Mc Is So Adorable, And Real, If Daredevil Isn't Going To Fall I Love With Her, I Gladly Will??? She Went

The angst was painful today, ouch 😔

Gorgeous chapter with a really cute and wholesome ending. I'm so excited to see more of this series!!!

Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

<- Previous

Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all?  Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.” 

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?” 

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

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“they were flirting with you” and how was i supposed to know such a thing when everyone speaks in codes and puzzles

Robin!Jason, who constantly references different books at random times by quoting them and joking about characters, except Bruce doesn't have much time to read everything that Jason goes through. Of course, he understands some nods towards classics, but Jason is an avid reader, so it is hard to keep up with him sometimes. Jason tries to drag him to watch some movie adaptations, but he falls asleep in the very beginning of it.

And then Jason dies.

Bruce goes through all his library obsessively to the point he remembers the page of every little bookmark Jason left, and he knows his little notes on the margins by the heart. He watches movie adaptations, too, even though Jason only ever watched it to hate on them. He finds new books, books he thinks Jason would like if he was alive, and reads them, imagining what kind of analysis would Jason finalise by the end of it; his opinion not always matches with Jason's, but that doesn't matter. Bruce just likes to imagine.

Years pass, and Jason returns to Gotham. Not as a boy Bruce missed so much. Or, at least, he thinks so.

But then Jason does some bitter, irritated reference, comparing them to characters of one of the books he had on his shelf, and Bruce catches himself thinking... well, they still think similarly, but the conclusion they drew had always differed from each other. It is a different situation, of course, but... but maybe he could try to make this work.

Because, if anything, Bruce is tired of imagining. Especially, not when he finally has a chance to get everything back.

On the next day after their fight, someone sends Jason a copy of a new book from his favourite author - the one that he still hadn't read - his old set of colourful bookmarks, and a little note.

Let me know what you think.

Bruce gets the book back in a week, full of frantic notes, a bunch of bookmarks, and a short note explaining what each colour means (a mystery he didn't resolve years ago, after he passed away).

And, oh, God. He completely forgot how fast Jason read sometimes.

Omg please tag me in this, I am LOVING all the Daredevil x Vampire AU's recently!!!!

Carpe Noctem [PREVIEW]

Main Masterlist

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Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Nun!Reader

Warnings: (additional tags to be added/changed) Dead Dove Do Not Eat, religious imagery & symbolism, vampirism, Dark!Matt, blood consumption, corruption kink, SMUT (18+), pain kink, blood play, ANGST, canon typical violence, physical assault, allusions to sexual assault, hunter and prey vibes, allusions to stalking (possibly full-on), scent kink, marking, blasphemy, no happy ending

Summary: Over the past centuries, nothing could have stopped Matt Murdock from wanting, craving, everything, even what he could not have; money, power, and sex, among other more materialistic things, but nothing has him in quite a chokehold like the insatiable hunger for blood he was cursed with the night he died. Nothing could have stopped him from getting what he wants until one day in March, you enter his life.

Matt has stolen, beaten and killed without care, but corrupting a child of God is a line he dares not cross. You, a nun. It’s unthinkable. The part of him that longs for the life he was torn out of—the boy still riding the waves of Catholicism, that Matt Murdock—would rather see him impaled on a wooden stake than allow him to take your blood. Your blood, your innocence, and all that you are; the aroma of rosemary and sanctity that surrounds you is a siren’s call that draws him inevitably closer. The same walls of Clinton Church that house you would incinerate him, and he still wants you. He wants you, but he can’t have you.

Devoting yourself to the church saved you from the abyss, but it may also lead to your eternal corruption at the hands of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt Murdock. A vampire. Soon, you find yourself not only on the verge of losing your innocence to this angel of the night but your life, too, and your world drastically changes for what you realize might be worse than death itself.

(18+ MINORS DNI!)

A/n: I’m back, back, BACK again! Vampire!Matt brainrot is real, and this idea was so dark in my head and kind of ironic, really, I had to put it out there for you. I will be doing my research on Catholicism religiously (pun intended) to make this as accurate as possible, but it’s still an alternate universe and I like making up my own rules. Everything I write is my personal playground, and I invite you to join me for this steamy piece of angst. So far, this is only a concept, but I will get to writing it as soon as I can! The idea is there, and I’ve got some things planned out already. So, if you’re curious, do stick around!

AESTHETIC.

Matt.

You.

RELEASE DATE: TBD!

(If you want to be tagged to know when I release it, as always, feel free to let me know. I don’t bite. Well, only sometimes.)

The DRAMA!!! I love it so much!! I'm so curious where Carlisle could have gone, either he's really close to Forks or somewhere completely different, and I hope (Y/N) makes him beg to get back with her, which is something I always wished Bella would have done (even if it's a bit out of character for her).

I was so excited to see this new release, fantastic job author!!!

Collision | Chapter 24

Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: death

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: slowly but surely finishing up some WIP chapters for every story and a couple of oneshots and requests 😊

<- Previous

The last place (Y/N) wanted to be in was a funeral. Especially when guilt clung to her like a dark cloud. It didn’t matter how many people told her it wasn’t her fault or that there was nothing more she could have done. She couldn’t help it.

Harry’s heart had taken its last beat under her hands, it had stopped while she was the one caring for him. And even if it had flatlined, she felt like there was more she could have done. Maybe if she had kept going, he would have magically come back. Stranger things than that had happened. To her, it didn’t matter if he’d had heart problems or that the pressure on the organ had been too much for recovery. She simply felt there was something else she could do. Anything else.

Clad in a dark dress, (Y/N) made her way to the Clearwater house. But once there, she could not make it past the first step. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the front door, the murmurs from the inside rushing to her ears. How could she face them? How could she face all the people who loved Harry and tell them there may have been more to do?

“(Y/N)?” a voice broke her out of her trance. The girl turned to find a worried Paul walking toward her, and fight or not, she found herself crashing into his arms. They fell to the ground as he cradled her in his arms, allowing her to crumble. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“It’s my fault, Paul,” she cried. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

“It is absolutely not your fault, (Y/N),” he whispered. “You did all you could. Sam told us how hard you fought to keep him alive. There was nothing else you could do, (Y/N). It was just his time.”

“No. I could have saved him,” she continued. “I should have saved him.”

“He was a man with pre-existing heart conditions that had the scare of a lifetime, (Y/N). There was no way he would have survived this. There was nothing more to do,” he said. “Unburden yourself of his death because it was not, and never will be your fault.”

With teary eyes, (Y/N) finally allowed herself to look up at her friend, feeling her chest lighten at his words. Even if the knot was still there, she could feel herself growing used to the feeling, and others started to come to the surface. “I thought you were mad at me,” she sniffled, sitting on the ground as her breathing steadied. “Why are you here comforting me?”

“Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’d walk past you when you’re crying,” he said, sitting next to her. “You’re still my best friend, (Y/N).”

“So, does that mean you’re still mad at me?”

“Not as much as before,” he teasingly shrugged, shoving her softly. “I will admit, in the time that we’ve been apart, I’ve had a chance to think about my actions, and I have to say I may have overreacted a little bit. I knew you didn’t feel the same way I did, but I still let myself think that we’d one day be more. Then I got mad at you when you didn’t act the way I thought you should. I got my feelings hurt and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for that, (Y/N).”

“Well, if we’re airing out our grievances, I should apologize for using you like I did,” she admitted. “I knew how you felt about me, and I still asked you to do something almost impossible. I should never have asked you to get involved with my moving on in the way I did. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one that said yes, (Y/N). I knew what I was getting into, and I still said yes,” he refuted. “I had every chance to say no, but I chose to stay. So, I’m sorry.”

“No, Paul. If I hadn’t…”

“Look, we’re not gonna spend the rest of the morning saying sorry back and forth, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “Let’s just agree we both fucked up and go back to being friends. I’ve missed you for far too long.”

“I’ve missed you too, Paul,” she sniffled once more. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Let’s get through this first, okay? Then we have all the time in the world to catch up.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With Paul by her side, the funeral was easier to bear. Though the pitiful stares and the sorrys were getting to her, having her best friend helped appease her guilt and her sadness. She was able to face the heartbroken Clearwater family and offer them condolences, embracing a terrified Seth and a heartbroken and detached Leah. There were no words she could tell them that could make the moment better. No amount of condolences or blessings would assuage the pain of losing their father in such a tragic way.   And telling them she felt guilty about his passing would never compare to the guilt she was sure his daughter already felt.

Leah’s face was stoic, plastered with anger and despair. But (Y/N) knew what she was hiding. She could sense the girl’s self-reproach; it was the same she was feeling. To her, it was unmistakable. That hidden darkness in her eyes, the staggering in her breath, the closed-off posture. The Uley girl knew the signs all too well. They had been etched into her skin like an infected tattoo for years, making her skin itch and swell, but nevertheless remaining, staining. A mark that she would carry for the rest of her life. And now, so would poor Leah.

(Y/N) wanted to show her support in any way she could, but she knew her words did not mean anything yet. The last thing the girl needed was to hear from the sister of the guy who had broken her heart. No. What she needed for the moment was space—time to grieve and process the trauma she had just gone through.

So, instead of badgering the girl with empty words and sentiments like most people were doing, she let her be.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Seth startled her as he sat down beside her on the front porch. “Sorry. I just wanted to thank you for what you did for my dad. Mom told us how hard you tried to save him.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Seth,” she smiled sadly. “I was simply doing my job.”

“I know it was more than that,” he chuckled softly. “He cared about you, you know? He always knew you’d be going far, and he was right. A doctor at only 19? I’d say that’s pretty far. I mean, I’m only fifteen and the most impressive thing I’ve done is become a wolf, and I didn’t even do it on purpose.”

“Well, I’m still a student,” she said, but noting his annoyance, she chuckled. “But I get what you’re saying. I cared about him a lot too. I just wish I hadn’t been so busy these few months and got to spend more time with him. He always treated Sam and me with so much love and kindness, I can’t help but regret not giving as much as I received from him.”

“Nah, he knew how much you loved him,” Seth shrugged. “Honestly, we almost made you a forbidden name in our house because of how much he talked about you. When Leah got angry and would bring up that you hadn’t been in the rez for years, he always shut her down and told us you were putting us on the map. The more time you spent away, the prouder he was. I’m sure he knows how hard you fought for him and how much you loved him.”

“You’re too smart, kid,” (Y/N) hid a sniffle with a chuckle as she messed with his hair. “But don’t worry about me. How are you?”

“Honestly, I think I’m still in shock,” he sighed. “I woke up today hoping to find him on his chair, reading the newspaper, just waiting to talk to us about being wolves. Instead, I woke up to people rearranging the living room to fit his casket for the showing. It’s weird and confusing, and I think it hasn’t hit me quite yet. But, honestly, it’s Leah that I’m most worried about. She’s taking it really hard.”

