#tfc writing challenge

[e-dubbc11]

Out of Left Field

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of violence but not really, drunk fan, a couple swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 1.8k-ish

Summary: You’re attending a baseball game with a friend and you weren’t expecting to meet a tall handsome stranger.

A/N: This is part of the Thirsty for Cox writing challenge for the month of June. The prompt was “Hey, is that guy bothering you?” It was difficult to NOT set this one at a bar because let’s be honest, that’s the most likely place someone would use that line, amirite? 🤣 Anyway, I hope you like it! 💕

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“These are great seats! How did you score these?” Your friend Jackie, asked.

When your stepfather said he had four tickets to the Yankee game this weekend, you jumped at the chance to go.

It was the beginning of June, sunny with a few fluffy white clouds slowly moving across the bright blue sky and thankfully the hot summer weather hadn’t arrived yet so it was still just warm and dry.

A perfect day for baseball.

Sitting on the first base line, you’ve never been this close before. The warm early afternoon sun kissed the high points of your face as you took in the view.

You were only three rows back from the on-deck circle and could smell the sunscreen the players had on as they waited for their turn at-bat.

“A client gave them to my stepfather and he couldn’t go so he offered them to me. We have these four seats so we don’t have to worry about anyone sitting next to us.” You told her.

Suddenly, you felt a pinch in your side.

“OW!! What did you do that for?!” You yelled and glared at her.

“Oh I didn’t pinch you that hard, listen…really hot guy checking YOU out. Your four o’clock. Don’t look yet.” She said.

Waiting a couple of minutes before turning around, you looked over your shoulder and there he was…a baseball hat covered his dark brown hair, he had a short well-groomed beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a smile that would stop anyone dead in their tracks.

“Jackie, are you sure he was looking at me? Because he has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. Every woman in this area is looking at him.” You whispered to her.

She started to chuckle at little. “Well he sure as shit wasn’t lookin’ at me, I’m married anyway and he wasn’t looking at ANY of those other women, he was only lookin’ at YOU.”

Another inning went by and it was time for another beer so you stood up and headed for the concession stands. Walking up the stairs, you phone vibrated in your back pocket. It was a text from Jackie that said:

Hot guy is following you up the stairs, YAY!!

You couldn’t help but laugh a little and shake your head as you put your phone back in your pocket. And now that you knew he was a few steps behind you, it wasn’t the sun that was making you feel warm anymore. Another text came in:

You look really cute today, relax!!

She knew you all too well. She knew you were shy and easily flustered so that was a text pep talk to calm you down a little.

Standing in line, you could feel him behind you, watching you but almost in a protective way. You noticed there were a lot of people around that had already had a few too many, one of them being directly behind you. Swaying in place, and looking like he was about to fall over at any moment, the man spoke to you.

“Y-you look like you wanna buy me a beer! You are a p-pretty thing, aren’t ya.” He slurred.

The man took you by surprise, yelling in your ear like he did, but you tried to be as nice as possible.

“You sure you need another one? You look like you’ve had enough already.” You said with an uncomfortable smile.

The man tried to move closer to you but you stepped to the side a little.

“W-well I w-want you to b-buy me another!” He said, putting his hand on your shoulder.

And that’s when your tall handsome stranger stepped in.

“Hey, is that guy bothering you?” He asked, trying to get in between you and the drunk.

Looking a little nervous, you nodded.

His eyes looked darker than they were when you saw them before, his lips were pulled back to expose clenched teeth, and the heated glare he gave the man was filled with rage.

“Take your hand off of her…now.” He said with a low growl.

The man grabbed your shirt at the shoulder and gripped it tightly in between his fingers. “This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy. This is between me and her.”

And with those words he shoved you backwards into a person carrying two cups of beer that ended up splashed down your back and caused you to fall to the ground.

What happened next, happened so fast that you missed it but looking up after hitting the ground, your admirer suddenly had the drunk man pinned to ground face down when security came running over to take him away.

The handsome stranger rushed to your side and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ok, miss?” He asked, looking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Well…I have beer all over me but other than that, I guess I’m fine.” You answered.

He laughed a little and continued to smile that perfect smile at you.

“Well this is not how I wanted to introduce myself but HI…Billy Russo.” He said in a slightly sarcastic tone and extending his arm for you to shake his hand.

You gave him a warm smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Billy Russo. I’m y/n. Thank you for what you did, I’ve never really had anyone come to my rescue before.”

He gave you his hand for you to take and helped you to your feet.

“Well I’m just glad I was the one to rescue you. Come on, let’s go buy you some dry clothes.” He said.

A little embarrassed, you told him you only brought enough cash with you for beer, the rest of your money was with your purse, at your seat. He said it was on him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“What? No Billy, I can’t ask you to do that. They charge a small fortune for all this stuff.” You said.

Billy winked and smiled at you. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart. I offered.” His slight New York accent coming through. “This way…”

He was so handsome and charming. It was hard to say no, so you didn’t and he led you to a shop to get some dry clothes.

You picked out a new DiMaggio t-shirt since your other one was soaked with beer and a pair of joggers, you were thankful that your socks and sneakers didn’t get wet. Billy had the same t-shirt on.

“At least this one doesn’t smell like beer.” You laughed. “What do ya think?” You asked with a smile and a 360 turn.

Leaning against a rack of clothes, he smiled back at you. “I think you look perfect.”

You felt yourself start to blush. “Thank you for this, Billy. You really didn’t have to. Can I take you dinner, as a thank you?” You asked him.

“Hey that’s my line.” He said with a sly smile as he inched closer to you.

Looking up at him through your dark lashes, you could not take your eyes off of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees inside the store.

“Tell ya what…let me take you to dinner and you can buy me a beer on the way back to our seats. How does that sound?” He asked.

You extended your hand for him to shake it. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Russo.”

On the way back to your seats, you bought four beers. Billy’s friend Frank needed one as well and when you got back to your seats, Frank was sitting with Jackie, and they were showing each other pictures of their kids.

“FINALLY! I’ve been dyin’ of thirst down here.” Jackie said. “Ummm, why are you wearing different clothes? What have you two been doing?” She asked with a wink.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell ya in a minute.” You said.

You smiled and extended your hand to Frank. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Frank firmly shook your hand. “Frank Castle. Nice to meet ya.” He said with a smirk.

You handed him his beer. “It’s nice to meet you too, Frank.”

Looking at Jackie, you introduced her to Billy. Her response made you crack a smile.

“Oh I’ve heard a lot about Billy from this guy over here.” She said, pointing at Frank.

The four of you enjoyed the rest of the game together, sharing peanuts, drinking beer, and singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game.

Billy told you he and Frank were in the Marines together but now Billy owns his own private security company and Frank works closely with him.

As the game went on, Billy snaked his arm around you and draped it over your shoulder. Goosebumps peppered across the exposed skin on your arm as he lightly brushed it with his long slender fingers.

You could feel him stealing glances at you when you’d lean over to talk to Frank or Jackie, or rubbing your back before he’d get up to use the restroom or if it was his turn to make a beer or snack run.

These little gestures caused your ears to turn red and gave you butterflies in your stomach. You were already smitten with him.

After the game was over, you were chatting with Billy outside the stadium when you heard Jackie’s voice.

“So are you guys goin’ out on a date or what?” She asked, very directly. “You two look pretty cozy already.” She said, looking at Billy’s arm snaked around your waist.

You smiled nervously at her before looking at Billy then turning back to Jackie. “Uh, yeah. Billy wants to take me to dinner.”

She looked at you, then at Billy, smiled and whispered in your ear. “I have a good feeling about him.”

“I do too.” You whispered back.

You bit down on your lower lip and looked up at Billy. He gave you a little wink as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Russo.” You said with a smile.

He leaned forward and feeling his warm breath against your ear, Billy whispered. “Ya know it drives me absolutely crazy when you call me that.” And he planted a light kiss on your cheek.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that.” You said with a slight smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Billy.”

Billy took one last look at you as you walked away from him. You could feel his eyes on you just like earlier waiting in line, watching over you and making sure you were safe. Once you were out of sight, Frank turned to Billy and said.

“I have a good feeling about that one, Bill.”

Billy smiled as he quickly glanced at the ground and back up to look back at Frank and said.

“I do too, Frankie. I do too.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[munsonownsmyass]

Loving You Easy

Frank Castle x reader

Warnings: Oh, well... Plus size reader, insecurities, kissing. SMUT! oral (f receiving), fingering, bodyworhsip, praise, Frank saying 'Good girl' is a warning in itself, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl tho), creampie, cockwarming if you squint. And a little surprise.

Notes: So... Besides that little cameo in my Billy fic, I've never written for Frank. First full fic for him. Have I nailed his character? Probably not, but I still like what I made. Please be gentle.

And yes... This was super self-indulgent, I'm so sorry 🤣

This is part of the Thirsty for Cox april challenge, where we had to choose a song as inspo for our fic. My song was Loving You Easy by Zach Brown Band.

Words: 3.2 K

It’s the day most girls dream about their whole lives. The day they will go through countless of bad dates and the wrong men for, just to find the one guy that completes them. The one guy she can’t imagine living without.

This was that day. Dressed in white, looking more beautiful than ever. The wedding dress so beautiful it brings tears to your mother’s eyes. The hair and makeup flawless accompanied by a smile that would make even the darkest days brighter.

Unfortunately, this was not your day, but your sisters. While you were stuck somewhere between horrible dates and unfulfilling one-night stands, Jessie had found the love of her life. Matt was perfect. Lawyer, devilishly handsome and so kind and thoughtful.

And you were happy for them, you really were. But you could feel that little pang of jealousy, wishing you could have the same one day. And honestly, you didn’t even care about the big wedding and the whole ‘feeling like a princess’ thing. You just wanted someone to love and who would love you in return.

Sighing heavily, you adjust your dress one more time, looking into the mirror. Not even maid of honor, but that’s okay. Behind you the rest of the bridal party is giggling and having a great time worshipping the bride. Leaving silently, without them noticing, you walk outside to get some air.

“Need a drink?” A gruff voice asks, and you look up into a pair of brown eyes. The guy gives you a sideways smile, holding out his beer.

“What makes you think I’ll share a beer with a stranger?” You question, taking in his features. Dark brown hair, dark stubbles along his chiseled jaw and very kissable lips. Very handsome and definitely the type of guy you’d hit on at a bar. Of course, followed by a rejection, because a guy like that would certainly have someone.

“I’m following you down the aisle in 15 minutes, so we’re hardly strangers, princess.” He smiles, retracting the beer and take a sip, looking out over the beautifully decorated backyard of your parents’ country estate.

“I take it you’re Frank then?” You smile, stepping closer to him. Your eyes meet and he offers the beer once more and this time you take a sip of it.

“Yep. Frank Castle.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, giving him your name in return. For a while you just sit there, passing the bottle back and forth while making small talk, until your mother comes looking for you.

“Oh, Mushy, there you are.” She checks your makeup, visibly frustrated and takes the beer from your hands. “Would it kill you to act a little more ladylike, at least until after the reception?” Your mom walks back in, shouting for you to get ready. Frank gets on his feet, getting ready to go in with you.

“’Mushy?’ That’s not the most flattering nickname, I’ve heard.”

“Ah, well… I’m the chubby black sheep of the family.” You shrug, trying to seem unaffected even though you hate the nickname. Jessie had always been the pretty and skinny one, a real pageant queen kinda beauty, where you were not.

“Those are the best kind of people.” Frank winks at you with a soft smile, before you are both called inside.

The party is at full swing, and everyone is having a great time. Foggy have just given his best man speech, laughing with Matt and Karen, Jessie and the other girls are dancing, while you hide in the corner with a beer. In a glass of course, your mother almost giving you the evil eye when you tried drinking out of the bottle.

“Hiding from your mother?” Frank asks, stopping in front of you. You just nod, patting the chair beside you.

“Yeah, she can be scary.” You laugh as he sits down. Raising your bottle in a silent toast, you both take a drink of your beers. “I’m also hiding from my uncle. He always asks me to dance.”

“You don’t like to dance?” Frank asks with a soft smile.

“No one wants to see this-” you gesture towards your body, “twirl around the dancefloor.” You try to laugh it off, but by Frank’s expression you know he’s not buying it. He’s seeing right through you. He stands up, extending his hand to you.

“Come on, princess. Dance with me.”

“Frank, I…”

“One dance, that’s all I’m askin’.” He doesn’t remove his hand, just steps a little closer, insisting for you to take it.

You’re trying to come up with a polite way to turn him down, when it dawns on you. Here’s a gorgeous man willing to dance with you and you wanna say no? Are you crazy? Just when you take his hand, the band starts playing one of your favorite songs. Leading you out onto the floor, Frank takes a hold of you, swaying you softly to the music.

You make loving you easy

You make loving you all I wanna do

Every little smile, every little touch

Reminds me just how much it all makes

Loving you easy

As Frank swings you out and pull you back in, making you giggle, you notice how your sister is watching you. Hell, a lot of them are. This is why you don’t dance, unwanted attention. But still, you got to admit there’s one upside to it. Frank’s eyes looking into yours, his hand on your waist.

“Everyone is staring.” You whisper, looking to the side where your sister is whispering something to Matt, who only smiles.

“Probably ‘cause you look beautiful.” He muses, giving you another one of his cheeky smiles. Damn, is it even legal to be so handsome? You’re about to make a rebuttal, when Frank speaks. “And I mean it.”

Without warning, he dips you down towards the floor, making you squeal, probably drawing the attention of people around you. But you really don’t care, only focused on Frank.

Bursting through the door to your childhood bedroom, Franks lips never leave yours as his hands run down your body, caressing your soft curves. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re drunk.” You giggle softly, kissing him passionately. He pins you against the wall, grinding his hard length against your heated core. You reach out for him, idle fingers unbuttoning his shirt. In a frenzy of hungry kisses and touches, your dress and his suit is soon spread all over the floor as you fall onto the bed with Frank on top of you.

Frank kisses his way down your body, licking and nipping at your sensitive skin. When he reaches between your thighs, he places soft kisses before diving in like a man starved. You gasp at the first contact, the feeling of his tongue making you shiver. But he slows down, wanting to take his time with you.

Slowly, he adds a finger, then another, stretching you open. Expertly he licks up your folds and sucking on your clit, leaving you a whimpering mess beneath him. “You taste amazing, princess. Making such pretty noises for me.”

“Fuck… Frank…” His name is barely a whisper, but it’s enough. Frank devours you like a man possessed. He finds that sweet spot in you that makes you see stars. With his name on your lips, you come.

More. You want more. “Please, Frank. Please fuck me.” You beg him, body writhing under his touch, your need for him strong, overwhelming.

On his way up you body, he makes sure to kiss every inch of skin, caress every curve. “So fucking gorgeous.” He mutters under his breath, placing another soft kiss between your breasts before he once again claims your lips.

His cock is at your entrance, begging to enter. He pushes in slowly, making you gasp as his thick length stretch you open. His eyes find yours so he can see your face twist in pleasure as he pushes deeper. As he bottoms out, you both pant in unison, his forehead against yours.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. Shit…” He rolls his hips a few times, fucking you slowly. You whimper softly, wanting nothing more than for him to move faster, harder. You don’t even care who might hear you, lost in the feeling of him, wanting more.

Franks is so lost in you, not wanting this to end. He kisses you hungrily before he snaps his hips harder. As you close your eyes in pleasure, he looks at you. How your face twists in pleasure, how your body move under him with every thrust. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he wants nothing more than to stay like this for hours. Wanting nothing more than to hear you moan his name over and over.

All day you’ve been talking and all day he’s been thinking how your smile was the prettiest he’s seen in a long time and how he wish you could see the beauty in yourself that he could see. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he already knew he’d want more than just today. He’s been burying his feeling for such a long time, but you make him want to live again.

He can feel himself getting closer, so lost in how good you feel, how good you make him feel. He pulls your leg up, pushing deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over. “I’m close. Please cum for me, baby.” He drives his cock deeper and harder, reveling in the way you moan. “Be a good girl for me and cum.”

His words wash over you, the praise pushing you over the edge. You scream out in pleasure, digging your nails into Franks shoulder. It’s only a few more thrusts before Frank comes, pushing in deep as he empties himself in you.

Frank puts his forehead to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. You kiss him deeply, holding him close. You can already feel yourself wanting to see Frank again, but you wont get your hopes up. A guy like that is probably swarmed by women, many prettier than you.

You look away, hating your intrusive thoughts. As if he can read your mind, Frank cups your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes as he kiss you passionately. “That was something else, sweetheart.”

“Something good, I hope.” You bite back with a grin, making Frank smile. That damned smile. Fuck, he is a gorgeous man.

“Very good.” He smirks, kissing you softly before pulling out gently. After he helps you clean up, he surprises you by staying. He had his own room, but he lays down beside you, pulling you into his nook. You talk for a bit, about nothing important really, but it’s still one of the best nights of your life.

