Lavender Haze (dark Mode)
lavender haze (dark mode)
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.
warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst
a/n: your eyes do not deceive you, this is a repost! the first time I posted this, there was some kind of glitch that changed the color of the text which made it impossible to read on dark mode. I was unable to fix it, and i've been waiting for that glitch to be fixed. it hasn't happened with any of my, or anyone else's posts lately, so it seemed like the right time to repost this for anyone that wasn't able to read it the first time because of the dark mode issue. I truly appreciate everyone being so patient, and even reaching out to me about reposting because you wanted to be able to read it. that makes my lil heart so happy, you have no idea. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
tags: @hellskitchens-whore
Staring at the ceiling with you
Oh, you don’t ever say too much
And you don’t really read into
My melancholia
Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.
He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.
Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.
Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.
You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver.
To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.
I’ve been under scrutiny
You handle it beautifully
All this shit is new to me
When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.
Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.
This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you.
Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.
“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”
Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.
“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”
The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging.
“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”
“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”
“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”
Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair.
“Hey, look at me.”
Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.
“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”
Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.
Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way.
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids.
All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.
God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.
“Hey, big guy.”
“Hi darlin’.”
“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”
“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”
Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.
“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”
“That right?”
Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.
“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”
There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.
He was just Frank, and he was just yours.
All they keep asking me
Is if I’m gonna be your bride
The only kind of girl they see
Is a one night or a wife
Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”
“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”
“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”
“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”
Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.
“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”
Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.
Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.
It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him.
You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day.
I find it dizzying
They’re bringing up my history
But you aren’t even listening
Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.
She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with.
“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”
“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”
“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”
“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”
Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.
Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.
“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”
“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”
“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”
Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding.
“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”
“Patience, for starters.”
“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”
Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.
“For the record, I like her better than you.”
“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”
After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.
“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”
“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”
The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees.
“Can I take ya to breakfast?”
“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”
Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.
“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”
“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”
A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.
“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”
“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”
“You’re wrong.”
Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.
“What?”
“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”
“When?”
“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”
Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.
“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”
“Why not both?”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.
Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“You got me a cabin?”
Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.
“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”
Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.
For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.
After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.
“What’s goin’ on up there?”
“I don’t wanna go home.”
Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too.
“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”
You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.
“That it?”
Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.
“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”
“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”
“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”
“My birthday was three days ago.”
“So?”
The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.
“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”
“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”
“My what?”
Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it.
“Your…main priority.”
Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know. I love you, Frank.”
“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”
Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”
“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”
“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”
Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification.
Talk your talk and go viral
I just need this love spiral
Get it off your chest
Get it off my desk
Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it.
There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.
But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.
He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?
Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.
“Frank? What are you-”
“What’s goin’ on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”
“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”
“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”
The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.
“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”
Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”
Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.
“What?”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”
Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was.
“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”
“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”
“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”
“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”
Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.
“What do you want?”
“Frank-”
“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”
Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.
“Talk to me.”
“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”
“You don’t think I want that?”
“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”
It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask.
You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say.
Your wife. Your partner. Your future.
“A family?”
“Yes, Frank. A family.”
The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.
“Frank, what are you doing?”
“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”
“Frank-”
“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”
“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”
Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.
“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”
“Really?”
“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time.
Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.
Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration.
There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count.
A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.
Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.
More Posts from Therisingaelia and Others
come to me (namor)
warnings: uhh su*c*dal undertones, bpwf spoilers, probably plot holes but let’s ignore, it gets..nasty in a good way, google translate, I think that’s it but if not lmk and have fun I guess??
Streams of salt had caressed your face long before the rain came down. Too many times you’d been here before, mentally and physically. Why did everything end? And why did it always leave you feeling like you were being ripped apart like the storm bearing palms above your head?
It was dark, nearly too dark. The moon’s light had been all but obscured by the thick clouds. Yet, there was just enough illumination for you to make out the small cay in the distance. It had been abandoned long ago by some tycoon that once resided in the now crumbling ruins of an estate tucked deep between wild foliage.
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𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 | 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 "𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐱" 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲
Courtland Gentry × Reader
Summary: Being pregnant fucking sucked, but he made it tolerable.
Warnings: Language, Insomnia, Fluff, Mild angst, Sexual Frustration, Implied age gap, Pregnant Sex, Minors DNI, Choking, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Handjob, Rough Sex, Pregnancy kink, Breeding Kink.
Had a bit of a field day. Don't mind me.
Your gaze is stationed on the ceiling, your hand cupping your swollen belly with what you hoped was endearment but what you actually knew to be deep, underlying… irritation.
"You're the guest here." You mutter aloud.
"A guest in my body." You turn in the empty king sized bed. Splayed across your body was the fierce and overwhelming scent of him. You had hoped slipping into one of his shirts would alleviate any chance of insomnia befalling you tonight. That, if you somehow manage to trick your brain into believing Six was in this bed with you, not out on some godawful mission, that you would feel comforted enough to get some fucking sleep…
But no such luck. You were far too aware and far too smart to trick yourself into anything really. The second you had announced your pregnancy, Six had insisted-
'No,' Your inner monologue chided with fierce resistance, 'that isn't the correct verb at all.'
Six had threatened any and all forces that would dare dispute your check-in for early maternity leave. Your entire life was confined to this lovely, modern splurge for 5 whole months and after 5 whole months, you begin to get antsy. You begin to get short tempered. Oftentimes chiding the innocent little life in your belly since there really was no one else around this massive house to talk to.
Six was Six.
Six had a job.
And while a part of you knew his getting out of his job was far more easier said than done, you never failed to hold impenetrable resentment to the entity on the other end of the phone calls, interrupting your family time with their top secret bullshit.
And the insomnia.
God, this baby never fucking slept.
"You're the one paying rent here. I let you piss, shit and eat inside of me, and this is the thanks I get, Little Monster?" No matter how hard you tried, there was not a sliver of malice in your voice, it sounded like a smile. A happy smile, because you knew you always had a part of him with you.
"I miss your dad," You say with so much melancholy it rips the tears right out of the sky. A light drizzle begins to sprinkle over the grounds, tapping away at the floor to ceiling windows like an amicable visitor coming to keep you company for the evening.
"Look at that. It's raining." You say, pushing your heavy body up by your forearms before wiggling your way out the edge of the bed. You unconsciously splay a hand over your stomach as you go to draw the curtains, finding much more comfort in the pelting rain than the darkened bedroom.
"Did you bring me some rain, little monster?
"It's not my baby you're calling a monster. That I know for sure,"
Your breath hitches in your throat, and your gaze is stationed on the wet grounds beyond the window, never daring to turn around for the impenetrable fear that it all might be a dream.
"It's a term of endearment," You manage to say after a few moments of silence, "A little nickname to remember it's father by." There's a tinge of bitterness veneered behind your sentence, and your shoulders are rigid. You fold your arms beneath your full, sensitive breasts as you glare at the window.
That all dissipates when you're enveloped from behind by a strong pair of arms. You have it: the comfort you have been longing for but never having the capacity to provide for yourself. You simply melt into his firm arms, his biceps tightening against the wet windbreaker far too cold against your bare arms but you don't care.
"Low blow, Mrs Gentry." You're greeted by a gruff voice, speaking into the nape of your neck. You blame it on the pregnancy hormones but the feeling of his facial hair alone has a pool of need welling between your legs.
"How are my two girl's doing?" Six's hands stretch over your belly, rubbing slow and deliberate circles. "I missed you both so much."
"Why do you just assume that we're having a girl?" You ask in mock irritation. "You don't even know-"
Six does an evil thing. A very very evil thing. Your sentence dissipates in the confines throat becuase of the hand that once one rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your belly, drifting upwards until his palm is laying flat against your breasts. The nipples harden under his soft and pleasant grip and you moan into nothing.
"Jesus Christ… you're so.." Six searches for the words as he massages your breasts. His tired, overworked brain is clouded with nothing but the ever present tempest of adoration and lust. "You're so…"
"Horny?" You finish for him, paying close attention to his heavy breathing behind you and the bulge growing in his pants.
"Pregnant." He says instead, finally spinning you around to look at him. Once you do, you are firmly planted in the knowledge that he is in fact real.
Your feet move on their own accord. The rain sings as you drift by Six and his half-lidded gaze. You waltz over to the bed -your bed. Six's eyes darken when you plop yourself in the center, opening your legs like a vixen in heat.
He had never seen a more delicious sight but he craved to see more.
