day they will be too big or too embarrassed to be seen like that with me"- he explained to someone, probably some of my aunts or cousins, who argued he was spoiling them rotten. - "And I wanna enjoy every chance I get before we reach that point in life."

Now, if you ask me, I don't think our kids will ever get tired of their dad. They love him too much.

- "Mama! dadda made chocolate chip hotcakes!"- Vinny is clearly running on sugar right now- "They are tasty!"

- "I'm sure they are! They smell delicious!"- I grab a cup and fill it with freshly made coffee- "Can I get you more coffee, hon?"

- "Yes, please ma cheriè."- I pour two cups and add sugar to my husband's as he prepares a dish with hotcakes and scrambled eggs for me and one for him as well.

- "Someone went an extra mile with this breakfast today. Thank you hon"- I kiss him again and take both dishes.

- "It's a special day. You deserve the best breakfast."

- "Well, I'm gonna cook you the best dinner then" - I wink at him and look at our kids- "Are you ready for school, Birdie?"

- "Yeah. I'm excited because in math we are starting to do multiplications! Finally!"- our daughter is honestly happy about math, which I know she didn't get from me.

- "Multiplications? Why were you looking forward to that?"- Spencer asks her, as I help Vinny cut his hotcakes.

- "Because Uncle Frank said we are good at multiplication in this family, so I wanna learn all about it."

I keep my poker face and nod at my oldest daughter, trying to pinpoint any kind of scenario where Frank might have said that to her. Spencer stares at me with wide-open eyes as he clears his throat and sips his coffee.

- "Yeah, math is really fun!"- that's all I can say- "Which is your favorite subject, Vinny?"

- "Art"- I am not shocked.

- "Are you planning on making a new drawing for my desk?"- Spencer asks our son, who takes a few seconds to reply and gives him an honest answer.

- "No, Aunty Lu asked me to do one for her fridge, because her baby can't draw anything yet."- I smile and nod.

- "We should work on that drawing this weekend then."- I say to my boy and kiss the top of his head. I love that my kids know Lu, Frank, and Mikey are also family.

Lu got married a few years ago and last month she had her first baby. I haven't seen her in a few weeks because things have been crazy for both of us, but we text daily. A lot has changed, but our friendship remains the same. Mikey got married as well, to a girl he met at work. They have been together for five years and have a baby girl. I have never seen him this happy before, and it fills my heart with joy to know he is living the life he always dreamed of.

Meanwhile, Frank is still single. Not shocking news, I know. He has a steady girlfriend though, and they are very happy. He and Tarah have been together since Spencer and I got married, and they have the cutest dogs and cats I've ever seen.

- "Ok kids, let's get ready for school."- I put the dishes in the sink and watch our kids run upstairs. Spencer smiles as he finishes his last sip of coffee and I walk to him to take Tilly in my arms.

- "I'm gonna get this little lady ready to spend the day with Nana Sofia so you can take a quick shower, ok?"

- "Thank you, ma cherie."

- "No, thank you for breakfast, Daddy."- I whisper and kiss his coffee-tasting lips as he stares at me, raising an eyebrow subtly. I am teasing him, and I know it. But I can't help it. I love it when he stares at me with those hungry eyes.

- "We have some extra time, in case you wanna join me in the shower."- Spencer whispers and stands in front of me, wrapping his arms around mine, and moving his hands up and down my back, underneath my pajamas.

- "Mom!!"- Raven yells from upstairs- "Vinny got back into his bed and said he won't go to school today!"

- "Hold that thought until tonight."- I sigh and peck his lips- "Take that shower while I get the kids ready."

- "Fine, but you owe me, Mrs. Reid."- I chuckle at his words and shake my head, walking out of the kitchen with our baby secure in my arms.

- "Dr. Reid, I'm keeping count, and as far as I remember, you owe me, big time."

Spencer's point of view

As I drive to our last day at work after dropping the kids at school and Tilly with (Y/N)'s mom, I start to do the math of how many times I've driven us to work in the last few years. Plus all the times I took the subway to get there, before we got married. I know during all those times I never imagined how the last time would feel like. I never even imagined this day would ever come until Raven was born. Ever since I knew she was coming, I seriously considered dropping the life I knew to do anything else. Something that didn't include putting my and my wife's life in danger daily.

After we got married, (Y/N) and I spent a few years trying to catch up with all the time we wasted not confessing our feelings. There wasn't much left to know about each other that we didn't deal with being friends, but being a couple was a completely different thing. Our job came with certain unconventional situations, to call it somewhat. Like the day I realized how badly I wanted to be a dad, after delivering a baby in front of an unsub.

It happened almost eight years ago, not long before we discovered we were going to become parents for the first time. I remember I was out for a drink with Rossi, who had taken very seriously his job to help me transition from a single man with no clue about dates, to a man married to the woman of his dreams.

That night he took me to one of his favorite bars, which apparently had seen better days. It was old, dirty, and mostly empty, except for a very old guy singing karaoke at the back of the room, and some regulars.

- "That's where I saw Carolyn for the first time."- Dave pointed at a table in a corner, where a guy seemed to have passed out. I widened my eyes and looked at him, not impressed.

- "No offense, Rossi, but this place is kind of a dump."- of course, he was offended.

- "Oh, back then it wasn't."- he argued and tried to sell me the place - "Back then, the biggest names would come here: Creedence, The Eagles, Chicago. It was a Marine bar. They played for us jarheads."

- "What was Carolyn doing here?"- I asked, trying to focus on the story and not on the number of bacteria in every glass in that bar.

- "Waiting for Ringo."- Rossie replied as I stared at him surprised. - "Beatlemania was no joke. I mean, it would make the women crazy. She'd write them a letter once a week, begging the band to come visit."

I smiled thinking that sounded like something (Y/N) might have done as well, though instead of writing letters, she would tweet her favorite band and spam them with messages begging for a show in town.

- "Did they ever come?"- I asked and Rossi nodded, with a smile.

- "Ringo did, after his divorce. But luckily, Carolyn met me first. But that's how we all became friends."- I was about to add something when the waitress arrived with our second round.

- "Devil honey for Dave and a light beer for the kid."- I smiled at her and whispered a shy thank you as she left the bottle in front of me. I was about to sip it when the sound of a text message coming from David's phone reminded me duty ruined most of our fun times.

- "Oh, on second thought, Helen... it's Garcia."- Rossi announced and looked at me.

- "So much for a night off."- I sighed and left the bottle back on the table, untouched.

- "You better bring us the bill."

- "Ok. That'll be 10 bucks."- the waitress replied quickly, and I moved to grab my wallet, but David stopped me.

- "No, you can charge us for the drinks we didn't have. Drinks are on me, kid."

- "Everything's marked down until it's all gone."- the waitress announced and showed us a banner announcing Rossi's favorite place was closing in a few days.

- "Oh, you can't close! This place is history!"- he argued immediately, shocked by the news.

- "Unfortunately, Dave, history doesn't pay the bills."- Helen, the waitress, replied and shook her head as Rossi sighed, defeated.

- "Marines used to be big business!"- he said and looked at me, I don't know if waiting for words of support or just trying to convince me.

- "Still are. That's why three new bars opened up across the street."- Helen explained and then asked- "What's that thing they say about competition?"

- "It breeds success?"- I told her, but she cut me off.

- "It sucks."

- "Well..."- Rossi stood up and I followed, grabbing my jacket- "Keep the change."

- "Thank you, Dave."- Helen smiled and looked at him for a few seconds, giving him a knowing look, and then walked away.

- "I hate to see this place go."- Rossi said to me as he stood there, staring around him at all the memories he had in that place. I tapped on his shoulder and walked out of the bar.

- "We could come back again after we solve this case."- I suggested, trying to cheer him up. - "Bring the rest of the team, enjoy one last drink here. I'm sure (Y/N) and García would love to hear all the stories this place has."

When we reached the BAU that night, (Y/N) was already there with Blake, García, and Hotch. I walked toward my wife and held her hand.

- "Ma cherié, did you get to enjoy your evening at home?"- I whispered and she sighed.

- "I prepared the perfect bathtub, got myself a glass of wine, and I had a brand new book to enjoy. And it all went to waste."- she pouted and I ran my thumb down her cheek a few times, caressing her soft skin.

- "I'm sorry, chipmunk."- the rest of the team joined us in the briefing room, which forced us to be professional and move from each other a little bit- "We could take a bath together after we solve this case."

- "That sounds so nice." - (Y/N) sighed and smiled at me. - "How was your night out with Rossi?"- she asked as we sat around the table in the briefing room.

- "We had fun, we have to go to the bar he took me"

- "Was it good?"

- "No, actually it was old and dirty, but it's his favorite and it's closing."- she chuckled as Rossi turned to me, from the other side of the table, looking absolutely offended.

- "It's a very respectable place! You are lucky you visited it!"

- "That's why I'm telling my wife we should go!"- I replied, doing my best not to laugh. I knew he was affected by the closing news.

- "And we will, you don't have to tell me twice."- (Y/N) said quickly- "If there is booze and Rossi approves, I'm dying to go."

That case was in Boston, a psychotic was on the loose and had already killed three men and stolen their wallets. Though nothing tied the victims together, our guy was on a mission, and it was more likely to strike again before we got there.

We were already in the jet, going through the briefs and trying to find anything that could lead us to find this guy quickly.

- "We need to determine where he's finding his victims."- Hotch said, and I locked eyes with my wife, who was sitting next to me.

- "Geographically speaking, none of the victims live near one another, but they were all killed downtown, which is where the unsub likes to operate."- I said as she nodded, but before (Y/N) could say something, Blake commented.

- "That fits with where Maxford works, but not with the other two victims."

- "His area of control, while relatively small, includes a number of residential and commercial buildings."- I started rambling out loud.

- "Can you do the math that might help us?"- my wife suggested.

- "Well, factoring in a 3-mile radius in a city with a population of 636, 479 over 48.28 miles, we're looking at approximately 39,549.23 people living in his comfort zone."- I blurted out and (Y/N) kept staring at me with a sweet smile, as the rest of the team looked at each other like I was a freak.

- "How many of them are male?"- Morgan asked me and I replied in a blink.

- "18.944,08."