-

When you open your eyes, the sun is so bright it almost hurts. Or maybe it was just your head. You really shouldn’t have drunk all those beers with Frank. Your memory flashes back to the two of you, sitting outside in your parents gazebo with a ton of beers between you, listening to each other’s stories.

You look to the side and your heart drops. The other side of the bed is empty, Frank nowhere to be found. Even his clothes are gone from the floor. So, yet another one-night stand then. You’re starting to get too predicable, and you hate it. With a heavy sigh, you start to get dressed, getting ready for breakfast. There’s a soft knock on your door and you reluctantly open.

To your surprise, you find Frank outside the door, dressed in new clothes and looking ravishing. “Wanted to pick you up for breakfast.”

“Oh, I thought…” You begin, but stop yourself.

“That was I was just gonna up and leave?” He shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe. “That ain’t my style, princess.”

You smile in surprise, walking out the door to follow him downstairs. Many of the guests have stayed over and the venue from last night had been turned into a breakfast buffet. Your parents had spared no expense for this wedding.

“Look, ‘bout last night, I-” Frank begins, but you stop him with a soft hand on his arm. Ever since your dance last night, you had feared this was too good to be true and when he kissed you after a few dances and too many beers, you knew it was probably only the alcohol talking. So it was better for you to stop him, than to be stung by his rejection.

“Frank, you don’t have to say anything. I’ve already heard it all. ‘It was fun, but let’s keep it to one night’, ‘You are cute, but I’m just not ready for a relationship’ or ’It’s not you, it’s me’. It’s okay, I get it.” You put on a fake smile, willing yourself to look into his eyes. “I’m not the kind of girl men wanna date.” You turn, just wanting to get away.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted a coffee when we get back to the city.”

You stop, not even sure you heard him right. Did he really, this gorgeous man, want to see you again? For a date? In broad daylight in the city? You look at him and the expression on your face makes him laugh. Suddenly, you’re speechless. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Beer and pizza then? I know you like beers.” He closes the distance, smiling as he looks into your eyes. And you just nod, smiling wide, already looking forward to your date.

Two years later

Frank is standing in the kitchen making you breakfast. It had been two years since he met you. The best two years of his life. After Maria and the kids he never thought he could be happy again. Especially with the things he had done, with all the blood he had on his hand and all the lives on his consciousness.

But you had accepted him, accepted every flaw and loved him for the man he was, the man he had been. You never saw all the bad, only saw him. That morning after Matt’s wedding you had chosen him and still to this day, you woke up every morning and still chose him.

Your footsteps sound on the stairs, your sweet yawn filling the air. You had been tired lately, so he just let you sleep in today, wanting to surprise you on your anniversary.

You always complain about how awful you look in the mornings, never believing him when he calls you beautiful. But you are, inside and out, the most beautiful woman. Even with your hair in a messy bun, mouth ajar in a huge yawn as you sit down, his hoodie covering your beautiful curves, he would still say that nothing compares to you.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He says with a smile, pushing your tea over the counter towards you. With a grateful hum, you take a sip of the tea, eyes never leaving him as he continues making breakfast. Putting the utensils down, he fumbles with his phone as walks around the counter and extends his hand to you.

“What?” You ask, but then the music of a familiar song fills the air. Loving you easy, the first song you guys danced to. You don’t even argue, just take his hand and let him swirl you around the kitchen as the pancakes bake on the pan.

As he swings you around the kitchen, you sing along to the song that has become your song. You love mornings like this, thinking life can’t really get any better than this. Frank place soft kisses on your neck, finding that one ticklish spot you have, making you giggle.

But the smell of burned pancake pulls his attention back to the stove, cursing as he throws away the ruined pancakes. With your help, you quickly get the rest of the breakfast ready and fill your plates before sitting down at the table.

“So, what’s our plans today?” You question before taking a bite of your pancakes, moaning over how great they taste.

“Somethin’ that makes you sound like that.” He grins, sipping his coffee as he winks at you. Breaking of a piece of your pancake, you throw it at him.

“Alright, alright.” He huffs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Dinner at that fancy Italian place, a movie and then back here. I want your wrapped around me all night.”

“That can be arranged.” You grin, biting your bottom lip. He gets up and stops by your side to kiss you, before he walks to a drawer and take out a small gift.

“Here, sweetheart.” He places the gift in front of you and carefully, you start to unwrap it. Inside is a small box. Opening it, you find a small blue dog collar with a shiny little dog tag.

“You said you wanted to expand our little family.” He says softly, pulling his chair closer and sitting down. “We’re going to pick him up tomorrow.”

You throw your arms around him, kissing him hard. You and Frank already had a dog, a beautiful Pitbull rescue named Red (Frank thought he was so clever with that one), but you both loved dogs and knew you wanted more.

“Actually… I was thinking the same thing, when I made your gift.” You say nervously, standing up to get your gift. Frank just laughs, taking the gift from your hands when you return to the table. He tears the paper off, stopping completely when he holds the stick in his hands.

You’ve been so nervous to tell him, so scared of how he would react. You knew losing his kids had been a pain worse than death, not sure if he ever wanted to have a child again.

When he still hasn’t said anything, his eyes still fixed on the positive test, you get anxious. “Frank, please say something.”

Tearing his eyes away from the test, his beautiful brown eyes find yours. You can see the tears threatening to spill. “I… I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah, but… Only if you want to.” You whisper, looking down at your hands fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt. You feel Franks hands on your face, cupping your cheeks so softly. Bringing your gaze to his, you see the small smile on his face.

“I should have bought a ring instead of a collar.” He laughs, pulling you into a kiss. Wrapping his arms around you, he brings you closer until you sit on his lap. One hand moves from your back onto your belly. Nothing there to feel yet, still the notion makes you warm.

“I love you, Frank.” You kiss him again before snuggling closer to him.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He whispers into your ear, holding you tight. Things might not always be easy and things were going to change, but one thing that would always remain was your love.

You make loving you easy

you make loving you all I wanna do

Every little smile, every little touch

reminds me just how much it all makes

loving you easy

TFC girls: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @realfernmayo @pedrito-friskito @mindidjarin @mattmurdocksscars @saintmurd0ck @idrinkcoffeeandobsess

Tagging: @lucy-sky @darlingshane @boliv-jenta

[pedrito-friskito]

'til kingdom come - tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

the evolution of your relationship with peter parker.

a/n: my entry for the April TFC Writing Challenge! it was for a fic based on a song, (til kingdom come by coldplay - off the soundtrack!) I happened to watch The Amazing Spider-Man and No Way Home in the same weekend, and well, here we are. enjoy! 🤍 (just for the record - this would be no way home era tasm!peter parker, so at least a 5-6 years older than at the end of tasm 2!)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of car accidents, hospital stays, broken bones, fluff, not completely explicit but still explicit smut, this was INCREDIBLY self-indulgent and I regret nothing

✨@friskito-library for updates on new works!✨

You’re used to him disappearing, at this point.

To waking in the middle of the night to an empty half of the bed, the pillow still warm, the only sign that he was here at all your scattered clothes on the ground, the ghost of a kiss on your mouth, and the satisfied hum in your bloodstream. It’s routine, to a degree, and has you burying your face in his pillow, chasing whatever remnants you can until he comes back.

And he always comes back.

+

It started as some kind of strange, electric current that ran beneath your skin when this doe-eyed scrap of a man paused in the doorway of your hospital room. He heard you crying, walked in, concern in that chocolate-coloured gaze and asked you if you were alright. Given the circumstance, your leg casted six ways to Sunday and a painful crick in your neck, you blubbered out a no, but then he introduced himself - “Peter Parker, I’m…I’m Peter.” - as he handed you a tissue, and then all of a sudden he was sinking into the chair at your bedside, distracting you from the pain.

“You don’t even know me,” you protested, shaking your head.

He’d just lifted a shoulder, dragging the chair a little closer. He handed you another tissue, asked if you wanted some water. “If you told me your name, then I would.” His grin was infectious. “Besides, when I heard you crying, I couldn’t just keep walking.”

You talked for hours. Until the nurse came in and declared visiting hours over, your evening round of pain meds in your hand. Peter hovered as she pushed the syringe into your IV, and your vision swirled at the edges. Ah, morphine. “Say your goodbyes,” the nurse prompted, giving him a pointed glare. “Boyfriend can come back in the morning.”

“He’s not my…” you trailed off, the meds kicking in fast, making your words slur. Your hand flopped off the edge of the bed, and Peter could resist the urge to squeeze his fingers around yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grinned, and you were out cold by the time he reached the door to your room.

You saw him the next day. And the next day. The day after that, and the day after that. He became a permanent fixture in the chair at your bedside, distracting you with anecdotes and cheesy jokes while your leg healed. He never showed up at the same time each day, but learned the visiting hours window quickly, and was good with his timing, always showing up within it. Your nurse still had to kick him out when he showed up later in the day, your visits often trailing well past the end of visiting hours, but she let him stay longer more than once.

He was there the day they discharged you, and helped you into the taxi to take you back to your apartment. He was patient, helping you up the steps and into the elevator, carrying your bags. At that point, you knew each other supremely well, and there was something so comforting about being around Peter, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You hungry?” he asked, setting you up on your couch, propping your leg up the way the nurse had instructed. “I’m no chef, but I make a mean boxed mac and cheese.”

“Everything in my fridge has probably gone bad,” you pouted, wincing as you adjusted slightly. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been home.”

“Shit. Right.”

“Pizza?”

He grinned, nodding in agreement. “Pizza.”

And so you spent the day together on your couch, watching old movies and eating pizza. Peter made sure you had water close by, doled out the meds the hospital had given you, fluffed your pillows. 

You forgot about the pain, and it wasn’t the drugs.

And before long, you were half asleep, as you were most nights when he visited you in the hospital. Except now, your head lolled on his shoulder, his t-shirt covered chest rising and falling beneath your hand. “I should go,” he mumbled into your hair. “Let you get some rest.”

“I can sleep here,” you mumbled back. “You can take my bed, if you want. You don’t have to go.” You hummed, your voice drenched with sleep, and then you were out like a light.

You woke some time later in your bed, your leg propped up on pillows, blankets pulled to your chin. There was a note on your nightstand, scrawled in a hasty hand.

Couldn’t leave you on the couch. Quite the first date, if you ask me. Hope you slept well - Peter x

Your eyes lingered on the words first date, and you tried to ignore the thump in your chest, but no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away.

+

About a month later, after your cast was removed, the first few rounds of physical therapy done, and you were feeling good.

Good enough to call Peter out.

You’d finally gone back to work, and perched at your desk, staring out the window on your lunch break, you dialed his number. You’d seen each other a few times since you’d been discharged, the odd cup of coffee when you were both free. But the note he’d left at your bedside still lingered in the back of your mind. You needed to know.

“Hello?” he answered with a grunt, and it sounded windy as hell wherever he was. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, spine prickling at the concern in his voice. “Everything’s fine, I’m just…”

“You’re what?” he questioned, almost heaving a breath on the other line.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He grunted, and there was a sound like he almost dropped the phone. “You’re what?”

“You called it a first date,” you spewed out, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “The day I came home from the hospital, when you stayed with me.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did.” You could almost see the blush in his cheeks. “Is that okay with you?”

“It is,” you said slowly, ignoring the whip of wind on his end of the line. “But you realize that calling it a first date implies that there’s gonna be a second date.”

“Does it?”

“It does.”

“Then how about I pick you up at seven?”

+

“I wasn’t gonna do this,” you breathed out against his mouth. His hands - god, his hands - were on your hips, pulling you against him while his lips ghosted over yours. He’d spent the elevator ride mapping out the curve of your jaw, making your pulse jump beneath your skin as he roamed your neck. “I was gonna make you wait, I was gonna-”

“Shut up,” he mumbled back, and his hands jumped from your hips to your mouth, pulling you more firmly against him, his lips claiming yours. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

He’d knocked on your door at almost half past seven, and as you yanked the door open, some chastising comment about him being late, he’d pushed a semi-crushed bouquet of flowers into your hands, leaning forward and pecking your cheek as he murmured, “You look nice.” And the comment died on your tongue.

Dinner was great. The conversation passed between you as easily as ever. You talked about work; your journalism gig was busy as ever, and when you told him you had Spider-Man to thank for your latest front page article. “Your pictures worked perfectly,” you said over the rim of your wine glass, not missing the way his ears turned red. “It was the perfect cover shot.”

“I’m glad.”

A few hours of conversation, a brief tussle over who would pay the bill - Peter won, claiming that it was your article that put his photo on the cover, so he owed you one - and you were walking back to your apartment. You had to stop a few times, rubbing at a rogue pain in your leg, and after the second time, Peter tugged on your hand until you were behind him, then gestured for you to hop up.

“Are you insane? Peter, I’m not light, you can’t-”

“I carried you to bed on our first date,” he quipped, dropping his hands and turning around. He watched the puzzle pieces fit together in your expression, the details sussing themselves out. It formed a little dip between your brows, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and smoothing his thumb over it.

“You did, didn’t y-”

And then he kissed you. Right there on the street, lamplight pouring over the both of you, the slight pain in your leg forgotten.

You were speechless when he pulled back, and a moment later, you were on his back, the pair of you striding towards your apartment.

He’d kissed you again in the lobby as he set you back on your feet. Again as you waited for the elevator. When it was blessedly empty, he crowded you into the corner and pushed his face into your neck, teeth scraping your pulse. When your breath hitched, he did it again. Again and again and again.

Then, inside your apartment, he pushed you against the wall, quieting your words, drinking them down with his hands on your face. Your blood thumped in your ears, heat flaring between your legs as he pushed his tongue between your teeth.

Fuck waiting.

He was careful. Gentle, even, as he snaked his hands back down your body, glancing around the curve of your ass before he was gripping behind your knees, lifting you up and against him. You squeaked at his strength, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you down the hall to your bedroom. You undressed each other slowly, lips never far apart as clothes scattered across the floor.

Something like panic flared in your eyes when you saw the bruises along his ribs, the scratch at his collar, but he kissed you again, silencing your worries when he snuck his hand down your front, fingertips licking at your nerves, pulling sensations to the surface of your body you hadn’t felt in a while.

The carefulness continued, both of you bathed in the darkness, the only source of light the slit in your curtains. Peter moved differently in the dark, somehow anticipating every move you made, as you explored each other. He pulled noises from you you didn’t think yourself capable of, making you cum hard once on his tongue before he was crawling over you on the bed, the ends of his hair tickling your skin as he made his way up to your lips once more.

There was that moment of realness, that pause of trepidation that filled the space between you when you fished a condom out of your nightstand. He hissed when you moved your hand over him, following his movements, tracing his outlines.

When he pushed into you, your good leg wrapped around his hip, his hands braced around your head, his face buried in your collar, you lost what little breath you had left. He managed to find every last nerve you needed touched, and it wasn’t long before you were losing it again, your head thrown back on the pillow, fingers buried in his wayward hard.

You fell asleep shortly after, curled on your side, Peter glued to your back.

But when you woke up, he was gone.

+

Peter avoided you as long as he could.

He felt bad about it, obviously, the guilt tugging at his insides anytime he saw something that reminded him of you, caught a scent in the air that smelled suspiciously like your shampoo.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. Truthfully, he could have stayed there in your bed all night, even if sleep evaded him. He would have watched you for hours, committed every inch of you to memory as you slept, maybe woke you up once or twice with his mouth or his hands or a combination, just to hear those sweet noises of yours again.

But then his senses had prickled, the scream of alarms outside reaching his ears. You stayed soundly asleep, your brow furrowing again. Despite everything in him yelling that he needed to go, Peter reached out, swiped his thumb across the dip in your skin yet again. It hadn’t disappeared when he’d kissed you hours ago, his movements taking you slightly by surprise, but then, your lashes fluttering with dreams, it smoothed out beneath his touch, and he smiled.

He didn’t want to leave.

He was falling for y-

The thought cut short. He shook his head, snuck out the fire escape and climbed to the roof of the building, pulling his gear out of his bag and disappearing across the city, his senses chasing the alarms.

The thought, and the feeling that accompanied it, wouldn’t leave him alone. Even when he went back home, Aunt May chiding him to eat him something when he appeared in the kitchen the next morning, his mind wandered back to you. You would have woken up alone, the only evidence he was there in the first place being the condom in your garbage can. 

And the sucked bruise he’d left on the inside of your thigh.

He was a mix of longing and guilt, heat and despair. His body begged him to go back to you, to apologize as many times as it took for you to let him kiss you again. But his mind said no, told him it was too soon, that his past was too fresh.

But could you really put a timeline on grief?

He’d never forget Gwen, never forget the way he’d held her that night, the way life had so cruelly ripped her away from him. She was a part of him, forever. No amount of time would change that.

Aunt May’s voice echoed in his mind. What she’d said when he found her packing Uncle Ben’s things into boxes.