“That’s to be expected, unfortunately. It was no easy thing what she went through—what you both went through,” the girl said. “It’s gonna take some time for her to feel normal again. At least a new version of normal. She’s gonna need us all, even if she thinks she wants to push us away.”

“I just wish she knew it wasn’t her fault. That no one blames her for what happened.”

“It’s gonna take some time, kid,” (Y/N) said as she hugged his side. “But we’ll be here. Every step of the way.”

Three hours felt like an eternity as the veil of grief draped itself over the Clearwater house. Even as they celebrated the life of Harry, the sadness was inevitable in the moment. It clung to the walls, to the floor, the very air they breathed. It was everywhere they went, even if no one had invited it in.  Three hours was far too long for (Y/N). Three hours had been enough for her.

With a final walk around of condolences and sad smiles, (Y/N) decided she had reached her grief limit. As much as she wanted to spend more time with the family, she needed to be able to breathe. If she stayed any longer in that house, she was afraid she’d never be okay again.

But her day did not end once she left the funeral. She had promised Bella she would see her right after, and a part of her regretted agreeing to go all the way to Forks. There was nothing she could think of that could warrant Bella’s insistence that she visit her. (Y/N) knew it couldn’t be about Victoria because Jacob wouldn’t have left the girl’s side for a second. It couldn’t have been about Harry since she hadn’t gone to the funeral. The only thing that she could imagine was impossible and downright infuriating.

And yet, as she rounded the corner to Bella’s street, a car made her breath hitch in her throat. The black Mercedes was unmistakable, and just the sight of it made the girl’s heart hammer against her chest. Not only was it surprising that it was there, but that it was the first time she had heard about it.

Mixed feelings rushed through (Y/N)’s body as she got closer to the house. Just the idea of seeing him unnerved her. But she couldn’t quiet the part of her that hoped it was him behind the door, waiting, expecting her. She couldn’t stop the thought that he had come back for her, to tell her that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go. Still, that wasn’t the part that was winning in her mind.

Anger quickly surged to the top as she made her way to the front door. Words of ire and disappointment rapidly formed on her tongue, ready to be spat the second she saw golden eyes staring back at her. Because he shouldn’t have been there. He had no right.

“Bells?” (Y/N) called out, finding the door unlocked. “I’m here.” 

Suddenly, a face she had seen one too many times appeared, worry splattered across her face like a stain. It wasn’t the one she was expecting, but it was a surprise, nonetheless.

Before she could say anything, Alice Cullen had her arms around (Y/N) as though no time had passed. It was borderline the softest touch and a bone-crushing hug all at the same time. There was only love and happiness coming from the vampire. But it was something (Y/N) couldn’t reciprocate.

“Alice,” she found herself whispering. Her voice came out in a hush, a tone so low only the supernatural would be able to hear it. “W-what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Well, I thought Bella had died,” she said. “I had this vision that after the whole cliff diving fiasco, she didn’t make it out of the water. It wasn’t until I got here that I found out a wolf had saved her.”

“And you couldn’t have called?” (Y/N) asked, sounding colder than she intended. “One phone call could have cleared everything up.”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Alice continued. “And then Rose told Edward what happened before I could confirm anything, and now he’s about to commit the dumbest mistake of his life.”  

“Again, a phone call would work.”

“Oh, you know Edward won’t believe me until he sets eyes on her,” the girl dismissed, pa omg as her head raced with thought, oblivious to (Y/N)’s coldness. “Regardless, he’s not picking up his phone. Goodness, first, Carlisle goes missing as soon as we’re out of Forks, and now Edward wants to get killed. What is happening to this family?”

(Y/N) couldn’t hear anything after the mention of Carlisle’s name. I’m her head, he was thriving in life being a big shot head doctor at some other hospital, he was with his family being the mysterious Cullens somewhere else. But Alice had said he had disappeared. Over half a year had passed, and none of them had heard from their father figure. Not even Alice’s visions had seemed to help the situation.

“W-what do you mean Carlisle is missing?” (Y/N)’s voice broke Alice’s incessant rambling. “I thought he was with you.” 

“Oh, no, (Y/N),” she brought her hands to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t…”

“How could he just disappear, Alice? Where could he have gone to that none of you know where he is?”

“I don’t…”

“Oh, (Y/N)!” Bella called out as she rushed down her stairs, a backpack hanging from her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but we have to cut this visit short. I don’t know if Alice told you…”

“No,” she spat. “Alice hasn’t said much of anything. At least not anything of much importance.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, not only do I come here to find Alice after over six months of radio silence, but now I find out that no one in the family knows where Carlisle has gone.” His name rolling out of her tongue felt bittersweet. It made her heart flutter with the intensity of the bat of a million butterfly wings, but it made her stomach churn as though she’d been stuck at sea for too much time. It was refuge and terror all wrapped up in a beautiful word. “But I guess what interests you more is the fact that Edward thinks you’re dead.”

“I didn’t…,” Bella stammered before turning to the vampire. “You didn’t say Carlisle was missing. All you said was that it wasn’t him on the phone. Carlisle’s missing?”

“Look, I’m sorry. But he’s the least of my worries right now,” Alice exhaled. “Esme has been looking for him and has some good leads. Right now, I care about the fact that Edward is going to get himself killed by the Volturi in Italy. I wish this could have been a beautiful reunion, but it is what it is.”

“Bella, you know you don’t have to do this, right?” (Y/N) blurted. “You are not under the obligation of saving him after what he did to you.” 

“I know,” the girl sighed. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help him live. As much as he hurt me, the love I have for him is far greater than our past. Wouldn’t you do the same for Carlisle?”

It should have been an easy answer. Yes. If it meant that Carlisle was alive and well, of course, she would have jumped on a plane and traveled around the world to save him. Yes. Three letters. One confirmation. That should have been easy to say.

But a voice inside her yelled no. As much as she loved and yearned for him, (Y/N) couldn’t say yes. Not when he had ripped her heart to shreds purposefully. Not when he had said things he’d never be able to take back. She should have said no. Just no.

“I don’t know,” she said instead. “Maybe I’m not as strong as you.”

“No,” Bella smiled softly, taking (Y/N)’s hands in hers. “You’re stronger.”

“Just be careful out there, Bells. Even if they don’t return, come home.”

“I promise,” she said. “And I’m sure Carlisle is okay. Esme will find him soon enough.”

“He can take care of himself. I’m more worried about you,” (Y/N) said, squeezing Bella’s hands comfortingly before turning to Alice. “You better make sure nothing happens to her. Leaving us is one thing. But if anything else happens to Bella under your watch, that’s gonna be unforgivable.”

“She’ll be safe, I promise,” the vampire peeped, a shake in her voice that almost sounded like she was terrified. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Turning back around, (Y/N) continued. “Be safe, Bella,” she said as she took the girl in for a tight hug. “And I’ll make sure your dad is safe and doesn’t get too angry about your impromptu trip.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she chuckled softly. “Whatever happens, we’ll always have the Cullen Discard Club.”

“Best club to be in,” (Y/N) laughed. “Now, go. And be safe.”

(Y/N) wanted to stop Bella. Shake the girl until she finally saw reason. But she couldn’t lie, she understood. As she watched the black car disappear down the road, she couldn’t help the worry that overtook her body as she thought back to Carlisle. She couldn’t help but wonder where he had gone to hide, if he was safe, if he had fed.

It took everything in her to close the Swan door behind her and go back to her home. There was nothing she could do for him anymore, that much she knew. But there was an itch inside her that begged to find him, that called on her to make sure he was okay. It was the same voice she shared with Bella. The love you could only have for someone that had infected your soul.

When she got back, her house was quiet, and it was just what she needed—silence. It allowed her to just be, to just feel—no judgment or anger—just silence. It was so quiet that as she removed her coat, a piece of paper fell from the pocket and clattered softly against the ground.

With genuine interest, (Y/N) picked it up and wondered how it had gotten there until she read it.

This is Esme’s number. Just in case you wanted it.

I truly am sorry for everything.

-Alice

(Y/N) didn’t know when the vampire had written the letter—not that, with her speed, she would have ever noticed—but a small part of her was grateful for it.

That night, she went to bed staring at the piece of paper, wondering what she would do with it. She could have picked it up and called Esme, gathered as much information as she could to help in her search, joined her in New York, and turned it upside down until they could find him. Then again, she could have done absolutely nothing at all.

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I love frank so much, BUT HE IS SUCH A COCKBLOCKER in this fic!!!

Fantastic chapter, Madani needs to get better Intel lol, great job Author!!

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour in a public setting, use of toys. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.6k

A/N : I'm sorry these keep ending up so long. Anyway, enjoy some smutty cuteness...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Ten

The second your eyes opened, you regretted it. 

Light streamed in through the windows and your head hurt - though you couldn’t tell if it was because of all the champagne you’d drunk the night before, or because you’d sobbed yourself to sleep. One look in the mirror had you grimacing. Even though you’d tried to remove your make-up before bed, you’d still ended up with dark mascara circles under your eyes.

As much as you wanted to crawl back into bed, you needed to wash your face properly, get something to drink, and see if you had any painkillers left to help with your pounding headache. A quick glance at your watch told you that it was almost noon.

Half-asleep, you pulled open your bedroom door, only to almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Billy, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on his arms.

“Billy?” 

He looked up and your heart threatened to stop; his face was bruised and his lip was split and, though his injuries already looked like they were healing, you started to panic.

Before he could say a word, you were on your knees in front of him, cradling his face in your hands, looking over his wounds, while he tried not to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly, voice thick with exhaustion, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never should’ve -” 

“Billy,” you spoke just as softly, “you didn’t hurt me.”

“I shouldn’t’ve started this. I never wanted to put you in danger.”

You shook your head. “Where is this coming from? You haven’t put me in danger.”

“I’m dangerous. Just being around me is dangerous.”

“No,” you told him firmly, still holding his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m safe with you, Billy.”

“No, I -”

“Is that what your friend told you? That you’re dangerous? Because you’re not. You showed me last night that you’re not,” you continued. His eyes closed and he shook his head. Your heart ached at how broken and defeated he looked. “Please don’t push me away. They’re wrong about you. I know they are.”

Without any sort of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight, pressing your face to his chest, trying to fight back tears.

“I heard you crying,” he said, sounding devastated, as if that one piece of information proved his point. It didn’t.

“Not because of you, Billy.”

“Then why?”

“Because I didn’t want last night to end. I wanted to stay with you, and they ruined it.”

Finally his arms moved, wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You let out a shuddered breath, a tired sigh of relief, glad that he finally seemed to believe you. He moved himself as he pulled you towards him until you were on his lap with your face pressed against his neck, enjoying the feel of his cold skin against you.

“I thought that...” He started but trailed off just as quickly.

He didn’t need to say it; you had a pretty good idea of what Billy thought and why. But it was wrong, and you weren’t going to let him hold onto that thought any longer.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you told him again, prepared to tell him as many times as you needed to in order to make him see sense. “Everything that happened last night happened because I wanted it to.”