- "Garcia, start with the victim's known associates."- Hotch commanded as I felt (Y/N)'s hand on mine, intertwining our fingers.

- "Your brain is so fucking hot"- my wife whispered and I chuckled, embarrassed- "I love hearing you do math on anything."

- "Never let her go, kid"- Rossi overheard her words and smiled at us. I guess so did JJ, 'cos she looked at us with a funny stare in her eyes before standing up and walking to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea.

Our guy was Tanner Johnson, and he was in fact, on a mission. He wanted to gain his ex-wife's trust back again to prove to her that he could take care of her and her new baby after their 10-year-old Jeremy had died. He wanted to be a good father, and in a way to protect everybody who lived under his roof, he started killing people who he thought were a bad influence for them and even kept a scrapbook, filled with proof of his murders.

I remember being in a van with Morgan, on our way to Mrs. Johnson's house, where she was being kept against her will by our unsub. (Y/N) was with JJ and Blake in another van, as Rossi and Hotch stayed back at the station, watching the surveillance cameras Tanner kept, still streaming everything that was happening in his old family home.

We just made it in time before Mrs. Johnson had the baby, and I was glad for once I had memorized all of the delivery manuals I had come across when JJ was pregnant, just in case she went into labor on the field.

- "Hannah, how far apart are your contractions?"- I put my gun down as I stood in front of Mrs. Johnson and Tanner, who had a knife against her throat. Morgan kept pointing at him, but I knew he didn't have a clean shot.

- "They're constant!"- the poor woman in labor screamed in pain. I looked at Derek and shook my head. I knew I had to do something quickly.

- "The baby's coming now!"- I announced the obvious, knowing the entire team was listening, and hoped for the best.

- "Look, man, your baby is about to be born. Now, we want to help you, but you need to put that weapon down."- Morgan tried to dialogue with Tanner, but it was impossible. He wasn't going to cooperate.

- "No! This is my child! I'm not leaving it!"- the unsub shouted, so I slowly moved closer, put on a pair of gloves, and took a deep breath staring at Mrs. Johnson, trying to get her to mimic my breathing.

- "Hannah, I need you to breathe deeply. Breathe deeply."-

I kneeled in front of her and did my best to look as confident as possible, though deep down I was so freaked out I was hoping I wasn't going to keep any memories of that moment.

- "Hannah, I need you to start pushing..."- I whispered, but she refused.

- "I can't."

- "Yes, you can, baby, just like with Jeremy."- the unsub tried to help, but she didn't want anything from him.

- "This is not helping!"- Hanna mumbled under her breath, she was in so much pain that I knew I had to find a way to get him away from her as soon as possible.

- "Tanner, you need to let her go. The stress isn't good for the baby. If Hannah doesn't start pushing now we could lose the child."- I commanded him, but he kept the knife against her neck and refused to move.

- "I have to watch him. I have to keep him safe."- he argued and stared at me as if I was a threat to the baby's security.

- "Like you did with Ashley?"- Derek caught his attention, which left me focused on the baby.

- "That was an accident. I didn't mean to."- Tanner mumbled

- "I know you didn't. Accidents happen. What happened with Jeremy was an accident, right?"- Derek continued talking, and I knew he had hit a very sensitive string in the unsub. It could only help us or put the baby's safety in jeopardy.

- "If I'd have been there I could have helped him."- Tanner was taken by those words and his whole shift. That was the key to helping Hanna. So I took advantage of his concern.

- "Guys, something's wrong."- I tried my best to look convincing. - "The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby's throat."- I didn't want to trouble Hanna, but I had to do something.

- "No!"- Tanner yelled right away, as well as his poor wife.

- "Well, Reid, do something."- Morgan got it right away, and kept his eyes glued on Tanner as I continued lying.

- "I need something to cut the cord with, quickly!"

My words came as urgent as it was needed, and Tanner didn't hesitate to give me the knife to cut the cord. In two seconds, Morgan grabbed him and started taking him out of the room, as the unsub yelled and tried to fight back. Just then, (Y/N) walked in with JJ and Blake, and she quickly kneeled next to me.

- "Don't worry, Hannah, your baby's doing fine, but you need to keep pushing. Ready?"

- "Medics are on their way."- my wife announced, but I shook my head and continued doing my work.

- "We can't risk moving her now. We'll have to deliver the baby here."

- "Oh, God!"- Hanna yelled and (Y/N) quickly held her hand after putting a pillow underneath her back.

- "It's gonna be ok, Hanna, trust him, he is a doctor."- I looked at my wife for a second and though I knew she meant it as words of reassurance for the victim, they worked for me as well.

- "Come on! squeeze her hand as hard as you can and push"- I said and watched her struggle to do it.

- "Oh, I can't. I can't."

- "Yes, you can! You're doing great!"- (Y/N) said and rubbed Hanna's hand on her- "You are amazing!"

- "Yes! you're doing great. I can see the head! Keep pushing! Keep pushing!"

It didn't take much for the baby to come out. I held him in my hands, (Y/N) helped me cut the umbilical cord, and we wrapped him in a blanket that was lying around on a couch. Medics arrived and took care of Hanna while my wife held the newborn with tears in her eyes.

- "You are amazing Spencer."- she whispered as the two of us kept our eyes on the baby- "I can't believe you just did that."

- "I wouldn't have done it without you, ma cherie."- I replied and kissed her temple.

- "You are not delivering our babies, by the way."- she said after a few seconds and chuckled- "I'm gonna need all the epidural they can give me."

And just like that, the thought was inside my brain like a disease that wouldn't stop spreading. It wasn't like I hadn't thought about having babies with (Y/N). I had imagined a future with her in many ways possible. And that was exactly the point: at that moment in our lives, it was possible. And the overwhelming amount of things that could go wrong was impossible to overlook. They were there each time I looked at her.

Ever since we got married, the possibility of having kids has been present in our lives. We weren't officially trying, but I knew it was something we were both thinking about. And for a moment, it was perfect. Until I remembered there was a chance our kids could inherit my mother's schizophrenia. I know that disease tends to run in families, and though studies show there is no single gene to be responsible, the possibility of having kids with that disease was real. And I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever put (Y/N) through any painful situation.

So I tried not to bring the subject up after we came back home, and for a few days, it worked. Until, well, it didn't.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I knew there was something wrong with Spencer as soon as we hopped back into the jet from Boston. He delivered that baby and something triggered him. I didn't want to pressure him, so I acted like a good wife and let him process the events at his own pace. I assumed it had something to do with the whole experience of delivering that kid and the fact we had talked a few times about having our own little family, but probably that whole moment had been eye-opening for him.

What if he didn't want to have kids anymore? What if he wasn't as ready as I felt? I was ready to quit taking the pill. I wanted to start trying to get pregnant. I wanted a little Spencer to love and take care of. Teach them all the things I knew. Watch them grow... I was fully ready to be a mom, and somehow I was scared to bring it up to Spencer. I was afraid he didn't want to anymore.

And then, the team made sure to force us into the conversation the Friday night we were all out together. We were at Rossi's favorite marine bar, the one he had brought my husband earlier in the week. Penelope and I gathered a bunch of people from the FBI and invited them over to say farewell to a piece of Washington's history. We also told them Rossi was buying the drinks, which explains why it was packed.

- "So, let's toast"- I said and raised my glass. The entire team and my husband were there with me, to enjoy our free night- "To spend more evenings together with family."

- "And to Dr. Spencer Reid, who may be adding M. D. to an already impressive list of credentials."- Hotch added, looking at my husband, who blushed, embarrassed.

- "And to Spencer Johnson, may he prove to be the child prodigy like his namesake."- Derek added- "I'm shocked there is a kid named after you out there before you two even have your first baby."

I know I smiled because little Spencer was a very cute and healthy baby, and I was (and still am) proud my husband helped deliver him. But the guys didn't stop teasing us after that.

- "And when are we going to have baby geniuses running around the BAU?"- Garcia asked- "I am ready to start knitting and spoiling your kids!"

- "Yeah, I'm surprised you haven't knocked your wife up already!"- and Morgan was on board with the joke- "I mean, are you doing things properly?"

- "Stop!!"- I nearly covered my ears with my hands

- "Emily said she'd happily fly from London just to assist with the baby shower I'm throwing you."

- "Penelope, I am not even pregnant yet."- I tried to reason with her, but it was useless.

- "You just said so, yet. But you will. Please! you'd make the cutest little munchkins!"- Garcia stared at me pouting.

- "Come on, don't pressure them."- Hotch tried to be the voice of reason, but it was impossible.

- "I'm sure Henry would love having a little cousin"- JJ smiled at us and sipped her drink.

- "Come on! This night is not about us."- Spencer chuckled, clearly awkward with the conversation, and raised his glass of whisky- "To Dave Rossi!"- and luckily, everybody else followed.

- "I still can't believe you guys did this."- Dave was surprised the place was packed

- "We wanted to make sure you had one last proper goodbye."- I assured him and felt his arm around me.

- "Grazzie, carissima!"

- "And I may or may not have posted on the Quantico message boards that all the drinks are on you tonight."- Garcia confessed, making us all laugh, busted.

- "And they are, indeed. Thank you very much!"- Dave added and we all raised our glasses again. The guys continued talking, but Spencer's eyes captured my whole attention. He was staring at his hands, holding his glass. He seemed concerned about something he clearly was overthinking. So I let David's arm go and walked closer to my husband.

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered, resting my hand on top of his. He slightly jumped and looked at me, surprised.

- "Yeah, sorry. I zoned out a little. I'm exhausted."

- "Do you wanna go home?"

- "No, it's Rossi's night..."- Spencer smiled with his teeth, but not with his eyes.

- "The guys..."- but before I could continue talking, I felt JJ's hand grabbing me and my husband and crawling us to the stage.

- "Come on guys!! Karaoke time!"- she commanded, as she gave us a mic, and Rossi started singing Billy Joey's "Piano Man". I looked around me, chuckling, 'cos the whole scene was surreal. The entire FBI quarters was in that bar, drinking and singing along as my friends and I sang karaoke. And Hotch even made a video.

Spencer held my hand as he tried to read the lyrics of The Piano Man, and I stared at him remembering the day he proposed. That was one of the most romantic things he had ever done. And watching him sing karaoke in that bar brought me back a million memories. We had grown so much already, that I felt we were ready to take our relationship to the next level: parenting. But somehow, I was scared to ask my husband if he wanted to have a baby with me.