"The shirt. Take it off." You fight the smile off your face at the dominating streak already slithering in. Last time he spoke to you like this, you ended up pregnant.
"Is this better?" You ask, having discarded the shirt on the bedroom floor. You're wearing nothing but your comfort cotton panties. Your breasts are on full display, catching all his attention.
Six slowly stalks toward you. The thunder claps in the distance as he appears from the shadows. A delighted thrill eases down your spine and the ache between legs intensifies.
Six is already palming his cock through his pants as he draws closer. You unconsciously open your legs further.
"Daddy's missed you so much," he says, working his cock out of his pants. You frown at that, feeling far too petulant.
"No more talking to her," You say, a pout protruding from your bottom lip. You ought to be ashamed really, but you had just gotten your man back.
Right now he was yours.
"Who said I was talking to the baby?" Six says, causing your heart to skip ever so slightly before he's lowering his head, crashing his lips onto yours. Court keeps a steady hand on the bed as he hovers above you. The kiss, between you both starting out like tiny licks of a flame before descending into complete and utter madness.
"You're so pretty like this," he murmurs against your lips. His fingers rub and pinch your sensitive nipples, making your cunt squeeze around nothing at all. "Daddy loves seeing you like this, baby." He continues, teeth clashing against teeth before he forces his tongue into your mouth.
"Fuck, I just," You break away from his lips to deliver a trail of kisses down his neck. Six closes his eyes in pure bliss. "I've missed you so much," your hand, as sly as a fox drifting down his body before slipping quite unceremoniously into his pants. You wrap a firm hand around his hard cock, squeezing lightly which draws a pained hiss from him.
"Fuck, baby girl," Court musters, trying but failing to hold his reserve as his eyes screw shut and your hand works magic around his cock. He's so far gone, thinking about how he's wanted this for as long as the two of you had been apart. He had thought of you multiple times on his trips, oftentimes waking up in luxury hotels with the budding image of you, pregnant and asleep, waiting for him to touch you... To fuck you...
"I missed you so much, Daddy," Your words drip like fresh honey. "And I know you've missed me."
"More than you'll ever know," he whispers into the air. Every semblance of resolve is broken, every ounce of his control has dissolved. He's teetering on the edge, wanting to fill you up once again with his seed. The thought having his hips bucking into your hand.
"Open your leg, baby. Open your legs," as if you had ever really closed them. Court runs two fingers down your slit, sending your head reeling back into the sheets with your back arching as far as your belly would allow. "Jesus- please! F-fuck me, Daddy,"
Court's breathe is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he throws his jacket and shirt over his head. "You keep saying shit like that and I'd have to keep you like this forever."
You gaze up at him with lust-filled siren eyes eyes begging to be fucked raw. It was what you both needed. You craved his hands, rough and calloused, coasting over every inch of your body as if it was his property. You needed him everywhere.
But before that, your gaze drifts down his muscular torso. A torso littered with scars of past trauma and pain. You lift yourself as best as you can, getting slight aid from Six who pulls you up lightly by your forearm. You splay small kisses along each and every scar, the tenderness of the act having Six's mind, heart and dick swelling even more.
"Lay back down, Princess. I need you, okay?" You're quick to comply and Court is quick to guide his cock to your soaking entrance. Your pussy clamps tightly around his cock, drawing him further in. A cracked groan escapes from him.
"You take me so well, baby," His other hand, whether consciously or subconsciously, goes to clamp around your throat, causing you to rut your hips further up against him.
"So. Fucking. Well." Six punctuates each sentence by thrusting his dick further in, all until he cannot help but thrust much more violently into your wet cunt. "T-Tell me when to stop, Princess. You've gotta tell me when it's too much,"
"Shut up and fuck me, Court." You say. And he does. Skin, slapping against skin fills the silence. Outside, the rain pours much more violently, as if rejoicing along with the couple, having finally been reunited.
He wishes to cum everywhere. In your mouth. On those huge fucking tits...
"Fuck, Daddy loves seeing you like this," he says, hand on your throat drifting down and squeezing your breasts. "You're so full, so fucking… mine." That word alone rips a moan and a groan from the both of you.
Your pussy tightens at his words, causing his resolve to snap once again. "You like that? You like being mine don't you."
You're completely cock-drunk, your gaze is filled with nothing but whorish intent as he pounds into you... only spurring him to fuck you faster. "I fucking love it, Daddy," You nod fervently, eyes still completely lost in a daze, "I fucking love it all."
"You'd do anything I want right now, wouldn't you? My princess is so fucked out, so fucking beautiful." You nod mindlessly, far too focused on the tip of his cock finding that soft cushiony tissue inside your tightening walls.
"Open your mouth, baby. Open your mouth for me," and when you thought the sex couldn't get any more obscene... the second you mindlessly open for him, he leans over and spits directly into your mouth, punctuating it with drunk, heated kiss.
"Mine," he murmurs against your lips as his hips begin to falter. "All fucking mine."
"Please, please, please-"
"Cum for me, baby. You don't gotta ask this time. I just wanna feel you milk this cock, okay?" You're nodding profusely as your walls convulse and you're finally pushed over the edge. A cracked moan goes into the air when you cum, Six, of course, not far behind.
He cums where he always does, his very favorite spot. Right inside you. It extends your orgasm by proxy, feeling his seed spill into your pussy.
Nothing at all matters but this moment.
"Fucking, Christ." Six says, finally collapsing beside you with his chest heaving wildly. His hand is still splayed over your front, rubbing slow circles along your breast before ascending over your stomach. "Why are you still up this late?" He asks, still breathing heavily.
"Your child hates it when I rest." You say, pulling an airy chuckle from him.
"That was enough of a workout though." Your eyes flutter shut before you push them open. You wish to prolong this moment, nestled in his arms, bathing in the afterglow, but you're far too comfortable. And when you're comfortable, sleep descends.
"I think I'm gonna be out…" your eyes flutter closed.
"Like a light," he concludes, placing a delicate kiss to the side of your temple before drawing you in further. He continues to rub slow circles around your stomach, feeling his chest tighten with an emotion previously uncanny to him. "Please let your mother rest," Six smiles and says, "Little monster."
<3
in which it's midnight and you're lonely and so is peter and it's the perfect recipe for feelings 🌻 18+ only; peter is a cute dumbass, some implied fwb situationship happening here
"You're late."
With a grin that makes his honey-coloured eyes crinkle up at the corners, Peter allows you to gently grab at his wrist and pull him into your apartment, the small space bathed in the dim yellow light cast by a thrift-store floor lamp.
"Something, something, a wizard is never late or early," he mutters, toeing off his soggy sneakers in the doorway, shrugging off his rain slicker to join the small pile of things he's casting off of himself at this late hour in your entryway.
"Glad you came," you laugh, "Even if you said you'd be here..." you pause to check an invisible watch fastened to your wrist, "Fifteen minutes ago."
"I had to take the long way," Peter retorts, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd probably have gotten mugged if I took the shortcut."
You stare at him, forced deadpan look on your face. "You're Spider-Man."
"Not tonight," he replies, his lips caught somewhere between a sigh and a smile. "Tonight, I'm just Peter."
For a long moment, you stare at him, noticing the slight dark shimmer of a bruise forming under his left eye. It makes you roll your eyes at the same time that you're pulling him close and gently swiping a thumb across his face. "Someone did try to mug you, didn't they?"
Peter shrugs, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed so that his lashes fall heavy against your fingerprints. "Yeah, but I'm Spider-Man."
Something tugs in your chest, an aching warmth that draws you closer to Peter, pulls you up onto your tiptoes so that you can press a soft kiss to his lips, smiling when you feel his tongue swipe across your lower lip, asking entrance.
Briefly, you pull away and gesture with an incline of your chin to his eye. "Do I need to take a look at that?"
"After," he replies in earnest, "Gotta make it up to you for making you wait first."
I just think that if one time, while they are engaged, Peach called Baker Bucky hubbby on accident, his brain would short-circuit 😂🥰
Summary: Bucky loves the fact that he's going to be your husband
Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x Reader
CW: Bucky being LoveStruck.
A/N: Written on my phone.
Bucky's chatting with the farmer in front of his stall, balancing a wicker basket of freshly harvested plums on his hip. Every so often, his gaze strays to the left, his warm blue eyes drifting up and down your bundled-up body.