You’re throwing his stuff away?

No, god, no. I couldn’t do that. It’s part of me. I’m just finding a better place for it. I’m gonna take one last look, and I’m gonna put it where it belongs.

For years now, he wasn’t sure what to do with everything he felt for Gwen. It still loomed around his heart, clutching at him like a vise, sneaking up on him at the most inopportune of moments. The love he’d had for her, it had nowhere else to go, so it sat in him, brewing like oversteeped tea, making him feel sour for what he’d lost.

Finding a better place for it.

Put it where it belongs.

He intended to call you that day. He was running late for an appointment, rushing through the city streets, when he collided with someone, a cup of coffee falling to the sidewalk at his feet. He narrowly avoided the hot liquid, cursing under his breath, and then he caught the scent of your shampoo, forcing himself to ignore the way it twisted his gut.

But then he took a deeper breath, and realized it wasn’t just the smell of your hair. 

It was you.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, shame and guilt washing his cheeks rosy. “I’m so sorry, I’m-”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said, rising to your feet, now-empty coffee cup in hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

He pulled you to the side, avoiding the coffee spill, dragging you into a doorway a few steps up from the sidewalk. You went willingly, but he could see the hesitation in your eyes, and he couldn’t blame you. Your eyes darted anywhere but his face, leaning back against the doorway, chewing at your lip.

“I screwed up,” he said bluntly, and that had your eyes zipping to his. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak out on you, or avoid you, or any of it. I just…I’m sorry.”

Your brow lifted slowly. “You keep saying that.”

“Would you give me another chance?” he asked, the words still pouring out of him. “Please?”

Your chest lifted as you inhaled deeply. “I don’t hear from you for weeks, you come out of nowhere and spill my coffee, and you ask me for a third date?” Your tone was almost flat, but there was a quirk at the corner of your mouth you couldn’t hide. 

Daringly, Peter took a step forward, crowding into your space. His hand hovered for a moment before he lifted it, curling his fingers and letting his knuckles trail down your cheek. Your eyes fluttered and he took another step.

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down until his forehead was pressed to yours. His knuckles caressed your cheek again. “Please.”

Your next inhale was sharp and you tilted your head back, the tip of your nose moving along the curve of his. “I swear to god, Peter Parker, if you disappear on me again, I won’t-”

He was too busy kissing you to hear the end of the sentence.

+

Three days later, you had him in your bed again. It was an interesting evening, to say the least.

You made him wait this time. Sort of. It was your fourth date now, technically - you’d held out after the dinner he’d taken you to after your collison on th street - but the way he’d kissed you goodnight after this one had you saying fuck it to waiting yet again. There was something different about him, something less haunted in those dark eyes, something less hurried behind his movements.

Your kisses lingered in the elevator, the doorway, the hallway. You drank glasses of water in the kitchen, and Peter was distracted, his eyes catching on the drafts of your latest articles, spread out on the countertop. “No more Spider-Man?”

You lifted a shoulder. “No one’s seen him around in a while,” you answered, stepping close to him. “Plus, my favourite photographer disappeared on me.”

He cracked a smile. “Well, he won’t do that again, I’ve got it on good authority.”

Your smile echoed his. “Good.”

But then just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded. “Listen,” he started, his brow going hard, rubbing his hand up the back of his neck. “I promised myself I’d be honest with you, and there’s…there’s something I gotta tell you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, tilting your head to the side as you set your glass down. “So tell me.”

He braced both hands on the sink, pressing his lips together for a long moment before his head turned in your direction. “It was me that saved you that night. The car accident, when you broke your leg.”

Your brows pulled down, instantly confused. “No, it wasn’t. Peter, we didn’t even know each other back then, it was-”

The cops had told you who it was, your nurse repeating the story with the tiniest bit of disdain. It was what had inspired your front page piece, when you finally went back to work. A thank you, of sorts. It was-

“Spider-Man,” Peter says, his jaw hard enough to cut glass. Your head is spinning. “That’s me. I’m Spider-Man.”

You started laughing. Giggling like mad, nearly bent in half. “What are you-”

Without a word, Peter stepped away from you, one hand held palm up, and jumped. The ceilings in your apartment were low, but it was still a good three feet above your head. His bare hand connected with the ceiling…

…and stuck.

He swung slightly, staring down at you, his lips still pressed together.

“You…saved me?” you murmured out, your voice dropping as he did, his feet back on your kitchen tile. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Your memories of the accident were hazy; you’d spun out, your car diving off the edge of the bridge and into the river below. You remember being filled with fear as soon as the car hit the water, but the impact knocked you out. You woke up in the hospital later on, and the cops filled you in, told you that Spider-Man had carried you into the emergency department.

Peter just nodded. His shoulder lifted. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“But then you…?” you trailed off, your brow scrunching again.

He closed the distance between you, his thumb smoothing between your brows, something of a habit of his that you were already growing used to. “Then I came to see you in the hospital. I had to. I had to make sure you were okay.”

“You…You’re Spider-Man.”

He smiled as his hand moved around the outline of your face, his thumb now riding the curve of your lower lip. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“I’m having sex with Spider-Man?”

“I thought we were dating, too.”

You pushed at his chest, curling your fingers in the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him close. “I’m having sex with Spider-Man.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and you kissed the grin off his mouth. He moved faster than your eyes could track, grabbing you up into his arms, carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.

+

You lay sprawled in your bed hours later, the sun long gone. Peter is stretched out, his arm tucked behind his head, while you are laid on his chest, your chin resting on your hand. You’d only stayed quiet when he’d had his mouth on yours, your questions deterred while he was busy having his fill of you, making those sweet noises echo off the walls of your bedroom. He wasn’t sated, not by a long shot, but he could see the questions on your face as you both came down, chests heaving.

“Go ahead,” he prompts you, tugging you close. “Ask me.”

He tells you everything. He fields every question, tells you as much truth as he could bear. He doesn’t hold anything back, his words spilling out faster with every question on your lips. Soon enough, you’re kissing the words out of each other’s mouths, tangling in the sheets once again.

And then you have a secret of your own to share.

“I’m in love with you.”

His heart stalls in his chest. Every feeling he’d battled over the last few months brought back to the surface. “I…” His eyes search yours, so full of emotion - so full of truth - he feels guilt crawl up his throat. 

He’s told you about Gwen. You know what happened, you know the story. And you hadn’t pressed him for details, when he first brought it up. You were in the hospital still, laid out in that bed, him perched in the chair beside you. Your fingers had curled through his when he first brought it up, your eyes shining back at him. “It’s okay, Peter. I…I lost someone too. A long time ago. I get it.”

He wants to. He wants to tell you the same. He wants to admit it - to you, and to himself, finally.

But…

“I can’t,” he says, the words feeling like lead weights on his tongue. “I just-”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you reply, an echo of what you’d said when he’d first told you. “I get it, I just-”

He grabs your forearm, pulling you further up his chest, until he can bury his hand in your hair, his kiss cutting off your sentence. “Can you trust that I want to? That I want to say it, I just…need time? I’m not gonna ask you to wait for me, but if you-”

It’s your turn to cut him off, your mouth lingering on his. “I can wait, Peter. I will wait.”

+

And so it’s continued. More dates, more nights spent in your apartment. Walks through Central Park, dinners at Aunt May’s. May is in love with you from your very first meeting, which Peter predicted, and it’s all too easy to fall into the patterns, to become an even steadier part of each other’s lives.

Every time he has to go, his senses pulling him to another corner of the city, he sees the concern in your eyes. “Be careful,” you beg him, kissing him soundly. “Come back to me.”

“Always will,” he grins, returning the kiss, ducking out the window.

And he always does.

But now, he’s been gone for hours. You’ve been checking the news like a crazy person, scrolling on your phone, refreshing your best sources every few minutes. But nothing. You even go so far as to call the hospitals, making sure he hasn’t turned up in an emergency department somewhere. You can’t tell May; you can’t worry her like this.

Hours turn into days. You deter May’s worried calls with a white lie that Peter has food poisoning and has been sleeping it off at your place. Almost two days, and your worry is at an all time high. This is different. Something feels different, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

All you can do is wait. You told him you would.

+

The weird tingling from Dr. Strange’s spell fades, the brightness clouding his vision fading away, and Peter finds himself standing in your living room. A glance at the kitchen clock tells him it’s very early, and as the exhaustion of the last forty-eight hours starts to set in, already making his limbs heavy, he heads for your bedroom, stripping out of the suit as he goes.

By the time he steps through the doorway, he tosses the suit in the direction of your laundry bin. His mind is still spinning, churning with everything he’s witnessed in the last few days. He doesn’t really know how to make sense of it all, but there’s one thing he has to do.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out and covering your shoulder with his hand, shaking gently as he pulls the blankets back with his other hand.

You grumble for a moment, your eyes cracking open, but when you see it’s him, you surge upwards, throwing your arms around his neck. “Peter!”

“Hi, baby,” he mumbles into your neck, dropping the blanket and wrapping his arm around your waist, the other finding a home in your hair. “Sorry I disappeared on you.”

“What happened?” you cry, pulling back, taking his face in your hands, your eyes instantly inspecting him. “You were gone for two whole days, I didn’t know what to-”

He kisses you hard, wrapping your hair around his knuckles. You return the affection, holding him as tightly as he’s holding you. “I wanna tell you what happened, but I don’t totally know myself? All I know is that I’m exhausted, and there’s something that I do have to tell you.”

You pull him down into bed, instantly fitting yourself against his side, pulling the blankets over you both. Puzzle pieces falling into place. Your brown furrows, and he moves his thumb over the dip. “What is it, Peter? Tell me.”

He drags his knuckles down your cheek. “I’m in love with you, too.”

THE END.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Move Me ||

Matt Murdock x gender neutral reader

Tags/warnings: dancer reader and boxer/DD Matt. slight angst but mostly lovely fluff.

A/N: this is for the March TFC writing challenge with the prompt "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too much?" heavily inspired by Movement by Hozier which I've listened to so much recently.

You had found Fogwell's gym through your friend's dad, somewhere that was close by and cheap enough that you could practice for your dance exam final and didn't mean you were missing out on dinners for half the week.

When you first tentatively pushed open the door the smell of stale sweat met your nose and you could hear the soft huffs and grunts as a boxer worked out on the bag. He was focused and unrelenting, and doesn't notice you coming in and you find yourself watching him for a few minutes.

He's not the busted up, heavy set kind of guy that you might have expected to find in a place like this. No, he was lean, his strength and power clear as day, the loose vest he was wearing was soaked with sweat and showing off his upper body as he hit the bag with a flurry of punches.

You put your stuff down to change out of your street shoes and the thumping stops, the silence only permeated by his soft panting of breath.

"Hi." He says brightly. "You must be the dancer?"

"Oh, hi, yeah. I'm sorry I didn't mean to disturb you!" You manage to stutter out as you look up at him and see that he's gorgeous. His eyes are a deep, warm brown and you notice that they never exactly meet yours.

"You didn't, just taking a breather." He says, smiling in your direction.

"I'm uh, just gonna use the ring for my practice. I promise I won't get in your way." You assure him, and he does this thing where he tilts his head, raising a brow as he follows your voice. It's cute.

"Sure, no worries." He smiles again, a little wider this time, "I'm Matt."

"Hi, Matt." You reply and introduce yourself before ducking into the ring and putting your earbuds in.

Yeah, Matt was gonna be a distraction for sure.

Matt carries on with his training, the sound of his punches and kicks interspersed with the soft sweep and swish of your body as you start to move across the sprung floor.

A dancer and a boxer. You had more in common than you thought.

Five nights a week you find yourself in Fogwell's, sometimes there's one or two other people training on their own, but he is there all the time. Every night you respond politely to his cheerful hello, then you both get on with your routines. You always wore earbuds when you were practicing, not wanting to disturb the few boxers from their own rhythms.

"I just wondered, there's plenty of dance studios around the city, do you mind if I ask why you come here?"

His question makes you look up from the floor where you're warming up.

"Well, for one it's a lot cheaper, but mostly I feel better knowing that no-one here is watching me fuck up all the time." You smile and he nods, realising that you already noted his impairment. He was usually here when you arrived and you were gone before he left so you had never seen him using his cane but he guessed it was otherwise obvious.

Despite that fact, Matt could always feel the shift in pressure as you crossed one foot over the other into a seamless turn, your arms extending outwards before pulling back in and down your body. He could feel you move, and he thought you moved beautifully.

He tilts his head to one side. "Forgive me, but you're all dance students right? I'm sure that they fuck up sometimes too?"

You swallow, your mouth suddenly very dry. You loved dancing, couldn't stop yourself from embellishing a walk down the street with a spin, swaying along with the trees in the park, or choreographing in your head when you were on the train. But despite that you so often doubted yourself, got anxious and felt sick when you knew people were actively watching you perform. But you were trying to work on it, trying to find some way of dealing.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a little more uh, self conscious about it than they are..."

Matt nods softly, aware of your slight anxiousness. "I'm pretty sure you've got nothing to worry about." He assures you, and maybe you open yourself a little to believing it.

Sometimes you swore Matt was watching you. The way he'd place his palms to steady the swing of the punching bag and pause there, his head cocked and fingers gently tapping along in sync to the beat that you only thought you would be able to hear in your earbuds. But it was impossible, he was blind, and despite what people say about the other senses making up for those lost, no one could hear that well…

The next session, you say your usual short hellos and small talk when you're sitting on the bench tying your shoes he speaks again, his soft easy voice a caress to your ears.

"You know it's just me, or uh, us here tonight. We've got the place to ourselves."

You look across at him and nervous butterflies start swirling in your stomach. "Oh…really, I um…"

Matt realises that it sounded like a come on and quickly adds- "What I meant was, there's a Bluetooth speaker over there that you can play your music through. If you wanted to."

You find yourself almost disappointed that it wasn't a line after all. You'd grown comfortable with him being there, you would even say you actually looked forward to your practice time because of him.

"Oh! That would be really great, but you're sure it won't disturb you?"

"Not at all. It'd be great to hear some music in here for a change."

You smirk, "well it might get a little annoying, hearing the same track over and over, so just let me know when you get sick of it."

Matt shakes his head. "I'm thinking it might be meditative for me, maybe give me something to focus on." Something that's not the way your heart flutters when you look at me. Matt thinks to himself.

You move over to the shelf the speaker is sitting on and set it up on your phone, skipping to the end of the track so that you can get in place before it loops and starts again. Matt resumes his training and you continue like that for the rest of the week, sharing the space but doing your own thing.

In the second week after a couple of hours you crash down onto the floor with a frustrated groan, flopping onto your back and hammering your fists against the mat in annoyance.

"Are you okay?" Matt asks with concern. You let out a heavy sigh.

"Ugh, yeah. It's just.. I can't get this section to flow, it's all wrong and I can't think of what else to do with it!"

"You've been at it for ages. Maybe take a break, clear your head?" Matt gestures at the bag. "Here, you can come and punch this for a while, I promise it'll help."

You heave yourself up, suddenly feeling energised at the thought of spending some time with him. "Okay, but I don't really know how to punch."

He steps aside, giving you space when you climb down between the ropes of the ring and stand beside him. "Make a fist?"

You close your hand into some approximation of a fist, frowning as it looks wrong. "Uh, is that right? Can you show me?"

Matt clears his throat. "Sure. Um, do you mind if I…" he holds out his hand for yours and you give him it, holding your breath as his warm hands carefully manipulate your fingers into the correct position.

"So you don't break anything." Matt explains, and gives your hand a quick squeeze now that you've got it.

"Thanks." He hears the smile in your voice as you bounce a little on the balls of your feet like you've seen him do when he's training.

"Alright you're all set, throw your arm out from the shoulder, and try to imagine you're hitting out beyond your fist. Now, just give it your best shot!"

You take a deep breath and lash out at the bag with a yell, making it shake on the chain. although not as much as when Matt does it. Still, you're pleased, and seemingly he is too. He listens as you land another few hits, and you're both grinning as your frustration melts away.

"Shit, I would not want to get into a fight with you, I could tell that was a decent punch!"

"Do you fight? Like with other people, sparring and stuff?" You ask him, and he scratches the back of his neck, feels the constant ache in his body.

"Uh yeah, sometimes." Every single night.

"Teach me how to kick?" You ask, and he nods, loving how curious and eager you are to learn.

He demonstrates the kick a few times, striking out with the lower part of his shin hitting the side of the bag and then it's your turn, but you're not sure if you're doing it right.

You watch carefully as he does it slowly this time, the muscles of his thigh and calf so strongly defined as they tense, and he thumps into the bag.

You try again, putting more force into it this time and somehow he senses you're unbalanced and reaches out, catching you gently before you nearly fall over.

"Whoops, heh careful!" His face lights up as he smiles, righting you and you laugh as you regain your balance. "It's much harder to do slow."

"Yep, just like dancing!" You try again but you're not satisfied.