As the night progressed, and Penelope got drunker and drunker, she continued to ask us about kids. She was very excited and eager to become an aunt. Apparently, our baby geniuses were what her life was lacking. Rossi was pretty drunk too, he sang a lot of Sinatra and even dragged Hotch on stage with him for a duet. I had a few whiskeys myself trying to find the courage to face my husband, who had a few drinks as well but kept doing his best to mask the fact something was bothering him.

Until I couldn't stand it anymore.

- "Ok, come here."- I grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him through the crowd. I heard Morgan teasing us but I paid little attention to what he said. I just looked for a quiet spot in that packed bar, which ended up being the alley outside and asked my husband.

- "What is hunting that pretty brain of yours?"- and he stared at me with wide-opened eyes, trying to come up with something to deny what was obvious to me.

- "How much did you drink, chipmunk? I'm ok."

- "No you are not, you haven't been ok since we came back from the last case. So come on, spit it. I don't wanna dance around this for days until we both do something stupid or say something hurtful. Just say it, what is eating you alive?"

Spencer stared at me and finished his drink- a light beer- his eyes were so sweet and yet filled with fear. What was so scary that he couldn't share with me?

- "I hate that you know me so well sometimes"- he whispered and looked down at his shoes

- "No you don't. You love it."- I teased him and smiled as I walked closer and rested my hands on his waist- "Come on honey bunny. You know you can tell me anything."

- "I know."

- "So? Are you gonna tell your wife what's wrong?"- I whispered and Spencer finally looked at me. His puppy eyes could melt the coldest heart, and make my knees shake.

- "Let me ask you this"- he whispered after a few seconds of a very deep silence- "When you married me, did you ever think that my family's illness history might affect our kids?"

I stared at him confused. Which was that illness' history he was talking about? As far as I knew, it was just his mother's schizophrenia. Was there something else he never told me about?

- "What?"- I simply asked and Spencer stared at me like the answer was obvious- "You mean Diana?"- he nodded and looked back at his feet again, embarrassed he brought it up.

- "I just... can't stop thinking I could never forgive myself if our kids inherit any of..."- he stopped talking and shook his head, unable to even finish that sentence.

- "Where is this coming from? Why are you thinking about these kinds of things?"

I held his hand and kissed it, his eyes were still glued to his feet, not moving. A few curls of hair fell down his forehead, giving him an angelic look.

- "I never even considered it, Spencer. Not even once. Every time I think about our kids, I dream of them running around, catching bugs, and eating cookies"- I tell him my truth. I never considered Diana's schizophrenia as something we could even think about when it came to our kids. Why should we? You can't predict any disease and fear was not going to stop me from having my own family.

Spencer held my left hand and kissed my ring finger, a sweet gesture he did quite often, especially when something was troubling him.

- "I would never forgive myself if any of them inherited a disease from me."- the way Spencer whispered those words, so slowly, so scared. It moved me.

- "Honey, you won't..."

- "I just don't want to ruin their life"- his eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. My husband was honestly concerned about something that we couldn't even control. And I knew that meant that idea was eating him alive.

I remember walking with him from the back alley of a bar to our car parked on the other side of the street. It was late and everyone at the party was already drunk, so I didn't bother saying goodbye or telling anyone we were leaving.

Spencer and I sat in the back seat of our car and I held both of his hands as he kept trying not to cry. His jaw was tightened and his eyes glassy. It made me feel so guilty. My husband had been chewing those torturous thoughts the entire week, and I had been blind enough to think he was merely second-guessing having kids with me.

- "Spencer, I need you to look at me."- I whispered and held a finger underneath his chin, forcing his eyes to focus on mine. He bit his lip as I did my best to remain calm.

- "This is important, so please give your entire attention and eidetic memory."- I tried to joke, but he didn't smile or even move his face as I spoke.

- "Ever since I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, there hasn't been a day where I haven't thought of how amazing it would be having kids with you."- I said, and tears started falling from his eyes as I spoke. I had to pause and rearrange my thoughts, because watching him so affected made me think I was doing something wrong.

- "And you know that was way before we even started dating. Which means I've dreamed about having kids with you for a long time. And never, and I mean never, the thought of them inheriting any kind of trait from either of us has made me second guess or reconsider my dreams. I want a family with you, Spencer Walter Reid. I want to have your babies. I want to carry your children, a lot of them, as many as we can."

My husband cried and sobbed as I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. I didn't know what to do or what to say next. I just wanted to take all the pain away from him.

- "I just... I just want to make you happy."- he mumbled against my neck as I kept running my fingers through his hair and trying my best to be the support he needed at that minute.

- "You already make me happy, Spencer."- I kissed his cheek, not moving an inch away from him- "And I know our kids will make me even happier."

- "I just wish I knew they are going to be healthy."

- "They will be."- I assured him, not giving it much thought.

- "But how do you know?"

- "You are gonna be their dad. You will never let anything bad happen to them."- I affirmed, though it sounded more like an order to fate. - "And I'm gonna be their mom, I will always take care of our babies."

- "You are not scared?"- he asked softly and looked at me with teary eyes.

- "The only thing that scares me to death is the idea of you not wanting to have babies with me."- I confessed, and though he was the one crying, I felt embarrassed sharing my deepest fear.

- "I want so many babies with you. I've thought about it since we met."- my husband answered, and for a second, he smiled at me- "I was scared to bring it up, but... I'm so ready to be a dad."

- "Then please, let me make you a dad."- I was so eager to change his mood and lift his spirits, that I was almost ready to do it right there, in the back seat of our car. His lips found mine, and we sealed our pack, as his arms wrapped me tight and held me close to him.

We were finally ready to start our little family.  

Next chapter

[tuiccim]

Wrecked (Part 3)

Pairing: Alpha Frank Castle x Omega Reader, Alpha Billy Russo x Omega Reader

Trigger Warnings: References to infertility, love triangle

Summary: When Frank Castle found his way to your small town bar, you thought you had finally found your Alpha despite being a "wrecked omega" but when his best friend, Billy Russo, blows through town, your world tilts on its axis. You thought you found your happy ending but was it just more wreckage for your life?

A/N: Thank you to my beta reader and hype princess, @whisperlullaby

Wrecked Masterlist

Billy smirks, “You clocked me the minute I sat down, didn’t you?”

“I’m sure just as quickly as you did me,” you wink. 

“Damn, Frankie got lucky,” Billy continues to flirt. 

“Hardly,” you roll your eyes. “Frank got held up but he’ll be here soon. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. As long as the drinks keep coming and your friend there keeps entertaining the crowd, I’ll be just fine.”

“That’s Cecily. She’s looking forward to meeting you,” you smile, conspiratorially. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to move on, yet. My heart was just broken by the most beautiful woman in the bar,” Billy whispers intimately. 

“I have a feeling you’ll get over it quickly,” you laugh as you walk away to pour more drinks. 

“Hardly,” Billy murmurs into his drink as he watches you walk away.

You can feel his eyes follow you as you take care of customers, but on most occasions that you glance back at him, he quickly slid his eyes to Cecily. His curiosity about you was completely natural, you reminded yourself. He just wanted to know about Frank's omega, but that rationalization didn't stop your heart from beating faster every time you caught his gaze. It was almost as if his eyes were drawing you in, two near black pools that seemed to beg for you to fall into them. You shook yourself when you realized you were frozen, staring at him, and his cocky smirk let you know he was well aware. He lifted his glass to salute you as you scurried back to work. 

You were relieved an hour later when Frank finally made it to the bar. He immediately grabbed Billy by the shoulder and the two shared a boisterous greeting, clapping each other on the back as they hugged. It was almost sweet to see the smiles they both wore. You slid a beer in front of Frank's barstool while the two were engrossed in each other and went about working. When the two had had some time to catch up, you motioned for Cecily to join you during a lull. Frank glanced up as you approached and his lips twisted in a sardonic smile, "Bill, let me introduce you to this terror. Cecily Meyers, Billy Russo. Billy, Cecily." 

You were a little surprised that Frank barely acknowledged you and hadn’t bothered to introduce you. Normally, he was sure to say hello when he came in and, more often than not, gave you a kiss. He’d barely given you a nod since he appeared. You shook it off figuring he was just distracted by his friend. 

"Thanks for that endearing intro, Frank!" Cecily snarks as she holds a hand out to Billy, "It's nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Billy says while displaying that drop dead gorgeous smile. “You were putting on quite a show.”

“Gotta keep the tip jar full,” Cecily grins, leaning in. 

Almost imperceptibly, Billy leans away saying, “You do a good job of it.” He shifts his attention back to you, asking, “Do you have the same tricks up your sleeves?”

“Oh, that and more,” you wink at Frank who only gives you a glance.

“She taught me all her bar tricks but I’ve got a few of my own,” Cecily says flirtatiously. 

“I never could master dancing on the bar,” you quip as you pull another beer and quickly deliver it to the signaling customer. 

Cecily laughs and puts a hand on Billy’s arm, “I’m a pretty good dancer. I’ve got plenty of moves.”

Billy gives her a brief smile and turns to Frank, “Yeah, Frankie, we were never much good at dancing.”

“We got pretty good at running for cover,” Frank says, remembering back to their days as Marines. 

“You remember that bar we found outside of Kandahar?” Billy recalls.

“The one you nearly caused an international incident in? Yeah, I remember the bullets whizzing past as we ran.”

Billy laughs, “Good times.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, “We have very different ideas of ‘good times’ but it sounds exactly like something you two would enjoy. ‘Always getting in and out of scrapes’ is how Frank describes your friendship.”

“Sounds about right,” Billy gives you a sly smile. 

“I’d love to hear some of the stories, I bet they’re fascinating.” Cecily flips her hair with a smile, “Maybe you could tell me some over a drink after last call.”

“I’m putting these two out enough by crashing with them and I’m pretty beat. Probably best if I head home with them,” Billy declines smoothly. 

“Some other time, then,” Cecily smiles but you recognize the umbrage that sparks in her eyes. She went back to tending the bar, flirting, and showing off her skills with the occasional glance directed Billy’s way. To her annoyance, he rarely seemed to take his eyes off of you unless he was directing his attention to Frank. 

