In Unrequited Love - Part 3
AN: Hey, can I be sappy with y'all a moment? When I first started this story, I was admittedly pretty proud of what I came up with but I never anticipated the amount of love it would receive, so thank you everyone! <3 I also thank you for your patience, you have all been great 😋 With that said, I now bestow the conclusion to this renegade of emotion
Part 1 - Part 2
Donatello x Reader
Pathetic. That’s the one word that keeps ringing in your ears like echoes of a bug-infested cavern, the erratic scuttling serving loudly as your reminder. In no respect towards yourself, you are. All you have done since Casey escorted you back home is wallow in bed, tossing around the agonising reprieve that you are a love-strung puppy awaiting its next pat on the head. That’s why you’ve kept texting Donnie to a minimum; cut yourself off from the source and deal with the withdrawal symptoms. Doing this has you riddled with guilt but what else are you meant to do? Everybody loves somebody, right? But you don’t want to love anybody if it isn’t him. Perceivably dramatic, yes. After all, he is still a valued friend. Currently, the way you see it, it’s best to let yourself get over this puppy-dog sickness before that friendship can continue. Again, dramatic but the only logical option with April so tantalisingly strung in the picture.
Living a life of solitude hasn’t been all bad. For starters, you’ve been able to rest your ankle. Walking on it is still a fair challenge but it’s much more manageable than it was before. These past couple of days have also given you amble opportunity to reflect, as it were. It’s kind of easy to understand why one would fall for the resident bad boy in High School but a mutant turtle living in the sewers? No disrespect to Donnie, of course, but you’re just surprised. You don’t even think about all of that when you think of him. All that comes to mind is the heavenly warmth of his eyes; the soft care in them when you would help him out in the lab or when he’d be tending to one of your bumps. Euphoria’s temptress beckons you in once more in its rose-tinted glaze as you fantasise about some superfluous daydream involving him. The sweet melodies enrapture you in this cosy bubble as you curl up in bed but the sharp force of reality is swift and knocks you down before a peak is seized.
Perhaps trying to get over this infatuation isn’t quite going as planned. Groaning out into the open air, you throw a pillow into your face and continue your muffled whining. This is so unfair. Why can’t he be the one that you don’t want? You just can’t seem to escape the fact that you need him. In your state of disarray, you’ve even tried to figure out how to become the one that he thinks about. To try and curate him into being the other half of what you’ve never had. Closeness. A deeply set solitude that seemed so alien to you before you started hanging out with him. Time is slipping at this point. You swear you must be going crazy because of it. There have been a couple of nights when you swear something - someone - has been lingering outside your bedroom. Yet, when you get up to check, there’s nothing there. Part of you hopes that it’s your long-awaited love checking up on you whilst the other screams that you have indeed lost your mind.
As it would turn out, you’re not as deluded as you might think yourself to be. Indeed, Donatello has tried many a time to meet you in person but to no avail. Many times he has attempted to knock on your window only for his courage to crawl back into the ground and, alas, he does the same by retreating to his home in the sewers. What is he meant to do? You hardly message him if at all these days. Considering the state of injuries you’d endure, he’s worried about you. He has every right to be worried about you. What more could happen to you whilst unsupervised? He doesn’t want to be overly protective but he has valid grounds for such concern. His only assurance that you’re alright is when he sees your shadow through your curtain at night but that isn’t enough. Of course, it isn’t enough. He wants to care for you and cater to your every need and undying whim.
If only words could do him justice in articulating how he feels about you but he has never been so eloquently spoken unless it’s with regards to the sciences. He’s yours but you’re not his. He just wants you to be with him. If he had to - if he could - he would take the light out of the stars to help you see that. Anything for you to understand just how much he loves you. These spats of poetry are easy enough to site to himself but he knows he would tumble the moment he does as much as even consider reciting such lullabies to you.
Donnie leans over his desk, head in his hands, and sighs heavily for the umpteenth time this day, ever thankful that the streets have been quieter than usual. It’s not as though he can focus on much of anything. All surfaces of his brain have been overtaken and overruled by the thought of you. At this point, he doesn’t even care if nothing happens between the two of you. More so than anything, he just wants you back in the lair. It doesn’t matter if you’ll never be more than friends, he misses his lab partner. It isn’t as though he’s been particularly subtle in his grovelling, either. Figuring out that he had a crush on April was a no-brainer but this has been much more obvious and much more detrimental. His brothers can’t seem to get him out of this funk as much as they may try. Day in and day out, it’s the same thing: Donatello sulking in his lab, staring off into space and pretending to look busy on one of his gadgets. Desperate times call for desperate measures and if he needs a smack up the head, there’s only one person for the job.
“Come on, Donnie, when are you gonna stop beating yourself up over this?” Raph asks, palming at the desk and resting his body weight against it.
“Oh, yes, because I stand so much of a chance with (Y/n),” his brother remarks sarcastically.
The shorter of the two shifts his attention elsewhere, lips turning to the side shamefully. He never wants to feel bad about poking fun or laying out the hard truths of their shared situation being mutants. The bitter contempt within his brother's voice is fair given the fits of teasing in concordance with the cold facts that mutants and humans can’t be. In hindsight, he and his brothers could have treated the situation with more care. Still, as brash as he can be, Raph hates to see a family member suffering as such. Whilst his methods aren’t all conventional, sometimes it’s necessary.
Raphael huffs and rolls his eyes. “You know what you need?”
“For you to go away?”
“No,” he responds quickly, stifling the annoyance beneath bated breath, “what you need is to get your head out of this storm cloud. Sitting around and moping all day isn’t gonna change anything. So what if you don’t stand a chance? You won’t know until you try.”
