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 classic heartthrob with a tough exterior but a soft gooey center, this man is the ideal husband for you! all he needs for settling down is a warm loving pup, a steaming cup of joe, and a woman who doesn't mind smooching up a monstrous mouth with a talent for chowing down food and providing some unmentionable waist-down services. rough on thugs and gentle on the ladies, he's handy with a hammer, swift with a gun, and charming with a smile (if you can catch it!). a genuine heart who loves too much and will avenge you even beyond the grave, this rough road of a face makes for, not only a perfect soulmate for the lonely ladies, but also an ideal daddy for any kids looking to stamp in a thuggish but heartwarming parental figure into their lives. |
( frank castle | 43 | male | wynonnasexual )     |
text; un: top price
this was the most interesting "must love dogs" ad i've seen
text; un: bacondonut
wynonna spends way, way too long glancing down at her phone after swiping through the first few profiles, mostly checking off the friendly option unless they seem like a total asshole β and then she lands on this one, and there's no mistaking the face that looks like it's seen more than its fair share of fists (and maybe steel-toed boots). at first, she puts her phone down without even leaving the app at all. maybe she'll come back to it eventually.
in fact, she's gone so long that she forgets what she's been up to and when she turns it back on she uses her fingers to shift the app out of the way and β ]
[ ohhhhh, shit.
maybe she can pass it off as a joke later? people swipe right all the time for the lols, don't they?
okay, she's just... not going to say anything. at all. ]
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it's all a bunch of bullshit
[ the app, anyway. and 90% of whatever's been scribbled down for him.
... maybe 75%. ]
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so you're not a thuggish but heartwarming parental figure? or was it the "waist down services" that they were exaggerating?
those two things totally don't belong in the same paragraph btw
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it's not like i wrote the damn thing
i'm not looking for anything cozy and i'm not anybody's daddy
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it could be easy enough to ignore any responses he gets from it, an easy way to send the message that he's not interested in any cozy relationships with anybody at all, or that he damn well isn't looking to adopt any kids. he's already met a few troubled ones since he's been in town and it's already setting enough on his plate in addition to trying to find amy.
when he gets a few hits, he ends up looking to see what the damn symbols mean at least, a guide that leaves him with a roll of his eyes at how ridiculous the whole process is. between this and the literal blind dating, he's getting fairly annoyed with how desparate this town wants to find him a prospect.
and then there's her.
their first meeting was by chance, a forced arrangement none of them asked for. finding her in that diner was also just luck. the existence of these profiles are forced, but there's little to say how much that symbol is just another coincidence.
he debates ignoring it as he's been doing for most of them. but he's muttering under his breath with a roll of his eyes when he inevitably responds. ]
didn't realize i was your type
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adults really need to learn to laugh at this stuff more
[ She says like she is not technically also an adult. ]
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because here wynonna had been thinking he'd do the smart thing and just ignore the obvious user error involved in this sitch β unless, oh god, he thinks she meant to do it. (she's not even going to touch the possibility that a small part of her, however subconscious, had intended the deerington equivalent of swiping right.) turns out she doesn't get to be that lucky, this and so many other goddamn times in her life, and when her device finally signals she's got a new notification while she's chilling at the farmhouse she pulls it up only to mutter yet another string of foul words.
she probably gets through every version of fuck at least once too and her thumbs are already tapping out a response β again, before she can think too hard and long about it, neither of which has ever been her strong suit. ]
Hardly.
[ only now she's really hard-pressed to come up with an answer that sounds legit and not like she's trying to fish for a lame excuse. ]
Total pity swipe. Not that you seemed like the kind of guy who could use an ego boost or anything.
[ oh, yeah. she caught that part about the waist-down abilities. ]
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yeah my confidence was feeling real shaky
all that bravado? total sham
you really held me together here
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but the tone of his reply doesn't strike her as him taking offense, somehow closer to shades of their initial conversation instead, and she blinks at her screen with confused surprise before answering. ]
Go ahead and admit that I made your damn day already.
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in the same way, he isn't seeking to make any cozy friendships here either, and he isn't sure where he stands on the consistent encounters he seems to have with this woman, intentional or not. ]
it's beginning to look less and less like it's me digging for that stamp of approval
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strike that; she'd still be finding a way to crack a joke because she's her, and anything else would be a sign of something really and truly wrong. some people just need to stop taking the situation so damn seriously all the time.
case in point. ]
Well, the hottest ones always have the most damage.
Pete, huh? Here I was banking on being able to keep calling you Harry.