After last call, you closed out the last of the tabs, and cleaned up as the bar emptied. Cecily grabbed the tip jar and nodded her head for you to follow her to the back room. She dumped the contents of the jar out and you both started sorting the cash.

“I don’t like him,” Cecily snipes.

“I’m sorry,” you say for lack of anything better.

“There’s something off about him,” she continues. 

“What do you mean?”

“I… he… I just get a weird vibe,” she shrugs.

“Well, he’s only here for a couple of days. You won’t-”

“He kept staring at you. Like he’s, I don’t know,” she huffs.

“Like he’s curious about his friend’s omega?” You reason.

“No. Like he’s calculating, making some kind of plans. Are you sure you want him staying with you?”

You laugh lightly, “I’m not worried. Frank will be there.” Truthfully, you were chalking most of Cecily’s feelings up to anger at being rejected. 

“Maybe that’s exactly what they want,” she says. 

“What?” You look at her askance. 

“I’ve got a really bad feeling. What if they’re planning something?”

“Like what, Cec? You think they’re gonna rob me?” You try to laugh off her suspicions but it seems to put her even more on edge. 

“I don’t know! There is something off. I wish you would take me seriously right now,” she says.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m not getting the same vibe. I trust Frank. Don’t you?” You raise your eyebrows at her. 

“I…I don’t know. I never thought he was going to stick around this long, honestly. Did you?” She asks. 

“Um, I, not really but then he did. I’m happy with him. He’s a good guy.”

“I just feel like he’s going to hurt you in the end,” she shrugs. 

“That’s how most relationships end, with a lot of hurt. I’ll be fine. I’m glad to have him while I do,” you reassure her.

“‘While you do?’ So, you don’t think he’s going to stick around either?” She asks. 

“I think he will but you never really know, right?” 

“And his friend? Billy just seems off,” she insists. 

“Off? Cec, are you, maybe, put off because he wasn’t exactly receptive to you?” You ask. 

“I don’t give a fuck that he didn’t flirt with me! There’s something wrong with him! And if his best friend is Frank, there must be something wrong with him, too!” She says meanly. 

“Don’t say things like that, there’s nothing wrong with Frank! He’s a good man!”

“You’re so blind! Can’t you see he’s using you?” She says heatedly. 

“What the hell are you on about? He’s not using me! He’s going to mate me!”

“What?” She stares, open mouthed.

“He’s going to mate me on my next heat. He’s not using me!”

“Frank’s an Alpha. His nature is to breed. He’ll never mate you! He’s using you and he probably brought his friend in to help hide your body or some shit!” Cecily seethes. 

“Cecily! Are you serious right now?” You stare agape at your friend. 

“Why else would he be with you? You can’t give him what he wants! He’s just using you. Why is he with you? Why did he choose you?” Cecily practically shouts. 

You stare in shocked silence for a moment before saying gently, “Cecily, stop. It’s not… It’s not like that. Frank just… he’s been through a lot. He needed something uncomplicated.”

“He’s using you and you don’t even care? How pathetic can you be?” Cecily spits, the venom in her voice turning your blood cold. 

“You’re… you’re jealous. You’re jealous that he turned you down and then went home with me. And now, you can’t stand the thought that Billy wasn’t interested in you and paid more attention to me? Isn’t that just like you?” You unleash your anger.

“I’m not jealous of you!” Cecily shouts. 

“You are! You’re angry that someone would choose the wrecked Omega over the pedestaled princess. And you always want what you can’t have. That’s why you’ve never accepted any man that ever pursued you. If they want you, you’ll play with them and use them but you never want them. Now, one of the few men that has ever passed you over, chose me and you can’t stand it! God forbid now Billy shows some interest in me, AS HIS FRIEND’S OMEGA, and you turn psycho! What the fuck is wrong with you?” You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth but you stand your ground. After all, everything you said was true. 

“Fuck you! Your father should have put you down! No one wants you! No one will ever really love you! You don’t even deserve to be called an Omega! You’re nothing!” Cecily throws the money she held in your face before turning to storm out.

“I’m the one going home with two Alphas and you’ll be alone, as usual,” you say quietly to her back. You were surprised at your own cruelty but her words had cut deep. She was your oldest friend and you never thought she would use your worst insecurities against you. She paused for just a split second but then exited, slamming the door behind her. 

You felt the tears well in your eyes. Your heart was breaking at the vicious way you had torn into each other. Slowly, you pick up the money from the floor and throw it into your safe. You took a moment, let a few tears fall and then wipe them away. You fan your eyes to help dry them and compose yourself. 

“Everything okay back here?” Frank sticks his head through the door. 

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be right there. Just finishing up,” you say, not turning towards him. 

“Where’s Cecily?” Frank asks after glancing around. 

“She had to go,” you say simply. 

“Hmph,” Frank grunts, “Billy pissed her off?”

You give a breathless little laugh, “How’d you guess?” 

“She’s not used to being the one turned down.”

“Ain’t that the truth. I’ll be right out,” you give a fleeting smile over your shoulder but have to hold yourself together as more tears threaten. 

“Okay,” Frank backs out of the door and you hear him ask Billy if he wanted anything else before leaving. 

You head to the bathroom to put some cold water on your neck and make some repairs to your face. Some eye drops help with the redness of your eyes. You stare at yourself in the mirror as emotions war through you. The barb Cecily had thrown your way about your father and not being a real Omega had come straight from her knowledge of your trauma. You hadn’t known she could be so cruel. Feeling tears begin to well again, you shake your head and grip the sink. Looking up again, you growl at yourself, “Turn it off.”

Immediately, your mask drops into place. Your face shows a calm countenance and your shoulders straighten. Frank’s best friend was here and you would hold yourself together to give him a great visit. You would fall apart after he left. 

–

“This is really nice. I kinda expected you to live above the bar,” Billy says as his eyes study the inside of your cabin. 

“No, I rent that apartment out,” you smile.

“You do?” Frank gives you a surprised look. 

“Yeah, I wanted a little distance between myself and the bar,” you explain. “I spend so much time there I want my own space away from it. When this place came available I jumped on it.”

“Smart,” Billy says.

“Thanks. Why don’t you drop your bag in here?” You open the door to the room Billy will be sleeping in. 

“Okay,” he smiles as he brushes past you. You have to stop yourself from closing your eyes as you catch his scent. Without the bar overpowering it, he smelled even more enticing. 

“Who rents it?” Frank’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” You ask, momentarily confused. 

“Who rents the apartment?” Frank says again. 

“Oh, Jordan. He’s been there for six months or so now,” you look at Frank seeing a strange expression on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just didn’t realize,” Frank shrugs. 

Turning back to the room, you walk through to open a door, “Um, the bathroom is through here. It’s a jack-and-jill bathroom. The other door is to our bedroom. Please make yourself at home. Would you like a drink or anything?” 

“No, gorgeous, I’m good,” Billy says. The endearment sends a little thrill through you. 

“Well, uh, if there are no objections, I’m going to shower and hit the hay. I’m pretty beat,” you look to Frank. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Frank shrugs as he grabs a beer from the fridge. “Want one?” He asks Billy. 

“Sure,” he answers before turning to you with a smile, “Good night.”

“Good night, Billy. I hope you sleep well,” you return his smile. A final glance at Frank who is concentrating on opening the beers has your smile disappearing. Escaping to the bedroom you undress while trying to sort, your multitude of feelings, Cecily’s cruelty, Frank’s standoffishness, and this inexplicable attraction to Billy. Frank had told you that Billy went through women fairly quickly. He had never been close to settling down. You can fully understand how he managed it. There was something magnetic about him. His eyes and smile drew you in. And, my god, his scent was enough to make you want to fall into his bed alone. 

You shake yourself from those thoughts and step into the spray of the shower. It was disloyal to Frank and he was good to you. His reticence tonight had hurt but you chalked it up to his friend being here and wanting his approval… And then the thought hit you, what if Frank’s remoteness is due to shame? What if he didn’t want his friend to know that you weren’t… a real Omega? 

You felt the tears well again and, in the safety of the shower, you let them fall. Sobs wracked your body and you bit down on your fist to stifle any sound. The question that haunted you ran through your mind over and over again, would you ever be enough for someone?

You knew Frank cared about you but, even if he did stay and mate you, you would always feel that you had stolen something from him. He would have stolen something from you, too. You wanted to be loved. Really loved, not a settlement or convenience. That thought had your tears turning to anger. You curl your hands into fists and force yourself to calm down. Tamping down all your feelings, you turn off the water and finish getting ready for bed.Your room is empty and you can hear the low murmurs of their voices in the living room. Cocooned in the covers, you close your eyes and try to will yourself to sleep. It feels like hours before it finally claims you.

–

Waking the next morning, you’re surprised to see the empty spot next to you. It was obvious Frank had been there but  the spot was cool to the touch. He’s been gone for a while. You weren’t sure how to feel. Normally, Frank would wake you for sex if you hadn’t the night before. Maybe he was just uncomfortable with his friend in the house. You attempt to shrug it off. You had to let it go for now, you were too full of emotions and you needed to be a good hostess and still had to work the bar tonight. 

After getting dressed, you head to the kitchen to find Billy leaning against the kitchen counter drinking from your favorite coffee mug. His long legs crossed in front of him makes him look utterly relaxed as he stares out the window at the creek. He’s just taking another sip when you move into his peripheral. 

“Mmm, morning,” Billy straightens. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”

A grin spreads across your face as you answer, “Good morning. Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the guest?”

He smiles and your heart beats a little faster. Despite your question, he reaches for a mug and pours, “I can't pass up a chance to service a beautiful woman.”

You snicker, “Double entendre fully intended, I'm sure.” You take the coffee cup and ask, “Where’s Frank gotten off to?”

“He went to pick up some doughnuts. Said I had to try them. I begged off going with him. I was in the car all day yesterday,” he shrugs.

“Ah, Melinda's Cafe. He's obsessed,” you laugh. 

Billy's eyes wander over your face, “He said he'd be back in 30 minutes. That was about ten minutes ago. Since we have time, what happened last night?”

You stare, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What happened with Cecily?”

