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dollsvampi · 25 days ago

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Echoes of the Tide

Frank Castle x Reader

Description: Haunted by emotional wounds, only to seek solace in Frank's arms longing for a path to healing. [Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Life, Emotional Vulnerability] (Pet names used: Baby, Darlin') [No use of Y/N]

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Familial Dysfunction & Guilt, Emotional Distress. (3.2K words)

A/N: First post ever lol bare with me. I didn't like this sitting in my notes on my phone so why not share

Every once in a while, you reach that breaking point—a moment where everything feels too heavy to bear. A dull, residual numbness settles in, aching deep in your chest. It feels unbearable, as though your mind is trapped in an endless cycle—spinning aimlessly before crashing into an invisible wall, only to start again. You're stuck, caught in a loop with no way out.

Is this what shutting down is?

Only a few words passed between you and those around you it was hard to connect when you didn’t feel like yourself. It was as if you were caught in plunging, rushing water, one foot forward and the other behind, your body twisted mid-motion with arms outstretched, grasping for something to hold onto. You couldn’t take another step; your hips frozen, your body trying but failing to move forward. Instead, you were drowning in an endless tide of swimming thoughts, unable to tear your gaze away from the weight of the past.

No, it wasn't often you felt like this, but it was inevitable feeling overwhelmed and hollow, from the weight of the trauma of it all. Just thinking about or seeing your family can bring on a wave of triggers. Most of the time you check on them and it simply brings dread.

Sitting on one of the kitchen island stools to prep a few things for dinner, your brows are slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Frank is polishing and cleaning his guns. He had a direct line of sight of you, studying you cautiously. He noticed each and every little thing about you. "Baby, you alright?" Frank didn't want to push—testing the waters. He didn't want to outright inquire; How come you weren't yourself? How come you didn't strike up a conversation? How come you aren't laughing? How come you aren't playing music?

The poor man thought back to his own actions—had he possibly done something wrong or forgot to do something? Glancing up from the scattered ingredients, you manage a faint smile, "Yeah." He didn’t believe you, but then again, neither did you. Your family, though—they would have, without question.

"I was thinking..." the vigilante, sharp and observant, piqued your curiosity. You hummed in acknowledgment as he went on, "We should eat outside and finally test out that hammock we got."

You thought some fresh air might be nice as you cleaned up the kitchen island, "Sounds good." Frank rose from his seat, heading off to store his guns, but paused. He walked over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his free hand lightly squeezing your hip, "Alright, I’ll go get started outside."

Once the food was prepared—delicious and fresh—it was carefully arranged in its respective containers and plates, ready for the little backyard feast. Frank quickly cleaned off the table and chairs before setting up the hammock. Propping it up was effortless—it was a sizable design made for two. The framed canvas, adorned with pastel blue stripes, even came with a matching pillow.

It took several trips to retrieve the food, beverages, and utensils. Frank assisted with the final touches of setup, including bringing out the speaker you have. He handed you his phone almost immediately after turning it on and connecting it, "Go on, play music."

You'd shared your playlists with Frank long ago; he knew exactly what music helped you unwind and relax. He needed you to be at ease. With a few taps on his phone, music began to play softly through the speaker, loud enough to fill the atmosphere but quiet enough for conversation. Frank wanted to bring up the subject, but he held back. He knew you well—when you were upset, your appetite was the first to go, which he didn't want. Patience came naturally to him when it came to you, so he decided to wait for now.

Sitting down and fixing each other's plates, you look around the backyard. The hammock was a nice addition, "Hey that hammock is not bad." He hums, as he glances where you are looking, "Easy to install too." Your eyes don't stray from the space as Frank begins to eat, "We really should get some shade, some trees would be nice."

The man was going to town on the food, which brought a smile to your face. "I wanted to put up the canopy tent, but some trees would be nice darlin'," he was subtle in his reasoning. You could definitely use some sunlight with the way things have been. He gestured with his hand, "We can get some smaller ones, and add on to the garden."

Frank is a man who resolved your words were law. As the both of you continue eating, you give it a good thought to how plans should be. "Yeah, maybe a decent-sized one, right at the edge where the small field begins." He followed your eyeliner yet again, "Perfect, anything my baby wants."

Lowering your gaze slightly you shook your head. Whatever he was doing was working, the sweet-talking, the way he had said it with conviction fulling meaning what he had said. The music in the background is a way to ground you. What had been circulating in your mind is distilling. You were now able to talk about what had been going on, you aren't completely shut.

Maybe you caught on—it was a sweet gesture. Yet, your thoughts still lingered on your family… how something so simple could never be accomplished with them.

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in comfortable silence. Your gaze wandered, taking in the surroundings—the chirping of distant birds, the slow drift of fluffy white clouds across the sky. As you closed the lid on the bowl, your focus shifted, flitting between the patches of grass and the outhouse door, until your eyes began to glaze over.