A smile tugs at his lips because he's the only one in this market who knows that underneath your oversized coat, his sweater (that you stole just as he was about to put it on), and those pants that make him want to bite one of your cheeks, you're wearing his marks like they're your favorite jewels.
You're not far away, standing in a booth covered in handcrafted plushies, knick-knacks and holiday ornaments. Although if he's being honest, any distance away from him is too far. So he ends the conversation, telling Frank he'll be back next week to try out his apricots.
Five long strides and he's within earshot of you.
"I have to get this, it reminds me so much of my husband. Soon to be anyway," you laugh, picking up the miniature stuffed bear wearing a baker's hat and holding a tiny croissant. "He's going to love this."
Bucky feels his heart stop. It hits his ribcage and stops right in his chest. Emotions billow inside him, warming more than the autumn sun ever could. His grip loosens on the basket, a few plums hitting the tall, damp grass with a faint plop.
Husband. He likes the sound of it on your lips. Your husband. He's going to be your husband.
You turn your head, a smile forming. "Bucky are you alright?"
"No. Yes. I-yes," he stammers out, closing the distance between you, his hands reaching for your face. He's disoriented and he knows he's not making sense but the part of brain that's still functioning knows it wants you, needs you right now.
"Wha-Bucky!" You quickly grab the handle of his basket, saving the rest of his plums. You have seconds to slide the basket onto the booth and then his lips are on yours.
The kiss is—well you understand what people mean when they say time stopped because that's how it feels with his soft lips molding over yours, his large hands cupping your face, your fingers sliding through his hair.
He's passionate and desperate and sinfully sweet. His kiss leads to another and another. Around the seventh time he slides his lips over yours, you decide you can easily spend the rest of your life kissing this man.
But you are blocking Sarah's booth and is she—yeah she's taking a picture, you and Bucky are going to be the talk of her bingo night. You break the kiss, leaning back when he instinctively follows you with a low displeased groan like you just snatched his favorite dessert from him.
"C'mere," he mumbles. "Just one more Peach."
Moving to your tiptoes, you brush your lips over his , swiftly pulling back before he can capture your mouth again. Giggling softly when he makes a disgruntled noise in his throat, you pat his chest, ignoring his pout. "We can finish this when we get home Bucky."
Or when you get to the car. Judging by the look in his eyes, its going to be the car.
"You wanna tell me what brought that on?" you ask as you hand a grinning Sarah a twenty.
A blush flares across his rounded cheeks, pressing his kiss swollen lips together, he shrugs one broad shoulder. Your words play in his mind and he briefly wonders if you'd let Bruce marry the two of you right now, right here in the middle of the farmers market. His gaze sweeps over face, lingering on your gorgeous eyes. No, he can wait, you deserve the wedding of your dreams. Until then he'll dream about being your husband.
Realizing you're still waiting for his answer, Bucky clears his throat, wraps his arm around you and picks his basket and miniature baker up.
"Just felt like kissing you." Always will.
"That's fine with me," you hum, leaning into his side. "Love you Bucky."
His response is a quick as it is genuine. "I love you too Peach." With everything he has.
Friendly reminder! Don’t make Namor speak Spanish in your fics. Yes, I know Aquapapi is played by Tenoch Huerta (y está buenísimo el hombre ik), but Namor’s native language is Yucatec Maya. Making him speak the language of the colonizers who killed his people for terms of endearment and playing it off as his first language is a bit insulting, I think.
can you do part 2 of the sierra six smut where they meet again?? I absolutely loved it !!!
A/N: Wild Child by the Black Keys is such a perfect outro for The Gray Man- I also think it’s perfect for describing Six & reader’s relationship. This fic admittedly wrote itself over the past couple of weeks, and it just kept getting longer and longer 🥲 I don’t know if I like how it progressed because I’ve finished bits and pieces of it at odd hours whilst in the hospital, but I hope y’all like it! It’s got a lil dash of every genre thrown in there (ya girl loves her flavor 👩🏾🍳) Also I apologize in advance if anything seems OOC for Court, I did my best but I’m still nervous about writing for him 🙈
Tags: @ejhpmarvelsimp
———
“Contact?”
“Negative,” you readjust the comm device in your ear and pull your lipstick out of your handbag, pursing your lips in the car’s rearview mirror to apply a shock of red. “Oasis is too smart for that. Just tailing for now.”
“Timeline?” your handler follows up bluntly, pulling an eye roll from you in retaliation.
“Can you speak in more than two syllables? You know, sometimes you’re the only person I speak to for weeks at a time.”
“Do you have an estimated timeline?”
You sigh, muttering out a “Thank you” for the technical adherence to your request before laying out the details of your proposed op. “…and that should give me the in to confirm that she’s distributing Rainbow,” you conclude. “So at least three weeks to make contact, get comfy, and catch her in the act.”
“Can we accelerate that to two weeks?”
“No,” you make a face in the mirror, grateful that the conversation is audio only. “I’m going to need a little more time to catch a soccer mom by day, cartel head by night.”
“Affirmative, Agent. Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours.”
The line goes dead with a soft click as you mock your handler under your breath, “Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours. Yeah? Well, Denny can suck my left tit, fucking-”
You continue grumbling as you climb out of the car and sling your purse over your shoulder before dropping your features into a bored expression and tucking a pair of stupidly expensive sunglasses into your hair- more of a statement piece than protective eyewear, really.
Snagging a shopping cart from just outside the entrance, you step into the grocery store and begin cruising down the aisles on the hunt for your target. You eventually find her by the fresh produce, judiciously sniffing limes in an apparent search for freshness. Your facial muscles twitch with the urge to frown at the odd display, but instead you suppress your natural inclination and force a smile as her gaze lifts to meet yours. She flashes her pearly whites in return, none the wiser, and you direct your eyes toward the aromatics. You don’t want her growing suspicious, and you’re fairly confident not even Oasis would have the balls to be openly dealing Rainbow in the produce section of the only grocery store in town.
She turns her way down an aisle and you toss some parsley and thyme into your cart with a shrug before easing into the parallel aisle, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips at the sight before you.
Who but Sierra fucking Six is standing in the middle of the bakery and breakfast section, arguing about the merits of chocolate versus fruit-flavored cereal with a teenage girl, a box of each dwarfed in his large hands. Having apparently relented to the young girl’s whims, he tosses both boxes in their cart before leaning against the handle as he plans out his next tactical move, easing a scrap of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. You can’t help but follow the movement of his nimble fingers as they search his pocket, marveling over the way the denim hugs his muscular legs and the curve of his ass. Letting your gaze travel back up, heat floods your cheeks at the way his t-shirt stretches over his taut muscles, the fabric looking almost comical, the seams practically begging to be let out as they suffocate on his biceps. He smooths a hand over his goatee as he laughs at something the teen said, the movement drawing your eyes further upward. His honey-blonde hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, still neatly trimmed but now with a few loose strands falling across his forehead. Despite physically looking the same, there’s a different air to Six. He seems almost… comfortable.
Domesticity suits him well (and somehow manages to make him even more attractive), and you find your thoughts wandering to his role in this girl’s life. Is he a single dad? Uncle? Is she his latest protective assignment?
The duo disappears in the blink of an eye and you half-wonder if your target slipped some of her product into the veggie sprinklers causing you to hallucinate. There’s no way you’re seeing Six stateside in a grocery store in the middle of Nowhere, USA after spending eight months traipsing across Europe.
Clearing your thoughts with a slight shake of your head, you catch up to your target and continue following her around the store, absentmindedly tossing grocery items into your cart and stopping to peruse the wine rack as she does the same.
An alluring mix of cologne and sheer masculine musk wafts over you sending your sympathetic nervous system into overdrive, your heart thudding against your ribcage.
Evidently you hadn’t been drugged.
“That white pairs great with a good branzino,” an all too familiar silky voice drapes languidly across your body causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.
Without looking up, you retort, “Thanks for the advice, but I won’t be enjoying it. It’s for my boss.”
“Does your boss have a Prada purse,” he murmurs by your ear, his sheer proximity making you shiver, “because she’s looking this way.”
“I’m sure everything in this town with a pulse is looking this way,” you shoot back, still unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Then let’s give them something to look at.” You register the teasing lilt to his voice moments before his fingers are tucking under your chin, tilting your head up to press his supple lips against your own.
The bottle of wine remains in your hand as you throw your arms around his neck in an attempt to get as close as physically possible, your eyelids fluttering closed as memories of your night together pervade your senses.