Billy nodded but stayed quiet, his arms tightening around you. Minutes ticked by and you were content to stay like that, to hold and be held, to let him know that you were there and that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

After a while, he seemed to settle and relax, his hand softly rubbing your back, giving you comfort that you hadn’t realised you desperately needed. But there were things beyond comfort that you also needed; answers to questions you never wanted to ask but now couldn’t avoid.

“Last night,” you started quietly, “you said he fucked up your life... what happened?”

His chest shuddered and rose as he took a breath, but you kept your face against his neck, wanting to give him some sense of space without you looking at him.

“Frank’s the one who turned me,” Billy told you. “He’s the one who made me a vampire.”

The revelation had your blood running cold in your veins; his business partner, his friend, was the one who’d turned Billy into something he hated. You had a thousand different questions all at once but had no idea where to start. Fortunately, Billy didn’t wait for you to figure it out.

“We served together and, one day, we were selected for a special task force,” he sighed, his voice turning almost mechanical, like he was recounting the story on auto-pilot. “Things got fucked up and weird; we were seeing things that shouldn’t have existed, that didn’t seem real. I couldn’t handle it, I didn’t want to stay, so I got a transfer back to Force, but Frankie stayed.”

There was a pause, letting you absorb everything he’d told you, letting you make sense of the timeline. You already knew that he’d been turned a year or so before vampires were revealed to the public - was he saying that the military had known about them longer?

“After I left, they started... experimenting. Frank got turned but he managed to escape, he managed to get back to New York. They sent a team after him. My team. They were going to kill Frank and his family.” He paused again, seeming like he really didn’t want to continue, but he did regardless. “When I realised what was happening, I tried to save him and got shot in the back by one of my own men.”

You gripped him tighter, worry consuming you, even though you knew that Billy was alright.

“I would’ve died if he hadn’t turned me, but - but sometimes I wish I had. Sometimes I wish he’d just let me bleed out so I didn’t have to live like this,” he continued, his voice flat, betraying no emotion. “We had to hide out for a while but once vampires became public knowledge, we threatened to go public with everything we knew and they paid us off - that’s how I was able to start Anvil.”

Taking a deep breath, you pressed yourself closer to him, your mind racing. You didn’t say anything, you just kept hold of him, feeling completely useless for not knowing exactly the right thing to say.

The silence stretched on until it became unbearable.

“Please say something,” he prompted, his voice cracking and threatening to break.

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Why would you upset me?” He asked.

Finally you forced yourself to look at him again. You tried desperately to keep yourself from frowning as you searched his face for some idea of what he was feeling.

“Because I want to say that I’m glad Frank turned you,” you told him and immediately felt him tense. “I’m glad you’re alive and that you’re like this because, otherwise, I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

You weren’t sure if the look he gave was one of pain or sorrow, but it broke your heart either way.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “I know it makes me awful and selfish, but I don’t want to think about a world where we didn’t meet and I didn’t feel this way...”

“You’re not selfish,” he told you, pressing his cold hand to your cheek. “I’m glad we met too.”

Words failed and the distance between you seemed to shrink, though you had no idea if it was you or Billy moving. Your lips met and you both sank into a sweet and tender kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips as he held you tight. The kiss helped settle your nerves and caused you to hope that Billy now understood what you were feeling.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him, your fingers brushing over his bruised cheek.

“Did he do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“But why?” You asked. Why would his friend hurt him like that?

“Because he knows about my problem and, because he turned me, he’ll blame himself if I hurt you.”

You shook your head, not wanting to go over everything again, so you let it go, instead opting to get a good look at him. Aside from the bruising (that seemed to have healed even more in the time that you’d been talking), his jacket and shirt had both been torn at the shoulder and on the collar, there were blood splatters on the white shirt, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. But, more than anything, he just looked so tired.

“Do you want to lay down? We could -”

“No,” he interrupted sharply, almost causing you to jump. He took a breath and shook his head. “You can’t invite me into your room, okay?”

“But -”

“Please, hummingbird,” he begged. “It’s the only room in the penthouse that I can’t enter. It’s the only place you’ll be safe if anything happens.”

Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him again that you were safe with him, that he hadn’t hurt you and you didn’t think he ever would, but you recognised that this was one of those situations where Billy needed reassurance. He needed to know that you had a safe place, somewhere you could escape to.

“Okay,” you relented. “But you still need rest. You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

“I need to go wash this mascara off my face and eat some breakfast,” you told him, smiling softly, not wanting him to worry about you any more than he already had.

You started to move, getting off his lap and to your feet before offering him your hand. After helping him to his feet, you found yourself struck by just how deep your feelings had started to run. You should have been ushering him off to bed, but you were desperate for just one more minute with him. And, Billy seemed equally reluctant to leave you.

“I -” he started but quickly second guessed himself.

“What?”

“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag, I -” he hesitated for a beat “- I don’t want to sneak around and hide this anymore. I want to take you out to dinner. Tonight.”

The corners of your lips started to tug upwards and before you knew it, you were grinning at him.

“Mr Russo,” you said, forcing a dramatic tone, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes, little hummingbird, I am.”

“I suppose I could go to dinner with you, if I can find something to wear,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Is that your way of asking me for a new dress? Because I definitely wouldn’t say no to another handjob in the fitting rooms.” He retorted, grinning just as widely as you were, as if you’d finally managed to help lift some of the weight from his shoulders.

Laughing, you pressed your face to his chest again, telling yourself just one more minute again and again. 

“You could take me out for dinner every night for the rest of the year and I’d probably still not get through half of the outfits in my wardrobe. I’m sure there’s something suitable in there,” you conceded. 

“Be ready by sunset. I’ll book us a table somewhere nice,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away from you.

“Don’t you have work tonight?”

“After last night, I don’t think Frank is going to want me around the office for a while,” he shrugged, heading for the door leading back out to the penthouse before you could think to question him further. “Get some rest and I’ll see you at sunset.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the swarm of butterflies that had taken flight in your stomach. You couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop thinking about him and how things were going to change between you now that you weren’t hiding.

After eating, you took the world's longest and hottest shower, finally managing to get the last traces of mascara from your face. Then it was straight to the wardrobe to find something suitable to wear for dinner.

When you finally saw him again, he looked much better; rested, with only the faintest traces of bruising left beneath his eye. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of you and the dark blue corset style dress you’d picked, while you admired the dark grey suit he’d opted to wear. Your cheeks warmed as his gaze lingered on your legs even as you stepped towards him to hand him his glass of blood.

“I see you found something to wear,” he remarked, fingers brushing yours as he took the glass. 

A moment later he started making his way towards the sofa, explaining that you had some time before you had to leave for the restaurant. You followed after, finally letting your gaze drift around the penthouse, noticing what an amazing job the cleaners had done. If you hadn’t been there, you never would have guessed that there had been almost two hundred people there the night before. 

It wasn’t until you sat that you noticed something on the coffee table; the necklace he had given you. He must have found it after everyone had left the party. Without thinking you reached for it, inspecting it, hoping it hadn’t been damaged.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain what that meant,” Billy sighed. “It was shitty of me to put it on your neck without telling you. It wasn’t fair of me to claim you without asking first...”

“No, it wasn’t,” you told him with a sigh of your own. “You should’ve told me. I-I still would’ve worn it.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. He hesitated for a beat before; “then would you wear it tonight?”

Your breath caught and, for a split-second it looked as if he was about to take the question back. Knowing what you knew about the necklace, about its meaning, the answer should have been obvious; you weren’t his and you didn’t want to belong to anyone.

Only, you weren’t sure that was entirely true.

“I think that depends on you,” you finally answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to belong to you?” The question left him looking more than a little confused. “I meant what I said last night; I like you, Billy. I don’t know what that means in the long run, but I’d like for it to mean something now.”

“And you’d be happy with that?” He asked after a moment of hesitation. “You’d be happy being mine?”

“Would you be happy being mine?”

You didn’t expect the reaction to be so visceral, for Billy to tense and almost curl in on himself. You’d hit a nerve but you didn’t know how. His knuckles turned white around the glass and his eyes fixed on the windows.

Suddenly you felt sick. You felt stupid. There you were offering yourself up to someone who had no intention of ever doing the same. He’d told you from the start that it would be like this, that he would never give you more than he already had. And you’d just ruined it because you were selfish, because you were greedy, because you wanted more than anything to possess him and be able to say that he was yours.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, getting to your feet and heading for the kitchen, getting a glass of water as an excuse to put some space between you.

Your heart anxiously pounded in your chest and, even when you had a drink, you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see the damage you’d done by wanting too much.

You took deep breath after deep breath, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and your stomach was knotting. 

(Of course he didn’t want to be yours. Who would?)

“No one’s ever wanted me to be theirs before.” His voice cut through the silence and, when you finally turned, you realised he was standing a couple of feet behind you. “My own mother gave me up hours after I was born. Foster families always sent me back to the group home. The only person who’s ever stuck around is Frank...”

Oh. The realisation was painful.

“So, it’s not that I don’t want to be yours,” he continued, dropping his gaze, “it’s just...”

“I’ll leave you,” you finished the thought for him. A moment later, you were shaking your head. “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

When your gaze dropped, you realised that the necklace was clutched in his hand. After taking a slow breath, you closed the distance between you and reached it and smiled.

“Will you put it on for me?” You asked.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, confused by the request. You were a little confused yourself, not because you were second guessing it, but because the urge to belong to him, to have him claim you, had come on so quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want to feel like I belong somewhere, even if it’s only temporary,” you tried to explain.

Before Billy could say another word, you turned, lifting your hair out of the way so he could put the necklace around your neck. The feel of cold metal against your skin and the weight of the choker around your neck had you letting out a gentle sigh; he might not have been able to want you in the same way, but you could at least be happy that he wanted you.

Turning, you leaned to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before excusing yourself, telling him you needed to grab something from your room before you left.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the restaurant  and, when you arrived, you were rendered speechless by the opulence. Billy was clearly well known and the staff couldn’t do enough for him, taking your coats before leading you to a secluded table by the window with views of the Hudson. You were too distracted by the view to pay much attention to the conversation going on between Billy and the maître d' - it was something about a rare wine they’d been saving.

Once you were seated, you realised that there were no menus. Billy explained that they used a set menu and, honestly, you felt a little relieved that you wouldn’t have to try and choose for yourself when there was so much to distract you.

Within minutes you each had a drink; a deep, sweet red wine that you were told would pair excellently with the night's menu. Then came your entree. 

You frowned, comparing yours to Billy’s, wondering why they looked different.

“It’s blood,” Billy explained, noticing your confusion. “They cater to vampires and humans here.”

“Oh,” you remarked, not sure why the thought left you feeling uncomfortable.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. “Me having someone else’s blood in front of you?”