“Thank you, Raphael, your input is valuable as always,” Donnie scorns rudely once more and exhales heavily. “I think I just want to be left alone.”
As heartbreaking as it is, such a wish can be respected, especially by the turtle that frequents isolated periods when he’s in a bad mood. Raph takes his leave and reconvenes with Casey for their night of watch duty. They sit atop an apartment roof, scathing the barren area for trouble that never seems to come. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the main matter at hand becomes the point of conversation.
“He just needs to take action,” Raph claims as he smacks a fist down into his palm. “I know we haven’t exactly been supportive but it’s eating him up. The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can be done with the whole thing.”
Casey’s cheeks puff up into his hands and he frowns, only for a wry grin to quickly take his lips. “Or, he just needs the expert to give him a helping hand.”
“Oh? You’ve changed your tune.”
“Hey, as long as he isn’t trying it on with Red, I’m all good.” Jones shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Now, watch a pro at work.”
Just a few blocks down from our duo lies your rotting form within the confines of your bedroom. It feels as though the space has somehow gotten smaller these last few days. You’ve chosen to spread eagle on the floor seeing as the bed has suddenly become uncomfortable, too. Rolling onto your side, you grab your phone and flick through your music, every song you pass turning out to either be a love song or something somber. Thanks, fate. Turning out to be a great ally here. You scroll a little longer in search of a distraction when a notification takes your attention.
Hockey Junkie: Hows the ankle treatin ya, everyone in the lair misses u
It hasn’t been uncommon for any of the gang to message you but Casey being somewhat sentimental isn’t inherently natural. You suppose it was only a matter of time. You have been quiet for a short while now. If this has been good for anything, at least you know your friends care about you. It’s only fair that you halt your pitiful oath of silence.
Nerd’s Assistant: I can walk on it fine but I might give it another day or two just to be sure
Hockey Junkie: Playing safe, gotcha
Hockey Junkie: Forget that crap tho, get your butt down here, the guys think ur dead
You huff a laugh to yourself and rest your weary head against your folded arm as you roll onto your stomach. In truth, you could have returned to the lair a couple of days ago but that sinking sensation sullies your stomach any time you contemplate the idea. All the more reason to stick to this seclusion. Without knowing what to say, you put your phone down and sigh into the carpet. The sweet melodies from your speaker are almost all-encompassing until your phone dings again. Then, again and for a third time before you decide to take a look.
Hockey Junkie: Look lemme be real with you
Hockey Junkie: Gap tooth aint doing so hot right now
Hockey Junkie: Can you at least give him a visit? Do it for your favorite classmate yeh?
The last cocky comment goes amiss with the main picture here. What’s wrong with Donnie and what has it got to do with you? All you can think on the matter is that he misses having someone to vent about April to. No, that isn’t fair to him. There’s more to him than just being madly infatuated with her. He’s a beautiful person of vision, albeit a little on the awkward side but that just makes him all the more adorable. Seeing as you haven’t replied to a lot of his texts, he must be bloated with a bad conscience. That must be what Casey is getting at. It takes some effort but you convince yourself that Donatello indeed misses his friendly assistant and that it’s high time you make a move. There goes your vow of distancing yourself. Goodbye, vegetative bed rotting.
Walking to the lair after so much time would be alien was the route not learned via muscle memory. There’s still an unsettling energy that becomes all the more poignant with every step you take but you’re putting that down to your nerves. You should probably text first; let him know that you’re coming but you’ve already made it to the large doors of his laboratory. As your fingers trace over the smooth metal, you think about the day that started this all - the day that would mark a start to something so unexpected that it almost doesn’t seem real. This is real. The alarming beat in your chest is all too loud for it to be a dream. It’s now or never. Taking a deep breath, you knock and pull one of the doors to the side, revealing the beaten-down turtle surrounded by unfinished projects and forgotten inventions alike.
He slumps further and throws a hand up loosely. “I know you’re trying to help but I already said-” He stops speaking when he turns around and sees it’s you.
You wave awkwardly with a just as clumsy smile to greet him. He springs up to his feet and bounds towards you, going in for a hug, only to stop himself just a few steps in front of you. That’s too much too soon. Your arrival is just so unexpected but by no means is it unwelcome. Many questions. There’s a lot he wants to ask and much more that he wants to say, like how much he’s missed you, how concerned he’s been, or please, never do that again.
Instead, he says the only thing he can rationally think to, “How is the, uh, ankle doing?”
“Much better. Some positions still hurt but…” You do a little spin on the spot to demonstrate how much you’ve healed, laughing shortly. “... I can walk now at least.”
Donnie laughs as well, glad for that much. “So, no more injuries I need to worry about?” he asks playfully with raised brows.
“Nah~” you resound melodically, winking with a waggishness. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”
Not a disappointment at all. Knowing you’re in good health, at least physically, is a huge relief. Between the shared chortling and the all-together prospect of dismantling the initial awkwardness, it’s great to have you back. It’s good to be back and you’re inwardly scolding yourself for depriving yourself of pleasant company. An aching heart can make you do stupid things and you’re about to realise just how stupid going quiet was. Donatello rubs the back of his head and seems to look everywhere but at you.
“So how come you never messaged?” he asks slowly. “I got worried.”
There’s the guilt you had expected but you didn’t realise it would be so gut-wrenching. He’s trying to mitigate how hurt he was but it’s clear as day on his face. You contemplate reaching for him as extra consolation, finger flickering towards his. Instead, hold onto your forearm and tilt your head shamefully.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to worry anyone, especially not you. Just needed some time to myself, I think. You know, reflect on stuff.” Ah, he thinks to himself, Casey stuff no doubt. You blow off a cackle and shrug. “Without sounding like a complete pessimist, I think it’ll be easier to accept that no one could ever fall for me.”