“Nothing. I think she felt a little rejected and went home,” you say, relieved.

“Frankie went to the bathroom at one point. I walked over to check on you two in the back room and I heard Cecily say something along the lines of ‘Fuck you. Nobody loves you. You're not a real Omega.’ Why did she say that?” Billy tilts his head as he stares into you.

“Uh, she… she was angry. She didn't mean it,” you hedge, turning away. 

Billy grabs your arm and pulls you back around to face him, “Why did she say that?”

“She was mad that you paid more attention to me than her. She'll get over it,” you say quickly. 

“No,” Billy brackets his arms around you, grasping the counter. “Why did she say you're not a real Omega? What did she mean?”

You froze, staring wide-eyed as thoughts bombarded your mind. You couldn't tell him. What if it shamed Frank? What if Frank was angry that you told his friend? But then, the seed of anger that had formed last night began to bloom. Why did you have to be ashamed? Why were you less than because of something you had no control over? What did you have to lose by telling the truth? Despite all of your thoughts, you still squeaked out, “Noth-”

“Don't say nothing! Tell me.” The Alpha came out in his voice as he said it and the pull to give into his demand was undeniable.

“I can’t… I can't have kids. That's why I'm not a real Omega. I still go into heat but it's no use, I can't breed. No Alpha wants a wrecked Omega but Frank has offered to mate me. It sent her over the edge and she was pissed that Frank didn't choose her. She flirted with him when he first came to town but he brushed her off. I'm not a real Omega… please don't tell Frank I told you. I think he's ashamed of it and he's been so standoffish since you got here. I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I won't say anything,” Billy assured softly. “You're sure you can't?”

“Yeah, it's medically impossible,” you can't quite meet his eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he softly touches your cheek.

“It's fine,” you look up at him and lose yourself in his eyes. His scent envelopes you and you can feel your body respond.

“I don't know how he's resisted mating you until now,” Billy's hand trailed to your neck and his fingers played over your scent gland. You give a shuddering gasp at the caress. Your body goes into overdrive and you feel your panties flood. Billy leans in even closer, closing his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don't know how you can say you're not a real Omega. Everything about you screams it. Especially your scent. I could stand here all day and not get enough of it.” 

“You shouldn't say things like that to me,” you put a hand on his chest but fail to push him away. 

He looks at you intensely, his face close to yours, “Tell me you don't feel this. Tell me it's just me feeling this pull and I'll stop. I won't say anything else.”

“We can't do this,” you whisper.

“Tell me,” he says, lips only a few scant inches from yours. 

“Billy-”

The rumble of an engine and the slam of a truck door has the two of you separating quickly. When Frank walks in carrying a box, he smiles at the two of you, “Coffee ready?”

“Yeah, I'll make you a cup,” you say quickly. As you pour, you glance at Billy. He was watching you as he drank from his mug. You turn away to take a deep breath. This was going to be a long two days.

Part 4

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[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 64: Alexander's Plans

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, hypnosis

September 1905

Oscar couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had seeped into his every waking hour. He was no stranger to dread, of course. As an unusually long-lived vampire hunter, he'd been through so many moments where he was sure he was about to die that they all tended to blend together.

But something was different about this. The guild headquarters seemed eerily quiet. Raucous celebrations of successful vampire slayings had gradually vanished. In their place, the hunters shuffled silently through the halls, barely acknowledging each other.

He was their leader, as much as such a disorganized, scattered group even had a leader, and he took the responsibility seriously. He owed it both to the younger hunters and to the civilians of the city to have a well-run vampire hunters' guild. They deserved a city where they could walk freely at night without fear of a vile bloodsucker stealing them away, warping their minds, and draining their very lives to fuel a shambling corpse. They deserved better than what he could give, but there was no one else for the job.

Oscar pulled his lieutenant Grace into his tiny office partially to discuss the situation with her and partially to escape from the oppressive atmosphere. She was an uncanny sure-shot with a crossbow, and Oscar had trusted her with his life on many occasions. If there was anyone he could confide in about his concerns, it was Grace.

"Have you noticed anything strange about Maggie lately?" Oscar asked.

"Maggie… she's seemed tired, I think," Grace replied. "I've always suspected she's not quite cut out for this life. Don't tell her I said this, but if you ask me, she's lucky she hasn't become a meal yet." She scratched at the scar on her neck, the eternal reminder that Grace had been a vampire's last meal herself.

"It's not just Maggie. It's others. Leo, too. Chuck. And Frank -- he hasn't been bringing in kills, but he hasn't been bugging me for drinking money, either. He has a look in his eye…"

"Hunters go a bit mad all the time. Hell, I'm sure we have too."

"It's different this time, Grace! I can feel it in the air." Oscar clenched his fists, wracking his mind for the right words to explain what he felt in his bones, coming up empty. "Maybe I am a bit mad."

Grace laid an understanding hand on his shoulder. "Your intuition has never steered me wrong. If you think there's something going on with the rest of the hunters, I believe you. I'm just not sure what you think it is."

"I'm not entirely sure myself," he admitted, "but sometimes I wonder if they've been compromised."

"Compromised?"

"By a vampire. There's too many powerful bloodsuckers we've failed to keep under control. We wouldn't be the first guild to be taken down from the inside by one of them."

Grace's eyes flickered with thought. "It's possible. But what would you propose, then? We're so short-handed as it is -- I don't think we can afford to kick all of those hunters out of the guild just on a suspicion."

"Of course not. I just want to keep an eye on them. See if there are signs. Stop them before they betray us, if it is true," he said. "You have a way with people, Grace. I don't. I've spent too much time hidden away in crumbling buildings watching for monsters. But you can talk to them, watch them. I need you for this."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Grace looked strangely conflicted by such a simple request. For a moment, Oscar was afraid that his imagined infiltrator had reached her, too. But no, it couldn't be -- someone as sensible and willful as Grace would never let herself be trapped by a vampire's crude charms.

"All right, Oscar," she said after a too-long pause. "All right. I'll watch them. But I'm worried about you. You've hardly slept lately, haven't you?"

"Are you saying I'm only being paranoid because of lack of sleep?"

"No. I told you that I believe your intuition. But I'm also concerned about your health. Don't you think you should rest?"

"I'll rest when I have time to rest," said Oscar. Grace was right, of course, but it still irritated him -- he asked for a lieutenant, not a mother. "Tonight, I have to --"

Oscar's words stopped abruptly. He heard something odd. Something almost like music. But it wasn't like one of the hunters singing after a kill, or drunkenly playing an instrument. It was something else, something eerie and unsettling.

"Grace, do you hear that? That music?"

"I don't hear anything. Are you trying to change the --"

"Shush! Listen." It was a low hum, the sort that could build in your mind over time and drive you mad, getting louder all the time. "You must hear that now."

"No, I don't," she said. "You must be hearing things. This is what I was talking about -- you need to rest."

"I am not hearing things!" he hissed. The hum was growing louder, making it difficult to concentrate. "Grace -- you --"

Her eyes had taken on such a faraway look as she swayed in place before Oscar. "Rest… you need to rest…"

"Shit!" He knew it! There was a vampire in the guild, somehow, working its vile charms, and the only way that could happen was if one of the hunters was compromised enough to invite them past the wards. "Grace! Snap out of it!"

Life returned to her eyes as Oscar shook her. "What…?"

"There's a vampire in the guild -- exactly as I feared. It's trying to put us under its spell." He drew his silver knife, long and sharp, and tried to block the infernal song from his mind. "Draw your weapon and help me find it."

"I'll help you," she said, still looking unsteady.

"Don't listen to the --"

Grace unexpectedly slammed Oscar up against the wall, nearly knocking the knife from his hand. She'd always been strong, but now she seemed driven by something unnatural. "I'll help you," she repeated in that dazed monotone. "I'll help you rest…"

"Snap out of it!" he said, shoving her away. She'd always been more resilient to enthrallment than any other hunter he knew, and it was terrifying to see her so far under a vampire's spell. The vampire wasn't even here yet, although the song was echoing faintly through the walls. How could she possibly be taken so quickly?

"I'll help you listen…" She regained her footing and lurched towards Oscar. "Help you listen… help you sleep…"

Unless she had been one of the compromised hunters all along.

Oscar cursed under his breath. "Sorry, this is for your own good," he said, pushing her away and slamming the thick door to his office behind him, hands trembling slightly as he grabbed the key from his pocket and locked it tight. He could free Grace from her spell once he'd dealt with the vampire, but right now, she was little more than a liability.

The sight of his trusted lieutenant, utterly and unquestionably hypnotized, kept repeating in his thoughts. That would be him, if he weren't careful, especially with the song growing louder and sweeter.

If only he had his wax earplugs! Thrall could affect you even if you didn't hear it, so it wasn't perfect protection, but it was better than nothing. Without that, he had nothing to rely on but his own willpower. Still, his willpower had allowed him to triumph over many formidable vampires, and he refused to see the guild fall on his watch.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He was tired already.

Oscar ran down the hall, encountering one of the newest hunters, Rich, slowly sliding down the wall in a half-entranced state. He snapped next to Rich's ear. "Rich! Hey, Rich, you have to fight it! Stay with me."

Rich looked up at Oscar with lidded, drowsy eyes, and let out a huge yawn, one which left Oscar struggling to keep himself from yawning in turn. "Sorry, Captain, I'm just… I've just gotta take a nap first…"

"No, you have to fight the vampire's influence! Stay awake!"

"I have to… I gotta… I gotta sleep, gotta go to sleep…" Rich plopped onto the floor and slumped over, eyes closing.

Oscar had no choice but to leave him behind, too, hoping that he wouldn't get caught by a vampire while he was unconscious. The song was closer and stronger now, and Oscar could feel its seductive pull. He hadn't ever experienced enthrallment quite like it -- a soothing lullaby of deceptive, dangerous power. And he was already so tired.

All he had to do was stay awake, take down this vampire, and save his guild. All he had to do…

In his mind, he was turning the corner and running towards the source of the voice, knife held at the ready, steeling his mind for the fight.

In reality, didn't fully notice how slow and methodical his footsteps were becoming. How he was beginning to slump over. How his eyelids were drooping.