Yes, you wanted to say, but you knew you didn’t have the right. He wasn’t yours.

“No. I guess I always knew that you had other blood. It’s just -” you let out a huff, frustrated that you couldn’t find the words to explain it.

All the things he could taste when he drank your blood, now he was sitting across from you tasting those things in someone else. It felt almost like a betrayal, even though you knew that wasn’t what it was.

“It doesn’t compare to your blood. It doesn’t even come close,” Billy told you, and that settled you a little.

Taking a breath, your attention turned to your own food, knowing you couldn’t begrudge a vampire his blood. You wanted him to eat and enjoy the evening.

About twenty minutes in, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and were annoyed to find a familiar face waiting for you as you washed your hands.

“Having a nice evening?” Madani asked with none of her usual concern.

“Very nice, thank you,” you answered pointedly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to realise how much danger you’re in.”

“I’m not in danger. Billy hasn’t hurt anyone. If you want to keep me safe, you should go find Krista, she’s the only one who’s tried to bite me,” you snapped, patience quickly running out.

“You’ve seen Krista Dumont?” Madani asked, surprised. You nodded. “When?”

“Last night. She crashed Billy’s party and tried to bite me.”

“She’s a vampire?”

“Yes, and before you ask, no it wasn’t Billy.” You finished drying your hands and stepped past her towards the door. “Please just leave me alone.”

Returning to the table, you decided not to mention anything to Billy, hoping it was the last you’d see of Madani. Now that she knew Krista was alive, surely she’d leave Billy alone.

You continued to eat and made small talk, keeping the conversation light, both avoiding the more serious topics you’d already covered at the penthouse. And, when the main course was put out in front of you, you decided to do something to make things a little more entertaining for the both of you.

“Do you have your phone?” You asked him, gaze shyly dropping to the table.

“Of course, why?”

“I figured we could have some fun again.”

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds, not understanding what you were trying to suggest. You bit your lip as your cheeks warmed and, finally, the penny dropped.

“You mean...?” he asked, lips pulling into a grin.

“Last night we couldn’t see each other, so I thought...” you tried to explain.

Billy didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could hear your racing heart. You were close enough that you could see his eyes get darker as his pupils dilated, and you heard the hitch in his breath. You held his gaze, barely breathing as he pulled his phone from his jacket and placed it on the table, watching as he unlocked it and opened the app that controlled the toy.

But, then, he hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, running your teeth over your lower lip again, struggling to find the words.

“Last night was... fun. I liked knowing you were thinking about me as much as I was thinking about you. When I know you’re thinking about me I...” your words caught on the lump in your throat.

“You can tell me,” he prompted quietly.

“You make me feel brave. When I’m with you, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could do anything.” you admitted. 

There was so much more you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to tell him but, after your conversation back at the penthouse, it didn’t seem fair. He wasn’t yours, he never would be. And you would only temporarily be his.

You sat a little straighter when the vibrations started, thighs clenching together beneath the table. Sucking your lower lip, you forced yourself to look him in the eye and let him see what he was doing to you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “you were right; it’s a lot more fun when I can see your face.”

His free hand reached across the table to hold yours while the other swiped at his phone, changing the intensity of the vibrations. Your fingers tensed against his and Billy smiled.

“How is everything this evening?” The waiter asked, stopping by to refill your glasses, oblivious to what was going on.

“It’s amazing,” you answered, barely tearing your eyes from Billy, who struggled to hold back a laugh.

The waiter said something about dessert and left you to finish your main course.

Billy continued making small talk as you ate, occasionally and very brazenly reaching for his phone mid-conversation to start or stop the toy, spending the rest of the night toying with you and trying to drive you crazy. A couple of times you came close to climax, but he knew you well enough to know just how to deny you. 

By the time you had to walk back to the car, your legs were trembling and you had to loop your arm through Billy’s for support.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“No, thank you, hummingbird.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as you walked across the parking lot. “After last night, I didn’t think -”

“Let’s not talk about last night,” you decided. “Tonight has been perfect and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”

He stopped to open the passenger side door for you but, before you could get in, Billy kissed you. Time seemed to stop and you were more than happy to let it, not even stopping to let yourself think about how this was the first time he’d kissed out in the open where anyone might see. The tiniest of moans slipped from you and you immediately felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours.

“What?” You asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know, you’re just so -” Billy gave a laugh of his own, “- cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Your cheeks started to warm, not sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.

“Yeah,” he answered, cupping your cheek and running his thumb across your lips. “You’re cute and innocent and sweet. And I love that about you.”

Before you could respond he was kissing you softly and opening the car door for you. And, for a moment, you were willing to forget about anything but his lips on yours.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” he finally ushered you into the car and, less than a minute later, you were on your way back home.

For most of the drive home, you were quiet, eyes fixed on the world beyond the car window, taking in the sights of the city late at night. It seemed to you like New York really was the city that never slept. From time to time, you glanced at Billy, smiling when his gaze caught yours.

There was a feeling of dread in your chest when he finally pulled into his space in the underground parking lot and killed the engine. When he moved to get out of the car, you found yourself reaching for him. 

Billy looked at you, puzzled.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet,” you told him.

He nodded as if he felt exactly the same way before leaning in to kiss you softly. His hand cupped your cheek but, soon enough, it was drifting down to your neck and, then, as the kiss continued, it started to sink lower. It came to rest over your racing heart, his fingers tenderly squeezing your breast through your dress.

You shifted closer, fingers tangling in his hair, turning the kiss a little more desperate. Your other hand slipped down the front of his shirt to his belt and clumsily started to undo it. As you fumbled, Billy helped, pulling open his belt before helping you with the button and zipper of his pants.

A moan slipped from his lips the second you reached in to pull his cock out, the kiss momentarily faltering when you started to stroke him. You moaned in return when you felt him grow hard in your grasp. You pulled back from the kiss to look at him, taking in the look of lust on his face before your gaze dropped to your hand as it wrung around his shaft. 

The glistening tip had you licking your lips, pulling your legs up onto your seat so you could lean over the centre console. Billy started to say something but quickly fell silent as your lips wrapped around the swollen tip of his cock, your tongue lapping up the pre-cum that had accumulated there in a way that betrayed that this was something you’d done before.

Billy swore, groaning your name as you slowly started to take him into your mouth, continuing to stroke him as you did. It wasn’t long before you felt his fingers tangling in your hair. Your lips sank lower and lower, taking more of him. Your movements slow, deliberate. In a way, you were showing off - this was something you knew how to do well.

“Fuck, little hummingbird,” he groaned when you lips reached far enough to meet your hand at the base of his cock.

You would have smiled if your mouth hadn’t been full. When you pulled back a little, you managed to look up at him through your eyelashes, the tip of his cock still in your mouth, just in time to see Billy reaching for his phone.

Fuck. Your whole body tensed as the toy started to vibrate and, for a second, you froze.

“Don’t stop,” it sounded like a breathless command and you had every intention of following it, quickly returning to what you’d been doing.

Billy didn’t mess around, didn’t waste time, he cranked the vibrations up to the highest setting and turned things into a race against time.

His moans got louder the more of him you took and you could feel him throbbing. You drew your cheeks in and sucked, letting you little moans of your own. Every time you sank down, you felt his hand gently pressing against the back of your head urging you to take even more. Your eyes started to water a little when he hit the back of your throat but you refused to stop. You pulled back and took a breath before sinking down the length of him again, relaxing yourself as he slid into your throat.

“That’s it,” he gasped, “your mouth feels so fucking good...”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning with the things that Billy was saying and the way he was moaning as you dragged your lips up and down his shaft, but there was something empowering about it too. You liked knowing that you could make him tremble. Your free hand moved to your neck, fingers brushing against the necklace, wanting nothing more than to belong to him in that moment, to be nothing but his.

You started to moan even louder, too overwhelmed to even think about holding back, trembling and tensing as you started to come.

“Fuck... I’m gonna come,” he warned. Pulling his hand from your hair so you could pull back if you wanted.

But you didn’t want to pull back, instead you doubled down, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft with your tongue.

Billy swore and gave you one last grunt of warning before he started to pulse in your mouth and you felt him spill onto your tongue. You closed your eyes tight and swallowed everything, revelling in his desperate groans.

Once you were done, you pulled away slowly, letting him fall from your lips. Your cheeks burned as you turned away to wipe any traces of cum from around your mouth, not looking back again until his hand found yours.

“You okay? He asked softly. All you could do was nod. His hand cupped your cheek and you found that you could barely meet his gaze. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You wanted to do that, right?”

“Yeah, I -” you started to answer but quickly trailing off, hating that you didn’t have the words to describe what you wanted.

Your whole face felt hot, trapped between how you felt and how you thought you were supposed to feel. Despite all the time you’d spent with him, the things you’d done since leaving home, the shame was hard to shake.

“It’s silly,” you shrugged. “I’ve never enjoyed doing that before. I was always told women weren’t supposed to enjoy it, but with you...”

The press of his hand on your cheek became a little firmer, ensuring that your eyes stayed on him.

“That’s bullshit. You’re allowed to enjoy it - you’re allowed to enjoy everything we do together. We’re equals in this. If there’s something you don’t like then you don’t have to do it,” he told you.

Before you could answer, he was leaning towards you, making a point of kissing you deeply - something no other guy had ever done after finishing in your mouth - and leaving you with no doubts.

You didn’t speak again until he pulled back and you caught him looking at you with an expression that fell somewhere between questioning and sympathetic. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I just think I’m starting to understand you a little better.” You didn’t respond, you just gave him a questioning look until he continued. “No one had gone down on you before, but you’ve obviously given a blowjob before... that says a lot about the guys you’ve been with.”

Again, you didn’t respond - you didn’t know what you were supposed to say to something like that.

“Now, come on, it really is getting late,” he said a moment later.

You both got out of the car and it wasn’t long before Billy’s hand found yours, keeping hold of you until you arrived back in the penthouse, and only letting go because his phone was ringing.

He gave you a look before letting out a sigh, and you took that as your cue to head to bed. Pressing your lips to his cheek, you held him tight for a few seconds, before starting towards your rooms, closing the door just as Billy angrily answered his phone.

“What, Frank?”

End Note : Again, I got carried away with the cuteness and this ended up really long 😅 The next chapter is also going to be pretty long too and, as a heads up next chapter is going to be particularly smutty, but it's also going to contain some potentially triggering stuff, so please make sure you read the warning on next weeks chapter!!

As always, thanks so much for reading/liking/commenting/reblogging I really love how much you all seem to be genuinely enjoying this fic! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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@ashy-kit

UGH MATT YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT!!! I'm losing my MIND!! Now poor reader is trouble that could have PROBABLY BEEN AVOIDED! Or at least Matt would know where she is smh.