You play it off as a joke - for the most part, that’s how you meant it - but he isn’t having that for a second. His hands jolt for your shoulders unexpectedly. Nothing follows and your wide eyes blink furiously with the abrupt action.
“Donnie?”
Still, nothing. Gaze turned downwards, he just holds your shoulders, as though he’s thinking long and hard about something. He is. He’s thinking so very hard about this. Even the risk of making a fool of himself can’t scare him out of doing it now. There’s only so long he can carefully tread on this ice before it eventually breaks beneath him and swallows him whole. One might argue that’s not as bad as flat-out rejection but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s time to put those words to the test.
He breathes deeply to collect himself, to avoid falling into a blubbering mess, and closes his eyes before getting straight to the point. “I know I could never stand any chance with you, as much as I like to pretend that I do, but I’d like it to be known at least. Even if you could never feel the same way, just know that you are loved - that you’re worth loving - and that… I’m in love with you. Don’t ever say stuff like that because it’s not true.”
All you can do is stare. Had he kept his eyes open, he would have witnessed your face shift into every conceivable expression whilst you tried to unpack what had just been said. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both could be an option were you not so stunned to the point of near incapacitation. The lack of response is jarring yet still, he can’t bring himself to look at you.
“Oh my God,” you suddenly wheeze under a whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder, you’ll surely burst into tears. “Are you for real?” Confused, he goes to answer but you continue. “Donnie,” you breathe more weakly, “I have been hopelessly in love with you for weeks and now I’m hearing that you feel the same? In all this time where I’ve been in my own head. I just thought that- with April-” You cut yourself off and step back, jerking your shoulders away from his clutch. “No. There’s no way. This isn’t funny, Donnie. Just stop.”
There’s a brief period of chronostasis - a beautiful phenomenon in which time stills and he has the space to reflect on what has just sputtered from your mouth. He almost can’t believe it and, it seems, you can’t believe his own words either. He wants to jump with joy, spring with glee, and throw it in his brothers’ faces for ever doubting such circumstances. The overconfidence can wait. At this moment, it’s just the two of you with this air of reconciliation, though dampened by doubt. Your doubt.
He holds a hand out to you only for it to clasp into a soft fist. It would be easy to act on the defensive but that wouldn’t amount to anything. If it’s evidence you seek, so he shall provide. He walks over to his desk and retrieves a small box - the same box that you had snooped on the other week, the one containing the quaint, little bracelet that is surely meant for April. That’s what you assumed, which is why your heart clenches tightly. He carefully takes it out of its packaging and fawns over it in a moment of vulnerability. You’re awaiting words of inclination towards the redhead but he remains silent. A green thumb skips over the turtle charm and Donatello outstretches his other hand to you. Wearily, you oblige and bestow yours to him. He cups the back of your hand and turns it over so that he may place the delicate-looking jewellery in your palm, making sure the charm is turned up on its backside. You frown at his peculiar behaviour, only to realise that something is inscribed on the turtle’s underbelly: your initials.
When it all comes to light, your head turns up to meet him again. He’s glanced away shyly but there’s an awkward smile on his lips. One would think that this shared admittance is something to be celebrated with a fantastical display but it feels much too surreal. You have this horrible vision of waking up in your room, finding this to be another one of your crazed dreams. When he finally meets your stare, those fears vanish. Wild imagination or not, you could never replicate that warm glow of those maroon eyes. Even thoughts of being embarrassed about the tears in your own couldn’t ruin this moment. You fawn over the little bracelet again and shimmy it onto your wrist. The exchange is silent but there’s an ambient comfort: an unfamiliar familiarness that paves way between the two of you and closes the gap you’ve both been aching to be rid of. Neither of you is well-equipped with your words, so this alteration best suits the moment. Everything that has come to be may have been born from unrequited feelings for your friends but the birth place doesn’t matter. Value is held in each other’s happiness and simply loving one another unconditionally.
You lean up, lifting yourself on your good foot mostly, and kiss him on the cheek. His inelegant grin drops and you’re sure the tassels of his mask would have flickered up if they obtained sentient life. A primrose hue blossoms his face - one that you become well-acquainted with when he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead. With you both soaring ever higher, he pulls you into a long-awaited embrace, holding you close as your bodies transcend orbit and go off into the stars.
Man, he sure does love being a turtle.
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Teacher - Chapter II
Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!reader
Summary: You get invited to Frank's apartment again days after he gave you your first kiss. After a long makeout session, you rush to get to the bonfire and enjoy a night with your group of friends and even more of Frank's company
Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), cursing, drinking, dry humping, brief mentions of masturbation
Author's Note: It's finally here! I'm SO so sorry for the wait on this chapter! I've been working full time at my part time job and it's been crazy busy!! Thank you for being patient :) Oh! We have a taglist now, so if you want to be added, just let me know! As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!
Word Count: 6.6k+
Previous Chapters: I
Ever since that afternoon when Frank gave you your first kiss, it’s all that’s consumed your mind. It’s been difficult to focus your attention anywhere that isn’t the image of his puffy lips, swollen from your kisses, that has been ingrained in your head. You’ve been spacing out more often—even softly tracing your lower lip with your finger to try and relive the memory of his tongue brushing your skin.
You’ve even let your mind wander off its leash at work. Your coworker rips you from your thoughts by calling your name and you look up with wide eyes. She smirks when she sees your frazzled expression and asks what’s on your mind. You flip through excuses in your brain before stumbling out an “It’s a good day?”