"Do you think… would you mind, maybe if you move me with your hands, you would be able to tell what I'm doing wrong? I'm just not sure-"

What are you doing?? You scold yourself.

"Uh yeah, of course. Let me just-" he moves to the side behind you, placing his left hand on the outside of your hip and his right ready to catch under your leg just above your knee when you swing it out.

"Okay, so make sure you're turning your hip into the kick, like this." He pushes on you gently, guiding your movement so you get the rotation and your shin contacts square on.

"Oh!"

"There, you've got it, you're a natural!"

When you're back standing on both feet his hand is still resting on your hip. Your face heats up and you're so glad he can't see how hard you're blushing but he hurriedly lifts it away as if he's been burned by the heat of your skin.

"Try a few on your own?" He suggests, stepping back to give you more space. You find yourself missing the contact with him but you kick the bag again and it feels good.

"Thank you so much Matt, that really did help." You climb back into the ring and take a huge gulp of water trying to calm the buzzing high you feel from being so close to him.

"I'm glad it did, and honestly, anytime. I'll uh, let you get back to it."

"Thanks," you say, stretching your arms before you start back on your choreography. "Maybe I could teach you some moves sometime… uh, dance moves that is!" You blurt out, the heat rising to your face yet again, but Matt is nodding with a genuine smile.

"I'd really like that."

You find the conversation between you flowing even easier after that, Matt's easy to talk to and you never feel under any pressure to be anything but yourself when he's around.

On Monday night you arrive at the gym and the door is locked. You have a key but had never had to use it yet as Matt was always there before you. But not tonight. You switch on the flickering lights and get ready to go through your routine, but it feels lonely without him in the room and you wrap up much earlier than normal.

The next evening the door is open when you get there and you're glad to see Matt's sitting on the bench. He's hunched over and the loose tail of his hand wraps dangles from his fingers onto the floor.

"Hey, get up to anything fun last night?" You try your best to keep it casual, but you can't help your mind wondering if he had been on a date or something.

He looks up and it's then that you see the deep cut across his brow and the dark blooming bruises on his arms and legs.

"Oh Matt! Are you alright?" You rush over, kneeling down in front of him. He's surprised as you gently brush his hair from his face, hearing your heart rate increase with worry as you check him over.

"It's okay, it's nothing really."

You knew there was a first aid kit in the toilets and you hurried to retrieve it, sitting down again in front of him, taking out some antiseptic and a cotton ball.

"It's not nothing. Here, hold still for me?" He winces a little as the alcohol stings as you carefully dab it along the opening. He can't help marvel at how determined you are to take care of him as you close up the cut with a couple of adhesive strips. Your fingers graze along his stubbled jaw as you turn his head from one side to the other making sure there was nothing else that needed tending, and when you let go Matt finds himself wanting to chase after your touch.

"Okay, I think that's better. I've got some arnica for the bruises at home, I'll bring it tomorrow."

"You're an angel. Thank you." He says, and just like that your confidence wanes, and you feel the heat flooding your face again as you pack the medical supplies away.

"So, what happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Matt considers lying, telling you that yeah, it was a fight with the stairs and they won, but he finds he can't, doesn't want to.

He sighs. "Yeah. I- I just made a stupid mistake. But you should see the other guy." He tries making light of the situation even though he's feeling miserable, but you don't laugh. It doesn't take a psychic to know that there was something more going on, but you weren't going to press him.

"Maybe you shouldn't be here tonight Matt, you should go home and get some rest." Your heart tugs at his lost expression, you really don't like seeing him like this. You just wish you could do something to make it better.

He fiddles with the shredded end of the wrap, picking at the loose thread. "I, uh, came in because I didn't really want to be alone."

He's silent for a beat and then…

"Would it be okay if maybe I could… just listen to you dance?" Then he shakes his head and goes to get up, dismissing the request. "No, no sorry that's just… weird. Nevermind just-"

You stop him in his tracks, your hands on his shoulders and a soft smile on your lips. "Hey, it's not weird. And last night, when you weren't here… I kinda missed having the company."

You see the corner of Matt's mouth tug up just slightly and it fills you with warmth. "Yeah?"

"You're one of the best audiences I've had." You tell him, and it raises a small chuckle.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

You run through your routine and your heart skips as every time you steal a glance at Matt, he looks lighter and happier.

Matt feels his mood lift almost immediately as you pad across the floor of the ring, turning, stretching and moving your body so gracefully in time with the music. He feels your gaze and smile on him, and he's grateful. You've brought something into his life he didn't even know he was missing.

The end of the fourth week comes round so quickly and it's your last session. Your exam is on Saturday morning but you feel ready, ready to face a room of examiners and the other students. You know exactly how you're going to get through it, how you'll beat your nerves and anxiety. All you have to do is imagine that you're performing right here and it's only the two of you. Just you and Matt.

"Dance with me." You say, at the end of your run through, as Matt kicks the bag and it nearly knocks him over as it swings back as he hears your request.

"What?"

You laugh at his sudden adorable awkwardness. "Dance with me! I said I'd teach you some moves, and you seemed kinda keen before…"

Matt grins and starts peeling off his wraps. "I am. Just don't hate me if I step on your toes."

You laugh as he joins you in the ring and you come to stand facing him. "You won't."

"Alright, so… give me your hands?"

He holds them out and you place them on your hips. His touch is light but keeps perfect contact with you as you slowly swing your hips out, around and back in a figure of eight. Your heart is racing a mile a minute.

"You feel that?" You ask, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You've got to know what you're doing to him.

"Yeah."

"Now you try." You can't help laughing a little as he moves slightly stiffly at first, but when you put your hands on his hips to guide him the movements very quickly smooth out and you're impressed.

"Okay good, now you're gonna step forward to me with your right foot while I step back, and then your left goes back and my right forward, and layer on that movement with your hips. Does that make sense?"

Matt smiles and lets you lead him for a few steps then falters a bit and stops. "Shit, I'm sorry, told you I'd mess up."

You grin, "don't worry, but it might be easier if we're a bit closer?"

He nods and your heart is now thumping in your chest so hard that you swear he must hear it as he holds you so you're pressed to him. You can feel the heat of his body, smell the light sweat from his workout, and you're giddy with it all.

Matt can't even hear the hard pattering of the rain on the plate glass window over the dominant sound of your heart, and he doesn't want to. It's a beat he would dance to forever, but you'll be gone after tonight and he'll probably never see you again, so he tries to just savour this moment, to get lost in it as he follows your body, the way you move and move him. You're light and soft, but simultaneously grounded and strong. As you start to gently sway back and forth, he closes his eyes and goes wherever you want to take him.

"You're a natural, Matt." Your voice is barely a whisper as he moves a hand to your mid back and your own slides up to lay on his shoulder. Your free hands join, fingers interlocking as you start to lead him around the ring and he follows you effortlessly, in contact the whole time, the two of you moving as one as if you had been partners for years.

You feel so lightheaded as you dance together, becoming more daring with your steps but he always follows. You hum and laugh as he lets you spin out from his arms and then reels you back in again.

When you lean backwards he's got you, supporting you easily as you let your upper body arc around in a half circle dip and then he guides you back upright. With your face now only inches from his you notice, and not for the first time, how pretty his lashes are, laying soft against the tops of his cheeks, how full and pink his lips look, as his tongue slips out to moisten them.

He feels your sweet halted breath fan over his face as you both wait for something.

It's Matt that speaks first.

"Good luck tomorrow, for your exam, but I'm sure you'll be amazing."

You're amazing.

You move and he moves, your face tilting up towards him as his fingers gently tip your chin, your lips brushing chastely as he kisses you so softly you could melt into the floor.

With your foreheads leaning against each other and your breathing shallow, you both pause. You're unable to keep the smile from your face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matt says in quiet apology, "was that… too much? I didn't mean to-"

You beam even harder, your fingers stroking the side of his face. "No Matt, it was perfect, and I'll let you know how it goes."

He looks up then, head tilting to the side. "You will?"

"Yeah, say... tomorrow afternoon? Maybe over coffee?" You suggest, unable to hide the glee in your voice and the butterflies in your stomach as you ask him out.

Matt grins, the pad of his thumb running small circles over your knuckles as he's still holding your hand in his. "Tomorrow? I, yes… yeah. I'd like that a lot!"

Tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @officialjanetsnakehole

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel

[skvatnavle]

Matt Murdock x reader

Warnings: None, really. Some swear words, fluff, a little dash of pining and some kissing.

Notes: On my discord server, Thirsty for Cox, we were a few people who thought it would be fun with a monthly challenge. This is the result of that. This month's prompt was Snowed in.

Words: 1.4K

”Fuck! Matt, we were supposed to take that exit! Why didn’t you say anything?” you groan out in frustration, already so late and fearing for the weather. The sky had gotten darker by each passing minute, the forecast saying a snowstorm was coming.

“Well, next time you shouldn’t choose the blind guy as your navigator.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the signature Murdock head tilt followed by a small frustrated smile.

“Shit, Matt. I’m sorry.” You try, reaching out to give his arms a soft squeeze. He’s so capable that you often forget he’s blind. But luckily you’ve known each other for years, so he knows you mean no offense. It had been several years since you met Matt, one weekend when Foggy had invited you to visit him at college. 

“It’s okay, Nugget.” He grins, knowing you still hate that nickname. Him and Foggy had teased you relentlessly when you were younger. Sometimes, they still made you feel like you were just a kid, but you loved them both nonetheless. You’re just about to shoot something back at Matt, when he leans forward, putting a hand over yours. “Is the winds picking up?”

Almost panicked, you look to the horizon. The dark skies are close and the trees are swaying more by the minute. And then it hits. The first snowflake soon turns into a blizzard, making it hard for you to see anything. You’re still an hour and a half away from home, but you fear you’re not gonna make it.

“Fuck. I’m not a good enough driver to go through this shit.” You pout, causing Matt to chuckle beside you. He gives a comforting pat on your leg, trying to calm your nerves.  “I’m sorry if I get us killed.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it. Where are we?” He says softly, really doing his best to remain calm and focused, while you’re slowly panicking beside him. You read some of the signs out loud for him and he just smiles. “There’s a little bed and breakfast a few miles from here.”

“And how do you know that?” You ask, surprised that Matt has been here before. He usually never leaves Hell’s Kitchen and when he does, it’s with Foggy.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Oh, fuck off Murdock. I refuse to stay at one of your sex cabins.” You tease, but deep down you feel a pang of jealousy. You’ve always liked Matt, maybe more than you should, so the thought of possibly staying in a room where he’s been with a girlfriend pains you. 

“I never had sex there. Not yet, anyway.” He smirks, clearly trying to rouse you and you hate that it’s working. You punch his shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling deep in your stomach. You know Matt will never see you as anything other than Foggy’s little sister. 

At the next exit, you turn and after a short while arrive at a beautiful little Bed and Breakfast. It’s looks magical in the snow, almost like taken out of a fairytale. Quickly you gather your things and run inside, the few seconds outside enough to freeze you to the core. Luckily, there’s one room left and you take it, happy to be out of the storm.

Once in the room, you quickly call Foggy and explain the entire situation to him. The entire family had been worried about you, fearing the worst since you should have arrived hours ago. The whole family is gathered for Christmas already, it’s only you and Matt missing. He had some business he needed to take care of, so while Foggy took off, you volunteered to stay back. But now you wish you had left yesterday.

“I’m sorry about this, Nugget.” Matt tries softly, when he hears the frustrated sigh you let out. He pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head softly. “I know you just want to be home already.”

“It’s fine, Matt.” You mutter, already forgetting that you’re not home now that you’re in Matt’s arms. He holds you for a while and you melt into his touch, wondering if you’ll ever get enough of him. You know you can’t have him, Foggy would kill you, but you sometimes wonder how it would be. Coming home to him after a long day at work. Making him dinner as you talk about your days. Having his soft, perfect lips on yours. His strong body on top of yours as he-

“You okay, Nugget? your heart’s racing.” Matt asks softly, caressing your arm. And no, you’re not okay. You’re hopelessly in love with Matt Murdock, but you can never tell him. Could you?

Breaking away from him, you look to the ground, always finding it hard to meet his gaze even though you know he can’t see you. You always feel like he can though, like he’s the only one that ever sees you truly. Shaking your head, you try to forget that thought. You can’t think like that, especially not now when you’re trapped with him in this room until tomorrow. So you settle for a ‘I’m okay’, knowing you can’t fool him. But you try. For your own sake.

He doesn’t press you further, just settles on the bed, getting comfortable. The silence between you is deafening all of a sudden, which is rare, cause you always have something to talk about. You wish one of you could say something, that anything would break the silence. As if he read your mind, he finds the remote and turns on the tv. More for your sake than his, but you are thankful, nonetheless. 

An hour later you order room service. The meal is actually quite good, and the wine Matt ordered is even better, so you feel yourself letting loose. After the second glass, you’re both more relaxed and by the time Matt pours from the second bottle, you feel better than you have in a long time. Sitting against the headboard of the bed, you lean against Matt, laughing hard at one of his stories. He always had this ability to make you laugh harder than anyone else could.

“You should have seen Foggy. He was fuming! Still to this day, I don’t think he’s forgiven me for that.” He laughs, falling into you. Your sides are hurting from laughing. If Matt really is that funny or if the wine’s just getting to you, you don’t know. But you feel good again, already forgotten about the horrible car ride.

“Thank you, Matty.” You giggle, kissing his cheek briefly. Right now, your family was probably playing some game or watching a christmas movie, but honestly you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I’m glad I got you smiling again.” He says softly, his hand cupping your cheek. You look into his beautiful hazel eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe you’re just drunk on Matt, but you feel your resolve getting weaker for every second.

“You always make me smile, Matty.” You say, hating how your voice breaks. “I… I’m always happiest when I’m with you.” You know you shouldn’t say anything, that you should keep pretending, but how could you when he’s right here, still holding you close.

“Foggy’s gonna kill me.” He breathes out, before his lips land on yours. Your body ignites, the small flame burning for him turning into an inferno as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer. You should stop him, he never should have kissed you. You don’t care, fingers running through his hair as the kiss turns hungry, years of want pouring into it. 

“Just to be clear. This is not because of that ‘not sex yet’ comment. I’ve wanted to do this for years.” Matt says between kisses, his hand gripping your waist as he pulls you under him.

“Wait, for years?” You stop him with a hand to his chest, shocked by his confession. “Then why didn’t you do something sooner?” 

“Foggy… I can’t lose him.” You hear the fear in his voice, knowing how much he means to Matt. With all his family gone, all he had for years was Foggy. 

“I know you won’t. You mean too much to him.” You reassure him, kissing him gently. “But he’ll probably get mad, so let’s not say anything until after Christmas?” You suggest, causing Matt to chuckle.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

His hazel eyes look to you, his eyes almost finding yours. For a while you just lay there, taking each other in, before Matt breaks the silence. “God, sweetheart. I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too, Matt. More than you know.” You whisper back before you kiss him again. The snow is still falling outside, almost covering the Bed and Breakfast. It looks like you might not be able to leave tomorrow, but that’s okay. You’re no longer in a rush to get home.

Thank you so much for reading <3

TFC girls: @e-dubbc11 @mindidjarin @phoebe-danvers @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @saintmurd0ck @pedrito-friskito @a-bang-for-your-bucky @lunaserenade @mattmurdocksscars

Tagging: @lucy-sky @fictionaljunkie @chasingdreamer @freshabogados @murdocks-devil

[she-likesorchids]

For Keeps: Chapter One

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Violence, Kidnapping, and other organized crime stuff. Frank and Matt bickering like an old married couple. Eventual threesome. Bisexual Frank Castle and Matt Murdock. They're vigilante boyfriends that live in a bunker.

Summary: Being the daughter of a New York politician with a heavy hand against organized crime puts a target on your back, and one night The Kitchen Irish finally get you. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen and The Punisher rescue you, and they vow to keep you safe. But, what happens when feelings get involved?

Author's Note: Written for the Thirsty for Cox server March challenge. The prompt is "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too much?" There will be a part 2 and maybe a part 3. Special thanks to @stress--relief and @itwasthereaminuteago for being my muses and helping me whip this into something readable. I love y'all to the moon and back!

Likes and kudos are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are golden!

Hell’s Kitchen is your home, for better or for worse. It felt like things were worse more often than better, but it is home nonetheless. You loved this city like you would love an unruly teenage child: you desperately wanted it to get its shit together, but you adored it unconditionally. Because your father was a politician with a heavy handed stance on organized crime, there was always a target on your back. The mobs of Hell’s Kitchen were all chomping at the bit to take a politician’s daughter for ransom to get back at him, and one night, the Kitchen Irish succeeded. 