"You haven't said much all day darlin', what's on your mind?" Frank's eyes were steady on you, and you had to get it off your chest. You couldn't tell him that it was nothing. It would be wrong not to. How was he supposed to understand if I kept holding back?

'Secrecy has a way of evolving—sometimes into something different, and other times into something far worse.' Frank had told you, almost in passing, as if it were a lesson learned from his own experiences. He’d seen how secrets, no matter how small or harmless they seemed at first, could twist into something darker over time. He spoke from a place of understanding, the kind born from years of keeping things buried—things he’d witnessed, things he’d done, and the weight it left on him. You knew he wasn’t just talking about others; he was speaking from his own scars.

Taking a deep breath, after so long being submerged you've breached the surface. "It's just- I don't know what to do... or feel with my family," you couldn't settle your eyes on him just yet. "With these people, it's this guilt, the sense of loss and not belonging. The exclusion they do or just the pure disfunction... it's a lot of things Frank."

He could see how it took you a lot to get to voice this, "That's a lot to carry and even worry about." There were brief mentions of what you had endured, and it really did anger Frank because you didn't deserve that.

"I know I've mentioned but all this stress is inevitable especially how they live out their life. At times I do believe I'm the burden. It's-" You do gesture you often make to stop yourself from crying. Frank knew what you were about to say and immediately cut you off. "It's not your fault, baby. Look at me... look at me." He moves his chair to sit closer to you placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's not your fault." You meet his eyes as tears begin to form in yours. "There you are, breath okay."

Frank grounded you as you focused on your breathing, steadying yourself. Finally, you continued, "Every time I check in or see their posts, I just feel like such an outcast. It’s a reminder that I can never truly be myself around them, and if they ever found out, it’d turn into a whole mess." You can practically hear the comments and insensitive remarks.

"Forget about what they might say, baby. Just be yourself." His voice was steady, resolute. He would defend you without hesitation, daring anyone in the world to challenge you or your worth.

"I know, Frank. With the way my family obsesses over their image, it’s almost impossible not to absorb some of it. All they ever do is critique others. Minding their own business is the last thing they’d consider. They love to nitpick, always searching for the smallest reason to argue or stir up drama." As you spoke you could feel the way he was gently squeezing your shoulder, his thumb moving soothingly.

"That’s not on you, though. You don’t have to carry their baggage or let it shape who you are. Let them exhaust themselves with their nonsense—none of it changes the fact that you’re better than that." He shifted slightly, his hand still on your shoulder, and his gaze softened. His movements were slow and deliberate, with a sense of calm assurance.

Culture played an important role, with traditions deeply ingrained across generations, creating an even greater sense of immersion. The idea that some individuals were unwilling to embrace new perspectives, choosing instead to cast others out, was a harsh reality.

You sigh, placing your hand gently over his. "This is why I feel bad. I mean, it's not entirely their fault either. I see how they choose to live their lives. It makes me feel like I should be doing something to help. But their world just revolves around their beliefs."

He says nothing at first, but his hand moves to hold yours, as if he is carefully considering your words. Finally, he speaks in his consistent, no-nonsense tone, "You cannot bear their burdens for 'em. All you can do is make your own decisions, ones that will keep you standing. If they can’t see that, that’s on them, not you." Frank leans in slightly, realizing that you're still torn. "I get it. You're worried about what they'll say or do if you stand your ground. But you cannot continue to live in fear of their judgment. You've already carried enough for them. You have to put yourself first."

His words hit harder than you had expected, sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. There is natural hesitation, your chest tightening, as if you were in cold harsh water. You try to push down the gnawing feeling of guilt. That fear still lingers, like a shadow you can't outrun.

You glance down at your intertwined hands, resting on your thigh, as if they can offer some relief, and in the rhythm of the music that envelopes the both of you.

You couldn’t help but think about how they’d always handled things—like when your boundaries were crossed, or when your choices didn’t align with theirs. It was never about understanding or compromise, but about control and making sure you fell in line with their beliefs. The idea of standing up to them felt like a storm waiting to break.

"It still eats at me. Every time I see them, it’s like the facade falls into place. We all act like nothing was ever left unsaid—thanks to my parents, I guess. They’re the biggest hypocrites I know." You squeeze Frank��s hand gently. "I was made to believe my problems didn’t matter, that my family had enough on their plate, so why add more? There are things I still don’t know about my own family, things they’ve kept from me. And it makes me wonder—am I even worthy of knowing? Am I not family?"

Frank scoffs, shaking his head. "Christ." He knew that tactic all too well the 'don't say anything to protect either party.' It was a way of keeping everything buried, even if it meant pushing the pain aside. He got an even clearer picture of your constant restraint that kept you from truly speaking your mind. The aftermath of emotional scarring has left its mark, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

Uncertain if Frank would say more, you felt the urge to continue. "I have to force myself into a certain mindset whenever I visit... and prepare for the possible worst, just in case. That's what has been eating at me most of the time, even taking sleep away. It certainly was worse when I was younger."