Your voice twists into a question at the end, obvious that even you weren’t sold on your words. She shoots a skeptical look your way before walking away from the front desk, leaving you to sit once again in your thoughts about Frank. Beams of sunlight pour through the glass windows at the front of the building and the heat on your face reminds you of his warm touch. You let your eyes close for a moment and you swear you can feel his long fingers curling behind your jaw.
Suddenly, a chime sounds out and your eyes shoot open, quickly facing the front door as you expect to be met with a client’s face. There’s not a single person in sight though, and you glance down at your phone and see its illuminated screen. There’s an alert on the display and as you pick it up to unlock it, you notice it’s from your close friend.
“I’m picking you up at 6 right?”
Your eyebrows pull together, trying to remember the topic of the conversation that she’s starting back up again. As your eyes scan the earlier messages on the screen, it clicks for you. The bonfire.
Every few weeks your friend group makes plans to go out and do something fun together. With busy lives and conflicting schedules, not to mention the range of ages, it’s not always easy to reconnect and make time to be with each other. But months ago there was a collective agreement to make the effort of seeing one another more often than not. It was something you loved, being able to be in the good company of everyone you cared for.
Admittedly, your favorite part of the group hangout was watching as the rest of them enjoyed themselves. Smiles thrown on their faces, laughter roaring out when someone cracks a joke, even comfortable silences—it brought you so much joy to witness. However, due to your more reserved nature and how you passed on drinking each time, you felt more like a bystander; always watching them let loose and wishing you could do the same.
“Yes pleaseee”, your thumbs press on the glass, typing out the message on the digital keys. As you hit the arrow to send the text, another message shows as a banner across the top of the screen.
“You wanna come over?”
It’s from Frank this time. Sinking your teeth into your lip in an attempt to stall your smile, you glance at the clock on the wall. Unfortunately, no amount of wishing makes the thin, red hand pass the black numbers any faster. With a quiet sigh, you begin to type another text.
“I get off in an hour. You’re still going to the bonfire tonight right?”
You anxiously tap your finger along the side of your phone, watching the little bubbles move as an indicator that he’s typing. Frank was the main reason you went to these monthly bonfires, and the idea of him not showing is certainly enough to make you consider twice about going.
“Yeah. Just wanted to see you before then.”
As if right on cue, your heartbeat speeds up when your eyes scan across his words. You don’t even try to fight the grin that grows on your face this time. It’s only been a few days since you last saw him, since your last kiss, but you’ve been texting him each day in between. The conversations have always been light, slightly flirty on his end, but you’re thankful Frank never pressures you to do anything.
Oftentimes you find yourself still in disbelief at how this all happened. Frank’s incredibly patient with you and has reassured you many times that this is all your choice. Hell, he hasn’t even asked for you to come over again until just now. Maybe he was trying to keep the distance to not overwhelm you?
But he does want to see me, the giddy, although nagging, little voice in your head reminds you. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts, you sigh gently before texting him that you’ll drive over to his apartment after you get off. He replies back almost instantly.
“Can’t wait.”
You force yourself to drop your phone and not reread his message multiple times. It wasn’t a habit you normally had, but it became ever so prevalent with his messages. You pictured what other thoughts could be behind his often short texts and that wasn’t particularly helpful while you’re still on the clock.
The minutes felt like centuries as you sat at the desk. No amount of phone calls from curious customers or coworker gossip could act as a catalyst and make the time pass faster. You almost feel bad for being mentally checked out, but with something as good as this planned after you left, you really couldn’t help it. With your chin in your hand as you barely hold yourself up, you take one last hesitant glance at the clock. Two minutes left.
The second the time flips to the nearest hour, you’re clocking out; you’re thankful it was a slow day and you could leave right on time. With a shout over your shoulder and a wave goodbye to your coworker, you walk out the door and straight to your car. You don’t even put the GPS on–you have the way to his house memorized after the last time–and put on your favorite playlist to get yourself excited once again to see him.
Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad and it’s not long before you’re making the first turn into the neighborhood. You turn on each familiar street, winding the curves before you spot the black van with an empty parking space beside it once again. There’s no anxiety this time as you put the car in park, just excitement bubbling up and making your chest grow warm. You’re quick to grab your bag and rush up to the wooden door as you lock the car behind you.
You raise your hand and swiftly knock an upbeat tune on the door. It opens only a few seconds later, and there’s a strong arm winding around you as it pulls you past the door frame. A surprised yelp escapes you and his raspy voice sounds out with an apology.
“Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He closes the door behind you before walking towards the couch. The room’s not quite as spotless as it was last time but it honestly makes it feel more cozy seeing as it’s been lived in. He motions for you to follow him to sit down and this time you make sure to sit right beside him.
He asks about your day and the two of you begin a light conversation. It feels like he really listens to you; he’s nodding his head as you speak, leaning slightly towards you, and for once you feel like you’re being truly heard. After some back and forth, Frank begins to talk more as something you say sparks up a memory in his mind. He’s excited to tell you, obvious from how he sits up with a wide smile, and you listen to him as he gives you some background information that’s necessary to understand the story.
If you’re honest, you’re not really sure you’re keeping up with the whole picture he’s trying to paint you. You couldn’t really help it, memories of the only other time you were here beginning to rush through your brain. His laughter sounds out, breaking your concentration of the memory, and you try your hardest to focus back on him. Frank’s so animated when he talks: his hands moving in front of him, his facial features physically showing how he felt, and let’s not forget the voices of his friends that he puts on to get a smile out of you.