“Y/N,” he growled softly, deep voice bringing you out of your reverie. You picked your head up to find his gaze locked on yours, the sight of his lust blown pupils and reddened lips causing your breath to come out in sharp pants. “Eyes on me.”
And then his mouth was on you, consuming you from the inside out and trapping you in a world of him until the only discernible word falling from your lips was his name.
“Nice to see you again, old timer,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back with a smile, finally opening your eyes and instantly drowning in a sea of blue.
“Told you I’d find you, kid,” a triumphant smirk has the audacity to grace his beautiful mouth.
“Uh no,” you hold up a finger in contradiction, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Oasis is still in sight, “technically I found you.”
“But were you looking for me?”
“Shut up,” you place your hand against his chest and shove, only succeeding in moving him a few inches but enough to ease the wine bottle into your cart. The man is more tree than human and the unbidden image of you climbing his body flashes through your mind.
“So,” he breaks you out of your lustful thoughts, leaning against your cart handle and offering you the perfect window to track your target as you talk- she’s suddenly very interested in the white wine, her eyes darting over to the two of you every so often- “what’s your boss got you up to these days?”
“Mergers and acquisitions, the usual,” you shrug easily. Murders and asset retrieval.
“New business in town?” He cocks an eyebrow out of curiosity, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans before returning triumphantly with a piece of gum.
Your mouth goes dry as he wets his lips before snagging the rectangle between his teeth, torturously pulling the pink gum into his mouth bit by bit. “A colorful one,” you rasp out, subtly keying him in to your operation surrounding the quiet expansion of Rainbow.
He nods in acknowledgment, chewing thoughtfully. “So I’ll be seeing you around.” He presses a kiss to your lips, turns on his heel, and disappears in a wave of woodsy cologne, the faint taste of watermelon gum, and a parting wink thrown over his shoulder.
———
Days later you’re parked in the school carpool lane gathering intel on Oasis and her teenagers, your sedan four vehicles behind her massive SUV. You let your head rest against the cracked driver-side window as your eyes scan the parents and guardians milling about. Your eyes continue cataloguing faces as your brain checks out, thoughts drifting to your friendly neighborhood blonde-haired, blue-eyed, sinfully-tongued former partner in crime. You haven’t seen him since that day in the grocery store, and even though you’re grateful that he hasn’t been around to distract you, you can’t help but expect him to be walking along every corner you round. Although, truth be told, you’d be very surprised to see Six at the establishments that Oasis frequents.
Your mind drifts back for the umpteenth time this week to a moment you shared at HQ with Agent Miranda after you picked up your dossier for this op. “Quaint little town, nice change of pace,” she smiled as you crossed paths in the hall. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she tacked on, “Watch out for Six!”
You’ve spent one too many brain cells analyzing and overanalyzing her words- surely she meant Watch your six, and happened to mix up the turn of phrase. But Dani was nothing if not intentional with her diction, and you swore you’d heard her correctly. If that was the case, had she and Six stayed in touch since his curious departure from the agency? Had the Sierra Six, the Gray Man, the expert silent assassin, Mister No Worldly Possessions or Connections been…asking about you?
Your passenger door suddenly flies open, the hulking form taking up space in your mind rent-free folding its way into your car, the familiar whiff of cologne forcing your coiled muscles to relax- marginally.
“Put the safety back on, cowgirl.”
“Why?” you demand, no patience for pleasantries.
“Because I like my face intact. Nails look pretty,” he juts his chin to indicate your fresh manicure, courtesy of your target’s weekly visits for fill-ins.
“No,” you refine your question coolly, retracting your trigger finger and replacing the safety on your weapon, “why are you here? In my car? Potentially blowing my cover?”
“Came to pick up my Claire, saw you,” he shrugs as if this is an everyday occurrence for two highly trained operatives, glancing at passerby and students on the sidewalk to ensure no one’s taken an interest in you two.
“Your Claire, hm?” You raise your coffee cup to your lips and take a long drag, the combination of the caffeine and heat sending your neurons buzzing.
“Kind of my niece, kind of my little sister,” he elaborates, keeping an eye out the window for her. “She’s Fitz’s niece, but y’know how our life goes,” he shrugs again, the only semblance of emotion he’ll allow himself to show. “So she’s my Claire now.”
“Court,” your lips pull into a frown and you reach for his hand on instinct, catching the subtle lift of the corner of his mouth in response. The simple gesture is enough for him to understand what you’re trying to say.
“Kid and I have a pretty good thing going here, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a lady friend in her life,” he muses softly, studiously watching the middle schoolers fly out the front doors and avoiding your gaze as if you’ll be able to see all of his vulnerabilities and insecurities in his stormy eyes.
Sensing an opportunity to break down another one of his walls, you cry out, “Why, yes, Court, I will marry you!”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, playfully knuckling against the soft skin of your cheek as your mouth twists into a wry smile. “Let’s start with dinner first.” He eases the passenger door open and steps out onto the sidewalk, offering you a slip of paper between his index and middle fingers through the crack of the window.
You unfold the paper to find a local address in his scrawl, calling to his retreating back, “What time?”
“Guess.”
———
You rock back and forth on your heels on the doorstep at six in the evening, a fresh bottle of the fateful white wine in your hands. The paneling detail on the front door is suddenly fascinating, allowing you to hyper-focus on anything but the nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’ve taken out corrupt diplomats, toppled drug cartels, faced some of the most dangerous men and women that the devil himself would shy away from, all by your mid-twenties, yet you’ve got butterflies in your tummy at the prospect of failing to earn a teenage girl’s approval.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure why you’re nervous. Operatives don’t have the luxury of falling in love and playing house. Sure, you enjoyed your time with the Sierra and the sex was incredible, but you both know that nothing more could ever come of this. Y’know how our life goes, Six himself had said, and he was damn right.
“You must be Y/N.” You lift your eyes to meet the brunette’s sharp gaze, her eyes quietly scrutinizing you as she does a subtle once over.
“You must be Claire,” you offer your hand in greeting and she shakes it firmly, all business.
She spots the floral tattoo on your shoulder and the corner of her mouth lifts in a manner matching that of her guardian, “I like your ink.” Claire cranes her neck to gaze further into the house and you hear a huff in response to her unspoken question.
“Absolutely not.”
“But-”
“Nope,” Six comes into view and pulls the door open further, beckoning you inside.
“Regretting adding that lady friend to her life?” you tease as you step through the doorway, toeing off your shoes in the corner of the foyer as Claire grumbles on about almost an adult and annoyingly overprotective.
“Not quite yet, but I’m sure we’ll get there,” he smirks at you, enjoying the way your nose scrunches indignantly in response. You follow the two of them into the dining room, your mouth immediately beginning to water at the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. “When’s the last time you had a proper home-cooked meal?” Court asks with a smile as he places your proffered wine bottle on the table.
“Properly? Ten years, give or take,” you shrug, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper as you busy yourself playing with the hem of your shirt. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had a nice dinner with enjoyable company, not at a group home or hostel, not on a honey-pot mission, not memorizing a dossier on a shitty hotel couch while forcing down a frozen meal before heading out under the cover of night.
In a surprising display of affection that makes your chest warm for reasons you don’t have time to unpack, Court presses his lips against your temple, bringing you back to the present. “Then I sincerely hope you enjoy this one.”
“And I sincerely hope you didn’t go through all this trouble just for me.”
You follow him into the kitchen to help, taking the plates Claire passes to you from the cabinet as she quietly confides, “We definitely ordered in but someone was very particular about the menu.”
You and Six fall into a comfortable silence as Claire chats about her day, setting forks on the placemats as you gently lay the plates down behind her. You watch, mesmerized, as the blonde nimbly uncorks the sweet wine and divvies it up between your glasses. Something about setting the table together, doing such a normal nuclear family activity, humanizes the two of you, and you’re surprised that the motions have come back to you so naturally.
Six eases your chair out and you smile up at him as you take your seat. Dinner progresses with easy conversation, but then the agent in you senses the shift in the air and you know the teen is gearing up for trouble.
“So…” Claire drags out the word, flaking off a piece of the immaculately cooked fish, “how did you meet Six?”
“Work,” the two of you rush out in unison, meeting each other’s gaze across the table. Claire smirks knowingly at her guardian and Six makes a face at her in response, mouthing something you can’t quite catch.