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[ what β he needs to get out of this damn town. seriously. ]
you can call me what you want
not picky
[ it's not like it's his name anyway. and it isn't like he's wanting to make this a lasting thing anyway. or really, a thing at all. ]
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[ because she's not about to touch that other part; she's pretty sure that trap's laid with all kinds of landmines. ]
You say that now, but then I'll wind up picking something you'll hate and then you'll regret ever giving me carte blanche.
[ like monster mouth. or daddy p. she could keep going but it's a fairly mature hour already. ]
Just out of curiosity, how skilled are you at fixing sinks?
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[ not that he's actually looking to exchange sob stories, or even wants to bring up anything regarding his history with her. lucky for him, this profile avoided any of those sensitive areas; last thing he wants to do is have to get pity messages from strangers he couldn't care less about. ]
cute that you think i'm that sensitive
[ he might be, a little. shut up. ]
sinks are pretty basic
why
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[ again: talking about herself or him? who can say?
and she almost brings up his taste in movies just to prove a point, because no guy out there says heβs into casablanca unironically unless he has some semblance of a heart. that or heβs been fucking with her this whole time, which is an equally likely thing. ]
Because mineβs leaking and youβre apparently a βhandyβ guy.
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[ because it's ridiculous or he'd rather they don't think about β how about they go back to that sink?
if there's anything he expected to hear out of this damn profile, it certainly wasn't any actual requests. better that than what the thing is actually trying to advertise, he guesses. ]
you want me to fix your sink
[ of course she does. because he really can't get rid of her if he wanted to. ]
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look, she's pretty damn good at shifting from awkwardness to less awkwardness (though maybe she's filed some of the info in that profile away for future reference, because there are a few things on there that definitely gave her pause). ]
You're not against basic, are you?
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(at the moment.) ]
i can probably handle it
[ does he want to? probably not. but he's not gonna let her drown in her kitchen either. ]
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[ she might be teasing him a little on those abilities, but how can she be sure he's not overselling himself until she sees it with her own two eyes?
(she's still talking about him fixing her sink. duh.) ]
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might still need to wear a bathing suit
[ don't ... actually wear a bathing suit. ]
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[ not that it'll come to that. hopefully. if he's as good as he says. ]
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[ and no, he isn't going to renovate her place by building in a pool too. ]
just tell me where and when
i'll see what i can do
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As for the when, turns out not having an actual job means I do a lot of sitting around right now, so just shoot me a text to let me know you're on your way.
[ mostly so she doesn't end up opening the door without any pants on. ]
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give me a few hours to get some tools together and i can be there
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[ maybe a more damning response than she intends, considering their current predicament and whether they'll be stuck here for who knows how long, but that's all she offers before signing off.
she figures he has enough information on where to find her at his fingertips, but keeps her device close at hand in case he needs further direction. she's done enough driving around here on her bike to be familiar with the fastest route out from town.
and it isn't that she worries about keeping a neat house, far from it, but maybe she tries to clean up the kitchen a little before he shows anyway, ditching empty alcohol bottles and clearing the sink of lingering dirty dishes. ]
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he tosses it all in a backpack, a variety of wrenches and screwdrivers and the like, and makes his way, never asking for those directions but sending a text as promised a little before he arrives.
seeing her place is the real surprise, considering the small apartment he'd been assigned to, somewhat impressed by the space and seclusion she's taken in for herself, still gazing around the expanse of it even after knocking upon her door. ]
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once the cleaning's half-done, she stretches out on the couch, fully intending to just chillax a bit before he gets here β but it's the knock at the door that wakes her up and she realizes she's been napping for god knows how long, rocketing up with a start and an accompanying crick in her neck.
still massaging that sudden tension, she shuffles over to open the front door, fingers stilling when she finds him on the other side. ] Wow. You're here.
[ (because she'd been sleeping when he'd texted before, technically.) ]
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If you need to sneak in another doze, I can come back another time.
[ there's a partial lift of a smirk on his lips, his gaze lingering on the bits of hair on her head a little disorderly, giving away her secrets in how she's been keeping busy. ]
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[ she's feeling pretty bleary, blinking a few times to try and bring the rest of the world back into focus, but remains hopelessly ignorant of the current slept-on state of her hair, hand slipping down from its place against the side of her neck before she steps to one side to afford him a wide enough berth for entry.
at the very least, he'll be able to get a firsthand look at exactly the level of shithouse she's having to deal with; if it wasn't the sink, she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt it'd be something else falling apart on her. it'll probably happen right after he leaves, for added irony. ]
So, be honest: how hopeless a situation am I dealing with here?