But eventually his words continue to drone on and on and you’re beginning to lose interest. It's no fault of his own, you just can’t focus on anything other than his mouth. The meaning of his words dissipate until they’re simply just noise to fill the background. Your eyes never leave his lips, watching as they curl around the words or stretch into a smile as he laughs. Before you can even think through the consequences of your actions, you lean forward and place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
His words stop abruptly and you watch as he turns his head to face you. There’s a short pause before he’s got his arms wrapped around you, immediately pulling you into his lap. You settle on your knees, straddling his thighs, and he tugs you even closer until you’re sitting right between his legs.
“Did you hear anything I was saying?” he asks, tilting his head as he stares up into your eyes. His gaze is too intense and you find yourself focusing on his lips instead. “You hear a single word or… did some kind of switch flip just then?” He squints his eyes as he asks, his tongue brushing over his lips.
“I just… I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” you confess in a small voice.
“That is just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You know that?” And queue the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Got any idea how sweet you sound?”
“Frank, c’mon,” you whisper, growing tired of his teasing.
“What, sweetheart? You wanna say somethin’ like that and not expect me to talk about it?” Again, you wish he would just shut up and kiss you already. “I’ve been on your mind that much? Must’ve been a damn good kiss for you to think about it days later, huh? Did you miss—”
You cut him off once more with your lips, your hands cradling his cheeks as you kiss him. You can’t even believe you did it, you never thought yourself the one to make the first move. Being desperate for his kisses is enough for the final push, you guess. His hands are quick to find your hips and you shiver at the touch, cursing yourself for being so sensitive. He pulls away when he feels your body’s reaction but never takes his hands off of you.
“That okay?” he asks, his eyes glancing up into yours. He gives another swift squeeze into your side before questioning with another “hmm?” You nod quickly, still reeling from the feel of him touching you there. Frank only tilts his head, silently requesting more from you.
“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, and he mutters the quietest, “Okay,” you’ve ever heard. His hand that’s wrapped around your hip begins to push you back and you’re quick to move with his movements. It’s a gentle push that has your ass grinding down onto the center of his jeans and you quickly grab hold of his shoulder to keep your balance.
“You okay?” he asks through a light chuckle. You nod and hum an agreement as you focus back on his warm touch that’s setting a fire alight on your side. He pulls you closer now and begins rocking you back and forth on his lap. The heat begins to travel down your tummy and nestles between your thighs.
Suddenly, Frank’s mouth is on your neck again and you almost feel lightheaded with how your body is trying to take in so much of him at once. He drags his kisses down your jaw, his hand never stopping the gentle pull and push of your hips. As you keep rocking on him, you swear you feel something bumping into you on each push down but you’re not very certain of anything at the moment.
His unoccupied hand smoothes up your side and his big palm grabs at your chest. A small moan gets stuck in your throat, resulting in a quiet whimper, as his long fingers squeeze into your soft skin. You break the kiss, your arms crossing each other as you reach for the hem of your shirt but his hands tenderly grab your wrists.
“You don’t have to…” he breathes shallowly, his breath fanning across your lips. His gaze locks with yours before he swallows thickly. He closes his eyes as he continues, “I’m sorry. I-I just got caught up in it.” You smile at the hesitancy in his voice and brush your thumb along his jaw.
“It’s okay, Frank, I wanna,” you reassure him. He loosens his hold, allowing you to continue your movements and pull your top off. His eyes move up with each new inch of skin that gets exposed and there’s this look in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Once your head is clear of the fabric, you drop it onto the empty couch cushion beside you before moving to cup his cheeks in your smaller hands.
His lips are parted as he stares unabashedly at your chest. Brushing your thumb over the light stubble, you watch as he takes you in for the first time. Part of you is somewhat worried about his reaction, but his kisses were enough to leave your head clouded for long enough to push the anxiety away.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” is all he mutters before his hand pushes through your hair and he cups the back of your head. He pulls you into another kiss, his tongue wasting no time as it glides along yours. You moan against him sweetly as he lightly pulls on the strands. The sound must’ve spurred him on though, because he squeezes you over your bra once more. His insatiable fingers continue and your chest threatens to spill over the fabric cups.
You bring your hand over his and he immediately lets go of you. You shake your head with a grin, letting him know he didn’t cross any lines. Rather, you press on his fingers and make him hold you even tighter. He sighs into the kiss and digs harder into your smooth skin. Wanting to mimic him and clutch onto as much of him as possible, you push your palms flat to his chest and work them up towards his neck. You don’t even register the way you’re tugging at the neckline of his shirt until your thoughts slip and you mumble something against his lips.
“What was that?” Frank asks as he trails a finger down your cheek.
“Can… Can you take yours off too, please?” Your words come out as a whisper, your nerves acting up at the idea of asking that of him. He only smirks up at you before adjusting himself to sit up more against the couch.
“Guess that’s only fair, huh?” You watch as his hands come to the back of his neck, arms flexing as he pulls the shirt over his head and haphazardly drops it beside yours. When you see him shirtless for the first time, you’re pretty sure any thought you had–and ever will have–leaves your mind. Thick muscle wrapped in tan skin, broad shoulders that you’re certain would engulf you whole, and dark hair lining the skin under his belly button that trails below the waistband of his jeans.
“You alright there, kid?” he questions through a raspy chuckle. You hesitantly reach a hand out and lightly rest it over his heart. His chest is big and he fills your palm as his heart beats against your skin. You force your eyes to focus on his face again and he meets you with a confident smirk.