Raising an eyebrow and looking between the two of them you ask, “Am I missing something here?”
“Don’t answer that,” he threatens playfully with a pointed finger at the youngster.
She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, and you can’t help the grin that appears on your face from their shared mannerisms. “Are you gonna let me try the wine?”
“For the second time this evening, absolutely not.”
“Fine,” Claire smiles angelically, turning her full attention towards you. “Courtland’s been talking about you nonstop for the past couple weeks.”
He growls something unintelligible and your hand flies to your mouth, hiding your chuckle in a cough.
“Don’t choke,” Court admonishes, his tone implying that he wouldn’t be too upset if you happened to suffer for just a moment.
“Thanks for your concern, Courtland,” you simper.
“As I was saying,” Claire clears her throat to redirect your attention, a smug smile gracing her features, “some days I still can’t get more than three words out of him, but suddenly he’s thinking about you and turns into quite the conversationalist.”
“That’s interesting,” you pause to sip your wine, an eyebrow arching in Six’s direction, “because he was very vocal when we first met.”
His jaw ticks and his eyes narrow at your innuendo, and you both know you’re thinking about his low grunts and growls as he fucked you all those months ago. Nothing if not consistent, he merely grunts now in acknowledgement.
“What’s the matter, Court?” you smile easily. “Cat got your tongue?”
He clears his throat and stands from the table abruptly- a bold move considering his dick is already stiffening at the thought of your soft skin beneath his fingertips once again. “Dessert, anyone?”
“You know I’ll never turn down ice cream,” Claire grins.
You scoot your chair back from the table, gathering the plates as you stand. “I’ll come help.”
“Oh I bet you will,” the blonde grumbles under his breath, subtly adjusting his pants as he walks to the kitchen.
You purposefully brush up against him on your way to the sink and he bites back a groan. “Do you not have work to do tonight, Agent?”
“Drug pushing mommy’s gotta sleep,” you shrug, rinsing the plates off, “and so do I.”
“Just sleep?” he murmurs in your ear, gliding his nose down the curve of your neck and pressing his body against you so you can feel the full weight of his question.
You let your head fall back with a sigh offering him better access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Court,” it’s a whine, a plea, a gentle nudge in the right direction.
“Suspiciously quiet in there!” the teenager calls from the dining room, earning herself a low, chastising “Claire…”
“You’re quite the daddy,” you test the waters with your compliment, relishing the way his eyes flash at the title and filing that tidbit away for later.
His gaze drops to your parted lips and he licks his own before pulling away and opening the freezer. “Vanilla or chocolate?” he asks calmly, appreciating the cold snapping him back to his senses.
“Chocolate,” you hum, unable to resist the urge to slap his ass as he’s bent over perusing the shelves. He jumps at the sudden contact and you laugh delightedly at your ability to keep arguably the world’s greatest assassin on edge. “I’m not a big fan of vanilla.”
———
Your earpiece crackles to life later that night, your handler’s tinny voice coming through with, “Where the fuck are you, Y/L/N?”
“Little,” you breathe out, “busy right now.” Court grins wickedly, languidly kissing down your nearly naked body and dragging his stubble against your sensitive skin before nipping along the meat of your thigh.
“That’s not an answer. Why is your heart rate skyrocketing?”
“Oh y’know,” you suck in air through your teeth as the handsome devil nuzzles your folds over your panties, forcing you to bite down on your hand to avoid becoming a little too familiar with your handler. “Went for a run.”
You tug sharply on Six’s locks to get him to stop, but the feeling of your nails against his scalp serves the opposite purpose. He yanks the frilly fabric covering your core down with a vengeance and presses the flat of his tongue against your folds, your hips rising of their own accord to meet his mouth halfway.
“Do you have an update for Carmichael?”
Your eyelids flutter shut when he nuzzles your clit with his nose, darting the tip of his tongue just past your wet folds. You force your eyes open and turn your head to the nightstand, focusing on the glaring 10:17 looking back at you.
“Can I get you a report in the morning?”
“Do you want to piss Denny off?”
“God, you’re annoyingly persistent,” you huff at both your handler and the blonde between your legs looking up at you with a sinful smile. “This operation goes a lot-” your voice catches in your throat and your head drops back against the pillow as Court plunges his tongue inside you, “deeper than I initially thought.”
“Elaborate.”
“I’m getting an intimate view of her soldiers,” you rasp out, subconsciously clamping your thighs around Six’s head as he eats you out like a man possessed, fingers digging into your skin to keep you down against the bed. “Need some more time to figure out their pecking order.”
“And then you’ll infiltrate?”
“Mhm, yeah, I’m close!” You hurriedly end the connection and release the wanton moan that’s been growing in your belly throughout the infuriating conversation, enjoying the way Court growls against your pussy in response. “I was serious,” you half laugh, half cry out, “about being close, Court.”
“I can feel it,” he rumbles, “so give it to me.” And then his tongue is spearing in and out of you, mapping out your most sensitive spots, curling in the most delicious of ways, devouring you, consuming you. He splays his fingers across your stomach to hold you in place as he feasts on you, his thumb moving to trace tight circular patterns around your clit and pushing you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. You cover your mouth with your hand as his name repeatedly falls past your lips like a prayer, keenly aware of the sleeping teen just down the hall.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Court sighs almost reverently, leaning on his elbows to brush his lips against yours as he smiles down at your blissfully fucked out face.
You let your tongue slip into his mouth and tangle lazily with his, the fact that you can taste yourself on him making you delirious with desire. Trailing your fingers down his bare back, you tuck your hands under the waistband of his pants and squeeze his ass before shoving his remaining clothing down his muscular legs. He chuckles against your mouth at the sensation as he kicks off his pants and boxers, moving to kiss along your jaw as he eases his deliciously hard cock between your folds, teasing but not yet pushing into you. “Please,” you whine out, wrapping your legs around his lower back and pressing your heels against the taut muscle there, urging him to give in, to fill you up.
You confess around a gasp, “I’ve been thinking about this for the past eight months,” as Court mercifully slots himself between your thighs. He cups your jaw and presses his nose against the hollow of your throat as he rocks against you, drawing out a whine from the very depths of your being. Your heart flutters in your ribcage as he returns his lips to your own, your tongues tangling unhurriedly in a sensuous dance as he curves his hands around your shoulders and bottoms out with each gentle thrust. You realize, somewhat terrifyingly, that this doesn’t feel like your previous encounter when you were desperate to connect with another human and feel alive again. He’s taking his time with you, kissing you like his life depends on it, gently guiding you both towards orgasm. This man is leaving a brand on your soul, and you’re suddenly glad that your life is one of solitude because, you know now with an earth-shattering sense of clarity, no other lover will ever compare to him. Your chest swells with an uncharacteristic warmth at the thought as the coil in your belly snaps and you tighten around him, encouraging him to please fill me up, Court, please.
Last time he made you feel human; now, he makes you feel whole.
You tuck yourself against his solid form, sharing lazy kisses as you card your fingers through his hair and bask in your afterglow when you suddenly sit up with a start, something Claire said over dinner having poked through your subconscious. “How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”
He rises slowly, brushing your hair onto your shoulder and pressing kisses to your neck. “Hm?”
“Court,” you admonish softly, “how long?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, now nibbling along your jaw in a blatant attempt to distract you.
“Claire said you’ve been talking about me for weeks. I’ve been here for eight days. Fess up.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Oh my god,” you smack his chest with the back of your hand as another realization dawns on you and he winces playfully. “You knew I was getting this op before I did!”
He falls back onto the pillow, folding his arms behind his head to watch you put the pieces together and making you want to forego your interrogation in lieu of wrapping your legs around him once more. “Did I?”
“And,” you force yourself to focus, “you have been tracking where I am through Dani, which means I’m not crazy and she really did say ‘Watch out for Six’!”
“Did she now?”
“I’ve been trying to convince myself she said ‘Watch your six’ for longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Loud guns have been known to cause hearing loss.”
“Courtland,” you growl out, “that is such a gross breach of confidentiality.” You huff, crossing your arms before begrudgingly admitting, “But it’s also weirdly sweet.”
“In that case,” he smiles angelically, “I’ve been checking on you since you walked down that hallway in Prague.”
“You could’ve called. Emailed. Relayed a message through Dani. Sent a fucking pigeon or something.”
“Y’know the kids call it ‘tweeting’ these days.”