You were walking home after your volunteer shift at the homeless shelter when a car screeched to a halt beside you, then two masked men jumped out and grabbed you before you could even reach your pepper spray. They gagged you and put a burlap sack over your head in an effort to keep you quiet, and to keep you from seeing exactly where they were taking you. You thrashed like a fish out of water in the backseat until the men tied your wrists together and one of them cracked you in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol, knocking you unconscious.

Read the rest on AO3.

Tagging the TFC crew! @skvatnavle @munsonownsmyass @e-dubbc11 @pedrito-friskito @itwasthereaminuteago @mattmurdocksscars @mindidjarin @thisishellfire @a-bang-for-your-bucky @saintmurd0ck @idrinkcoffeeandobsess

[foxhole-doodles]

mossy log for Kevin Day! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Of course it’s just water in the bottle.

[ilgaksu]

my Fandom Trumps Hate auction page is live: DMBJ, AFTG/TFC and TGCF

CAN I INTEREST YOU IN SOME HOMEGROWN FANFICTION COOKED TO YOUR TASTES AND SPECIFICATIONS?

I’m taking part in my first Fandom Trumps Hate auction this year and the browsing period has just opened, including my page.  I am actually the only writer offering DMBJ/Grave Robber’s Chronicles AT ALL this year, but I’m also down for AFTG/TFC and TGCF/Heaven’s Official Blessing. This auction means a lot to me since it’s giving me a way to pay forward the access to literally life-saving medical treatment fandom helped me get in 2021-2022, so if you’ve ever liked my work, please do me a favour and reblog - and have a look if you’re so inclined. 

I’ve copy-pasted the relevant info below, but please don’t forget you need to go to this page to get the bidding information, and actually, uh, you know, bid. Any other questions you can message me directly here on Tumblr. 

Organizations this auction benefits: Rainbow Railroad *, Sherlock's Homes Foundation, Transgender Legal Defense & Education Fund *, Any/all abortion funds (See full list.)

Type of fanwork: Written Subtype(s): Fanfic Fandom(s): DMBJ/Grave Robber's Chronicles , All for the Game, Tian Guan Ci Fu (Heaven Official's Blessing) Highest rating: E (Explicit) Length/scope: Less than 5k words

Especially interested in: Big love for a Weird Gender Thesis, historical AU, media pastiches, and art history as metaphor. I'm clearly currently obsessed with HeiHua (DMBJ) but I love to return to a fandom (so: AFTG), and would be thrilled to try out TGCF for the first time as a writer. Happy to finish a chapter of a work if you always wanted to see something finished and I didn't return to it. Smut-wise, I will absolutely write kink and I'm willing to negotiate on those. 

I am open to various pairings I haven't written before in any winning fandom, pending discussion.

Unwilling to address: I'm not going to write Xiao Hua as cisgender if a winning bid decides on DMBJ as their fandom. Rape/non-con is out for me, even in a consensual non-consent kink scene, as is torture, abuse in relationships, kink I do not feel equipped to write (sorry furries/kink involving bodily fluids/knifeplay, and so on), suicide/suicidality and related topics, pregnancy/kidfic, or medical settings (including psychiatric). I'm also not your best bet for a break up fic. If you're unsure ahead of time please message me on Tumblr!

Notes: Anyone bidding on this is going to have to be willing to negotiate with me around their idea, as I'll be honest with you - I'm drawing a blank on other Nos and this is my first auction, so I'd appreciate someone with flexibility on that front. I also wouldn't be able to get started until the end of April, so if you are burning for a quick turnaround, I'm probably not for you on this occasion. I do love technical challenges and, again, pastiches, i.e. from a favourite film of yours and so on, and I'm happy to negotiate watching a film so I can do this - I don't have to have seen it before. Thanks for reading!

Special Interests: Trans or nonbinary interpretations of canon characters, Ambiguous endings

Minimum Bid: $10

Auctions run from 8:00AM EST, 1 March 2023, to 8:00PM EST, 5 March 2023.

(And here’s the link to go bid one more time, with feeling. I’ll stop now.) 

[mostlymaudlin]

fanfic writer challenge!

instructions:

list & explain the three lines/moments from canon that are most fundamental to how you write your fave character

challenge 3 more fic writers to do the same!

ok i did this for carry on but im doing a separate one for aftg <3 because its fun

it is surprising to no one, but my fave character to write is andrew :) and i gotta put this puppy under a read more because i wrote way too much. i have [clenches fist] SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT ANDREW MINYARD !!!

but first, ill tag: @sillyunicorn @starwarned @takitalks @rainbow-0bsidian @pipedream-darling @otherworldsivelivedin @mrskrementz @fortheloveofexy @seasy33 @jostenminyard

(doing more than three to get the ball rolling lol)

Andrew's smile vanished when the elevator started its slow crawl down. Neil returned his stare, every muscle tensed for a fight. At the fifth floor, Andrew pushed away from the back railing and started for Neil. He reached for Neil's keys, but Neil moved the ring out of reach. Andrew tried again, and Neil had to step back to dodge his grab. He backed right into the metal doors and realized a moment too late Andrew didn't care about his keys at all. He buried the ring in his pocket, feeling pinned in. How stupid, that someone so short could have such a presence. -- (The Foxhole Court, Chapter 2)

ok, a long one to start, but important ! one of the reasons i love writing andrew is because of the way hes fucking nuts. and as someone who is also nuts, this is pleasing to me. and let me make this point without using silly euphemisms: mania is a state in which a person is heightened, but they are still fundamentally themselves. their thoughts are not limited by silly things like filters or predicting consequences. it is impulse and pleasure-chasing. so! when i look at andrew, who is supposedly on some whacked out fake drug that induces mania, i think about how his actions that could be brushed off as "he's just high" actually reflect an andrew without inhibitions. this is especially helpful when looking at andrew in TKM, when he becomes incredibly difficult to read.

this scene is the reverse, though, and that's why it's important to me. andrew is not on his medicine here, but he's not Mr. Repressed either. this is an in-between, where he's choosing to let some of himself shine through (mostly with the intention of freaking out neil, lol). and it's great, because andrew shows us a few big things:

he reads & understands people SO well, even if he rarely caters to their needs. the fact that he goes for neil's keys on day 1 to draw a reaction is like... yep. you got him lol.

he is willing to take drastic measures in the name of.... well, at this point in the story we're not sure, but soon we'll see that its to protect his people

he's crazy???? lol. i just think andrew's dialogue in tfc/trk in his brief unmedicated moments (and even his manic ones!) are so indicative of how andrew thinks. he's so fucking weird. in this scene, he follows his cornering act with "How nice to meet you, Neil," Andrew drawled. that's so weird!! he's weird. his brain is silly and clever and quick. This bit and others like it are the foundation on which ive built my version of his POV.

now, speaking of andrew's brain --

Andrew stared stone-faced back at him. Neil would have assumed it a silent rejection of Neil's veiled accusations if Andrew's hand hadn't frozen midair between them. -- (The King's Men, Chapter 11)

let's set the scene. immediately before this, neil has suggested they go on spring break, implied that there was a this, then hit andrew with his "And I am nothing" / "And as you've always said, you want nothing."

so like. andrew just got punched in the gut approximately six times in under a minute. poor guy. when neil prompts him back into action, he first threatens to kill neil, and then kisses the shit out of him. squeeee, ROMANCE!!!

when i look at this scene, i think of that first quote i pulled. i think of andrews silly and clever and quick brain, and about how much work he does to keep his mask on. there are plenty of times his mask cracks, but this one is the most fun because he is so clearly being overwhelmed by FEELINGS. he is confused by neil, irritated with him for bringing up all these things that andrew long ago decided didn't matter, and furious with himself for wanting it all too. he has to freeze so that none of that slips out of his mouth or onto his face. when he recovers, he deflects thru being mean (which is useless against neil, but still a satisfying way to blow off some steam) and then kissing him :) because really, that's what it all boils down to: andrew wants neil so bad it makes him want to murder him.

and look at this, a nice transition to the final scene!

"Rumor has it I'm pretty interesting."

"Don't believe everything you hear."

Neil ignored that dismissal because Andrew was already pulling him down again. They kissed until Neil felt dizzy, until he wasn't sure he could hold himself up anymore, and then Andrew pulled Neil's hand off the beanbag chair. He held it up and away from them for an eternity, then slowly pressed it flat against his chest and let go. Andrew tensed up under Neil's hand but relaxed before Neil could pull away. --(The Kings Men, Chapter 15) (The second Chapter 15) (Because thats something we have to clarify in these dumbass books)

oh my GOD. has a scene ever scened like this scene scened. has a touch ever meant so much. has a character ever tried this hard. ok, once we've all finished banging our heads against the wall and screaming, let's review:

andrew wants neil so bad it makes him want to murder him. but andrew also wants neil so bad that it makes him want to TRY. im actually going to take this apart bit by bit because if for some reason you're still reading this madness, i think you'll appreciate the detail LOL.

ok, first: before this paragraph, neil confronts andrew again with the gravity of their relationship, and andrew plays his usual game of deflecting and bullying. that doesnt work (andrew, has that EVER worked???***) so of course the next action is kissing.

and kissing and kissing and kissing.

and somewhere in all this kissing that is so good that neil is dizzy, something in andrew says: i want more. he takes neil's hand, maybe on impulse, and has to stop to think about what he's going to do. and then he tries to give: he places neil's hand on his chest, LETS GO, and then relaxes under his touch.

its hard to tell how much of this was impulse and how much was thought through. im willing to bet it was mostly impulse, especially because andrew doesnt hit neil with a "i never do anything i dont want to do" when neil acknowledges that this is probably something theyre not ready for. (instead, andrew reacts by deflecting/bullying -- "One hundred and one" -- and then more kissing. so predictable!).

but still! it says so much. it says that he wants and wants and wants, he dreams about things he thinks he'll never have. and neil keeps trying to prove him wrong, and andrew wants to believe him so badly, wants to SHOW neil that he's starting to believe him. scream!!! andrew invented romance. he put neils hand on his chest and LET GO. he said: "look. im trying. i want this too, even if i cant even think the words." he said: "i want to figure out how to trust you."

because underneath it all, i believe andrew is a deeply hopeful creature, and that is the thing he hates most about himself. he wants a home, he wants a family, he wants to belong -- and it makes him feel so fucking foolish. its easier to wrap these wants up in duties and protections, concrete and emotionless things. but neil never actually wanted andrew's protection, yet he still wants andrew more than anyone ever has before. thats fuckin earth-shattering. theres only so much deflecting and bullying and kissing you can do before some of that deeply buried hope claws its way out.

SO YEAH i really didnt need to do all that but i did. if youre still reading then like LOL youre a trooper hope u enjoyed the 2AM Nerd Rory show. but i think about andrew a lot (obviously) and hes such a difficult character to write, so returning to scenes like these three really help ground me in the version of him that lives in my head. so that i can put him in situations :)

***actually wait i just remembered one time where the bullying/deflecting worked, so here's a bonus. in ch 10, the make it to finals and have a party at abbys. andrew and neil are outside, and neil is frustrated with andrews apathy -- "Would it kill you to let something in?" / "It almost did last time." -- and then also starts talking oh so earnestly about how andrew could be court if he'd just TRY. andrew, obviously, gets mad and asks Neil if hes capable of talking about anything other than Exy. which actually hurts neil's feelings, because neil just really likes talking to andrew about exy (the thing hes most passionate about) & deeply values his opinions, and hes upset by the implication that they dont actually have this in common.

and like, you could read this as andrew just being sick of talking about exy lol. but i see it as part of the pattern. andrew is triggered, first of all. and then neil is being a little too earnest about the future and andrew, talk to me. and andrew's fucking overwhelmed !!! he does not know what to do with this! so: lash out. hit neil where it hurts. deflect and bully.

[e-dubbc11]

Crazy in Love

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Some swear words, mentions of verbal abuse, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, and some physical violence

Word Count: 5.8k-ish

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and Billy has already spoiled you rotten and made plans to take you out for a nice dinner. But a run in with an ex boyfriend stirs up some old painful memories and lands Billy in a little bit of trouble.

A/N: This is part of the February writing challenge that my lovelies over on the Thirsty for Cox server decided to do. The prompt was “Well…I did not picture spending my Valentine’s Day in jail.” I had a lot of fun writing this, it seemed like a good one. I did write a part 2 for this which hopefully will be out tomorrow, February 16. Oh, yes the title is a Beyoncé song but I used the Sofia Karlberg version for this.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The essence of rose saturated the apartment, the bouquets were everywhere, red ones, pink ones, yellow ones, white ones, and even purple ones.

He had told you the purple ones meant “love at first sight,” Billy Russo was such a smooth talker, the velvet tone to his voice was soft yet assertive and gave you butterflies every time. “That’s how I felt when I first saw you. At least, I think it was. I never had those feelings before…about anyone.” He had said. It was love at first sight for you too when you met him a few years ago, right around Valentine’s Day.

***************

After finally getting the call that you landed the job, your friends decided they wanted to take you out to celebrate. Dinner first, then they took you for a few drinks at a local bar close to the restaurant which is where he first laid eyes on you.

Coming in from the cold, he saw that your cheeks were flushed and your nose was red like it had been pinched by Jack Frost but your smile lit up the entire room. Billy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he studied you carefully but quickly turned away when you would look in his direction.

You swore you could feel someone staring at you but a quick glance around the bar made you think maybe you were wrong, there wasn’t anyone looking at you…or so you thought.

You noticed him too, the charcoal gray suit, burgundy tie, but his eyes are what pulled you towards him like a magnet. They looked like endless pools of black ink. A pair of eyes you could get lost in.

And his smile, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a more perfect smile to go along with his handsome face. He was probably the most handsome man you had ever seen but completely out of your league…again, so you thought.

Just like he studied your movements, you studied his. The way his long willowy fingers wrapped around the beer bottle he was drinking from, the way he narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened intently to his friends telling a story, or when you would catch a phrase or two escape his lips. A hint of a New York accent combined with the sarcastic comments, he was a man after your own heart. It was…love at first sight.

As much as he was trying to pay attention to his friends, Billy was trying to listen in on your conversations. Mostly, he was listening to your laugh, it made him smile, watching the way you would throw your head back in a fit of laughter and not hold back.

Your whole body smiled when you laughed and he loved nothing more than to watch you wipe the tears out of your eyes when something made you laugh extra hard. Love at first sight indeed.

In between stories from his friends, he observed one of your friends had given you a small heart shaped lollipop. A “small congratulatory gift for getting that new job you wanted so much” he heard your friend say. After thanking her, you placed the lollipop in the back pocket of your jeans and forgot about it. That’s when Billy made his move.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him get up from his table and start to walk towards the bar to retrieve another drink, he thought you were even more beautiful up close. While you were talking, he had positioned himself in between you and another person at the bar, your body pulled forward slightly away from the back of the chair while talking to your friend.

You knew he was there, your cheeks suddenly felt warm and a knot had formed in your stomach. He let out a long exhale after taking the last sip of his beer, his breath traveled down the back of your neck and goosebumps erupted all over your body.

That’s when you felt it. The lollipop that you had forgotten about was being pulled from your pocket, slowly, carefully making sure he didn’t touch anything except that lollipop. With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath and turned around in your chair. The wrapper was discarded on the bar, you turned around just in time to see him place the lollipop in his mouth, and extend his hand to introduce himself.

“Billy Russo.” The tone of his voice was warm and low but full of confidence.

You swallowed hard and felt a slight tingle in your core. Just his voice alone did that to you, it sent shivers down your spine and caused your hands to shake slightly. But somehow you managed to just give him a sly smile, not letting him know you were nervous, and extend your hand to shake his.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n.” You said to him. “And that was my lollipop.”

He cracked a smile and the ice was broken.

The two of you spent the rest of the night making each other laugh, trading sarcastic remarks, staring into each other’s eyes, and Billy making any man that even looked in your direction wish they hadn’t.

You hadn’t even been out on a date with Billy Russo yet before he showed you how jealous he could get, how protective he could be, more like overprotective. It was a desire he had, to show every man close by that you were spoken for, that you were his, and to show they dare not touch what was his.

Billy told you he didn’t really “do” dancing but a slow song came on the jukebox, Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg, and you just needed to have his hands on you, holding onto you. Billy held you close, his hand encased over yours against his chest, while his friends and your friends had conversations all around you. Instead of his long, slender fingers being wrapped around a beer bottle, they were tightly wrapped around you and he didn’t want to let you go…ever.

'Cause I know I don't understand. Just how your love can do what no one else can. Got me lookin' so crazy right now. Your touch's got me lookin' so crazy right now

Your kiss's got me hoping you save me right now. Lookin' so crazy, your love's got me lookin'. Got me lookin' so crazy in love

You didn’t want to let him go either but when you finally did, he didn’t waste any time asking to take you out on a proper date. The following weekend happened to be Valentine’s Day but you said no to a date ON Valentine’s Day.

There was just too much pressure for THAT day so you put it off for a week, instead opting for a coffee date before the formal one. You never looked back after that, and although it had been tough going sometimes, Billy Russo was the man for you.