“You still with me?” His words are laced with a cocky tone and you don’t even give him the satisfaction of shrinking down again. Instead, you lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck before kissing him harder than you ever have before. He grunts against your lips, his own hips bucking up as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
His hand wraps around to hold your lower back as he continues guiding your movements. With each roll of your hips into his lap, you feel his bulge against you. A wet gasp escapes you when you bump your clit on one particularly hard grind against him.
He feels harder underneath you each time you move, and it dawns on you what it actually means. He’s getting hard? Over me? The ever present voice sounds out again, words soaked in disbelief. Feeling more confident, you begin to buck your hips on your own as you grind faster against him.
“Attagirl,” he praises, the kiss breaking once again due to his wide smile. He encourages your movements with one little word and his hand stops the push and pull, letting you move independently from him. He grazes his long fingers up your thighs before curling around, sliding his palms higher, and holding your ass in his big hands. Frank tilts his head to the side as he deepens the kiss and you feel the stubble scratching you, causing your hips to speed up of their own accord.
His bulge between your legs is warm–and admittedly thicker than you expected–which does nothing to help the burning at the pit of your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before and Frank’s lips begin to wander, trailing down your neck. His teeth graze along your collarbone and your hands find their way to his hair. Brushing through the strands with a gentle pull at the ends, you push yourself harder into his lap.
He grunts before pressing his tongue flat to your skin, slowly licking his way up your throat and back to your lips. A curse slips from you and you shudder when you feel the cool air hit the wet patch he left behind. Cupping your cheeks in his large palms, he traces his tongue over your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. You whimper louder than you mean to, the sound causing Frank to tilt his head down and break the kiss. His forehead rests against yours as he pants gently, regaining his breath.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, dragging the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. You giggle at his exasperated tone from the makeout session and rub your hands down his neck to his shoulder blades. The muscle is noticeable despite him not flexing and your mind starts down a path that you’re certain would do no good right now. Images begin to flash through your mind: Frank on top of you, your nails scratching down his back, his fingers tightening around a headboard. You give yourself a mental shake and bring yourself back to the present.
“What time is it?” you ask softly. Frank raises his arm up, checking the little display of his watch. Once you catch a glimpse of the digital numbers, you perk up as your eyes go wide.
“Shit, I gotta go,” Frank looks up at you confusedly as you speak. “The bonfire…” you trail off, hoping to jog his memory.
“What? No, you just got here, c’mon,” he groans. His arms wrap around your back and he tightens his hold while resting his head against your chest. With a wide smile, you brush your palms against the short hair at the back of his head.
“Frank, I’ve been here almost an hour,” you explain through a chuckle. He hesitantly looks up at you, his eyebrows pulled together and confusion clearly written all over his face.
“Really? I didn’t even notice…”
“Spent all that time when I first got here just talking. It’s your fault!” You tease him and his features soften.
“Well how was I supposed to know I had all this waiting for me if I shut up?” He pulls you snuggly towards his body and you feel the heat coming back to your cheeks. You shake your head when he drapes your arm back around his neck, his charm threatening to work on you once again.
“I gotta get ready,” you explain but make absolutely no attempt to leave your spot on his lap.
“Do you have to? You look great just like this,” his fingers idly move up and down your thighs. You find his little touches comforting and the butterflies flutter to life at his soft spoken compliment.
“My hair is a complete mess, thanks to you,” you scoff, “and I need to change.” You’re still in your outfit from work and want to wear something more comfortable, and warm, for tonight’s get together. Frank pouts as you speak but begrudgingly lets go of you, his hand keeping a hold of yours as you stand. You reach for your shirt and quickly pull it back on over your head and there’s a great, big sigh coming from him once your chest is covered.
Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to look halfway decent. Turning to say one last thing before you leave, there’s a sight that makes your eyes widen as a chill rushes through you. Your hands clasp together over your mouth as you gasp, embarrassment settling in. Frank looks up cluessely at you, until he follows your gaze to his lap.
There’s a damp spot on his jeans, almost unnoticeable against the dark denim, but it’s clear what it is nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t think I’d—I’m sorry,” you swallow thickly, trying to find anything to say to fill the silence. He’s hardly moved since he first glared down at the stain on his pants; his chest heaving and jaw clenching as he takes in the sight in front of him. The air is so thick you think for half a second you might actually choke on it. The next thing you see is the bulge in his jeans twitching to the side faintly.
You feel as though you might double over and grab your stomach for balance. “Frank?” you ask gently, but he continues to breathe roughly. You can’t even possibly begin to decipher what’s going on inside his head.
“Don’t ever gotta apologize for that,” he finally speaks up. His voice is gravelly and his jaw is clenched. He takes a long inhale and you can see him physically shake off the tension. “But yeah, you… You should probably change.” His normal cocky smirk is back in place and you smile, relieved.
Leaning over him, you press a brisk kiss to his cheek as a goodbye. You mutter one last apology against his skin before slipping out the door and shouting a farewell over your shoulder.
The entire car ride home you feel your skin buzzing. You’ve never felt so giddy in your life and you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to keep this excitement to yourself. Part of you wants to scream out from the rooftops just to let the energy out but you also haven’t exactly talked with Frank about if this is something to share outside the two of you.
The ride home is a total blur and before you know it you’re pulling into your spot at your apartment. Dropping your bag by the door, you make your way straight to the bathroom. After accessing the damage that Frank left with his greedy touch, you quickly begin to try and make yourself look slightly presentable.
Surprisingly, you’re almost ready when your friend sends the message to inform you that she’s arrived at your place. All you’re missing is socks, shoes, and jacket, which by your standards, is pretty good. You brush your fingers through your hair one more time, trying to get it to lie a bit neater. With one last glance over in the mirror, you shrug and decide it’s good enough given the time crunch.