Beautiful chapter, and I'm so excited to read more! Take Care author <3

Set Heaven on Fire

Wake Up, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: implied non-con/sexual assault, misogynistic language, swearing, angst

a/n: I feel really unsure about this chapter so PLEASE like, comment, and/or reblog to tell me you like it! Some angst (before the hurt) before the fluff. 

w/c: 3.3k

A heather gray pea coat passed through your peripheral vision and the sight, combined with the wafts of that deep sticky cologne, made you catch your breath. 

Told you that I’d come for you, Princess. 

Eyes darting around wildly, you meekly shuffled forward in line, inching closer to the hotel employee who looked as frantic as you felt. Breathing as deeply as you could, you tried to calm your stuttering heart. Why did I ever agree to this?? What if he’s here?

You and Matt were currently checking in at the venue of the annual Criminal Law Conference. A conference that you normally wouldn’t attend—especially since you were approaching a year as volunteer coordinator and thus the anniversary of the internal investigation that had ended so poorly—but this event was a rather intimate affair and attendees were encouraged to bring their partners. Matt had practically begged you to come, and you were not immune to his signature puppy dog eyes. According to him and Foggy, there were educational sessions and discussion forums during the day, but prestigious networking events at night—similar to the gala you'd attended together so long ago. You couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of that dreadful night.  

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you into a solid chest. With a small squeak, you allowed yourself to fall against the warm body behind you.

“Breathe, sweet girl.” The deep rumble spilled from Matthew Murdock’s lips, giving you a point of focus. You dutifully obeyed his instructions, inhaling a strong breath and letting it out slowly. 

“That’s my good girl,” Matt purred, warming your body with his subtle flirt. “What’s got you so worked up, angel?” You could feel the eyes of the other attorneys in line falling on the pair of you. 

“Dunno.” You murmured in response, shifting in his arms so you could bury your face in his neck to hide from the crowd’s collective gaze. “I just…thought I saw someone.” 

“Snyder?” Matt’s brow pinched as he took his focus off of you for a moment to search for any sign of the crone. 

“Uh, yah.” You whispered, but your heartbeat stumbled. Why were you lying? Who had you thought you’d seen? Was it just a cover because he was the one making you nervous? Oh god, he was totally making you nervous. 

“The line is moving again.” Your quiet, anxious voice cascaded over him once more and he decided to drop the inquiry, for now. You didn’t seem to be in a great headspace for an interrogation. 

“Thanks, angel. Guide me?” He gave a pronounced pout, coupled with his aforementioned puppy dog eyes, hoping the expression would lighten your mood. It seemed to work marginally as he heard the small smile in your sweet voice as you spoke again. 

“Always, love.” You carefully untangled yourself from his grasp, sliding his left hand to the crook of your right elbow. The two of you moved forward with the crowd, your place in line just shy of the front desk at this point. 

“412, 414, 416. We’re in this room here. Hold my bag for a second?” You waited for Matt’s nod before handing over your suitcase so that you could insert the key card in the door. 

Once inside, and away from the prying eyes of your colleagues, you felt the tension seep out of your body. Matt’s hand slipped from your arm, making you frown. He walked into the room ahead of you. 

“Sorry for all the PDA back there, everyone was looking so I…” His voice was soft, almost nervous. 

Sitting on the bed, he removed his glasses and nervously rubbed at his face. 

“That’s not what made me anxious, Matty. I promise.” You plopped down next to him, leaning onto his shoulder. With one hand on the small of his back, you nudged his chin with a single finger so that your foreheads could rest against each other.

“You’re sure?” The undercurrent of fear in his tone didn’t go unnoticed. Matt’s self-doubt didn’t rear its head often around you at the beginning of your pretend relationship, but, as he began to trust you implicitly, he couldn’t quite keep his personal demons at bay. Thankfully, you were more than willing to reassure him when his worries surfaced. 

“Absolutely certain, darling. You know that I get stressed in crowds. Besides, I could never complain about being held by the Matthew Murdock. Do you know how many women would kill for that opportunity?” You poked his cheek, making him smile. 

The lawyer blushed, ducking his head with a small grin. You grinned at him in return. “It’s true. They’re practically lining up just to catch a meager glance from you.” 

Matt snickered. “I don’t know about lining up…”

You looked at him, face softening. “I’m very lucky to have a fake boyfriend like you, darling. I think about that a lot.” Your heart rate picked up as Matt moved closer. 

“You think about me a lot?” Matt’s eyes were dancing with heated mirth and it sent a jolt straight to your core. 

Heat rose in your face as Matt pressed in closer to you, slowly pushing you onto your back and boxing you in with his huge arms. 

“So what if I do, Matty?” Biting your lip, you internally cringed at how wobbly your attempted flirt sounded. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetness.” Matt rolled off of you, frowning, settling on his side next to you. Your heart fell as he distanced himself, as if you’d expected him to tear you apart right there on that bed. 

Recovering your dignity as well as you could, you nestled yourself against the pillows with a sigh. “Speaking of me being shy, could we, um, talk about something later? About us?” 

As if a switch had been flipped, Matt’s body stiffened next to you, his blank eyes growing wide and his demeanor becoming gruff. “Can it wait until after tonight?”

Your heart sank at his reaction. “Of-of course, Matty. How long until I have to put my game face on?”

“Well, there’s a social thing in a couple hours or so, but we do not need to stay long.” Matt’s voice was almost…stern?

Something about his new mood set you on edge. You’d been trying to be more physically affectionate with him in place of outright confessing your feelings. (Every time you thought about admitting how much you liked him, your throat felt like it was closing up, so you had avoided the topic until this moment.) 

Had you been making Matt uncomfortable? Since you’d gotten here, he just seemed…off. The brief flirting session had indicated to you that it was just nerves because of his peers, but now you weren’t so sure. You shuffled around on the bed uneasily, deciding on your next move. 

“Oh, ok. I’ll get ready then.” Your voice was timid as you slid off the bed. Padding into the pristine bathroom, you turned the shower on before letting your eyes fill with tears. He doesn’t want you. He never will. 

Matt’s chest clenched as he smelled salt on the stale air of the hotel room. You were crying in the bathroom, barely 10 feet away from him and yet he was entirely powerless. The sound of your heart rate rising as your body exuded anxiety taunted him relentlessly. 

After talking with Foggy and Karen a few weeks ago, he’d been trying to muster up the courage to ask you out properly. Until today, he’d even had hope that you’d be excited to be in a more legitimate relationship with him—clearly his friends were mistaken. His presence did nothing but drive your vitals through the roof but he wasn’t willing to let you go just yet. 

He’d tried to find the spark that had been there during your first kiss a few weeks ago, but the shakiness in your sweet little voice clearly signaled fear. You didn’t want to do this with him anymore. 

That was what you’d wanted to talk to him about, right? It had to be. “About us?” Your soft wavering voice had crushed him. He’d been waiting for this specific shoe to drop for weeks, but the waves of shock and hurt hit him like a bus anyway. 

Emotion welled up in his throat and he swallowed painfully, trying to hold back the roiling storm in his chest. It was cruel to keep you here with him if you didn’t want to be. Tonight, he’d set you free. 

Fidgeting with the strands of your wet hair, you let out a sigh. Your eyes were bloodshot to the point that you were concerned makeup wouldn’t be able to hide the fact that you’d been crying. An anxiety-inducing cherry on top of the shitty day you’d ended up having. 

A quiet knock on the door drew a small squeak out of you. “Yah?” 

“Hey, uh, you don’t need to come tonight, sweetness. You’ve done enough. Don’t want to force you.” 

Tilting your head in confusion, you peeled the door open to reveal a formally dressed Matt, glasses obscuring his stony gaze. 

“You…you don’t want me to come?” You whispered, throat closing up while your heart pounded. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you there, I just—“

“Did I do something wrong?” You desperately searched Matt’s face for any indicator that he was lying, his sweet self trying to spare you anxiety or something. 

“No, of course not, I didn’t mean—“ 

“Then what did you mean, Matt? I must’ve done something, you’re clearly upset!” You were almost angry now. After everything the two of you had been through and suddenly you having feelings was a deal breaker? Like you just couldn’t help yourself around him anymore?

“You just don’t need to be there, so I’m not going to force you—“

“Force me? Where is this coming from, Matt? Is this because of what I said earlier? About wanting to talk? Because we don’t have to, we can just—“

“Just what, keep pretending to be in love with each other? Kissing and holding hands and bantering like one of us isn’t going to get attached? That’s not fair to either of us.” Matt was yelling now, fists clenched. 

“I—I didn’t know you felt this way about someone getting attached. I wouldn’t have said anything, I—“

“Yeah because that would’ve solved everything, right? Just lying to my face until I didn’t need you anymore?” Jaw set with rage, you realized you weren’t looking at Matt Murdock, but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

“Matt—“ You tried to reason with the raging force in front of you, but he was having none of it. 

“Go home,” Matt growled your name in a way that made you flinch. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I’m sorry.” With one last angry murmur, he straightened his tie and disappeared through the room’s door, leaving you to crumble to the floor with a new flow of sobs. How had tonight unraveled so quickly? 

Breathing eventually falling into a controllable rhythm, you hastily wiped at your face and set off on wobbly legs to grab your suitcase. Shooting a text to Marci to let her know that you had tried to confess your feelings and it ended up being a huge mistake, you steeled yourself before turning your back on the room you’d planned on sharing with the man you had feelings for. 

Whipping open the door, you kept your head down and took a step toward the elevators, running head first into Beatrice Snyder. 

Matt’s jaw was painfully clenched by the time he reached the ballroom. He’d commit a litany of sins in his life, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would be damned for what he did to you tonight. While it was not your fault that you didn’t return his feelings, his hurt quickly turned to anger. 

Anger was familiar. Anger was safe. Rejection wasn’t. 

Stepping over to the bar, he failed to return the bartender’s smile and polite tone. “Whiskey, double.” 

Downing the glass the moment it was set in front of him, he slammed it back to the bar top. “Refill.” Then, remembering his manners, “Please.” 

Feeling a presence over his shoulder, he cursed his cruel God for letting Foggy find him before he was sufficiently wasted. 

“Going a little hard for a work event, eh Murdock?” Foggy’s chuckle was humorless and a bit nervous as he gave his friend a once-over. “Where’s your better half?” 

“Gone. Sent her home.” Matt downed the second glass of liquor, refusing to let down his guard again tonight. 

“And as obvious as it is that you’re having a great time on your own, why, pray tell, did you do that?” Foggy’s tone was level, but Matt could hear his frustration simmering beneath the surface. 

“She knows, Fog. I don’t know how but she knows that I like her. And she doesn’t feel the same way. So I didn’t see the point of fooling myself any longer. It wasn’t fair to her.” 

“Matt, bud—“ Foggy reached for Matt’s arm but he jerked away from the offered touch. 

“What, Fog? Can you honestly tell me that any of this has been kind to her? I know you expected this to become real at some point, but clearly that’s not going to happen. I think we both just need some time.” The thought of being apart from you was excruciating, but he’d dug this grave himself. 