“You are-”
“Hilarious? Charming?”
“Infuriating,” you grumble, tugging the bedsheet up over your body and purposefully lying down facing away from him. He wraps one arm around you and effortlessly pulls you closer, your smaller form perfectly slotting into the curve of his large body. “I don’t like you.”
“Yeah? Glad we cleared that up,” he counters easily, slipping his arm under your head and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Courtland.”
“I will forever regret telling Claire my name.”
———
You wake the next day with a smile on your face, enveloped by the slightly spicy, woodsy scent that you’ve subconsciously come to associate with a sense of security. Rolling onto your side with a groan, you find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt neatly folded into a pile in place of Court’s body. You wash up in the bathroom before donning the change of clothes, cuffing the pant legs to fit your petite frame. Following the scent of brewing coffee, you head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of Court in a strikingly similar casual outfit, hovering over the stove.
“Morning,” you hum, slipping onto one of the barstools and leaning your chin in your hands.
“Good morning,” he answers over his shoulder in return, stealing the very breath from your lungs with a dazzling smile. “Clothes fit okay?”
“Okay enough,” you laugh, sticking your leg out from behind the island counter so he can admire your handiwork.
“Good,” he nods once in approval, then turns his attention back to the stove. “Got some scrambled eggs and bacon going, coffee should be finishing up.”
You hop off the stool and snag two mugs from the cabinet, filling them nearly to the brim with room for a dash of creamer and enough sugar to satisfy your sweet tooth. The two of you move as easily through preparing breakfast as you had on your mission eight months ago, the memory bringing a smile to your face. Claire joins you in the kitchen a short time later, dropping her backpack onto the stool you’d vacated earlier and sharing a smile with her guardian as he slides a plate in front of her. “You two enjoy your sleepover?”
“Hey,” Court snaps his fingers with his eyes narrowed playfully, “eat your breakfast and get your ass in the car within the next fifteen minutes, Fitzroy.”
“You’d think you’d be in a better mood this morning, Gentry,” she shoots back, a gleam in her eye as she scoops up a forkful of eggs.
“Incredible, it’s like pay-per-view,” you mutter delightedly over the lip of your mug.
“You should hang out here all the time, we’re very entertaining,” Claire offers nonchalantly, and Court turns to you with one eyebrow quirked.
“What is this whole thing you’ve got going on?” you question, pointing to your own brow. “Does that mean you concur?”
“I was gonna offer myself, but I wanted to talk to the kid first,” he shrugs with an easy smile. “I’ve stayed in enough of the agency’s sad apartments to know that our place is a substantial improvement.”
It turns out to be much more than a substantial improvement.
Over the next three weeks, you find yourself seamlessly blending into the household, using the two of them as your cover on family outings to track Oasis and her family. You and your once impromptu partner team up again on Friday nights, going on dates at the restaurants your target and her husband frequent- and God, does the blonde clean up nicely, a simple pair of slacks, a tight shirt, and a jacket accenting his muscles in just the right places. Most days, you return from your time ingratiating yourself with Oasis’ right hand men to Court and Claire either working at the dining room table or spread out on the couch watching a movie, a spot under the blanket calling your name. Court has taken to making your coffee just the way you like it every morning (all the while ribbing you about how it’s arguably more sugar than caffeine) while you prepare three lunches for the day ahead. He waits for you to return home every evening so you don’t dine alone, and you climb into the king sized bed together every night, sometimes exploring each other’s bodies until dawn breaks, sometimes cuddling and talking about anything and everything until you drift off to a suspiciously restful sleep.
You find yourself lulled into a level of domesticity that you could get used to, a thought that both scares and excites you to your core. It’s the closest you’ve come to being part of a family in years, and the idea of losing it when this op ends makes your heart ache with a pain you swore you’d locked away the day you joined the agency.
———
“I’ve got the popcorn!” you sing, inelegantly flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you with the bowl in your lap on your fourth weekend at Casa FitzGentry, as you’ve come to privately call it. Court takes up his spot next to you, Claire settling into his other side before situating the large blanket across your little group and nodding for you to scoot the snack into Court’s lap. You reach forward to press play on the remote, starting yet another cheesy heist movie that you and the former Sierra enjoy critiquing as thunder rumbles in the distance. Halfway through the film, the power flickers momentarily and you and Court share a look, his hands almost imperceptibly tightening their grip around the two of you. Claire huffs quietly, used to the agent’s slight paranoia from a life looking over his shoulder, but she tucks herself further into the crook of her guardian’s arm nonetheless. The rest of the movie progresses uneventfully, and Claire lets out a yawn before bidding the two of you goodnight, smiling as you both insist she lock her door- at least for tonight.
Assured that the teen is safe in her windowless room, you and Court decide to take up residence on the couch for the night, the living room being closer to Claire than the master bedroom down the hall.
“Court?” you whisper into the darkness, absentmindedly pulling his hand into your lap and tracing random patterns along his rough palm as you watch the hallway, the former Sierra’s eyes trained on the front door.
“Hm?”
Genuine fear- not for yourself, but for the young girl you’ve come to appreciate as a friend and the closest thing you’ve got to family- roils in your gut, rearing its ugly head and reminding you why operatives don’t form connections. “I’m sorry for bringing this home.”
A flash of lighting illuminates the ranch house, and you hone in on a figure clad in all black in the hallway, your eyes narrowing, jaw setting, heart rate kicking into gear. Court squeezes your hand in acknowledgment before you part, and you creep silently down the hall, an animalistic growl escaping your throat when you recognize the door the intruder is gearing up to kick down. The point of your elbow connects with the soft flesh of his throat, reducing his shock to nothing but a soft gurgle as his hyoid bone gives way with a sickening crunch. He falls to the floor gasping for breath and you take the advantage to climb on top of his body, straddling his hips as he weakly tries to fight you off. You grab fistfuls of his shirt and bodily slam his head against the hardwood floor once, twice, three times, your breath coming in sharp intervals through your flared nostrils.
A strong pair of arms twists around your waist and you turn sharply, ready to fight for your life until a soothing “Easy there, easy,” floats over your ears in the pitch darkness.
Your heart rate immediately starts slowing and a vague memory about a reflex in the aorta flashes unbidden through your mind from a high school science class. “I’m good,” you nod with a sniff, shaking out of Court’s grip.
“Yeah?” He flicks the hallway light on, raising an eyebrow at the crimson scene painted before you. “You usually don’t get this messy.”
“My targets usually don’t threaten my family,” you respond coolly, dragging the body away from Claire’s door before leaving to call your cleanup crew. Mind racing with tactics to accelerate your endgame and annihilate Oasis for this blatant attack, you miss the smile that flashes across Court’s face at your mention of your little crew as family.
You turn at the sound of crunching gravel as you end your call, the sight of the still-half-asleep teen splayed across Court’s back causing warmth to rise in your chest again, a feeling that’s occurring a tad too frequently for your liking around these two in particular.
Feelings make you weak, weakness makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability ends with a trip to the morgue.
Court drapes Claire along the backseat of your sedan, tucking his jacket under her head as a pillow before slipping into the passenger seat as you fold yourself behind the wheel. You take a circuitous route to your assigned rental apartment to ensure you’re not being followed, and you carry the minimal luggage Court hastily threw together as he piggybacks the teen upstairs. After getting Claire situated in the small bed, the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder on the floor at the foot of the bed as she sleeps, both your eyes and your silenced weapons trained on the apartment door.
As the first streaks of sunrise coat the room in warm hues, Court allows himself to nod off knowing that you’ll keep his Claire safe, his head lolling against your shoulder. You press your lips to his forehead, whispering three words that you haven’t uttered in over a decade, tears welling in your eyes at the realization that you can, in fact, still feel such depth of emotion. A renewed sense of purpose grows within you as the sun rises, and by the time your two sleeping beauties awake, you’ve made up your mind.
———
“Oasis has proven herself to be a greater threat than we originally anticipated. Permission to execute.”
“Negative, Agent, we need her alive and in custody to connect the dots on the expansion of Rainbow in other areas throughout the Midwest that you’ve uncovered.”
“Terry,” you rarely address your handler directly, hoping your use of his name forces him to understand the weight behind your words, “she’s willing to go to extreme lengths to protect this operation. She sent a hitman after my- to my apartment,” you recover quickly, cursing yourself for allowing a semblance of idyllic family life to affect your judgment. How had you managed to make such a mess of things?
