#frank castiglione

[lethalsubjects]

FRANK CASTLE

the way he plans everything down to a T. but anything can change, or anything can happen that could cause max to leave earlier than he's meant to. frank has a perfectly clear shot of him at that point which, despite his careful planning, he is no doubt aware that in the hour window he has it could change. but he won't turn away someone, especially not a little girl, who needs his help. even with how terribly awful max is and how hard - though not impossible - it would be for him to get him on the cruise rather than right there, right now. the way innocents always take prevalence over targets.

even though he's keeping a careful watch on max, he's still attentive to her. making sure she doesnt know he's in any kind of rush - he isnt rushing and disregarding her while trying to find her old man. and he isnt trying to pawn her off onto some stranger to take care of, which as well jst shows how confident he is in his abilities and his planning. he knows people. he knows bad people and how they act. how strict they are when it comes their plans - because they think it saves them. they think frank castle - the punisher - cant get them if they just plan. but he can and he will.

the way he cant help but see lisa in becky. his sweet little blonde lisa, who's life he unknowingly traded to get the war he's always wanted. the war he's been fighting since the picnic in the park. hell, even before that. the flashes of lisa's bloodstained face, the gore that was her intestines spewing from the gaping hole in her stomach. he doesnt have to buy the doll (even tho be doesnt actually buy it) but he does because he's a fucking SOFTIE!!!!

[peanut-n-chocolate]

Found a meme template with watching The Punisher: War Zone

+ bonus screenshot

[avianandloaded]

Hasbro Marvel Legends Urban Ops Punisher (kitbash).

[letstalkshipping]

-- from a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley --

[foggyredkastle]

Y/N: Wow, Frank, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Frank: We literally slept together yesterday.

Y/N: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

[1-800marvelqueen]

5:45

Frank Castle (Peter Castiglione x reader)

Part One

WC : 2.5K

SW : No usage of"Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Reader is gender neutral! but is implied to be AFAB. Mentions of blood, knives, stab wounds, etc. Frank and the reader do some smooching and some snuggling because he so cute and I just wanna put him in my pocket and carry him around.

If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!

Ths is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

Pete’s apartment is on a side of town you’d never been to. A shifty looking building with no front entrance, only a back door. You can’t really make anything out, your body slowly shutting down, your vision blurry, lids heavy. But you can briefly make out the fact that Pete removes one hand from holding you to wrench the building door open. It feels as if all the blood that isn’t pouring out of the stab wound in your side floods to your face. Literally on the verge of passing out from blood loss and you can only focus on his muscles, good going, you think to yourself. 

You’re snapped out of your drooling reverie when Pete begins the ascent up the stairs. He tightens his grip on you, apologising profusely at the sound of your quiet pained whimpers, briefly explaining that the place had no elevator- it had been broken for years. He once again removes one hand from you to dig into his pocket grabbing a singular key to unlock his door. He quickly rushes you to this bed, placing you down gently. He glides his palm along your forehead as he immediately rushes off to some other part of the house. 

Once again your mind is filled by Pete. Bleeding out or no, you can’t help but focus on the way the sheets are absolutely doused in his smell. Looking around you take in the small apartment -- if you could even call it that. The room is bare, as are the walls. The paint is tan colored. The bed he placed you on is small, next to it is a simple white night table. Upon the table is a stack of books, which makes you smile, there's a lamp, and a propped up photo, 4 white lines running through it, showing all the times it had been folded and unfolded. The corners are crinkled and dirty, and in the photo is a gorgeous woman and two children. 

Oh.

“That’s Maria.” You gasp, whipping your head around. You hadn’t even noticed that Pete had come back. He places a hand against your sternum, thumb rubbing in a soothing manner. He takes a pair of scissors and begins cutting your shirt from the bottom of your stab wound to the edge of the fabric, gently peeling it from around the area and lifting it up to rest around the bottom of your ribcage. He says nothing else as he gently rubs the skin with an alcohol soaked cloth, gently avoiding the knife. The hand holding you down becomes heavier as he applies more pressure to keep you from squirming. 

When he’s done with that he reaches down and grabs a thick leather belt from the rest of his supplies. He stands only to replace his hand with his knee, holding you down. He goes to hold the belt in front of your mouth, uttering a quiet “you’re gonna wanna bite down on this.” You’re confused as to why he’s got his knee on you, pressing down with all his body weight. Your confusion soon becomes painful understanding as he grabs the handle of the knife and slowly pulls it out. Your screams are muffled, teeth clamping down so hard on the leather you think they’ll snap right out of your mouth. Your hearing goes fuzzy, a dull ringing beginning to take its place. You can briefly make out Pete’s praise and whispers of how well you’re doing, that it’ll all be over soon. But you hardly understand him, your head spins, the ringing picks up full force and the world goes dark. 

Everything hurts. That’s the first thought that comes to your mind when you wake up. Your whole midriff hurts. Eyes heavy, lids struggling to open. You make the mistake of trying to sit up, only partially getting up before the pain overtakes you. Letting out a loud yelp, eyes snapping open at the sudden burst that fills every nerve of your body. Tears well in your eyes, immediately spilling out the corners. A hand slides to the small of your back, another to the soft bit of your stomach. “Easy sweetheart, easy. I got you baby, don’t worry I got you.” Eyes snapping to your right to see Pete, body immediately going lax. “Pete?” voice wavering as more tears spill out. “Yeah sweetheart it’s me. Don’t move, I don’t want you to pull your stitches.” Your back makes contact with the bed again, pillow fluffed and plush under your head. One of his hands goes to your head, palm smoothing down on your forehead, pushing hair out of your eyes. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Voice quiet and… scared? “Yes,” letting out a cough, your voice rough and scratchy, “The man from the diner, he got me. You got him.” The corner of one side of his mouth pulls up, before it drops down. He turns extremely serious in a split second, eyes losing any sort of emotion in them. He goes cold. “Yeah. I got him.” Eyes glancing away from you, his head turning, looking at the walls, the floor, the window, avoiding looking at you at all. 