***************

Billy always tried to outdo himself every year for Valentine’s Day or any special occasion, really. That was why you were sitting in the middle of your shared apartment, surrounded by bouquets of beautiful roses.

You had stopped counting them after the flower delivery service brought in the tenth bouquet, it was a bit excessive but it brought a smile to your face anyway. “He really knows how to make me feel special.” You said to yourself as you picked up your phone to call him at work.

He picked up on the first ring, Billy Russo was not a patient man. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

A smile tugged at your lips at hearing his pet name for you. “Billy, they’re SO beautiful!” You exclaimed as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“I’m glad you like them, my love.” He said.

“Like them? Billy, I love them! Thank you.” You excitedly said into the phone.

Billy chuckled a little. “Well I’m just getting started, baby. You don’t think the flowers are your only present, do you?”

You looked around the apartment at all of the bouquets of roses, all of these must have cost him a small fortune. “Oh…Billy, no that’s too much. The flowers are plenty.”

“I’ll be home around 6 to pick you up for dinner, ok?” He said, completely ignoring the fact that you said you didn’t need another gift.

Billy didn’t say where he was taking you, only telling you that it was “nice.”

“Ok, handsome. I’ll see you at 6—I love you.” You said with a smile.

You could tell he was smiling on the other end. “I love you too, beautiful.” And he hung up.

Making sure you were home in plenty of time to get ready for your evening out, you had left work early and arrived home just in time for your flower delivery. Billy knew exactly what time you would be coming home, he planned this like he planned everything else.

You knew he would probably come home bearing more gifts, even though you told him it wasn’t necessary. Billy didn’t really show his softer side to many people, to everyone else he was a marine, a scout sniper, a CEO…a leader. But to you, he was sweet and charming, a doting and loving boyfriend who would do absolutely anything for you.

Always in charge, he made sure he never showed weakness, appeared defenseless or powerless. It was a strange feeling for him, that feeling of love when it’s something that he’s never experienced. “Am I doing this right?” He would ask himself. “Can she tell that I’ve never done this before?” And “I’m just protecting her.”

The urge to keep you close to him at all times was intense, it was borderline too much but he loved you and even though he couldn’t always say how he was feeling, he tried to show it. You were his weakness.

Billy could stay calm in almost any situation, he never cracked under pressure except when it came to you, he felt like it was his duty to protect and defend you anytime the universe told him he had to. Tonight would end up being one of those times.

First came the flowers, then the balloons that spelled out “I Love You” were delivered, followed by the chocolate covered strawberries. They came with a note from Billy “Enjoy them, beautiful. But don’t spoil your dinner. Love, Billy.” You could only shake your head and smile reading the note, it all felt like a fairy tale.

***************

He always made you feel so loved, although at times you had to remind him he didn’t have to try so hard. It didn’t always have to be about gifts and fancy restaurants, sometimes coffee and a doughnut says “I love you” just as much as a designer bag or a new necklace does.

The gifts were especially extravagant after a fight or one of his fits of jealousy. Billy didn’t really know how to just say “I’m sorry,” or how to admit he was jealous, possessive at times, or overprotective.

He would just shut down and leave, only to return later with a little blue box or flowers. When you would tell him you didn’t want them, he would get angry. He didn’t know what to do so it just made him frustrated with himself.

“I don’t know what you want from me, y/n!!” He had shouted.

All you had wanted was an apology, to have his arms draped around you and to say “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“I want you to tell me that you’re sorry, Billy! Gifts can’t tell me that you’re sorry, YOU need to tell me that! You can’t just fly off the handle every time a guy looks at me in a way you don’t like!” You told him.

His dark chocolate like eyes quickly changed from angry to sad, he didn’t know what to say, it was just so hard for him because he’s always kept everything buried deep down inside, hidden away from everyone, hidden from the world. No one had ever taught him how to love.

“It’s hard for me y/n. Do you understand how hard this is for me?! I don’t know how to do this!” With his head buried in his hands, he paused, the look of guilt had washed over him and it made your heart hurt to watch the agony he must be in because he couldn’t say exactly what he wanted to.

The silence was excruciating but he finally pulled you in close, his body felt warm, and your shoulders relaxed as he brushed his hands up and down your back, whispering over and over again “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

These were the times Billy needed reassurance. He needed to be told you loved him and “I’m still here, Billy. I’m not going anywhere.” But you urged him to try to communicate with his words how he was feeling, no matter how difficult it was.

“I really need you to try, Billy. Please? Can you do that for me?” You pleaded.

He brushed his knuckles over your cheek and leaned forward to kiss you. The energy behind the kiss was passionate and full of love, he loved you with everything he had, and he truly was sorry. He would try harder.

That was then, but it was getting easier for him now, especially with your help. He felt like he could do anything as long as he had you by his side, helping him to learn about what it all means, about what had eluded him for all these years…love.

***************

Always on time, Billy arrived home promptly at 6, threw his keys on the table and called out for you.

“Baby? Where are ya? Are ya ready for din—ho-ly shit.” Billy started to say as you walked out from the bedroom in your black cocktail dress. The deep V and puffed sleeves were sexy without being too much.

It was difficult to surprise him but you had managed to sneak the dress home without him seeing it before tonight.

A slight smile stretched across your face as Billy continued to stare at you, his jaw practically on the floor as you said “Welcome home, my love. What’s wrong? Is there something on my dress?” You gave him a slow turn all the way around so he could take in ALL of you, biting down on your lower lip as you teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing.

As you finished turning around, Billy was right there, his hands swiftly cupped your face and he brushed a stray hair away from your eyes. “You look—so beautiful. Maybe I should just have you for dinner.” He started to kiss up and down your neck. It turned you on.

As much as you wanted that, you said “Come on, Mr. Russo. You promised me a nice dinner, so let’s go. You can enjoy your dessert later.” You smacked him on his ass, gave him a wink, and grabbed your clutch and your coat.

Billy couldn’t keep his hands off of you, from the elevator ride down to the lobby, in the car on your way to the restaurant, and even at the bar while you waited for your table.

And now that the date was finally here, he mentioned that it took him a couple of months to get a reservation there. It was a beautiful Italian restaurant called Scarpetta on Madison Avenue.

“You didn’t have to do this, Billy. I would have been happy if you brought home Chinese food.” You said.

He kissed you on the forehead. “It’s a special night, baby. I wanted to take you some place really nice.”

A flash of heat burned through you as he smiled a slightly wicked smile at you. You weren’t sure you deserved to be spoiled like this but you let him because Billy always did what he wanted to anyway.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, princess?” He asked.

You continued to blush as the hostess led you to your corner table. “Not in the last ten minutes, baby.”

You continued walking towards your table, and even in the low warm glow of the restaurant lights, you recognized him as you sat down. The smile faded from your face and without warning, you felt a tightness in your shoulders.

Your ex—Eric was seated at a table not too far from yours. He looked the same, the woman he was with was wearing a ring, and he was too. He was married. Better her than you, that’s for sure.

Billy could tell something was bothering you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Hmmm? Oh nothing. Everything’s fine, Billy.” You lied, glancing down at the menu in front of you.

He knew you were lying, he tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at you. “Y/n, come on, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You came clean. “Ok, you see that guy across from us? Sitting with the blonde.” You turned away as Billy turned and glanced towards Eric’s table.

He rotated back towards you. “The guy with the big ears? Yeah, what about him?”

You let out a slight cackle and gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Y-yes, the guy with the big ears. Stop making me laugh like that, this is a nice place. Anyway, that’s my ex.”

You shuddered slightly, as Billy took your hand in his. “His back is towards us, my love. It’s ok, I’m here.” He had a worried look in his eyes when he noticed how nervous you were. “My god, what did he do to you?” Billy gnashed his teeth and his eyes glazed over darker than they were before glaring in the direction of Eric’s table.

You took your hand back, placed them both on Billy’s face, and brushed his beard with your thumbs. You knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with an answer of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” So you gave him an answer that was the truth but generic.

“Billy…” You paused, closed your eyes briefly and let out a long exhale. “Let’s just say he didn’t treat me very well and was—“ You were scared to say the next part out loud in fear of what Billy might do. “He was very—verbally abusive, degrading, and made me feel terrible about myself. And he…he scared me sometimes.”

Billy tightly gripped the cloth napkin in his hand, the whites on his knuckles noticeable as you looked down at his shaking hands. White, hot anger displayed all over his face, as you tried to calm him down.

“Hey, hey Billy look at me please. I don’t want to do this here, ok? I want to have a nice romantic dinner with you and then go home so you can rip this dress off and kiss every inch of my body, ok?” You had a feeling that might calm him down.

Billy let go of the napkin, his expression softened and he chuckled a little. He pulled you closer so your thigh was touching his, Billy always felt better when his body was touching yours in some way.

Without another word about it, Billy leaned closer to kiss you, forced the server to wait while he did then ordered you both a glass of red wine and the creamy polenta to start with.

Dinner conversation was a combination of funny and extra funny. Billy told you some old stories of his days in the marines, stuff that he and Frank would get up to on down time. They sounded like quite the duo and it was so nice to see Billy laugh reminiscing about the fun times he had in the marines and not worrying about your ex who was only a couple tables away.

You both traded work stories, laughed with each other like you were the only two people in that restaurant, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and the two of you were having a really nice time. At one point during one of Billy’s stories, you let out a laugh that caught the attention of your ex.

His ears perked up like he recognized your laugh, Eric’s head swiveled in the direction of where your laugh came from and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was getting up and walking towards your table.

Oh shit.

Billy could see that your expression had hardened, your whole body had tensed, and you had his hand under the table in a death grip. The very sight of Eric so close to you made you feel like retching and wanting to punch him right in the face. Billy was trying to calm you down as he whispered in your ear “I’m right here, baby.” And he tenderly kissed your temple.

Eric stopped in front of your table, you and Billy were staring up at him with slight disdain written all over your faces. “Wow, y/n! It’s been awhile. I recognize that laugh anywhere.”

Sitting up straight and trying to smile, you responded. “Uh, yes it has Eric. Yes it has.” You turned towards Billy to introduce him. “Eric, this is my boyfriend Billy Russo.” Billy stood up to shake Eric’s hand, narrowed his eyes at him and squeezed his hand to the point where it probably was quite painful.

“Nice to meet you, Billy. That’s a nice suit.” He paused so he could look Billy up and down, like he was sizing him up and turned his gaze back to you. "Oh I’m married now, yeah.” He pointed to the ring on his finger. “That’s my wife, Laura over there.” Eric pointed towards his table.

You put on a fake smile. “That’s great, Eric. I’m happy for you. I’d really like to get back to my dinner now though, if you don’t mind.”

With a shocked look on his face, Eric said “Oh! Right, absolutely. My apologies, I’ll let you get back to your dinner, it was nice meeting you, Bill. And it was really nice to see you again, y/n.”

All you could manage to say was “Thank you.” And he walked back to his table.

Your entire body had seized seeing Eric again but having Billy next to you, holding your hand, made it easier for you and he helped to calm and soothe you so you could get back to enjoying your night out.

Carrying on with your dinner, you didn’t notice that Eric had gotten up to presumably use the restroom but Billy did, so he kissed you on the forehead and excused himself.

Billy wasn’t sure what he was going to do, maybe he wouldn’t even do anything but it didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared. Billy was a very good judge of character, he had a theory and wanted to test it out.

“But Billy, your food. I don’t want it to get cold.” You said.

He smiled slyly at you. “I’ll be right back, baby.” He said, and then he was gone.

You shrugged your shoulders slightly, took a sip of your wine, and continued to eat your dinner before looking straight ahead, noticing that Eric was not at his table. “Oh fuck…Billy. What are you doing?” You whispered to yourself out loud, almost choking on your wine.

Inside the restroom, Billy exited the stall and started to wash his hands, when Eric slid in beside him and started washing his hands also. He looked over at Billy. “Heyyyy, Billy Russo, right?”

“You’ve got a good memory.” Billy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes slightly.

Eric reached over with his wet hands and put one on Billy’s shoulder, drenching his white dress shirt. “Ya, know…you sure do have quite a grip there, Bill. You squeezed my hand pretty hard.” He said as he put pressure on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m glad I ran into you again. I wanted to tell you that Y/n is lookin’ reeeeeally good.”

There it is. Billy had a feeling if the opportunity presented itself, Eric would try and provoke him.

Billy was starting to get angry, it infuriated him at the very mention of your name coming from that asshole’s mouth but he tried to keep his cool. “Eric…Take your hand off me. NOW.”

Eric didn’t listen, he did have more to say, however. “I’m sure she told you alllllll about me, didn’t she?” He had a smug look on his face as he continued. “I’m sure she told you all about how mean I was to her, and yeah sure I called her names sometimes but for the most part I treated her pretty well. She just sat back and took it, I kept her in her place.”

Billy made a fist as he glared at Eric in the reflection of the mirror, he could feel his blood start to boil as Eric continued to talk about you.

“I will say, she was always a little firecracker in bed. One of the best lays I’ve ever had. That’s probably why you keep her around, am I right?” He smirked.

“No. I’m with her because I LOVE her.” Billy said curtly. His patience wearing thin.

Still, Billy kept calm even though he was shaking with rage as he tried to walk away. Eric followed him out of the men’s room, grabbed Billy’s shoulder and spun him around so they were nose to nose. “She is lookin’ really good though. What do ya say, Bill? How ‘bout you let me hit that one more time—“

Billy cracked, this guy said the one thing that made him forget all about trying to keep calm and not fly off the handle. It all went out the window when Eric made that comment.

Acting like he was going to walk away, Billy then drew back and punched Eric so hard in the face that one of his teeth came flying out of his mouth. Another punch to the stomach and to the face, Billy couldn’t stop, pretty soon Eric’s entire face was bloody.

As you continued to eat, you heard commotion coming from around the corner. People were leaving their tables to see what was going on, then came the screams and the sounds of broken dishes. You didn’t need to see what was going on, you knew Billy was involved somehow. There was no need to get up and look, you would find out soon enough.

After the screams and shrieks died down, the hostess came to your table.

“Uh, miss? I am very sorry to tell you but, Mr. Russo has been arrested.” She said while you happened to notice another hostess telling Eric’s wife, what you imagine was, the same thing.

You were shocked but not really and a little embarrassed. “What?!!” But you collected yourself and stayed calm. “Well ok, do you mind if I finish my dinner first before I leave to go get him?” You asked, feeling all of the stares from strangers pointing in your direction.

You could tell the hostess felt a little bad for you. “Absolutely, miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?” She asked.

“Would you box up his food for me and I’ll take a piece of the Valrhona chocolate cake to go, please?” You said.

Your server wrapped up Billy’s food and you enjoyed the rest of your Valentine’s Day dinner alone before going to bail him out of jail.

When you arrived at the police station, they took you to Billy’s holding cell where he didn’t notice you at first. He was leaning up against the bars with his eyes closed, small spatters of blood were sprinkled on his shirt and it looked like he had a small cut on his lip, Eric must have hit him at least once.

“Hey there, Rocky.” You gave him a half smile.

Opening his eyes, Billy looked happy to see you but his face had “sorry” written all over it. “Baby, I am SO sorry. I just—he pushed and pushed—and what he said. I wasn’t gonna let him talk about you like that—“ He said.

You interrupted him. “What did he say, Billy?”

“I don’t wanna tell you.” He said shaking his head.

“I wanna know what he said that made you that upset. I saw his face, Billy. You beat him pretty badly.” You told him.

Billy hung his head in shame. “He said that you always were a little firecracker in bed, one of the best lays he’s ever had. Then asked me if—if I’d let him ‘hit that’ one more time and I don’t remember much after that.”

You felt violated in a way, closed your body off from Billy by wrapping your arms around yourself and looking away from him, disgusted with Eric talking about intimate details of your relationship.

“I tried not letting him get to me, I tried walking away but when he said that—“ Billy violently shook his head back and forth. “I just couldn’t let him get away with it. I snapped—I’m sorry, my love.”

What Billy didn’t know was there was someone else in the restroom at the time Eric was provoking him. He told the owner of the restaurant and the police that he was surprised Billy didn’t punch him sooner than he did.

The restaurant wasn’t pressing charges and after the witness told the police what Eric had said and how he kept provoking Billy, he declined to press charges also so Billy was free to go.

“Well…I did not picture spending my Valentine’s Day in jail.” You said.

He extended his arms and reached out for you to pull you close to the bars. “Well, my love if you wanna get technical, I’M the one that’s in jail.”

You let out a little laugh. “This is true.”

Billy suddenly had a confused look on his face. “Hang on…did you stay and finish your dinner before coming here?” He asked, holding up a one finger to playfully scold you a little.

You knew he was joking with you so you scolded him back in a lighthearted tone. “I had to pay for it anyway Billy so yes, I enjoyed my food while it was hot! Don’t worry, I had them wrap yours.” You shook the bag in front of his nose. “I got a piece of chocolate cake for you too, even though I’m not sure you deserve it.” You said with a wink.