“Did she say that? Matt, what on earth—“ Foggy was clearly about to chew him out, but someone else beat him to it. 

“Murdock, I have a bone to pick with you!” Marci’s voice was angry and loud, sending a spike of pain through Matt’s pounding eardrums. 

“Babe, maybe it’s best if we—“ Foggy placated, his hands raised in surrender and Marci stormed towards the bar. 

“Save it, Foggy Bear. Matthew Motherfucking Murdock what the fuck did you do?” A well-manicured hand shoved Matt’s chest and, while he would’ve been able to stop it, he took the punishment in stride. It was nowhere close to what he deserved. 

“You’re going to need to be more specific.” Matt remarked drily. 

“Oh, spare me your attitude. You seriously blew up on her because she likes you? How goddamn childish. After everything she’s done for you—“ 

“Wait, what?” Matt and Foggy spoke in unison, brows furrowing in tandem. 

“Let’s drop the innocent act, ok, it’s not a good look. If you didn’t feel the same way, you could have let her down easy instead of blowing up on her and leaving her alone.” Marci rolled her eyes, waving down the bartender. 

“I didn’t—“ Matt’s chest felt tight. It wasn’t possible, you’d seemed so nervous around him. You’d lied to him about the reason. 

“Marce, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Matt, care to shed some light on that?” Crossing his arms, Foggy turned back to his legal partner with a raised brow. 

“I—I thought she was tired of pretending. She said she wanted to talk and she’s been jumpy all day, I assumed she wanted to ‘break up’” Matt didn’t realize how pathetic that explanation was until saying it out loud. 

“Oh my god, you kicked her out and you didn’t even know what she wanted to talk about!? Murdock of all the idiots—“ Foggy was overtly upset now, anger bleeding into his words. 

“I know, Fog. I fucked up. Shit, I have to go find her.” Dread was washing over his body like sub zero water. What the fuck had he done. 

“Yah, man. You do. And I’d hurry.” 

Matt clasped Foggy’s shoulder, making a beeline for the exit. 

Beatrice Snyder smiled at you like a feral cat snarling at its prey. Your name rolled off her tongue like a drop of poison onto your skin. 

“So nice to see you again, dear. Where’s your handsome boyfriend?” 

“Do-downstairs.”

“And you’re leaving without him? Aw, you poor thing. What happened, did the two of you have a lover’s quarrel? Don’t tell me you broke up!” Her manicured hand fell over her heart in a gesture of mock horror. 

“No, he just—“ You started. 

“No need to explain yourself to me, dear,” The cruel woman  spat the term of endearment at you. “You've clearly been through enough already.” Her eyes hardened with judgement. 

A deep voice cleared their throat behind you and all of the hair on your neck stood up. 

Notes of tobacco and bourbon mingled poorly on the air around you, accelerating your nausea. Please do not let this be happening. Please, someone, anyone don’t let it be him. 

“Ah, yes. How rude of me. I should introduce you to the new associate attorney at HCB: James Lannister.” Snyder bared her fangs at you again, gesturing to a force behind you. 

You were going to be sick. The walls were closing in around you. Your body froze, petrified with horror as a gnarled hand crept over your shoulder. 

“It’s been too long, little Princess. You’ve looked better.” James Lannister strode around you, his piercing gray eyes lingering on your body, making your stomach churn. Your nightmares had immortalized him—with his greasy blond hair and broad, towering frame. His smile revealed inhumanly white teeth and a dangerous glint in his eyes. Your mouth felt like it was welded shut, your tongue a chunk of solid lead that was slowly choking you. “Nothing to say to me, huh? No apology?”

Fingers clenching around the handle of your suitcase, you took a step backwards in lieu of a response. Lannister’s wandering hands snatched your arm in a vice grip. “I think you and I need to have a little chat, Princess.” Snyder grinned as he began to drag you towards the stairwell, your suitcase falling to the carpet of the hallway with an inaudible thunk.

“Karma’s a bitch, dear. I’d better get downstairs, I’m sure Matthew would love to know what his sweet little thing is up to when he’s not around to keep her in line.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes again at the thought of poor Matt, who already hated you, being subjected to Snyder’s falsehoods. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just leave him alone!” Snyder ignored you as Lannister cackled. 

“Aw, the little whore found someone else she cares about, did she?” You were sobbing now, struggling against his humongous strength, weakly battering him with your fists as you tried to run after Snyder. “Shut up, you vile slut. She can’t help you. You’re my gift for joining the firm.” His rough fingertip traced a line over your jaw and you flinched backward as far as you could. 

Pulling your arm downwards as hard as you could, you broke free of his grip and stumbled back up the cement stairs, crying out as you rolled your ankle in your haste to escape. Throwing you down to the nearest landing, Lannister snarled. “That’s it, you little bitch.” Ripping a handgun from his back pocket, he pulled back the hammer and aimed at your pounding head. “Another peep out of you and you’ll never see him again. Get up.” 

The floor felt liquid beneath you as your unsteady legs found their way into a standing position. You raised your hands, terrified into submission once again. 

The pair of you made your way down to the ground level and out through a back door, where two other men dressed in suits were waiting. They grinned their sharp teeth at you, zip tying your hands together and stuffing a gag in your mouth. Hurling you into a waiting van, Lannister snickered. “Tonight I get pay back, Princess. It’ll be just like old times, you’ll see.” 

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

Friendly reminder with DareDevil Born Again coming to us…

MATT MURDOCK IS BLIND, HE’S NOT FUCKING FAKING IT.

Matt’s other senses are heightened, but he is in fact blind. Every time a new seasons about to roll through we see the he’s faking it posts :/

Oh god why would you do this to me Bella!? This is heartbreaking 😭💔

Don't Walk Away [Part One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frank is a good man–you learned that the day he brought your dog Lucky into your life. The two of you soon began a relationship afterwards, one that was rather unconventional with how often Frank was always on the road. But one night when he's back, you're hit with the realization that you're in love with him. Noticing your nerves, Frank eventually pulls the truth out of you–and then you're left confused and heartbroken when you wake up to find him gone the next morning.

Warnings: 18+; Angst with a happy ending (in part two), emotional hurt/comfort, smut (in part two), love confession

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: This was going to be a one part thing but I wanted to give this story everything I needed to which meant it was growing into something bigger. So there will be a part two coming that has the happy ending and smut. For now, this is angst. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Humming absently to yourself, you sealed the lid on the tupperware container of the leftover pasta you’d made for dinner. A crisp breeze made its way through the open windows in your kitchen, that comforting and familiar scent of autumn soon approaching wafting inside and filling your house. You loved this time of year when the nights finally cooled off and you didn’t have beads of sweat rolling down your back from the scorching heat of the day. There was something serene and calming about having your windows open at night, the sounds of the crickets outside a peaceful background to your evenings. 

As you made your way over to the refrigerator, you heard the sound of a car rolling to a stop somewhere along the street out front, the noise louder than usual with your windows wide open. You saw Lucky raise her head from off the kitchen floor, perking up at the noise as you opened the refrigerator door and placed the container of leftover pasta inside. Lucky let out a soft whine from the floor next, your attention fully turning down towards your dog as you shut the fridge.

“It’s just a car, girl,” you told her. “Nothing to be worried about.”

Making your way towards your dishwasher, you pulled the door open and slid out the bottom rack. Turning, you began pulling the dirty pots and bowls out of the sink from this evening and setting them one by one inside of the dishwasher. The loud thud of a car door closing outside rang out through your kitchen and Lucky jumped up from the floor. You paused, half-bent over the dishwasher as your focus shifted to her. She was standing perfectly at attention facing the living room, her entire body absolutely still except for her cropped tail. It was doing that hopeful, eager wag she would get where her tail would wag exactly three times before it stopped for a couple of seconds only to wag three more times. 

And she only ever acted like this when she noticed Frank was back.

“Is your daddy here?” you asked Lucky.

Her head turned back towards you, a happy glint in her eyes. You couldn’t contain your own excitement either, a large grin slipping onto your lips as you slid the dishrack back before closing the dishwasher door. Heading to the sink, you washed your hands, your smile only growing when you heard Lucky softly whining in barely contained joy.

By the time you were drying your hands on the kitchen towel, you heard a knock coming from the front door. Lucky bolted off towards it immediately, her excited barks loudly echoing through your previously quiet house. Making your way out of your kitchen and to the living room after her, you could hear Frank’s laughter coming through the open windows. The warm, resonate sound of it had you picking up your pace as you headed to the front door. It had been awhile since Frank had last stopped by and you'd certainly missed him. 

Unlocking the door, you hurriedly pulled it open to reveal Frank Castle standing on your doorstep–or Pete Castiglione as everyone else in the world knew him as. But you had come to know him for exactly who he was shortly after the night you met him eight months ago now. 

He was the one who’d brought Lucky into the animal hospital you’d been working at late at night. She’d been in terrible shape, barely holding on from the abuse she had clearly suffered from, and she had been covered in injuries from what appeared to be dog fights. He’d been in a panic about her, begging you to do whatever you could to save her that night when he’d barged in through the front doors carrying her limp body in his arms. Frank had barely left the animal hospital’s parking lot for the entire week she’d been in your care. He had always been checking in on her, asking if there was anything he could do. 

It wasn’t long before you’d looked into who he was, curious about the man who cared so much about an abused dog that supposedly wasn’t his dog–and then you’d managed to uncover his past. You’d been a bit wary of him at first, but Frank had only ever been kind and respectful to you and your colleagues. It was clear he had a big heart judging by how much he cared for the dog he’d rescued and couldn’t seem to let go of. Though when she was finally ready to go home and recover, you’d expected he would want to take her with him, but he’d surprised you when he had told you that he couldn’t. He was apparently living on the road for now, traveling from state to state without a real home, trying to find where he belonged. He had stayed only long enough to make sure she was healed and safe before he left.

You had ended up taking her in and naming her Lucky–because she was lucky Frank had been the one to find her and rescue her that night. But you’d also referred to her as your good luck charm because two weeks later, Frank had returned to the animal hospital you worked at and was asking about her. When he learned you’d been the one to give her a home, he’d asked if he could see her again. It was Lucky who had ultimately brought you and Frank together; she was the reason the pair of you had eventually fallen into the unconventional relationship you’d had for months now while Frank continued to live his life on the road trying to find himself–though you always wondered if he was really just punishing himself. 

Pulling the screen door open, Frank stepped inside with a broad smile spread wide across his face, his warm brown eyes focused on you. The sight of him had your heart feeling ready to burst, a large smile spreading onto your own lips in return. Lucky quickly began excitedly hopping around by Frank’s legs, demanding attention as happy barks flew out of her one after another. She only quieted when he'd finally tore his eyes from you and focused his attention on her.