Shoving your shoes on and rushing out the door with your jacket folded over your arm, you reach her car door and climb in. She begins to drive down the street, turning down familiar roads to the place where you usually gather for this sort of thing. She fills the car ride with her stories all about her day, her rude coworker, and the new guy she’s seeing. You nearly speak up when she gets to that last topic of conversation. It would be nice to finally be able to relate to something, but you know that what you and Frank have isn’t even serious. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you bite your tongue and keep quiet.
The sound of gravel crunching under the tires reaches your ears and you perk up when you realize you’re finally here. After closing the car door and walking up to the fire pit, you notice your other friends already gathered around it. They greet the two of you kindly and pull you into hugs. You smile through the welcoming and scan their faces to check for Frank, but he’s not there.
Minutes pass and you find yourself pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the time every now and then. You watch as the sunset sinks below the horizon. It paints the sky a dusty orange before mixing and settling into soft pastel streaks of light. You’ve been here over half an hour and still there’s no sign of him. You get the courage to speak up and ask about him.
“Is Frank coming? I know he’s not usually on time but…” There’s a small chuckle sounding out from someone already a few drinks in.
“He texted me saying he forgot it was tonight. Should be here soon,” one of Frank’s closer friends, Curtis, replies to you. That’s weird, you think as you pout and wrap your arms around yourself. You wonder why he gave that excuse and what must’ve come up to deter him from getting here. It does little use, but you try to shake off the worry and focus on being in the company of the people you love.
You’re laughing loudly at a joke when you hear some light cheers and quickly turn around at the sound. Frank’s walking up slowly, shaking his head as the small group rags on him for being late. He scoffs, scratching at the back of his neck before being pulled into a few hugs by his friends. You’d give anything to rush over and pull him into an embrace as well, but you decide to not just run with your emotions.
Once Frank is sitting back in an old lawn chair and everyone is officially accounted for, Curtis lights the fire. It’s tradition to wait until everybody is together before setting the wood alight. There’s a moment of quiet crackling but before long the flames are roaring to life. You’re the first to walk up to it, stretching your arms out and melting at the warmth enveloping you when suddenly, there’s a nagging feeling in your head and you look over your shoulder to satisfy the small itch.
Frank’s eyes are glaring into your side, his expression hard and difficult to pinpoint. He’s holding his chin up in his hand and his eyes slowly begin to rake down your frame before shooting back up to your face. The lights and shadows from the flames dance across his features and you swear you notice his nose scrunch up for a second when his teeth sink into his lower lip.
A shiver runs down your neck and it’s not born from excitement like before. He looks absolutely pissed and you force yourself to look back at the charred wood. It could have absolutely nothing to do with you, you try to reason with yourself. But you’ve always been one to look for a flaw in yourself when someone’s upset, and no amount of logic can take away that instinct reaction.
The only thing you can think of is the mess you unintentionally left on him. He seemed okay when you left, but maybe that really bothered him. Whatever it was, he was definitely more cold than he was just hours ago and you wish he’d stop staring and talk to you already.
You plaster on a fake smile when your friend asks what’s wrong and insist that you’re fine. You mutter some excuse about the air being chilly and she finds a spare blanket to wrap you up in. When you steal a glance at Frank, you notice him acting in complete opposite of how he was moments before. He’s back to all smiles, holding his chest as he throws his head back laughing. You feel some of your own tension leaving at the sound of his cackling but you can’t help but wonder why that cold gaze was directed towards you.
The sky eventually begins to settle into the comforting deep blue and the fire shows no signs of dying out. You notice the cooler of beer sitting open and decide to walk over and grab one. Glancing down at the label, you notice it’s not the one Frank introduced you to. With a mental shrug you crack it open and toss it back without thinking. The flavor hits your tongue and it surprises you how much smoother it is than your first drink.
You get lost in the overlapping chatter of conversations and begin drinking more now that you’ve found a taste that’s enjoyable. The time passes and you slowly feel yourself relaxing more as the weight of the bottle in your hand gets lighter. It’s not enough to make you feel without control of your actions, but it definitely is enough to give you a buzz.
Eventually the chill of the night breeze picks up, and you begin to notice some people cuddling up to their partners. A few cuddle on a picnic blanket lying on the ground, some sit in each other’s laps. Regardless, you feel that uneasy sensation of being a spectator rising up again. You fidget with the bottle in your hand as you try and not compare yourself to the other couples when the sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up.
Frank is sitting in his chair like before but this time his legs are spread wide apart. You lock eyes with him and he glances at his lap before looking back to your face. He runs a large hand down the length of his thigh, smoothing the fabric of his jeans, and it seems as though he’s presenting you a seat. You swallow thickly and make your way over to him, standing right at his knees.
“C’mon, it’s too cold,” he mumbles under the background noise of layered voices. You nod as he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on his legs. He’s quickly adjusting the blanket and draping it back over your shoulders before pulling your side into his chest. Your head aligns perfectly in the crevice of his collarbone and his body heat completely engulfs you. To say you’re happy you get to be close to him would be an understatement; you’ve been waiting for this all night but not sure if he’d make the move with an audience.
Each time he speaks, you feel his chest rumble against your cheek. His beating heart sounds out against your ear and you feel his fingers rubbing over your back. The warmth of his thick thighs underneath you remind you yet again of what occurred just a short while ago. You nuzzle your face into his shirt to hide from the thoughts consuming your mind, and he just continues talking while brushing over your side. Raising the bottle to your lips, you take another swig and swallow it down with a hum. Frank looks down at you and watches as you sit up higher against his chest to speak to him.