Oscar found his target in the main training hall. He had a young hunter in his arms, gently stroking her hair and rocking her as she succumbed to slumber, pouring his song in her vulnerable ears. June, whose whole family had been killed by a vampire, was peacefully asleep in the arms of one of the most dangerous vampires Oscar had ever seen, a blissful smile on her placid face. Nearby, several hunters lay in heaps on the floor.

He tightened his slackening grip on his silver knife, tried to block the spell from his mind, and prepared to rush at the vampire. But his limbs were already heavy, clumsy. Instead of rushing forward, he found himself taking slow, ponderous steps.

The vampire set June carefully on the floor and turned to Oscar, directing his full power at the seasoned leader of the vampire guild. The urge to close his heavy eyelids was almost overwhelming as the spell of deep sleep and deep submission washed over him.

No… he had to fight. He must. He didn't want to end like this. He didn't want to…

He was sleepwalking towards the vampire, his head bobbing as he struggled to wake up every time he started to doze. The knife slipped from his fingers, forgotten. Cold fingers stroked the side of his face, and he leaned into them, so lost.

He'd always been so, so lost. Always fighting, never resting. Never allowing himself a moment of peace and comfort.

"It's all right, hunter, it's all right," the vampire crooned, as Oscar found himself looking straight into intense, blue eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Mmm." He had to wake up. He had to fight this.

"I'm looking for your guild's leader."

"I'm… that's me. I'm the guild's leader."

A soft but triumphant smile blossomed on the vampire's face. "That's very good. I'm glad to meet you," he said, and Oscar felt warm inside despite himself. "In that case, I'm just going to put you to sleep now, all right? A nice, deep, comfortable sleep where you can listen."

No. No! He had to resist. "All right…" he heard his own voice say, meek and mild.

"Deep, deep sleep. Shut down those tired eyes for me. You can rest now, hunter. Nothing but deep sleep and irresistible comfort."

He was so lost.

The vampire cradled Oscar against his shoulder, and the song flooded his mind utterly. All he could think of now was how good it felt to be allowed to sleep. A comforting hand was rubbing a circle on his back as he started to drift off, his eyelids sealing shut and refusing to open again.

"Good, good hunter. Fast asleep and dreaming," said the vampire. "You just want to protect them, don't you? Your guild, your friends."

"Mmm… I need to protect them…"

"I have someone I want to protect too. A human -- he's the stars and the sunshine to me. You understand."

A long-ago memory of better times flit through Oscar's mind, and then evaporated. "I understand."

"Thank goodness," the vampire said, with what seemed to be deep, genuine relief. "I'm finally, finally, finally going to get what I need, after so long." He held Oscar tight, the vampire actually held him in a soothing embrace, and Oscar couldn't help but lean into it, sinking deeper asleep. The vampire's song began to change, then, still a lullaby, but one of obedience and submission, and Oscar's mind seemed to know exactly how to respond. "What's your name?"

"Oscar…"

"Oscar, sir."

"Oscar, sir." The manner of a thrall. He was merely a thrall, now. He always knew, deep down inside, that he would end up like this someday. How many times had he looked into the eyes of a poor, ensorcelled man and wondered if that might have been him?

"Very good, Oscar. Nice and obedient. I'm Alexander. I just want to ask you a few questions now, and you're going to answer them so easily and truthfully, dropping deeper into trance for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I have sixteen of your hunters, plus you and two more tonight -- nineteen so far."

Oscar's breath caught. Nineteen! They didn't stand a chance.

"How many more are there in the guild?"

"Twenty-seven in total, sir," he reported dutifully. "And occasionally some freelancers. We've always been too short-staffed for this city."

Alexander chuckled. "That's what I always suspected, but I didn't realize it was quite that few. Not enough humans willing to throw their lives away on a pointless cause, I suppose."

Even under this heavy spell, Oscar couldn't help but bristle. "Pointless, sir?"

"No, no, forget I said that. Back asleep, Oscar, back to sleep and dreams and answering all of my questions." Alexander hummed into Oscar's ear, and his momentary offense disappeared. "Twenty-seven will have to be enough. Which out of your guild is most resistant to vampiric influence?"

"Grace, sir."

"Grace. Yes, I suppose I could have guessed that myself. She shot me, you know, before I took her mind. You should be proud."

Oscar's smile at hearing how Grace fought turned sour. "You took her mind, sir."

"Yes."

"Please spare her life, sir. If you must feed, you can feed on me, but spare her life. She has a daughter."

"You needn't fear that. I'm not going to kill her or feed from her -- and that goes for you all."

"Sir…?" Oscar couldn't fathom what else a vampire would do with an enthralled hunter apart from feed and kill.

"I only need you to do what you're best at, killing a vampire. Do that, and I'll wipe the memory and let you go." His song drove his words home, convincing Oscar's sleeping mind to obey, to give the vampire what he needs. "You're going to help me capture the rest of your guild, easily and without bloodshed, and you're going to help me formulate a plan to destroy a very ancient and dangerous vampire. Do this for me, succeed in killing my sire, and you and your guild will walk free. You want to protect your guild, don't you?"

"I want to protect my guild, sir…"

A vision flashed through his head of the hunters crumpled on the floor, of June sinking into enchanted sleep, of Grace's haunted eyes. Of himself, so docile in the arms of a vampire. He hadn't protected them, had he?

That unpleasant thought was washed away as Alexander continued to speak.

----

Lex was exhausted by the time he arrived back at the manor, but his exhaustion was mixed with relief at having actually succeeded. If this had gone wrong, it could've easily been his last night on Earth -- but instead, he had managed to enthrall an entire hunter's guild.

Would even that be enough?

"Lex!" Fitz came running out of the music room and into the foyer as soon as Lex was in the door. His eyes swept over Lex. "I don't see any crossbow bolts or silver knives sticking from you -- was your mission a success?"

Lex felt himself breaking into a smile. "It went as well as it possibly could have. I'm now in control of the vampire hunter's guild."

In an instant, Fitz was pressing against him so hard that he stumbled backwards into the door, soft warm lips meeting his. He was so warm, and his hair was so soft…

"Now you'll be able to take care of your sire, right?" said Fitz eagerly.

"Soon. I have more preparation to do. I have to enforce their enthrallment, especially the ones I only caught tonight, and I have to assist with formulating the plan. I need to tell them everything I know about my sire and his manor, to give them the best chance of success."

Anxiety bubbled within him as he looked down at Fitz's adoring grin. If he failed here, it wouldn't just be his own wellbeing on the line. He could take his sire's punishments. But he couldn't stand to see Fitz's happiness crushed, his joy turned to despair, his light gone forever.

"I have my first comeback performance in a few days, remember?" said Fitz. "I'll be back on the stage, you'll get rid of your sire… we'll both be free."

"Free," Lex repeated.

Fitz wasn't free, not really, but…

Without his sire's curse…

It was something he rarely dared to dream about. With his sire gone, he and Fitz could do as they pleased for the rest of their lives. They could leave this city and travel the world. He could help Fitz become a major success, see his name in lights like he deserved. He could collect books in peace, play music without his sire's voice echoing in his mind. He could love Fitz properly, give him everything he wanted and needed. No one would hurt either of them, not ever again.

He couldn't fail here. It simply wasn't an option.

"Yes. We're going to be free."

Fitz wrapped one hand around his waist and took his other hand, and began leading him around the foyer in a lively dance to imaginary music.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, a young Lex meets his new music teacher.

For more mind control fun, consider reading my side story for Augusnippets, Human Resistance. It's about a ragged band of humans trying to keep their autonomy in the face of an unstoppable alien threat.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

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@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

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@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Sixteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some light spanking and recording of smuttiness (all with enthusiastic consent) . Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.8k

A/N : Set straight after the last one -- I think we all saw where this was going. ALSO I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS. I'm speechless, thanks so much for the follows and for reading this every week, it means so much to me!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Chapter Sixteen

While you were both eager to get home, you and Billy managed to last another hour, spending your time drinking, dancing and sitting with Frank and Karen. The change in Billy was so apparent that you even caught Frank giving him strange looks. It seemed like a weight had been lifted from him, like he finally felt as safe with you as you felt with him. And, by the time you made your excuses to leave, you were more than ready to get him all to yourself.

Neither of you really spoke on the taxi ride home, you were content to just snuggle up against him, trying to keep warm. And Billy was quick to usher you through his buildings foyer and into the elevator once you were inside. Then everything seemed to explode.

His lips were on yours before the elevator doors had even fully opened, his hands on your hips, pulling and guiding you into the penthouse, both of you shrugging off your coats. By the time the doors slid shut, he had you pressed back against the wall, no space between your bodies, leaving you with no doubt about how much he wanted you. If you’d let him Billy would have happily fucked you right then and there, as he had on countless other occasions, and part of you did want to let him. But you wanted more than that tonight. It had been such a good night after the initial discomfort of your argument, and you wanted the good feelings to last as long as possible.

Eventually, you broke the kiss, giving him a light, playful shove before grabbing a fistful of his shirt near the collar and pulling him into the apartment, towards the sofa. Billy let you pull him around, a grin on his lips as you pushed him down onto the sofa and straddled his lap. His hands found your hips, but he let you have your little moment of control because you both knew that, sooner or later, he was going to take charge.

Your fingers started to pull at the buttons of his shirt, one by one, slowly revealing the hot skin beneath. Your hips rocked slowly, lips finding his neck, kissing and sucking skin and slowly heading down as more buttons came undone. When your cold hands ran down his chest, Billy squirmed, letting out an awkward huff of laughter. And, when your eyes finally caught his again, and you could see how he was looking at you, you knew just how much he wanted you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you told him as your fingers started to pull his belt and pants open.

“Fun’s only just starting, sweetheart,” Billy smiled, his fingers ghosting your cheek before slipping into your hair and pulling you down, into a deep and eager kiss.

Cold fingers freed his erection as you kissed, earning a hiss and a groan as you started to stroke him, loving how quickly he responded to your touch. Billy pulled you closer, kissed you harder, saying those familiar words without saying a thing; I want you, you’re mine. And you were. In that moment you were nothing but Billy’s. 

A wicked thought occurred and your lips pulled into a smirk against his before moving to whisper in his ear; “I thought you said I deserved a spanking?”