“Christ, Y/L/N,” his sigh crackles through your earpiece. “Any idea how your identity got compromised?”
“None,” you answer honestly, disappointed in yourself for not only failing to complete your mission cleanly, but also for putting the people you’ve come to care about at risk. “What’s the exfil plan here?”
“Y/L/N? It’s Carmichael.” Oh joy. “Proceed with the op as planned, but accelerate the execution phase to tonight. Bring her into custody and then report to HQ tomorrow morning so we can figure out how exactly you fucked this up.”
“But she knows who I am, knows what I look like.”
“Are you saying you can’t get it done?”
“No, I-” you pinch the bridge of your nose and release your breath in a slow exhale. “I’ll figure it out and report back to you when I have her detained.”
“Good girl.”
———
You slip back into the apartment just after three in the morning, peeling off your jumper soaked through with blood, sweat, and rain, slumping against the door with a sigh. After a few breaths to compose yourself, you shuffle further into the apartment and are met with Court sprawled across the small couch, his arm draped over his forehead. He mumbles something under his breath and you move closer. “What’d you say?”
“Asked if another cunt was successfully incapacitated,” he repeats, the shock of his question and impeccable memory causing an incredulous giggle to escape your lips.
“Fuck,” you hiss through your laughter, instinctively grabbing at your smarting ribs. “That bitch is lucky my directive was to have her detained. Otherwise she’d be six feet under with her boy toys right now.”
You lift his legs up, easing your sore body onto the couch before laying his legs back down across your lap. “You don’t have to go, Y/N.”
Your eyes dart to meet his baby blues, piercing through your soul in the darkness. “I didn’t say-”
“You made up your mind this morning. I could hear it in your voice.”
“Courtland,” you sigh, pushing your hair off of your sweaty face.
“Don’t government name me,” he grumbles, moving to sit up and pull your head against his chest. You’re shaking, but you can’t pinpoint whether it’s from exhaustion, fear, or a mix of both. “You’re a damn good agent, but you don’t have to be a CIA pawn for the rest of your life. You can go into private work, too.” His fingers trace a gentle pattern along your spine, encouraging you to take as deep of a breath as you can muster in your present condition.
“I haven’t done my time, haven’t helped enough people. I mean, Christ, Court, you were in the game for how many years and they still wouldn’t-”
“Hey,” he cuts off your panicked rambling with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You know there’s no contingency plan for people like us. You either kill the bad guys or you die trying, and that used to be good enough for me until…” He trails off, looking toward the door Claire is fast asleep behind.
“If anything, anything had happened to you two because of me-”
“I know,” he placates softly.
You lick your lips and open your mouth to speak before thinking better of repeating your confession from the morning out loud. Instead, you let Court guide your body down on top of his, snuggling against the warmth of his skin and allowing the steady rise and fall of his chest to lull you into a much needed rest. “In the morning you’ll go to your debrief, and then we’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “And kid?” You stay quiet, trying to control your breathing despite the fact you’re sure he can feel your heart pounding through your chest and against his in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “For the record, I feel the same damn way about you.”
One Blink
Summary: For him it was just a moment, for you it was five years
Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem. reader
Wordcount: 2.1k
Rating: G
Warnings: Angst, pregnancies, little more angst, some fluff too
follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified when I post a new story
He didn’t know what was different, but something had changed. In one moment he had been in the kitchen with you, drying the plates you had been cleaning on a late sunday morning, the next moment he was alone.
It was colder too. The noises in the city were different.
There was something in the air. A buzz he had never felt before.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his tongue running over his lips while his hands brushed over the counter of his kitchen. He tilted his head.
The counter was different too.
Marble maybe. Definitely some stone. Not like the wooden cheap counter that had been here before.
Slowly he took a couple steps out of the kitchen, focusing on his surroundings.
He could still smell you. Your familiar scent. He smelled the fabric softener the two of you had argued about, before he gave in, not being able to deny you anything.
But there was something else. Another scent he couldn’t place.
The apartment was different too.
Starting from the kitchen counter, the electrical hum of the appliances different than they were only moments ago.
It smelled like the walls had been painted. But not recently, a little while ago.
Another step forward, his hands grasped the back of a couch. Not the leather couch he was used to, no this felt soft. Almost like velvet.
He was… confused. And that was putting it mildly.
It was why he hadn’t heard someone, you, approaching the apartment, your key unlocking the door, your heels clicking on the floor as you rushed into the apartment, because things were happening and maybe, maybe he would be….
“Matt,” you gasped, blinking your eyes that were already watering. Slowly he turned around to you and you sobbed, your hand covering your mouth.
He was wearing the dark sweatpants and the white shirt from that morning.
The morning that had changed your life so significantly.
The morning he disappeared.
“Sweetheart I….” he began but you crossed the distance between the two of you, almost throwing yourself against him as you hugged him. He caught you with a gasp, his strong arms pulling you closer and you cried into his shirt as his hand slowly ran up and down your back, humming soothingly.
You had denied yourself even imagining a possibility where you would see him again.
Five years.
Five years he had been gone, just like half of the earth's population.
Five years that had been the hardest, saddest and at the same time best time of your life.
“What is going on?” he asked and you took some deep breaths, calming yourself down to finally look up at him, his eyes unfocused.
“You… You’ve been gone. I was… I was with Foggy in the office when Karen suddenly was just there and I… I ran back home… I….”
“You ran from the office?” he asked.
“We… It’s… It’s another office,” you closed your eyes, letting your head fall against his chest, inhaling the scent that was just him.
“I don’t understand. I… Something’s changed. We were in the kitchen and then you were suddenly gone and… everything is different?”
You let your fingertips run over his back as you looked up at him.
“Something happened and you… You were gone. You just… You disappeared right before my eyes. But now you’re back and I… I have so much to tell you Matty…”
“I was gone?” he asked quietly. You nodded against him.
“How long?”
You sucked on your bottom lip.
“Five years.”
You told him what happened.
About Thanos. About how the world mourned for months before slowly it moved on.
You told him about Karen disappearing too and about how you had started working with Foggy.
You had told him about finally getting your lawyers degree and about how good the office was doing.
You told him everything.
Except the one, most important thing.
Sitting cuddled next to him on the new couch, which he admitted was way more comfortable than the one you had before, you clung to him.
A part of you afraid that he could disappear again at any moment.
It was when you received a message from Foggy, that he would be over in ten minutes, that you knew you had to tell him.
“There’s something else you’re not telling me,” he said, pulling you closer towards him.
“There is,” you whispered.
“You… You met someone…” he began but you shook your head, sitting yourself up.
“No. No I… I haven’t met anyone. I haven’t been with anyone since you… Since you…. I couldn’t….” you rambled and he pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“It’s okay,” he kissed your neck and you shuddered, closing your eyes as you put your arms around his shoulders, your nose in his hair.
“I had bought the test to take later that day. The day you… disappeared. And after I was so depressed I forgot about it. But Foggy noticed and took me to see a doctor and… I… I was pregnant Matt.”
He stilled beneath you, his hands on your hips, his lips frozen against your neck.
A tear ran down your check and into his hair.
“It was hard. Doing this without you. But… she made it worth it. So worth it. And Foggy was a big help. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s the best uncle on the planet and Rose is… She’s so much like you. Stubborn and…”
“Rose?” he asked, his voice breaking and you pulled away from him so you could look at him. There were tears in his eyes before he pulled you against him and you felt him sob. You whimpered as you cried with him, clinging to him as you both mourned the time the both of you had missed.
“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he shook his head and you put your hands on his face, tilting it up to your. Carefully you brushed his tears away as you shook your head.
“It’s not your fault, baby. Billions of people disappeared. I know the last thing you would do was leave me and our life. Not after we fought so hard for it and… and I found the ring,” you whispered the last part and he sighed, closing his eyes.
“We can… We can talk later, if you want. I will tell you about everything but… But Foggy is coming over. And he’s gonna have Rose with him. He offered to pick her up from Daycare after we… after I left to find you.”
“He just got into the elevator,” Matt hummed.
“Does she… Does Rose… Know about me?” he asked and you smiled.
“Of course she does. I talk about you every single day Matty. There are so many pictures of you and me on the walls. You’re her daddy. She loves you.”
He took a deep breath as you let your forehead fall against his, your nose rubbing against his nose.