“Whatever’s in this is waaaaay better than what you gave me,” you whisper into his ear. Your voice isn’t slurred but it’s uneven in pitch, and he snorts–you’re pretty sure that’s your new favorite sound–before nodding.
“I’ll make sure to remember that, sweetheart.” His mouth is near your jaw and the breath fans over your neck. He didn’t even say anything sexual but that all-too-familiar warmth comes to life in the pit of your stomach again.
“Can I tell you something?” you ask in a quiet voice.
“Hmm?” His eyes never leave your lips.
“I missed you,” you confess. His lips spread into a wide smirk and you continue. “I know it’s stupid cause I literally just saw you but…” you trail off, staring down at your legs draped across his. “I got a little lonely when you didn’t show.”
“Yeah, about that…” He chuckles dryly and looks away from you.
“What?”
“Let’s just say that, uh, the problem you left on my jeans was the reason I was late.” He turns his head in the direction of the tall flames and his words slowly sink into your mind. Heat rushes to your cheeks and your stomach does a cartwheel as new images flash in your mind: Frank’s long fingers working the button of his jeans open, his fingers curled around his cock, head tilted back as moans fall freely from his mouth.
There has to be a work stronger than mortified to describe how you feel right now. You still can’t believe you did that earlier and now paired with his confession? You wouldn’t be surprised if you melted into a puddle of your own embarrassment and slipped away. That also explains that his look from earlier wasn’t anger, but something much deeper and faceted.
“What’s wrong, kid?” He must’ve noticed you tensing up in his hold.
“You shouldn’t have told me that,” you mutter. You’re almost certain you haven’t blinked since he told you. Frank bursts into loud laughter, causing a few others to look over at the sound. You can’t handle the new pairs of eyes on you and you wrap the blanket around you tighter as you turn away from their curious expressions.
The night grows colder as the hours pass and you don’t even realize that the flames have died down until a few people begin to stand up and stretch, saying they’ve got to head home. You sit up and rub at your eyes, blinking slowly at the few empty chairs and people waving goodbye.
“You okay if I drop you home?” Frank speaks up as he watches you pull yourself back together.
“Are you sure? Didn’t you have some drinks?” you ask through a yawn, your eyes scrunching closed.
“Nah, saw you drinkin’ when I walked up. Just had water tonight,” he explains.
He helps you stand up, saying your collective goodbyes to the group, before walking you to his black van. You watch as he walks around to the passenger side, opening the door for you and making sure your seatbelt is buckled before dropping the blanket back in your lap. You’ve never had someone take care of you like this and you have to convince yourself he’s just being a friend to not put more emotions in his kind gestures.
You mumble directions to him as he drives, sneaking glances at his profile as he stares out at the open roads. The lights from the lampposts shine through the window, the shadows dragging across his features as he taps his fingers along to a song playing faintly on the radio. He engages the clutch as he brings the car out of gear, coasting to a red light.
“I have another question,” you say in a raspy tone. It’s the one thing about tonight you still can’t figure out.
“Sure are full of ‘em tonight,” he jokes as he turns to face you.
“The thing you said earlier, about why you were late?” you don’t dare to actually say it aloud. “I left a few hours before the fire started.” Frank shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares at the scarlet glow of the traffic light.
“Tried a cold shower, sweetheart. Didn’t work,” he says simply. You don’t even say anything in response, just turn away from him and look out your window to avoid an even more awkward conversation. His chuckle sounds out in the small cabin of the van and you hate how your pulse speeds up.
“Just another left here,” you say after a while, directing him to turn into the neighborhood of your apartment. He parks along the curb with a clear view of your front door. The night is officially over and you want literally any excuse not to get out of this close space with him.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask in a small whisper.
“You don’t ever have to ask me that, kid.” You’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning over and brushing your lips over his. Pausing for a second, you try to memorize the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips, before delaying the tease and pushing your mouth against his. He kisses back instantly and you suck his lower lip past your own. A not so stifled grunt escapes him and you smile knowing you can get to him in the same way he gets to you. You break the kiss and work your mouth down his chin and the underside of his jaw. He sighs heavily and suddenly places his big palm to your cheek, gently raising your face away from his throat.
“I can’t let you go any further,” he stares down at you. You sigh frustratedly between your teeth before sitting up with a groan. You pout at him and stare back at his lips, cursing the fact that you drank tonight.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s late, you should head inside,” he nods towards the direction of your door. You hesitantly get out and drag your feet as you walk towards the small porch light. You unlock the door and look over your shoulder to see his van still parked. It isn’t until you step inside and shut the door that you hear the motor rev as he drives off.
You stumble into your apartment, brushing your hand against the wall until you miraculously flip the light switch on. You squint your eyes as you flinch away from the bright light and shuffle your feet forward down the hallway that leads to your bedroom. As you empty your pockets and drop your bag to the floor, you make your way towards the connecting bathroom.
Another yawn overcomes you as you struggle with taking your top off, your head getting lost in the mess of fabric. The jeans come off next and you try your hardest to hold onto the countertop before inevitably losing your balance as you try to pull your feet through the cuffs at the end of your pants. You try to breeze through your routine of getting ready for the night and eventually you're sinking into the soft mattress of your bed.
Three consecutive buzzes sound out as your phone vibrates on your nightstand, the display shining in the dark bedroom. You reach for it blindly and see text messages from your friend that drove you tonight.
“Did you get home okay?”
“Since when do you drink?”
“Also what is with you and Frank?” Oh no. A fourth one comes in as your phone vibrates in your hand.
“You have to tell me everything!”
Taglist: @chellestrash @suitsofwo3 @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl
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