Billy’s eyes widened. “I said I was sorry, baby! Wait. Did—did you say chocolate cake?”

The man’s sweet tooth was insatiable.

“Oh you are gonna have to earn this chocolate cake, Billy Russo!” You snapped. “And you owe me for having to pay for my own Valentine’s Day dinner!”

But your expression softened, and you remembered that Billy apologized without being prompted to do so. It was the first thing he said when he saw you, he was getting better at communicating, so he was trying harder even though he still lost his temper.

What happened wasn’t about him this time though. It wasn’t about him being jealous, it was about defending you, wanting to protect you so that Eric couldn’t hurt you or say anything about you that would upset you.

You pulled back away from the bars and removed your phone from your clutch.

“Anything you want, sweet girl.” He said. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Well first, I’m taking your picture to send to Frank. He’s gonna get a kick outta this.” You started to laugh, Billy wasn’t really amused but he cracked a smile anyway. You always seemed to be able to pull a smile from him even when he didn’t want to.

Slowly, you walked towards him. Reaching through the bars, you snaked your arms around his waist and tried to kiss him as best as you could without the bars getting in the way.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said.

With a surprised look on his face, he replied “For what? For getting thrown in jail and ruining our Valentine’s Day?” He asked, his voice still apologetic for what he had done.

“Well besides that…even though it may not look like it, you did show a lot of restraint tonight. Eric pushed you too far and I bet he’ll think twice before running his mouth about anyone else like that ever again. And you didn’t ruin my Valentine’s Day, Billy—the day isn’t over yet, my love. Let’s go home.” You said as the two of you exchanged smiles through the bars of the jail cell.

When you arrived at home, you told Billy he owed you a dance. You knew it wasn’t something he was very fond of doing but he did say you could have whatever you wanted plus he still had to earn that chocolate cake. The song starts.

I look and stare so deep in your eyes. I touch on you more and more every time. When you leave I'm beggin' you not to go. Call your name two, three times in a row

Billy smiled warmly at you and extended his hand for you to take it and pulled you flush against his chest as you moved together slowly to the music. He held your hand in his over his heart as he kissed the top of your head, just like he had done the night you met.

Such a funny thing for me to try to explain. How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame, yeah. 'Cause I know I don't understand. Just how your love can do what no one else can

He danced with you anytime you asked him to, albeit reluctantly, he did it because he loved you. He knew how much you loved that song and he would never do it for anyone else.

“I still have one more present for you, my love.” He whispered to you as the music continued.

Your kiss's got me hoping you save me right now. Lookin' so crazy, your love's got me lookin'. Got me lookin' so crazy in love

You hummed into his chest, your eyes closed, and a wide smile spread across your face. “Hmmmmm…Oh yeah? Well I’m enjoying just listening to your heart beat right now, handsome.” You pulled away gently to look into his deep brown eyes as you said “How about you give it to me tomorrow.”

He looked down at you and kissed you on the forehead. “Whatever you want, beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too, Billy.” You said as you finished the dance in the warm glow of the candlelight and the city lights outside, shining brightly through your living room window.

Billy would never let anyone say anything malicious about you, the woman he treasured, the woman that taught him the real meaning of love. Billy Russo never failed to show you how deep his love was for you, so if slow dancing with you in the living room was what you wanted from him, then he would happily do that until you told him to stop or until his very last breath, whichever came first.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ariesbutalibra

TFC Ladies: @itwasthereaminuteago @thisishellfire @officialjanetsnakehole

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

[munsonownsmyass]

A Day to Remember

Ryan x reader

Summary: Yours and Ryan's first date doesn't exactly go as planned.

Notes: This is actually part 3 in a small series I'm making for Ryan. My brain just didn't want to get part 1 and 2 done first 🤣

So part 3 came first and are a part of the Thirsty for Cox writing challenge. The prompt was "I didn't picture spending my Valentine's in jail".

Also.... reader has a name. Annabelle Dutton. This is used maybe 3 times in all the parts I'm planning. But it's for a purpose and it's still a reader insert. No descriptions of her appearance. Thanks to @e-dubbc11 for help finding the name ❤️

Warning: fluff, kissing, dry humping, protected sex (Ryan is very responsible and very scared of John Dutton 🤣).

Stretching your back, you slowly start to feel the ache going through your body from the uncomfortable seat. The worn mattress on the bench beneath you had definitely seen better days. The coldness from the wall you’re leaned against is starting to set in and a slight shiver runs though you. Very cold and unwelcoming. As you shiver once more, you get why people hate it here.

Not long after a jacket is draped softly over your shoulders followed by a comforting hand on your head. “Well, I didn’t picture spending my Valentine’s Day in jail.” You chuckle softly, looking over at Ryan next to you. He just smiles before pulling you closer, trying to get you warm.

“Me neither, sugar, but you gotta admit. It’s a Valentine’s you won’t forget anytime soon.” He laughs, hands rubbing your arm and back gently. “And getting here was kinda fun.”

Not many things could rattle Ryan. With the life he lived on the Yellowstone ranch, he’d seen and tried it all. Deaths, fights, shootings, you name it. Yet now, he feels his hands get clammy and the nerves settling in. This was by far the most terrifying thing he’d done. Walking up to the door, he exhales sharply. Right now, he’d rather wrestle a bull than get the potential wrath of John Dutton. Still, he rings the bell.

After a long wait, John opens the door, clearly confused to see Ryan there. “What do you want? Is there a problem?”

“No. Mr. Dutton, I-” Ryan pauses, taking off his hat, nervously brushing off some dirt. “I’m here to pick up your daughter for a… a date.”

John frowns, looking over his shoulder towards the house where the voices of his family can be heard in the next room. Looking back at Ryan, confusion washes over John’s face. “Beth?!”

“No, Sir. I’m here for-”

“He’s here for me, daddy.” You sing behind him, giving John a quick peck on the cheek before snaking around him to go out the door. As soon as Ryan lays eyes on you, his smile widens. You wonder if you’ll ever tire of his smile and the way he lights up when he sees you. You take a step closer, taking his hand as a soft blush creep up your cheeks.

“Oh my. Darlin’, you look-” Ryan starts, but is cut of but your dad clearing his throat. He eyes Ryan with a killer look. He takes a step forward, looking Ryan dead in the eye. “Have her home by 10.”

“Daddy, I’m not a kid! I-”

“I said 10.” He cuts you off, before looking at Ryan again. “Ryan. That’s my baby girl. If anything happens…”

“Yes sir. I understand.”

Before John can say anything else, you drag Ryan down the stairs and towards the truck. You finally had a date with him after all this time and not even your dad could ruin it.

First stop was a spot you were all too familiar with. Ruby’s Café. It wasn’t the fanciest place in town, but it did mean a lot to you both. It was here he’d picked you up after your first drunken night, where you’d shared your first lunch off the farm and where you had first realized you had feelings for him. You had looked at him and Rip at the counter, his smile and laugh so infectious. When he locked eyes with you across the room that afternoon, you’d known right away that your heart would belong to no other.

The meal was good as always and the hours flew by. Never once an awkward moment, lots of laughs and memories shared. He tried to catch you up on everything that had been going on while you were away and you shared what you had done the last few years. Mostly you kept coming back to how much you had missed him and every time Ryan’s face lights up.

“Where can I take you now? Want a drink?” He asks as you leave Ruby’s, his voice dropping low as he closes the distance between you. One hand snake around your waist, pulling you closer. His finger hooks under your chin, bringing your eyes to his. Leaning down, your lips meet in a sweet kiss.

“No. Take me to your favorite spot instead.” You smile. A bar would be fine. You wouldn’t mind a drink, but you’d rather have him to yourself anywhere else. Ryan just smiles, his face telling you he knows exactly where to take you.

He takes you back to Yellowstone, on the outskirts of the park. Bordering on your family’s land, there is a clearing by the river. In the summer it’s a really popular spot for hikers, but there’s rarely anyone in the winter months. The weather is still a little cold, but Ryan pulls some blankets from the bed of his truck and place them on the ground. It’s all so perfect. The view over the Yellowstone, the sound of the coursing river next to you, stars above and moonlight to illuminate it all. But most importantly, Ryan by your side.

“You know…” He starts as you both sit down on one blanket, pulling the other around you. “I always dreamt of doing stuff like this with you one day.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t have taken you for such a romantic.” You tease as you nudge his side. Deep down your heart is threatening to burst through your chest, but you try to keep it cool. You love him so much and you know he cares about you too, but a part of you, the part who grew up on the Yellowstone and knows how life can be, is afraid to hope for too much.

“Only for you.” He smiles, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “But if you tell anyone else, I will deny it.”

“Of course you will.” You giggle, kissing his jaw. The whole ranch already knows how gone for you he is. He hasn’t been the same since you came back and honestly, neither have you. Ever since you got a second shot at happiness with Ryan, your whole world has turned around. A total cliché, especially on Valentine’s day, but the world is suddenly a better place with him in it and you never want to let him go.

Leaning into his touch, you kiss him. Softly at first, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. But soon the kiss turns more passionate, hungry. Within minutes you’re straddling his lap, grinding against him, needy for more. You feel him harden, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans as you grind harder.

With greedy hands, you open his jacket, slowly moving to open his shirt. His hands are on you, moving under your jacket. The night is cold, but you don’t even feel the gush of wind on the sliver of exposed skin. You’re burning, the desire enough to keep the cold at bay. With the last button taken care of, your hands glide down Ryan’s exposed chest. But just as you reach for his belt buckle, he stops you.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should-” He breathes out, swallowing hard as he pulls away from you. “Maybe we should head home instead?”

“Yeah? To your bunk bed or my room… who’s right next to my dad’s?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. Ryan opens his mouth, probably to throw a sassy remark at you, but he just stops, smiling at you.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He shrugs before breaking into a grin. The grin quickly disappears though, when you grind your hips against him once more, making him moan under you. You’re playing dirty, you know it, but you want him and the hard bulge pressing against your already soaked core tells you he wants the same.

He lays you down gently, lips never leaving yours as his hands move to the bottom of your dress, fingers moving up your thigh as they push the dress up. Needy and unable to hold back any more, you open his belt buckle and pulling the zipper down. Any other time, you’d take your time, but right now you feel like you might die if you don’t feel Ryan inside you soon. So many years wanting this and you can’t wait a minute longer.

“Eager, are we?” He grins, sucking on your neck, surely leaving a mark that you would get teased about tomorrow. But you honestly don’t care.

“Shut up, Ryan and fuck me. Please.” You beg, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice as you roll your hips against him. Pushing away from you, Ryan sits back on his heels as he search his pockets for a condom. When he finds the little foil packet, he frantically push his jeans down and fumble with the rubber. You can’t help it and giggle softly at his desperation.

“Don’t laugh at me. The last thing I wanna do is get you pregnant. John would never forgive me.” He grins as he comes back down, hovering over you. Looking into your eyes, his soften, the desperation giving away to something more. His lips find your again, but gone is the primal hunger, left is only love. And as he kiss you deeply, he push in.

You gasp as he fills you, the stretch of his thick length beyond anything you could imagine. Slowly, he bottoms out, breathing hard at the feeling of you. “Fuck sweetheart.” He whisper against your neck, peppering your sensitive skin with soft kisses.

Little after little, he begins moving faster, thrusting into you harder. Your whole body feels alive under him and as he hits your sweet spot, again and again, you’re close to-

“Right, break it up.”

Frozen in place, you both stare to the side, finding one of the Donnie’s deputies pointing a flashlight at you. “Shit.” Ryan says through gritted teeth as the breaks away from you, making sure you’re covered. He helps you to your feet, doing his best to stand between you and the deputy until you’re decent.

“You have to come with me to the station.”

“Look, you’re clearly new.” Ryan turns and close his pants, reaching in to pull the rubber out. It springs off his cock, the end hitting his hand. He mutters under his breath, shaking off the pain, before he looks to the deputy again. “I’m Ryan. From the Yellowstone. Livestock agent. You don’t want to take me in.”

“Public indecency. There are campers on the other side of the river.”

And surely enough, further up on the opposite bank you see a small fire and some tents. Shit. You have no chance but to follow him down to the station.

“You think dad will be mad?” You ask, snuggling closer to Ryan. His hand comes to a rest on yours, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“Yes, he will.”

Looking up, you see your dad standing next to Donnie, a sour expression on his face. The door to the cell slides open and John gestures for you to follow. Eyes fixed on the ground, you avert his gaze as you walk past him. He stops Ryan in the door.

“Not you.” John removes his hand, looking into Ryan’s eyes. “I tell you to take care of my daughter and you get her arrested? You can spend the night here, I’ll send Rip after you in the morning.”

Knowing better than to argue with the boss, Ryan throws his hands up in defeat, sitting back down. Taking a hold of the bars, you look in at him with a smile. “Hi, Ry.” He looks up, those beautiful blue eyes finding yours and even now he can’t help but smile when he looks at you. Grinning, you blow him a kiss. “Best Valentine’s ever. I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” John groans, pushing you away from the bars. Ryan just grins, running to the bars, closing the distance between you.

“You love me? I love you too!” He shouts after you. Giving hell to your dad, you run back and give Ryan the biggest kiss through the bars, grinning like a fool. “I’ll make you mine one day, Annabelle Dutton.”

Before you can answer, John drags you out of the station and into his truck. The entire way home, you think about Ryan, already excited for your next date. Your dad would come around eventually… You hope… He’s a Dutton after all, so you never know.

@e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @mindidjarin @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| It Ain't No ||

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Tags/warnings: mild violence, fluff, allusions to smut. ☺️

A/n: this was inspired by a lovely prompt from @munsonownsmyass for a proposal and I've used it for the TFC April songfic challenge!

My song is Option by Crosses 💍🖤

And thank you so much to @realfernmayo for making the moodboard! 💗 If you enjoyed please reblog so that others can read, thank you!

.

.

It was a slow thing, something that started growing a while after he had sniped off ninjas to help Red. It was the least he could do, leave him free to take down the motherfucker that had killed a loved one. That was something they now had in common at least, however tragic it was.

Either way over time they'd usually end up running into each other on odd nights, a couple of ass-kicking vigilante moths to a burning pyre of bad guys. It was almost inevitable in a way.

There were off the cuff team ups in alleyways. Meetings outside dark, dodgy warehouses with an unspoken plan. The occasional rooftop rendezvous to get the jump on an arms dealer. And after a while they were talking through gang takedowns in Red's loft over a few beers.

He wouldn't have called them dates, but Frank hadn't gone on a date in years and well, they were the closest thing.

For the most part as they worked together well to keep Hell's Kitchen safe, at least once Frank had conceded to Red's no killing rule. And then after he had taken a bullet for Red, and Red had taken a knife in the gut for him, he realised there was now something more between them.

Trust.

It had snuck up behind them both, binding them closer.

Either way Frank found himself here, his gaze soft as he sat watching the way the blues and purples of the neon billboard outside washed across Matt's skin. They were like ephemeral bruises, a reminder of the pain they'd endured but not only that. Once the fighting was over and the wounds were stitched, after a time those punches were soothed with tender touches. And then one day, a crashing kiss and a quiet mutual confession of love whispered into skin.

He focused on keeping his heart rate steady, that was the thing with having a boyfriend who had acutely enhanced senses, it was damn difficult to hide anything from him.

"You hungry?" He asks Matt, not even daring to look at him.

Matt raises his head from the case files he had been pouring over for the past couple of hours, now suddenly aware of his growling stomach. "Actually yeah, I could definitely eat. You want to get some Thai?"

Frank shrugs. "Eh, was thinkin' something different."

"Oh?" Matt's interest was piqued and Frank cursed himself internally, he should have known a change in routine would be risky.

"Yeah I dunno, Madani keeps goin' on 'bout some Persian place. Thought we could try it, go out."

Matt throws him one of those sunbeam smiles of his and Frank is almost ready to give his game away right there.

~

"You've asked me four times now if I enjoyed the food, your pulse rate practically skyrocketed when we left the restaurant… Frank, what the hell is up with you?"

He feels like a defendant on the stand getting flayed by Matt's interrogative tone.

"Nothin'. Maybe Persian food just don't agree with me."

Frank tries his utmost to calm himself down but it's too late now. He's not felt this apprehensive in a long time but right now his nerves are frayed.

Matt stops him on the sidewalk. "Frank, I need the truth. Remember when we said we wouldn't have any more secrets? Spit it out, now."

"Seriously, it's nothin' to get your panties in a bunch about. Let's just get home."

Matt leans closer to him. "Frank." He says in a warning tone.

Frank sighs, grumbling as Matt cocks his head when he hears him reach into his jacket pocket and retrieve something.

"This wasn't how it was s'posed to go… I was gonna… fuck it. Here goes."