The fingers in your hair gave a tug, pulling you back so he could look at you, and the look on his face had you biting your lip. His dark eyes were filled with a wanting that should’ve terrified you but, instead, you wanted to sate it, you wanted to fulfil his every desire, no matter how dark.

Your fingers continued to stroke him, never faltering as you held his gaze, defiant and unafraid. You wanted him to see that you weren’t scared of him, you weren’t afraid of the ways he wanted you.

Billy took a slow breath before releasing his grip on your hair and commanding; “stand up.”

You did as you were told without hesitation, climbing from his lap and standing in front of him.

“Take off your dress.” He commanded and you obeyed, pulling the off-the-shoulder number down and letting it fall to the floor, exposing your bare breasts and a pair of blue lace panties. When your hands moved to your panties, he stopped you; “leave the panties... and your heels.”

Your cheeks warmed as you dared to look down at yourself, not noticing that Billy’s eyes also moved down your body, taking in the sight of you. Then he sat forward a little, patting his lap, silently telling you what you needed to do. You crawled over his lap without question.

Then came an odd stillness; he was waiting for you to change your mind, you realised. No chance. You glanced over your shoulder at him, smiling as you started to provocatively wiggle your ass from side to side until he finally touched you. Heat from his hand bled through the lace of your panties to your skin, but Billy didn’t waste any time before slipping between your thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you were so wet?” His fingers found your swollen clit beneath the wet fabric and started to tease, running circles around it, causing you to completely soak through your panties.

“Billy,” you moaned, “please…”

You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but Billy seemed to know.

“All this ‘cause you want a spanking?” You nodded and he grinned. “It’s supposed to be a punishment, not a turn-on.”

“So punish me then,” you challenged.

If he had a clever answer for that, he kept it to himself in favour of swinging back his hand and landing the first sharp slap on your ass. A shocked cry slipped from your lips, but the look on your face told him everything he needed to know; you didn’t want him to stop. 

By the time you felt the fourth slap, your cries had turned to moans, but you knew he was holding back, that he was being as gentle as he could be, and that was fine. You realised that it wasn’t so much the act that had you crying out his name, it was the fact that you trusted him, completely and utterly. And it felt good to give up control, to allow yourself to just feel without overthinking and worrying. 

You were safe with Billy.

When he stopped, he left you with a wonderful kind of ache, his hand slipping beneath lace to tenderly soothe you. Overwhelmed by him, by the moment, you could barely lift your head to look at him, but you heard his name spill from your lips.

You barely noticed his hands tearing your panties, all you could think about was the delicate way he was touching you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, if I’d known you were into this I would’ve had you over my knee a long time ago,” he muttered as his hand slipped between your thighs again, fingers running through your arousal. You trembled as his fingertips grazed your wet slit, giving away just how close to coming you had been while he was spanking you. Billy didn’t hesitate, sinking two fingers into you with ease and slowly starting to fuck you with them, filling you to the knuckle with every thrust. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m going to take good care of you and this needy little pussy.”

“Please, Billy...” You moaned, back arching.

“No one else is ever gonna make you feel as good as I do,” he told you in that barely restrained tone that sent a thrill up your spine, “because you’re mine.”

“Yes,” you moaned as his fingers bent inside you and his thumb grazed your clit, “I’m yours, Billy.” The admission seemed to come from nowhere, but you didn’t notice and, frankly, you didn’t care. You were too drunk on the moment to think about anything other than Billy.

“Yeah, you are,” he practically cooed, obviously enjoying the more needy, submissive side of you, “this sweet little pussy is all mine now.”

“All yours,” you mewled as his fingertips hit just the right spot.

No one had ever made you feel like this before. You felt so good, so his, as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. Moans started to stack, and your eyes rolled back the closer you got to falling apart. You hardly noticed his fingers in your hair again until they gave a gentle tug, urging you to look back at him.  A possessive noise slipped from him when he saw your face, so intoxicated by him and what he was doing to you.

“You really are mine now, aren’t you?” As if he hadn’t really believed it until that moment.

“Yes, Billy,” you moaned, finally realising what you were saying, what you were admitting. “I’m all yours.”

His thumb pressed against your clit again causing you to writhe on his lap, so unashamedly desperate for everything he was doing to you, your moans getting louder as his fingers moved faster, finally pushing you over the edge. 

As you came, his fingers kept moving, dragging your pleasure out for as long as he could, holding your gaze as you moaned his name, over and over.  Finally, you sagged, feeling boneless, half on the sofa, half still draped across his lap. His fingers stayed inside you while his other hand slipped from your hair and returned to gently soothing the redness on your ass.

Billy watched as your breathing started to slow, remaining silent, giving you time to process everything that had just happened and all the little admissions you’d let slip. When you finally had the strength to move, he let his arousal slickened fingers slide from your body and lifted them to his lips, sucking every last trace of them from you while you sat up.

“I love the way you taste,” he smirked, licking his lips in a way that made your pulse race.

You leaned in to kiss him, to taste for yourself, sucking his tongue before deciding there was something else you’d rather do with your mouth.

His dark gaze held yours as you slipped between his legs and knelt on the floor before him. Your hand reached for his cock, giving his shaft a couple of lazy strokes before parting your lips and leaning in. You took just the tip at first, tongue greedily lapping up the pre-cum that had started to leak from him.

Billy moaned your name, his fingers tangling in your hair again and pressing down. You didn’t hesitate, giving him exactly what he wanted, your lips sinking down his length.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he groaned, “I love when you blow me.”

You loved it too. You never felt more powerful than you did in moments like this, moments where you got to bring him pleasure.

Guided by the push and pull of his hand, your head started to bob, dragging your lips up and down him and, after you’d had a chance to relax, you managed to sink right down, taking every inch of him. He held you there for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on yours, holding your attention while his free hand reached for his phone. You didn’t even notice it until the camera was pointed at you and he looked at you like he was asking permission and, when you didn’t stop, didn’t try to pull away, he had his answer.

You didn’t know if he was recording or taking photos but your eyes stayed fixed on his, wanting him to know that he was the only thing that mattered to you. Soon enough you were moaning around his cock, taking every inch, over and over, while his grip on your hair guided you up and down, completely taking control, taking what he wanted from you. And you were happy to let him, wanting to give him the same mind blowing pleasure he’d just given you. 

Every breath he took was soon punctuated with a moan, with your name, a plea that only you could drag from him. When you felt him getting close, you reached between his legs, fingers lightly squeezing his balls and earning a guttural moan from him that had your thighs clenching.

A grunt was all the warning you got before he fell apart, spilling onto your greedy tongue. Your lips stayed wrapped around him, listening as he groaned and swore, not pulling back until he was completely finished. And, as his cock slipped from your lips, you made a point of licking your lips for the camera.

It took a few moments to finally kick off your heels and climb back onto his lap, resting your head against his shoulder as he caught his breath. Billy’s arm pulled around you, holding you tight, but neither of you spoke for a couple of minutes, both content to just hold each other.

“You okay?” He finally asked, his hand starting to trail up and down your back.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You muttered, shifting your head on his shoulder so you could see his face.

“Well, that was a lot of firsts for us and...” it only lasted a second, but his hesitation had your stomach knotting, “I know I can be a lot and that I sometimes want a lot, and I don’t -”

“Billy,” you stopped him the moment you realised what he was trying to say, “if you’ve got poor impulse control, then so do I, because I wanted all of this just as much as you.” You lifted your head so you could look at him, so he could see how serious you are. “Tonight has been - it’s been amazing.”

The sigh of relief that escaped him was almost enough to break you.

“Tonight was easily the best night of my life,” he told you, his lips pulling into a beautiful but cocky smile, “and I’ve got the video evidence to prove it.”

Your cheeks immediately started to warm. “You won’t show anyone, will you?”

“Sweetheart, the only one that gets to enjoy you sucking my cock is me.” And you believed him, you believed that possessive tone in his voice. “Is it okay? I mean, me recording you? I can delete it -”

“It’s okay,” you told him, voice turning quiet, almost shy despite everything you’d just done, “I - I liked it. It made me feel... I dunno, dangerous.” 

“You’re never in any danger when you’re with me.” And for the first time in your life, you really did feel safe, but you didn’t know how to put any of it into words beyond what you’d told him earlier but you never felt safer than when you were in his arms. “You know that, right? That I’d never let anyone hurt you -- that’d I’d kill anyone that ever tried.” A shudder ran up your spine at the way he said it, like the prospect of taking a life meant nothing to him if it was to keep you safe. And, as terrifying as the thought was, it only made you love him more.

“I know, it’s just...”

“What?”

“This - us - it’s still all so new, and I’m scared that I’ll do something wrong.” Your gaze dropped, but Billy didn’t let you look away for long, his hands finding your cheeks and urging you to look at him again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“There’s nothing you could do that would make me leave you,” his dark eyes stared directly into yours as he spoke and there was a pain there, something you didn’t recognise but immediately wanted to soothe. “Every time you’ve walked away from me, I’ve felt so fucking empty - the kind of empty that I can’t fill with money or expensive things, the kind of empty that hurts so fucking much. It scares me how much I want you. I never wanted anyone ‘til I met you.”

“No one?” You finally dared ask the question that had been burning in your mind since this whole thing had started. Of course, you knew that there had been plenty of other women, but you didn’t know how much he’d felt for them. Billy shook his head. 

“I never thought I wanted to get attached - I always thought it was just easier to be on my own, to have people just see me as a playboy and never let anyone really get to know me,” his fingers tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “but then you happened, sweetheart.”

The words caused a swell of warmth in your chest, something that made you want to hold him tight and never let him go.

“So, with the others... it wasn’t like us? You didn’t - y’know...”

“Spank any of them until they were almost coming all over my lap?” He asked with that infuriatingly amused smile on his lips. “Make them moan my name in a crowded party?” Your cheeks felt warm again and you wondered how he could manage to keep a serious tone. “No, sweetheart, what we have - it’s never been like that with anyone else. Have you -”

“No,” you answered quickly. Too quickly. “Everything feels brand new with you, like the past doesn’t matter, and that’s all I want.”

Before he could answer, before he could even think to ask what you meant, your lips were on his again, pressing him back against the sofa. You didn’t want to think about the past, just the present and the future that you might have with Billy. Things quickly turned heated, and Billy was soon pulling you close and holding you tight, groaning as your hips started to move again. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock, hard and ready between your thighs.