“Hey girl,” Frank greeted Lucky. “You missed me, did ya?”

He took two steps inside before swiftly dropping down to his knees on the floor beside her. Lucky was quick to bombard him in a series of kisses straight away, only further encouraged by his large hands scratching behind her ears. Laughing lightly at the pair of them, you closed the front door and locked it before turning and leaning against it, watching the both of them with that smile lingering on your lips. Lucky’s entire lower half wiggled back and forth in delight as Frank continued to enthusiastically scratch behind her ears, muttering sweet words of praise to her. The reunions between the two of them had always went like this whenever Frank showed back up at your place, and it always warmed your heart to watch them together.

It was a few minutes before Lucky finally calmed, lowering to sit on her haunches in front of Frank with her tongue happily hanging out of her mouth looking as if she was smiling herself. Frank glanced up at you, one hand still absently petting Lucky as he directed that broad smile still on his face at you. The sight of it had your heart almost skipping a beat–it had been two weeks since you'd last had the opportunity to see that smile in person.

His attention not leaving you, he slipped his duffle bag from off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor by his feet. “How’s my favorite girl?” he asked.

“Feeling a little left out of this reunion,” you teased.

“Well I can’t have that now can I?” he mused.

He gave Lucky two more pats on her head before he rose back up to his feet, eyeing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly sauntered towards you. You quirked a brow at him, the corner of your lips curving even higher upwards. The moment he was within reach, his hands were on your hips. You could feel the warmth of them seeping past the thin fabric of your sweatpants, his fingers firmly gripping you in an almost possessive way. He stepped in closer to you, closing the distance between you both as his face hovered just before yours. Your own hands rose up, landing on his chest just over his dark jacket. Your eyes locked onto his brown ones, spotting that familiar light in them they always had when he was with you. Though every time he said goodbye to you before heading out to his truck, ready to get back on the road again, you swore you saw that light extinguish behind his eyes.

“What about you, beautiful?” Frank asked, his voice a gentle rumble in your ears as he cocked his head to the side. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone, Frank,” you assured him, hands snaking their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him in closer to you. “And I’m always happy to see you.”

“Is that right?” he murmured.

Frank lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his eyes closing. Yours closed seconds later, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips in anticipation of your greeting from him. He was so close to you that his lips brushed yours when he spoke next. 

“How much did ya miss me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, your arms pulled him in the rest of the way to you as you tilted your face up, capturing his lips with your own. It surprised you that his lips were always so soft every single time you kissed him because everything about Frank usually screamed the opposite of soft. And right now those lips of his were moving so deliberate and slow against yours over and over again, the feel of them finally back on yours making you suddenly breathless. You quickly found yourself getting lost in him, your body melting into his as he pressed you further back into the front door. The scent of leather and gasoline and smoke filled your nose as your mind went blank to everything else but him. Frank took another step into you, his hands sensually sliding their way down your hips and around towards your ass as he kissed you exactly like a man who'd been gone for two weeks would. 

Kissing Frank for you was vastly different than kissing anyone else you ever had before. With Frank, every kiss and every touch from him always felt full of passion and something more . Something more than just lust and desire and the urge to scratch an itch. You’d never experienced that with anyone else but him, and you’d always been left wondering what that had meant.

When you felt Frank’s tongue drag its way along your lower lip so painfully slow and purposeful, you couldn't resist the faint moan that fell out of your mouth. Frank swallowed down the sound before he squeezed your ass in his large hands. Then he pulled away from you just a bit, chuckling at the whine you emitted in protest. 

"Much as I'd love to continue this, beautiful," Frank murmured, pausing to place a sweet kiss back to your lips, "It's been hours since I ate. Been drivin' all day trying to get back to you before you went to bed. D’ya mind if we catch up while I eat?"

Your right hand withdrew from its place around his neck, gradually making its way towards his face where you began to affectionately stroke his stubbled cheek. Frank’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you did. It was a moment before you answered, just enjoying the slight rasp of his beard against your fingertips, content that he was here again. Though you loved the slightly outgrown beard he always showed up with, clearly not having had a chance to shave in a few days each time you saw him again. 

"Only if you don't eat that packaged shit in your bag," you replied, gesturing your head at his duffle bag with a grimace. "I just finished dinner a bit ago, I can reheat you some of the pasta I made."

Frank's smile widened further, his hands gripping your ass firmly again. "You're too good to me, sweetheart," he told you. 

"Well somebody needs to make sure you're eating more than tuna fish from a bag and beef jerky," you shot back, nails playfully scratching along his jawline. "I need to make sure you're not malnourished out there on the road."

"Oh do you now?" he asked, his hands releasing you.

"Mhmm,” you hummed out as Frank stepped back from you, a grin forming on his lips. “You make sure you take those dirty things off before you make yourself comfortable, though," you told him, gesturing a finger down at his black boots.

Frank's grin curled up even higher before he dipped his head once in a single nod. "Yes, ma'am."

You hummed out a pleased noise before turning and making your way back to the kitchen. It came as no surprise to you that Lucky didn't follow after you, choosing to stay behind with Frank as he gathered his bag and took his boots off. 

Opening the refrigerator door, you pulled out the container of pasta you'd only minutes ago put away before setting it on the kitchen counter. Next you reached up into a cabinet, pulling down a bowl and then grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer. Afterwards, you began scooping a generous portion of food into the bowl–you knew damn well Frank ate like shit when he wasn't with you. You also knew he loved your cooking. 

As you opened the microwave door, you heard Frank's tired feet shuffling their way towards the kitchen. By the time the pasta had begun reheating in the microwave, Frank was at your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling the back of you into the front of him. He buried his face into your neck and you tilted your head, giving him easier access as your eyes fell closed. He nuzzled quietly against your skin for a moment, the scratch of his beard almost a tickle.

“Missed you,” he murmured into your neck.

Your hands landed on top of his arms where they were wrapped around your waist, a contented sigh slipping out of your lips. You missed him every single day he was gone, constantly checking your phone for a new text or a call or a voicemail from him. Always desperate for anything at all from him. For the past few months you’d found yourself wishing he’d just stay one of these days instead of always slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder in a few days’ time, carrying your heart off with him as he drove away in his truck.

“You know you don’t always have to leave,” you told him quietly.

Frank inhaled an audible, deep breath, holding it for a long moment before he expelled it roughly. He soon drew his face from your neck as his arms began to unwind themselves from around your waist. Your stomach nervously twisted in knots at the physical distance he was clearly creating.

You’d had this conversation with him two times before. The first time it was mostly one-sided with you doing most of the talking. The second time had resulted in a fight. Frank had gotten incredibly upset with you and you hadn’t exactly understood why before he’d grabbed his bag and disappeared. You thought that was the end of things until he’d called you a few hours later apologizing profusely. Though you didn’t see him for almost three weeks after that. 

Before he could respond with anything, the microwave beeped loudly. The sound cut through the tension that had formed in the kitchen. Clearing your throat, you focused on grabbing the hot bowl from the microwave.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll grab you a beer?” you suggested, shooting him a strained smile over your shoulder.

For a moment Frank stood there silently just a foot behind you, an unreadable expression on his face. You could see the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he ground his teeth together–in anger or something else, you had no idea. It was a bit before he finally nodded, turning and shuffling his way towards your kitchen table. You watched him slide out a chair before sinking down into the seat. Lucky was at his side instantly, resting her head on his thigh.

With the steaming bowl of pasta in one hand, you made your way to the refrigerator and opened it. As you pulled out a beer for him, you could feel the weight of his stare on you.

“So what stories did you bring me back this time?” you asked him, trying to diffuse the tension as you shut the fridge door. 

Almost instantly his face lit up with a smile, another one of his deep, rumbling laughs filling your kitchen. Your nerves quickly melted away at the sound as you headed over towards him, depositing the bowl of pasta and beer in front of him on the table.

“Oh I got plenty of stories, sweetheart,” Frank told you, straightening in his chair as he grabbed the fork, hungrily spearing a few noodles.

Pulling the chair out beside his, you settled down into it before resting an elbow on the table. With a bright smile back on your face, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, listening intently as he began to animatedly fill you in on his past two weeks.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Slowly waking, your eyelids fluttered open only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom. It took your brain a moment to register the warmth that was at your back, though you smiled in the darkness when you remembered Frank was curled up behind you with his large hand resting on your hip under the sheets. 

The tension had quickly vanished between the pair of you while Frank had eaten and the two of you had caught up. Shortly afterwards, Frank had grabbed a shower while you’d been hurriedly closing up all of the windows in your house. Then you’d made your way to the bathroom and slipped out of your clothes, joining him under the warm spray where the two of you caught up with each other in another way. 

Now he was fast asleep behind you wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers. His breathing filled your bedroom with each soft and rhythmic exhale from his mouth. You always missed having him in your bed whenever he was off on the road. It always felt too big and empty without him here sharing it with you.

That thought hit you hard right in the chest and you winced. It had been nearing a year of this long distance relationship with Frank now, and even though you’d been aware of his situation of being on the road when you’d started it with him, you’d recently come to feel differently about it. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust that he wasn’t with anyone else–though at first you’d wondered about that–but there was something there that you hadn’t been able to put your finger on before. Some other reason that his constant coming and going had started to feel different to you. That you’d stopped being so open to it.

You slipped a hand up out of the sheets, rubbing the heel of it against your eyes. That nagging feeling was back again. It was the same one that had you feeling restless and like there was something missing whenever you thought about Frank lately. With a sigh you shifted in the sheets, carefully trying to maneuver your way out of the bed and away from him without waking him up. Though you knew he was usually completely exhausted whenever he turned up on your doorstep and would sleep through just about anything.

Quietly you made your way down the side of your bed, sneaking past Lucky who was contentedly passed out in her dog bed, curled up in a tight ball. You continued to tiptoe towards the door, exiting your bedroom before continuing to make your way down the short hallway and into your kitchen. You could feel that nagging, unnamable feeling eating away at you again as you stopped beside the kitchen counter, reaching a hand up and opening a cabinet before pulling down a glass. 

Silently you made your way over to the sink, filling the cup halfway with water before you turned, resting your back against the counter. You drew the glass to your lips, sipping on the cool liquid as your eyes focused on the dark hallway nearby. Despite the stillness of your house, if you listened closely, you could hear Frank’s even breaths drifting out of the bedroom. The sound of it brought a faint smile to your lips.

And that’s when it hit you. 

Your hand tightened around the cold glass as the realization came crashing into you all at once, nearly drowning you in the revelation. You wondered how you’d been so blind to what had been right in front of you for so long.

You had fallen in love with Frank.

It had happened somewhere between all those phone calls and text messages you’d shared with him these past eight months, along with those impromptu camping trips he had brought you and Lucky with him on. Somewhere between the nights he’d cooked you dinner and taken you to bed, showing you just how much he’d missed you while he was gone. All those times he’d shown up on your doorstep–sometimes with a bouquet of flowers or with breakfast and coffees in hand–you’d fallen for him. 