Frank acted without hesitancy as usual. He was all too familiar with bracing for the impact of something that never felt safe. "You shouldn’t have to do that. No one should have to armor up just to face their own family." He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes hardening in his seriousness. "But no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. You’ve got me. What did you do to keep your head straight, huh?"

The question brought a faint smile to your face—a real one, the kind that had been absent for far too long. You nodded toward the speaker playing your favorite tunes. "Listening to music. I had to distract myself however I could. Sometimes, I’d read or write down the things I wanted to say but—" You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, your chest tightening at the way he's so close to you, and outright providing you with unwavering warmth.

Frank reached up, cupping your face gently with his free hand. "It’s okay, baby. Let it out if you need." His voice was steady, but his gaze searched yours, piecing together what you’d shared. He could see how writing had been more than a distraction—it was survival. A way to give your thoughts a voice when no one else would listen.

You huffed a bitter laugh. "And that’s when I think—if I could just open my mouth and defend myself... but I never know how to say it right. I wish I really knew how to articulate what I feel to them." Your hand tightened around his wrist, grounding yourself in the comfort of Frank’s steady touch. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, a silent reassurance that he was there.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, the words catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. Frank’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking at the pain etched across your face. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would put you through this, why they’d leave you carrying such a heavy burden. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.

The silence was pierced as you dropped your hand from his. "And to be real honest with you, Frank..." your voice trembled, and your lip quivered as you tried to keep it together.

His heart breaking at your vulnerability.

"I—I wouldn’t want you to go through that... to see it happen," your voice cracking under the weight of the admission. Tears welled up, and before you could stop them, a helpless cry escaped your lips. You turned away, trying to hide your face in your hands, but it was too late.

Frank exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as if willing himself to take your pain away. Then, with the utmost care, he let go of your hand only to pull you into a firm, grounding embrace. "C'mere," he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

You buried your face in his shoulder as the sobs overtook you, his presence the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely. One of his hands moved soothingly up and down your back, the occasional pat adding a silent rhythm of comfort. "Let it out, baby," he whispered, pressing the side of his head to yours.

Frank held you as though shielding you from the weight of the world, his jaw tightening as he listened to your cries. It hit him hard—how selfless you were, even in your pain. You’d been so considerate, worrying about how your situation might affect him when you were the one left battered by it all. The thought of you constantly lying, draining yourself to keep the peace, or worse—standing up for yourself only to be torn down again—cut him deeply. "

"'S okay," he said softly, his voice a firm anchor. "I've gotcha baby. 'S okay."

You cried into his arms until the tears subsided, leaving you drained but calmer. Slowly, you regained your composure, sniffling softly as you leaned back to meet his gaze. Frank’s hand was already there, gently wiping away the lingering tears on your cheeks.

"I love you so much," you murmured, your voice still shaky but full of gratitude. You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the comfort of having someone like Frank by your side.

"I love you," Frank's tone filled with conviction. His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world. "I’ll always be here for you," he added, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss to your cheek.

The tenderness of his words made your chest ache in the best way, and you fought the urge to cry again—this time out of happiness. Tilting your head back a bit, you let your gaze drift to the yard.

"Ah, shit," you muttered suddenly, catching sight of something.

Frank raised an eyebrow, already poised to ask what was on your mind.

"We really should try out that hammock," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Frank burst into a deep, genuine laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and catching you off guard. You turned to him, grinning as you joined in his laughter. Before the moment could pass, he leaned in, closing the space between you and placing soft, lingering kisses all over your face, his affection as natural as breathing.

The weight you’d been carrying felt just a little lighter. You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting the laughter fade into a quiet peace. "Let’s go," Frank said softly, his lips brushing your temple before he pulled back, his hand still resting at the small of your back.

Together, you rose, the promise of something simple yet meaningful—like testing out that hammock—feeling like exactly what you needed.

The hammock swayed gently beneath you, cradling you like a soft ripple on calm swift waters. It was steady, unlike the turbulent currents that had once consumed you. Where your mind had felt like it was drowning in endless waves, here was something solid yet pliable—a quiet buoy against the storm.

Frank beside you, his presence like the anchor that helped you beach. The two of you settled into the rhythm of the hammock's sway, the soft creak of its frame blending with the distant chirp of birds. The past felt far away here, as if it couldn’t touch you in this cocoon of stillness and warmth.

For the first time in a long while, the tide in your chest seemed to ebb, leaving behind a strange but welcome calmness.

#frank castle x reader #Frank Castle #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle comfort #the punisher fic #frank castle imagine #frank castle hurt/comfort #bye i wrote this like two years ago and finally decided to post something on here #DollsvampiWrites

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