“Fuck, Billy, I love how hard you get for me,” you panted when the kiss finally broke, needily grinding against his cock..

His lips quickly started to trail downwards, wet kisses and the scrape of teeth on skin, down your neck and collar bone. You back arched instinctively the further down he roamed, offering your breasts to him and, as expected, Billy gladly accepted. Reaching for his phone, you opened the camera as his lips sealed around a nipple, and started to record him. There was a strange feeling of power to it, something that made you feel sexy in a way you didn’t often get to feel, recording yourself writhing on his lap while he sucked and nipped at your nipple.

Billy didn’t realise that you were recording him until you awkwardly reached between your bodies to steady his cock enough to sink down onto it. He moaned, lips pulling away from your chest as you took every inch of him. The grin that pulled at his lips when he noticed his phone in your hand had your heart racing, and when his hands moved to grip your hips, you knew that he was going to put on a good show for the camera.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunted, “my sweet little pussy, so tight and wet for me.”

Your body clenched around him, knowing that everything he said, every sound you made, would all end up in the recording. 

“I’m yours, Billy. This sweet little pussy is just for you.” You panted, riding him harder and faster, directed by his hands on your hips, moaning every time he drove his cock into you. His lips returned to your nipples while his fingers found your swollen clit, and it quickly became overwhelming, every moan and cry louder than the last. Everything went white as you shattered around him, crying out his name as you fell apart so completely. You didn’t even realise you were being moved until your back was pressed down onto the sofa and Billy’s body covered yours, his phone hanging loosely from your hand at your side, now only capturing the sounds you were both making.

He fucked you hard and deep, laying claim to you, reminding you that you were his, even though you didn’t need the reminder.

“Harder,” you heard a voice groan. It wouldn’t be until a lot later that you realised it was you. Other pleas fell from your lips and he granted your every demand, fucking you in a way that you knew had ruined you for other men. 

Billy managed to pull another orgasm from you before his own hit, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him as he emptied himself inside you, each twitch drawing another moan from you. He practically collapsed on top of you, and your hands moved to his back, gently caressing sweat slicked skin while you both struggled to catch your breath.

“Fuck...” he muttered, his face buried against your neck. “I never want to get used to how good that feels.”

You didn’t have a response for him, you didn’t have anything to say - you’d both already said so much that you didn’t think you needed to say anything. Instead you closed your eyes and listened to the sounds of him breathing, knowing without a doubt that you were in love with him and that you were the happiest you’d ever been.

“Billy,” you finally muttered, exhausted, “take me to bed?”

And he did just that, quickly scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom, tenderly placing you in bed before crawling in beside you and gathering you up in his arms. A contented sigh left him as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

He held you tight - he always held you tight as you fell asleep, but this time it felt different, it felt like he was clinging to you, like he didn’t want to let go. 

“Billy, if you hold me any tighter I won’t be able to breathe,” you muttered with a sleepy laugh.

“You don’t need to breathe,” he answered back, sounding exhausted, “you just need me.”

“Think I need you more than air,” you confessed quietly, your hand finding his pressed against your stomach.

“Good.” The word hung in the air between you for a few seconds. “Don’t ever leave me, okay? I don’t ever want to not have you in my life.”

Your hand squeezed his while your heart pounded in your chest; he wasn’t saying the words, wasn’t telling you that he loved you but, for Billy, it felt close, it felt like maybe he could feel that way after all.

“I’m not going anywhere.” A ragged breath shook his body and you gave his hand another gentle but reassuring squeeze. “I’m yours, Billy.”

“Yeah, you’re mine.” Billy muttered softly, finally falling silent and allowing you to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

END NOTES : Well, it took sixteen chapters and she's finally admitted to really having feelings for him to his face. The next chapter is going to be similar to this one (sort of smutty but some character/relationship development thrown in) and it'll be up same time next week.

Again (and always) thanks for the comments, reblogs, likes, follows -- and even if you don't do those things and you just read, thanks anyway.

I know I'm not the greatest at remembering to respond to things but, honestly, thank you. I never thought I'd get to 100 followers or have even half as many people reading this fic when I started.

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

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[pumpkinbxtch]

“unbearable?” ✿.｡*

— frank zhang x fem!reader

Summary: When Frank confesses his love to you, the reaction he gets from you is not what he expected, as you have always thought that he hated you. warnings: none, just language a/n: welcome to my first frank blurb, he's so fuckn cute. i love him. sorry if it's very weird.

— I like you— As soon as that sentence ended, your ears felt empty and your skin bristled. Your mind started working a thousand times faster, but all you managed was to let out a silly snort.

That was enough for Frank to take two steps back; he wished he could jump to another continent at that very moment, to a place where no one would ever see him again, especially you. All those nights he stayed awake practicing his confession seemed to have been in vain, even the talks with Piper on how to treat you. Everything seemed to have simply gone down the stupid toilet.

Unintentionally, both of you fell into silence. Each had an expression that the other would have mocked if not for the situation. Your tongue failed you, but you began to murmur and shake your head.

— Frank, this is not funny.

The boy opened his eyes and also started shaking his head, totally confused by your accusation. How could you think he was joking about his feelings? But above all, what gnawed at him inside was, what had Frank done to make you think that way? He had no fucking idea.

—Excuse me?— He whimpered. It wasn't his intention, but his heart was breaking, and you were rubbing it in the dust with every expression you made.

It surprised you; after your words, you expected him to give you that strange look and leave in silence with a mocking laugh. Why? Because that was practically what Frank always did.

From your perspective, the son of Mars always seemed tired of you. No matter what you tried, he always brushed you off with strange glances, furrowed brows, and a completely tense body.

Remember that time you bought him a bear-shaped ice pop because it reminded you of him? You recall how happy you were searching for him to give it to him, “he will love it,” you thought, “with this, I can get closer to him,” you believed, but when you could hand him the gift…

“Thank you,” he said, without any damn expression on his face. His shoulders completely stiff and his brow deeply furrowed. He quickly walked away from you after finishing the sentence, and you didn't see him again in the evening.

On that occasion and many more, you had no doubt, Frank couldn't stand you.

And how wrong you were. Frank was just holding back the urge to laugh like an idiot in front of you, to not sweat excessively or make any exaggerated movements that would give away his feelings for you. You misinterpreted everything, while he thought he was being gentle with you and slowly connecting the dots to be more than just your friend.

Frank had the best strategy in mind to win you over, but apparently, of all his plans and strategies, that one had not been successful other than making you think he hated you. Someone bury him alive!

— It's not funny — you repeated, popping your thoughts, and looked around. There were small arrangements in the park, some lights, and a blanket folded over a picnic basket. That made you doubt.

—I'm not joking —he took a step towards you. If you didn't reciprocate, it was fine, he would cry later, but he had to make it clear. He couldn't leave things like that.

— You are — you accused, and he started to despair.

— No! I like you! Isn't it obvious? 

You huffed.

— Well, it's not! You hate me! Wasn't that obvious? 

— No! —He complained exasperatedly.

Both sighed and looked at each other in silence with doubt. You started to tremble, the night was approaching, and the air was getting cold. You just wanted to go back to your cabin, but things weren't getting any better. You wished you could bite your tongue and not have reacted that way. What if Frank was serious, what chances did that leave you? Your stomach began to twist, and you let out a small groan.

— So do you like me? 

Frank's cheeks started to turn pink, and his stuttering made you feel guilty. Damn it, damn it, damn it. What were you missing out on?

— Frank— You called him, and he started stuttering even faster. You feared he might turn into a swarm of bees and run away. — FRANK

The boy felt a drop of sweat running down his back, his breathing quickened. He never thought things would turn out this way. He let out a groan, clenched his hands.

— YES, I LIKE YOU — Pop. And he turned into a bear. Typical.

You opened your eyes wide and let out a laugh, then two, which turned into a fit of laughter. Frank was dying of embarrassment, but he decided to stay in that form. Maybe you would leave, and he could hide for the rest of his life, but you kept laughing.

Things got complicated, turned strange, but you knew you had to talk about it no matter what. How did you feel about Frank? You weren't sure because you never had the chance to define it, but he seemed sweet, very attentive.

Maybe deep down you always wanted his attention, that's why you tried to connect with him so many times.

You inhaled and exhaled, after the last laughs, Frank had sat on his bear's hindquarters, and you sat on the grass. The lights he had apparently set up finally shone in the darkness, resembling fireflies. You looked at him in his brown fur.

— I thought you hated me… — you sighed. — I had no idea, Frank… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you with my reaction.

He let out a growl, you never wished so much to understand bear language. Without hesitation, you stroked his head.

— Frank… — You called him a bit more insistently, and the son of Mars transformed again. His pale face was illuminated by the small lights, shyness still evident in him. Your hand ended up on the boy's forearm, but you didn't remove it. On the contrary, you tightened your grip, catching his attention.

— I was very naive, I thought I was making it clear that I liked you — You let out another giggle and hugged yourself when another gust of wind blew against both of you. Frank didn't hesitate for two seconds and took off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders. You thanked him with a glance, and he smiled.

—That's one of the few smiles you've given me… I always saw you very tense or serious around me. I stopped trying to engage with you…

This caused a pang in Frank's chest, and he gently shook his head.

—I should have tried harder.— It was your turn to shake your head. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault or give him encouragement, but you saw a better opportunity.

You walked over to the basket and tightened the jacket around your shoulders to keep it from falling when you picked it up. You lifted it into the air.

— Did you have something planned? — You inquired with a raised eyebrow, making Frank blush. It made a knot form in your stomach, but this time with a better feeling. You weren't blind; you always knew he was terribly handsome.— We can mend this lack of communication. What better way than with something you created? 

Frank nodded and walked towards you. He crouched to pick up the blanket and took the basket from your hands.—Let me do it.

You let him. As he set up the picnic, you felt anxious.

— Frank, I didn't really answer you…— He looked up at you and shrugged it off, but you ignored it. — And I won't until you've set up enough picnics to convince me.

He noticed your smile and the way you swayed as you spoke, with your hair flowing and his jacket covering your body. Damn, Frank would become the best fucking picnic expert if it meant increasing his chances with you.