He kneels down in front of Matt right on the sidewalk, with the cacophony of sounds and smells of the Kitchen as his witness. He should have known that this of all things would never have gone to plan.

"Matt-"

"What are you-"

"Shh, christ, just shut up for once and let me do this." Frank grumbles as he goes to fish the ring from its velvet pouch. Just then, Matt holds up his hand, cocking his head to the side.

"Wait, wait-"

Frank's face falls and Matt can hear the panicked rhythm of his heart.

"Just… can you hold that thought for me? There's someone holding up a bodega two blocks away. C'mon!" Matt is grabbing Frank's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"Aw you're fucking shittin' me?"

Frank follows him quickly, seeing the situation clear through the glass door before he's throwing it open, striding towards the asshole that's pointing a gun at the young cashier while Matt hangs back, just letting him do his thing. It's something that he's both wary of and turned on by. The way Frank has this single minded focus on a target, whatever it is, he's a force of nature when he's in that mode and it sets the hairs at the back of Matt's neck on end.

The moment the gunman turns and sees Frank, the recognition is instant. Frank doesn't give a shit if he knows who he is, easily disarming him, breaking the guy's wrist and grabbing his arm and slamming him down to the floor, twisting it painfully behind his back.

"You know what you've done, shithead?"

'Shithead' yells in pain as Frank wrenches his arm up higher. "Hey give me a break man, I- I didn't shoot nobody!"

Frank continues. "Nah, but you've scared this nice lady, and ruined me and my partner's evening, that's what. Fuckface." Frank growls loud right next to his face. "Now, I got more important shit to do and I ain't got time to waste takin' your fuckin' sorry ass to the police, so here's the deal - you're gonna wait here for them to come pick you up while we call em. Ain't that so?"

The guy shakes his head. "Yeah sure, good luck with that, I'll be back out again tomorrow anyways!"

Matt comes up from behind Frank and punches the guy square in the face knocking him out.

"Hey!" Frank turns to him, surprised at his actions.

Matt shrugs as he pulls out his phone to call 911. "I was getting impatient, and besides, you've got important shit to do." He turns to the cashier. "Are you okay, miss?"

The woman nods and thanks them both for intervening. Frank restrains the perp with a hefty amount of cable ties from the back room and Matt leaves his N&M card with the cashier. "You just call us if you need any help."

As they walk down the street toward home, Matt can't help the beginnings of a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth as he waits.

"So, you were saying?" He presses, his smile growing with every second. Frank stops, shakes his head and scoffs.

"It's always gonna be like this ain't it?"

Matt breathes out something between a laugh and a sigh. "Could argue that it keeps it interesting…"

Frank stops him in the street. "Listen. You and I, we ain't always had the smoothest ride and don't I know it, if tonight's anythin' to go by… but there's no one else I'd rather take that ride with." He shakes his head. "What I'm sayin' is-"

Before he can get it out, Matt is sweeping down in front of him on the sidewalk on bended knee, holding out a ring of his own.

Frank could fucking kill him.

"Frank, will you marry me?"

It's all he can do to laugh. "You fucking- get up here you asshole!" He drags him up into his arms and a slow, sensual kiss. The kind where there's no sense of time or place. When they finally separate, they're both smiling so much it almost hurts. They never thought they'd get this far.

"So?" Matt pushes, sliding his hand down to hold Frank's, their fingers interlocking.

Frank huffs against his cheek. "Well, it ain't no." He pulls back, looking at Matt's pretty face. "Will you marry me?"

"Ain't no either!"

"Alright you smart ass," He says, lifting Matt's hand after he retrieves his silver ring from his pocket and slides it onto his finger. Matt does the same with Frank and when he lets go of his hand, he takes off and runs his fingers over the engraving on the inside of the ring that Frank has just given him.

"It says, 'pain in my fuckin' ass forever'. Frank jokes, and Matt laughs and pecks him on the cheek.

"Well yours says 'better the devil you know'." He grins.

"Huh. Whadaya know, we're perfect for each other."

Matt never hopes for much but he can't wipe the look of sheer joy off his face, tugging Frank along, urging him to walk faster so they can get home and he can fully remind him of just how just grateful he is. He can feel Frank's happiness and contentment too, his heart rate settled and strong with the occasional little flutter when he squeezes Matt's hand and feels the ring there, solid and real.

They're all over each other as soon as the door to their apartment closes, and Matt's coffee table is the first and certainly not the last casualty of their unbridled passion as they make their way to the bedroom. But when they get there it's all gentle love. There will always be bruises, but they'll always be chased with kisses.

.

.

Frank tags: @divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @mattmurdockspainkink @briefcasejuice @frankcastlescumslut

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemii @imherefordeanandbones @realfernmayo @munsonownsmyass @marvelswh0re @frankcastlescumslut @chellestrash @chvoswxtch @messymissy @evilbubu @lucy-sky @yanna-banana @anna-hawk @km-ffluv

[at-thezenith]

hi hi, happy last STS of the year!! it's hard coming up with an original end-of-year ask, so I'm just gonna shoot off a bunch of questions, and you feel free to answer whichever you want/haven't already:D are you satisfied with where you're at right now in your writing journey? where do you hope to be at this time next year? do you have any Must-Accomplish 2024 writing goals? anything new you'd like to try in your writing (technique-wise, story-wise, scheduling-wise, structure-wise, etc.) next year? any stories you'd like to start? end?

hello! apologies once again for being late :(

i am pretty happy with my writing journey as of right now! i took a break from tfc in december to focus on university, but hoping to get back to it this month :)

i hope to have finished tfc's first draft at the end of 2024, and to have written the entirety of baby let the band keep playing. also hopefully i'll be 5 articles deep on substack!

my Must-Accomplish goals are pretty similar to my hopes - i WILL be done with tfc's first draft and i WILL have written 5 articles on substack.

hm, i'd like to try my hand at dual-perspective for writing, because i think it's a great challenge to learn to write in two voices. ali smith's summer is a great example of that, as well as six of crows by leigh bardugo

i want to start baby let the band keep playing, but i'm also interested in starting a paranormal-comedy short story about a socially awkward supernatural investigator. if that ever makes it out of my voice notes stay tuned!

[she-likesorchids]

Say You'll Remember Me

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Summary: Michael finally gets to take a relaxing vacation in St. Ives, where he meets a beautiful local.

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF KIN. I'm not going to post a preview because the spoilers come out right away. Read at your own risk if you are not caught up on the show. Mentions of Michael's epilepsy, there's an erection in here. Little spicy, but mostly tame. Lots of yearning and pining, though.

Author's Note: My entry for the TFC May writing challenge! The prompt was "sundress season", and this one is heavily inspired by "Wildest Dreams" by Taylor Swift. Not beta read, so there might be some mistakes. I wanted to write a sexy sundress story, but I started listening to my sad girl music and this happened instead.

[frenchtweets02]

Tune into the French and enhance your listening!

Learn online tef Canada, Immigration Exam Prepartion Online, French Immigration Exam Preparation

The country globally popular for its variety of rich opportunities, Canada, became a bilingual country with French and English as its official language in 1969. Nearly 98% of the population speaks either of the two languages or both. 

When it comes to spoken French, the language plays a great role, not only in the academic curriculum but also in acquiring a good place in the society. Having known the language opens a big door of opportunities for the residents or for the new immigrants. 

Of course, a language as belle as French has its advantages but obtaining it can pose some challenges. To help overcome these challenges French tweets provides you with all the knowledge you will ever require in learning this tricky life skill. 

For our aspiring immigrants, in order to acquire the Permanent Residency of Canada, the candidate has to undergo specific exams which test the individual’s language proficiency, such as TEF Canada i.e Test d’evaluation de Français pour le Canada and TCF Canada, i.e Test de Connaissance du Français pour le Canada. TEF Canada and TCF Canada are French Exams consisting of 4 major categories. With minimum distinction between the two, TEF French Exam as well as the TFC French Exam are made up of 4 major categories. Amongst all, reading, writing, listening and speaking, for many, the one category that requires thorough polishing is the skill of listening. In the TEF French test, the listening category contains a total of 60 questions which are further sub-categorised into 4 sections of its own. These sections can further be broken down as-

Section A asks the testee to match the voice with the text;

Section B consists of a short message to decipher; 

Section C comprises listening of a long message to decipher and 

Section D uses phonetics to test the proficiency skill of the individual. 

The person undertaking the test has to do so within a duration of 40 minutes. Each question has 6 points and out of a total of 360 points, a score of 249-279 plus is marked for qualification of level 7. In layman terms, in order to reach level 7, the examinee has to get at least 41-47 questions right.  

As we all know, with a test comes its stress, especially when the test is in a different language than one's own, it further poses a greater challenge, listening can become quite difficult under such intense circumstances. But no need to worry, with our guidance you can encounter this stress and perform extremely well no matter the underlying conditions, after all as they say: “Don't stress. Do your best. Forget the rest.”

Professionals here, at French Tweets, are equipped with techniques that can help their students improve with thorough practice of not only reading, writing and speaking but also very importantly, listening. Having impeccable first hand knowledge about such tests themselves, they are able to train and bring out the best in their students. For instance, section D from the exam mentioned above, TEF Canada, tends to pose difficulty for many as the language is perceived foreign by the testee which makes it harder to detect the tones and phonetics. 

However, with the right assistance and guidance provided using the interactive material at French Tweets, anyone can polish their listening skills evidently well even if the language seems foreign. Providing fresh material for practice such as various TEF and TCF sample papers as well as conducting mock tests along with interactive coaching sessions helps the aspirants gain confidence in the language over time and attempt the test with utmost belief that they will indeed secure wonderful scores. So take a step closer in upgrading your French listening skills by becoming a part of French Tweets. 

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

For the prompts - 16 and/or 23 and/or 19? (Andreil, of course)

you are in luck my friend because i'm sick of college apps so i'll just write a bit of all three !

16: "kissing knuckles"

23: "a hug that some might consider as ~too long~"

19: "peppering their face in kisses"

~

16.

So it turns out that punching a tree hurts a lot.

Neil would argue that it was worth it. Andrew seemed to disagree.

"Why," Andrew said flatly, inspecting Neil's split knuckles and glaring at him.

Neil considered — not lying, just... obscuring the truth — for a moment, but figured Andrew would see through it right away. "Technically, I did it for you."

"I do not recall ever asking you to punch a tree."

Neil huffed. "Well, you didn't but someone told me to, and I had to do it for you."

Andrew blinked slowly. "What."

Neil ran over the day's events. Honestly, it had started off pretty normal. He was walking back from a class, eager to see Andrew again, when he spotted a ball of white hiding in the arms of a student passing by it.

After staring at it for a few moments, he ran over (to a stranger!) and promptly asked if he could take a picture for his boyfriend.

The girl — Mara, she informed him — said sure, as long as he punched a tree.

Apparently, Neil explained to an increasingly annoyed Andrew, she was a Psych major doing a project on how far people were willing to go in order to act on their natural emotional response to cute animals. And of course, Neil wanted to show the furball to Andrew.

So he punched a tree. Which hurt.

"I'm fine though," Neil concluded. "I mean, it stings a bit and there's scratches everywhere and I can't really bend my fingers, but I'm fine."

Andrew huffed at him. "No."

"Here," Neil said after Andrew didn't explain further, shoving his phone towards him. "Appreciate the cat."

Andrew sighed as he looked at the picture, giving him an exasperated glance. "Junkie," he muttered, bringing Neil's hand up to plant a featherlight kiss on his injured knuckles.

Neil froze and gaped. His face felt unnaturally red. His fingers were tingling, he made a very squeaky voice, and he was probably staring a bit too much at Andrew.

"142%, idiot."

~

23.

Matthew Donovan Boyd was no fool.

Neil, though? The little guy had so little experience in the normal world, he was practically an infant (no short joke intended).

He knows that Andrew (probably) actually cares about Neil, but Matt's buddy sometimes forgets that not everyone outside of the original Foxes knows this.

This is why, as Matt casually walked with some freshman (Brian? Bradley? whatever) back from the store with bags of movie night snacks, he heard the kid's sharp intake of breath.

Matt's mother-hen instinct kicks in.

"What?" he asked frantically, dropping the bags. "Did you step on something? Did you trip? Did you see someone? Did— "

"Holy shit," Benjamin said emphatically. "Are Minyard and Josten... hugging? On the roof?"

Matt squinted at the striker. "That's what you freaked out about?"

"Look!" Bartholomew waved his hand around. "They've been hugging for at least a minute by now. I thought they hated each other?"

Wondering what he had done to deserve this, Matt ran a hand through his spiky hair. He probably shouldn't out Andrew and Neil, right? "Look kid. Toxic masculinity is not a good look."

"No, of course," Brandon bobbled his head. "Toxic masculinity is the worst. So not in style."

"... right," Matt agreed skeptically. "So, you know we all got pretty close last year—"

"Because of the murder stuff."

"Yes, the murder stuff. Anyways, hugging isn't uncommon between friends!"

"True," Benedict said slowly. "But they've been hugging for so long. More than what I would expect between just friends, if you get what I mean."

Matt ignored the weird eyebrow wiggle the freshman gave him and started picking up the dropped bags again. "That's... not really any of our business," he muttered, no matter how far in agreement he was with this young child.

There were a few moments of peaceful silence before Braxton's head jerked up.

"Oh gee. Hopefully they have socks on at least."

"What?"

"That way it's not gay! If they want it to not be gay, at least. Platonic hugs are valid though. Bad toxic masculinity! But gay people are just as valid— "

Matt let out a long-suffering groan. This was going to be a long year.

~

19.

Andrew was sick of Valentine's Day.

PDA-loving couples kissing everywhere, gooey movies playing on every channel, sappy love songs being blared on repeat by Nicky during weights — there seemed to be no positives.

He had already announced to Neil weeks earlier that he had no intention of celebrating this crass holiday, a proclamation that Neil thankfully agreed to. Instead, they took the relaxed evening after practice to be exceptionally productive: Neil went to the store and bought groceries, caught up on his homework, and took notes on two whole exy games.

Andrew took a three hour nap.

By the time Andrew groggily woke up, it was nearly 2 a.m.. Kevin was God-knows-where and he padded out of the room to find Neil staring unblinkingly at a muted TV, eyes glazed.

"Josten," Andrew grumbled and kicked him in the shin. "Get up, idiot."

Neil jerked awake with an uncharacteristic groan but begrudgingly agreed to be manhandled to the bathroom and finally to the bed so they could sleep.

Infuriatingly, Neil pointed out through a yawn that sleeping was all Andrew had done that whole evening. Andrew shut him up with a kiss and promptly flopped himself halfway on Neil's body.

Hours later, Andrew's eyes fluttered open at the light shining in through a window. He blinked a few times before registering a pair of piercing blue eyes gazing at him.

Andrew hated him. "308%, dumbass," he muttered into Neil's shoulder.

"Drama queen," Neil snorted. They lay in that position for a few minutes, Andrew moments from falling asleep again, before Neil tapped him on the arm.

"Drew, yes or no?" he asked. "Just kisses, though."

Andrew hummed a yes and leaned forward with his eyes still mostly shut, expecting to feel a pair of soft lips on his.

Instead, he felt a hand slap over his face and an oddly strong kick to his gut.

"What the fu—"

His sputtering was interrupted as hard pieces of... foil? began raining down on his face. He swatted them away, ignoring Neil's snickering. Finally, Andrew grabbed hold of one and his felt an exasperated frown cross his face.

"These," he said, waving the tiny cones in front of Neil's face. "are chocolates."

"Yup," Neil agreed proudly. "They're Kisses." At Andrew's blank look, Neil explained slowly, "I just covered your face in kisses."

"I got it."

"Great."

"I thought we agreed to not celebrate Valentine's Day."

"It's February 15 now. Not Valentine's Day."

"Neil Abram Josten."

"That's my name."

"Menace. Now give me an actual kiss, junkie."

BONUS:

"So!" Kevin clapped his hands. "You all need a lot of improvement if you want to be even close to presentable for Spring Championships, and we're already behind. We will not look like flailing monkeys in front of Jerem— USC, understood? Any questions?"

Neil raised his hand.

Kevin sighed. "Yes, Neil?"

"Just one quick thing," Neil said, rummaging his hands through his pockets. "Wanna kiss?"

The Foxes whipped their heads between an innocent Neil, a gaping Kevin, and an unconcerned Andrew.

"Is this like... a threesome thing?" Nicky whispered loudly to Matt.

"Wha— Josten, what the fuck?" Kevin's intolerable screeching promptly came to a halt as Neil chucked a silver projectile through the air, squarely hitting Kevin in the nose. "What is this?!"

"A Kiss."

"What— "

"I asked if you wanted a Kiss."

"No, you asked if I want to kiss. Which— no, by the way."

"Stop hitting on Neil, Day."

"Andrew, I literally wasn't— "

"Anyway. Wanna kiss again, Kevin?"

"NEIL!"