There was no denying it.

Though you immediately became terrified of the realization. You knew about Frank’s past. You knew he’d been married and he’d had two children. You knew that all three of them had been brutally murdered right in front of him. And you damn well knew he still thought about them everyday–he still had nightmares some nights when he was with you. Horrible ones that made you feel useless to help him in any other way besides offering him comfort as he wept into your shoulder in the middle of the night. 

How the hell could you tell him you loved him? Did you even tell him that? 

A nervous churning began in your stomach as your eyes dropped down to the almost empty glass in your trembling hand. You were in love with a man who wasn’t a physical constant in your life. Sure, Frank kept in touch with you on and off throughout the day every single day that he was gone, but he wasn’t here with you every day. And that’s what it was you’d found yourself wanting lately. But with what he’d lost and how he seemed to keep spending his days searching for something out there on the road, could he ever even be here with you?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you turned and dumped out the last bit of water in the sink before setting the glass on the counter. With a quivering exhale, you wrapped your arms around yourself before quietly tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Though the moment you entered, Frank began to stir in the sheets. You stopped instantly at the foot of the bed when you saw his head rise from off the pillow, his brows furrowing together.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Frank’s groggy voice asked.

Nervously you tucked some hair behind your ear, continuing back towards your side of the bed. You shook your head as you pulled the sheets further back, aware of Frank’s eyes following you through the darkness.

“No,” you answered quietly. “Just needed a glass of water.”

You slipped back onto the mattress, laying on your back this time as you turned your head along the pillow. You sent Frank a tight smile as you pulled the sheets back over yourself. A moment later you felt his hand sliding its way carefully up your neck, coming to cradle the side of your face. He carefully drew it further towards his, his thumb absently stroking your cheekbone with such tenderness that your heart stuttered in your chest. You swallowed hard, that tight band of nerves that had formed at your recent revelation in the kitchen a minute ago twisting noticeably in your gut. 

“You sure?” Frank asked.

Your brows twitched together briefly at his question. “Yeah, why?” you asked him cautiously.

“You seem…on edge,” Frank pointed out, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “Did I do somethin’?”

Instantly you shook your head, though your immediate denial only seemed to further pique his interest. He shifted on the mattress, drawing himself up onto an arm as he gazed down at you, brushing some hair from your face.

“What’s goin’ on.”

It wasn’t a question. You heard it in the tone of his voice, he knew something was wrong. Internally you cursed that Frank was such a perceptive man. 

Swallowing hard, you shook your head again as your gaze dropped down to his bare chest. The marks from your nails were still visible along his skin in the dimly lit room and your cheeks heated at the memory of your time with him in the shower earlier. But that heat quickly gave way to your nerves under Frank’s heavy stare.

You knew Frank had only ever been with you after the passing of his wife. He had never let anyone else in–he had never even slept with anyone else besides you after Maria had passed. And he’d opened up to you about a lot of the pain he carried over these past few months, too. But what you didn’t know was how he would react to this thing between you both suddenly being something more than what it had been for the past eight months. 

“Tell me,” Frank ordered.

“I just–”

You stopped, biting your bottom lip as those knots in your stomach from earlier twisted tighter and tighter. Fingers curling around the bedsheets, your eyes snapped shut. You weren’t sure if you could get the words out.

“You just what?” his gruff voice gently pressed.

Inhaling a trembling breath, you tried to find the courage to answer him. You knew he wouldn't drop this now. Maybe he’d surprise you–you hoped so–but if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to reciprocate your feelings. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that, either. Could Frank ever even love you? Maybe not now, but possibly someday? Would he ever even let himself feel that way for someone that wasn't Maria? You admittedly weren't sure about the answers to those questions, and you weren't certain Frank himself even had the answers. And that scared you now more than it ever had in the past.

“Talk to me,” Frank urged when you remained silent.

“I don’t–don’t exactly know how to say this,” you whispered, the words falling out of you in a rush. “I guess I never really let myself think about it before so I–I didn’t realize it until…just now. I mean, you’re always coming and going so I’ve never really–really let myself think about the possibility that I–” your voice broke off mid-sentence. Even you could hear the tremble in your words. Closing your eyes tighter, you tried to push the words out, unable to look him in the face as you bore your heart to him next. “I love you, Frank. And I–I don’t expect to hear you say that in return to me. But I–” you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as you repeated the confession aloud to him, “–I love you.”

Silence met your ears. You felt the way Frank’s thumb paused its repetitive movements along your cheek as he stiffened beside you in the bed. You kept your eyes clamped closed, too afraid to see his reaction. But the longer the silence dragged on in the bedroom, the worse that feeling in your stomach grew. Maybe you should have lied and not said anything at all. Even if you didn’t expect to hear him say it in return, you still expected something .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–”

You were cut off by Frank’s hand on your cheek pulling you towards him before his mouth was suddenly on yours. You rolled over onto your side, your right hand snaking its way around his waist and up his back, fingers digging into his hard muscles. His hand held you to him, firm but gentle, as he kissed you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before. You’d barely had a chance to register much else before he sharply broke away from you. 

Your eyes flew open at the abrupt end to that passionate kiss, confusion written all over your face. Though seconds later Frank was pressing his forehead to yours, his own eyes closed. He remained silent, not saying anything in return as his thumb began its affectionate path along your cheekbone again. For now, you took that as a positive response, one that briefly quelled the rising nerves in your stomach as you brushed your nose up against his. 

Frank pulled away from you after a moment, his lips placing two long, lingering kisses along your forehead before he settled back on his pillow. His hand released your cheek to instead wrap around your waist, drawing you further into him. Easily obliging, you snuggled up against the front of him, relaxing into the heat and comfort of his body as your eyelids briefly lowered.

He may not have said it back, but you figured that kiss meant something good, at least. You figured you had tomorrow to talk to him about it all. You’d make sense of things then. For now, you just wanted to curl up against Frank and drift to sleep in the safety of his arms.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucky’s high-pitched whine met your ears first. You rolled over, burying your face into your pillow and trying to block out the sunlight seeping past your curtains and hitting the back of your eyelids. You groaned, throwing a hand out to your right and hoping to pull Frank closer to you–but your hand hit the cold mattress. Instantly your head rose from your pillow, your eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to adjust to the bright light in your room. 

The space beside you was empty.

Frowning, you pushed yourself upright on the bed, your eyes surveying the bedroom. Lucky was sitting beside the bedroom door, her dark gray ears drooping as she ducked her head. She whined again as she looked back at you.

“Frank?” you called out.

When you didn’t get a response, you kicked the sheets off of yourself and hurriedly threw your legs over the side of your bed. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you stood up and made your way out of the bedroom and down the short hallway with Lucky following after you. Though you immediately came to a stop in the living room. Frank’s boots were missing from where he’d set them last night by the front door.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes flew to the couch next. His duffle bag wasn’t where he’d tossed it on the cushions before his shower last night, either. Your heart began to pound in your chest, the beating of it uneven and erratic.

“Frank?” you called out again.

No answer.

Lucky walked past you, making her way to your front window. She nuzzled the curtains out of her way as she looked outside. Feeling like you were moving in slow motion, you made your way to the window after her. Reaching a hand out, you pulled the dark blue curtains back. 

Frank’s truck wasn’t parked out front where it had been last night.

A sharp gasp fell out of you, your hand dropping the curtain and flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled a couple of steps backwards. You could feel the burn of tears building in your eyes, a tightness forming in your chest.

Frank was gone. He must’ve slipped out of bed sometime last night or early this morning and just left without a word. A strangled noise slid out from behind your hand at that thought and you pressed your lips firmly together, trying to keep from crying. 

A desperate, hopeful thought ran through your mind next. Maybe he’d run out to grab breakfast and didn’t say anything because he thought he’d be back before you’d woken?

Hurrying back down the hallway towards your bedroom, you headed straight to your nightstand and practically ripped your phone from the charger. You unlocked it, noticing there weren’t any notifications from Frank. Opening up your contacts, you quickly found his name and dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear with bated breath.

Though it didn’t ring. Not even once. Instead, your call had gone straight to Frank’s automated voicemail.

Slowly you lowered the phone from your ear and down to your lap as you blankly sank down on the edge of your bed. Your finger ended the call as your vision began to blur from the tears quickly welling in your eyes. It wasn’t long before they began to spill forth, hot and wet as they raced down your cheeks. Lucky’s head gently lowered to your left knee as she softly whined again. Almost instantly you crumpled in half, throwing your arms around her neck as you sobbed into her fur.

Frank had left you. All because you’d gone and fallen in love with him.

Gosh I freaking love this so far!!!! They're so cute omg 🥰🥰🥰

A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1 

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

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

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol). 

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed. 

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt. 

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that. 

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options. 

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.” 

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall. 

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past. 

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run. 

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone. 

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him. 

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them. 

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch. 

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself. 

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine. 

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour. 

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.” 

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being. 

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.” 

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man. 

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.” 

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.” 

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life. 

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while. 

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.” 

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them. 

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head. 

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off. 

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit. 

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack. 

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?” 

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something. 

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.” 

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar. 

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly. 

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.” 

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw. 

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story? 

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you. 

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment. 

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime” 

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood. 

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention. 

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped. 

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you. 

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him. 

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before? 

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it. 

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?” 

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said. 

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming. 

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“ 

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch. 

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned. 

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box. 

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed. 

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment. 

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.” 

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin. 

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.” 

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight. 

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe. 

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.” 

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.” 

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits. 

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter. 

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned. 

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes. 

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.” 

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze. 

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.” 

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?” 

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.” 

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.” 

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner. 

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground. 

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta. 

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. 

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.” 

“Culinary school, huh?” 

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.” 

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?” 

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted. 

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall. 

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.” 

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.” 

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home. 

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile. 

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes. 

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven. 

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder. 

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed. 

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her. 

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.” 

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin. 

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile. 

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way. 

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response. 

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?” 

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it. 

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.” 

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?” 

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged. 

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.” 

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze. 

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation. 

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct. 

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes. 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.” 

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over. 

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.” 

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile. 

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why. 

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him. 

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy. 

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!” 

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes. 

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal. 

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself. 

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.” 

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?” 

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.” 

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life. 

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his. 

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.” 

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle. 

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you. 

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her. 

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely. 

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods. 

“I’d uh…I’d like that.” 

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye. 

You were definitely going to be the death of him. 

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance. 

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever. 

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me. 

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec. 

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though. 

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous. 

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.” 

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly. 

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs. 

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism. 

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown. 

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled. 

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him. 

“Fine. Yours?” 

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled. 

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.” 

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?” 

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected. 

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one. 

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh. 

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?” 

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.” 

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl. 

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