“She… She’s telling Foggy about… Dinosaurs?” he asked with a small smile.
“She’s obsessed with Dinosaurs at the moment,” you chuckled and Matt’s smile got wider.
“Kiss me,” you whispered and he tilted his head up, his nose brushing against yours. His hands on your back pulled you closer before his lips softly found yours. You breathed out, closing your eyes as he moved his lips against yours, deepening the kiss.
You let your finger run through his hair, anchoring yourself against him.
He was here.
He was back.
Matt was back.
Parting from your lips he smiled and you pecked his lips again.
You both jumped when a knock sounded at the door. His fingers dig into your hips as he licked over his lips. Anxiously.
“She loves you,” you reminded him and he breathed in deeply.
“And I love you too,” you said and he smiled a little, before you carefully climbed off his lap and walked towards the door.
“I love you,” he called after you and you smiled as you opened the door.
“Hi!” you said, looking down at Rose who hugged you with a squeal of Mooooommy before you picked her up with a groan.
“You’re getting too big for me to pick you up like that little lady,” you smiled at her as she began to tell you about her day. You looked at Foggy who looked over your shoulder, tears stinging in his eyes as he saw Matt behind you in the apartment.
“Do you… Want to come in Foggy?” you asked. He looked at you before he shook his head.
“I… Karen and I will come over with breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.
“Are you sure?” you asked.
“Yeah. It’s… I’ve gone five years without him, I can last another day. But you two can’t,” he said and you smiled thankfully at him.
“Bye Uncle Foggy,” Rose waved and Foggy laughed.
“Bye Princess,” he winked before he turned around, taking the stairs down. You smiled at your daughter as you closed the door behind him, slowly walking back towards the living room with her still in your arms, where Matt was standing anxiously.
“Rose I… have a surprise for you,” you began and she looked at you with wide eyes, stopping her monologue about the Velociraptor she had learned today, making a mental note to ask her about it later.
“Surprise?” she asked and you nodded.
“Remember when Foggy and Mommy would talk about your Daddy and that he had to go away for a while?”
She nodded.
“What did we tell you?” you asked, finding Matt listening to you.
“That he loves us very much and that he would never leave us again when he comes back,” she said. You nodded, setting her down.
“He… He came back today, sweetheart,” you whispered and she looked at you with a bright smile.
“Really?” she asked and you nodded.
“Yeah, sweetheart, really,” Matt said and she turned around as she heard his voice. She looked at you, before you set her down. You were crying by the moment she ran towards him and Matt had the foresight to get on his knees and open his arms before she collided with him with a squeal.
He closed his eyes, pulling her into his arms as he brushed his hand over her hair and picked her up. She was clinging to him like a Koala, telling him how much she had missed him and that she can’t wait to show him her collection of dinosaurs which made you choke on your sob as you laughed. Matt looked up and opened his arm for you, pulling you against him too.
It was almost 1 am when the door to the bedroom opened. You were sitting against the back of your bed, waiting for Matt as he slowly walked in, closing the door behind him with a smile on his lips. His hair was still wet as he walked towards the bed, laying down on top of you with a sigh that made you giggle.
Rose had spent the whole afternoon showing him around the apartment, explaining where everything was so he would know, because she knew that his daddy was blind and she did not want him to hurt himself, while you were making dinner.
It was strangely domestic.
“This was a long day,” he hummed against you as you nodded, your finger brushing through his hair.
“Normally you would kiss me goodbye and get out to do some Deviling now,” you mused and he sighed.
“There’s… I don’t want to think about that now,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” you whispered.
“She’s… Rose is… She’s everything,” he said and you smiled.
“Yeah. She’s pretty damn awesome.”
“I wish I could have been there,” he whispered.
“Me too,” you said sadly, before you reached to your side to turn the lights off. He got off of you and under the covers, finding your body immediately to pull you against him, your back against his chest, as he kissed your shoulder.
You fell asleep like that.
In his arms.
And he was still there, holding you when you woke up the next morning.
Because Matt was back.
And he would never leave again.
does anyone have any marvel fic recommendations that involve the blip/the snap? could be the reader being snapped away or the fictional character from the marvel universe. I have no preference on characters or gender specifics for the reader ( or oc ), I’m just in the mood for some blip angst 🤭
Can you write #29 with Tom 🥺
❀ home to you ❀
prompts: (29) “honey, i’m home!”
↳ established relationship, my #1 fantasy in writing, tessa steals the show as usual
word count: 829
note: girl i haven’t written anything in over a month and i’m stressed abt this, lmk what you think 🥺
flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)
From the first day you and Tom spent in this new home, you’d commented on the annoyingly squeaky front door. It shrieks like a cat under attack at the slightest movement and is the subject of many banters between you two. Not unlike a married couple from a 90s sitcom, both of you refused to be the one to fix it, with Tom contending you should do it as you work from home while he travels, and you arguing he’d promised to do it himself first as he’s already got a background in carpentry. Thankfully, the hectic nature of your lives in the past few months have put this tiff on the backburner.
Now, though, a tiny part of you find yourself glad the door still squeals whenever it’s moved. There’s something about the flash of excitement you get when you hear it, the little frog in your chest that jumps at the realisation that Tom’s home. From your laid down position on the couch, a comforting romance book balanced over your head, your ears pick up on it immediately.
Except tonight, it’s a murmur. Hell, if your ears weren’t practically pointed up like an excited dog’s you probably wouldn’t have heard it. The three words come out faint and tired, drooping from the weight on Tom’s shoulders.
Except tonight, it’s a murmur. Hell, if your ears weren’t practically pointed up like an excited dog’s you probably wouldn’t have heard it. The three words come out faint and tired, drooping from the weight on Tom’s shoulders.
Concerned, you slip a library receipt between the pages of your book and get up, making sure you don’t wake Tessa who’s still sleeping by your feet. With a blanket still wrapped around your figure like a makeshift poncho, you quickly shuffle towards the front door. Tom has just crossed the entrance hallway into the living room, where he nearly bumps into your cocooned figure.
“Hey, darl—”
“What’s wrong?” You cut him off, eyes wide like those of a Disney character.
Perplexed, Tom freezes for a moment before his wonky eyebrow curls to meet the other. “Why, what happened?” He asks, a concerned expression making his thin lips furrow into a tiny little line. You yearn to reach up and kiss it away, but that’s for another time, when your stomach hasn’t dropped to your feet.
“You tell me.” You reply, shrugging off the blanket and wrapping it around your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. “You didn’t say it. Not like you usually do.”
Upon reflex, he burrows into the quilt, sighing as your hands rub up and down his arms. “Love, it’s been a long day, the flight back home was torture. and I have no clue what you’re saying.”
Your mouth twists into a pout and you coo, stepping forward to properly hug your boy. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry you had a tough day.” His arms slither around your waist, a cold hand slipping beneath your shirt to press itself flat against your spine. “Do you want to sit down? Or I can fix you a shower—but you’re probably starving, there’s leftovers in the oven. I’ll warm it up, unless you want to order something fresh—I saw this new shawarma place on—”
The coldness of his palms cupping your cheeks cuts you off, and you blink as you find Tom’s eyes, the corners crinkling tiredly in an endeared smile. “Baby, breathe.” He inhales deeply with you, knowing how easily overwhelmed you get, and you release your breaths together, shoulders relaxing. “I already ate, I’m too tired to shower, and the only thing I need right now,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the tip of your nose, “is my girl.”
Heat blooms in your stomach like a spring garden, and you wrap your arms around him once more, squeezing his torso tightly. With just as much strength, Tom hugs you back, his chin resting on your crown.
“Smooth talker,” you murmur into his overcoat, “you know how much that term affects me. S’not fair.”
His chest vibrates with laughter against your cheek and he gives you a good squeeze just for the sake of it. “How about I make it up to you by volunteering to take your pants off for you and then we see where that goes?”
The sound of his laughter as you step away from him unimpressed wakes Tessa up, and soon enough her short legs flop onto the floor with overexcitement. Colour flushes back into Tom’s skin, and he crouches down to accept the dog’s greeting, one of his hands scratching her ear and the other smoothing down her fur.
“Hi, honey, I’m home.” He coos, grinning as she licks his neck and chin, and you’re pretty if he had a tail, his would be wagging too. “Yes, princess, daddy’s home.”
Deadpan, you glare down at him with your arms crossed. “Bitch…”
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