“Pete?” A hand placed on his, you see him physically tense up at your touch, causing you to let go, not wanting to disturb him. He turns his head back towards you, looking in a longing manner at your hand that's now resting back at your side. He gives you a long look before he spins around, sitting on the edge of the bed, back facing you. “Petey are you okay?” His head goes down, shaking. You’re worried you’ve done something wrong, why is he shaking his head? 

“It’s Frank.” 

“What?” 

“My name’s not Pete, it’s Frank.”

~

This was such a bad idea. He’d be putting you in so much danger by telling you who he really was. But then again he had already put you in enough danger when he befriended you. But you deserved to know, he had literally killed a man in front of you less than 2 hours ago. He could still feel the fear in his system, the panic, the thought that you could’ve been gone, ripped from his world in a split second. He doesn’t realise that his eyes are welling up with tears, his hands beginning to shake. 

“What do you mean?” your voice shaking, he can hear you shuffle in the sheets, the apprehension and confusion in your tone. He turns to make sure you haven’t made any drastic moves, that you haven’t hurt yourself further. When he looks at you there’s a tenseness in your bones, a crease between your brows, and a certain look of fear in your eyes. 

This was a bad idea.

“My name isn’t Pete, my name is Frank Castle.” He watches the gears turn in your head as you connect the pieces. He knows you’ve put it together when your eyes widen a fraction, eyebrows from furrowed to raised in shock, your body becomes even more impossibly stiff. “The Punisher.” you whisper, eyes turning to make contact with his own, he can only muster a nod of the head. Licking his lips, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but Frank seems to fall short on words. 

He starts to feel panic swell in his chest, the idea of you being afraid of him is something that doesn’t settle right. He scrambles for words, anything to say to you to make you not afraid of him.

“I-I never did anything to anyone that didn’t deserve it. Everyone I killed was a piece of shit. I would never do anything to hurt good people, t-to hurt you.” His voice is but a whisper, hoarse, he can feel himself choking up, that impenetrable wall that he had built was crumbling. He whispers your name, “I would never hurt you. Ever.” 

“I know.”

Frank can feel the weight of the world fall off his shoulders, even more so when you prove your words by placing your hand on top of his and squeeze. “I know Pe- Frank. I trust you.” He hadn’t realised that any tears had slipped from his eyes until your hand briefly left his own to brush against his cheek, wiping the salty drop away. You trusted him.

What more could he ask for?

~

It was shocking. To find out the man you had been pining after for months was the Punisher, New Yorks’ most lethal man. Shocking, but not surprising. 

Pete-- Frank, had always had the characterization of a dangerous man. At first glance he was an ordinary man. Quiet, respectful, he worked long hours doing construction, he ate the same thing every time he came into the diner. But that was at first glance. You knew him-- to some level, at least. He had that look in his eyes. A caged predator prowling, waiting for someone to forget to lock the door. It had always been there, lurking, waiting. It was second nature to him, pain was his career, in the military, and as Hell's Kitchen’s scariest vigilante. 

You honestly feel sort of stupid, for not realising sooner who he was. You remember when he was in court, the trial of the century. You remember that you had honestly felt sympathy for him, he'd only been avenging the deaths of his wife, maria, and his children. He had never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it. 

And you had never been afraid of him anyways. Quite the opposite really, the massive crush you’ve harboured for the man since the first time he invited you to sit at his table with him. 

You’d fallen for Pete, but you could see yourself falling for Frank too. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Frank squeezed your hand. His eyes soft and his lips in a soft smile. You feel yourself giving him a soft smile too, “Thank you Frank. For everything. Truly.” Letting go of his hand so you can hold both arms out as much as you can, muscles still weak. He moves slowly, legs straddling yours. One arm slowly weasels its way behind your back, the other gently cradling the back of your neck. He gently moves you into a sitting position. You find it doesn’t hurt as much when he gently lifts you up, the precise and calculated movements hurting less than when you try to push yourself up earlier. 

When you’re fully sat up, he accepts your invitation for a hug. One arm coming around your shoulders while the other gently cradles your head against his collarbone. “You really had me worried sweetheart. I was really afraid you weren’t gonna wake up. Your pulse got so weak, I just…” His words fade off as his fingers card through your hair. You snuggle closer to him, arm trying to wrap around his waist with as much energy you could muster. “I’m sorry for worrying you Frankie.” He squeezes you a little, pulling your head away from his body.

He says no words, the creases and hard lines in his face smoothing out. Frown going away. His face becomes soft, the corners of his lips pulling up a little bit. “You ain’t got nothin’ to be apologising for baby. None of this is your fault.” his face moves closer and closer to yours, his arm around your shoulders subconsciously tightening around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself. His eyes glance down to your lips, “Nothing at all.” 

It’s like fireworks going off when his lips fall upon yours. You can’t help the slight gasp that falls from you at the feeling. His lips are chapped, yet his kiss is soft. It’s barely a featherlight pressure upon your lips, his hesitancy to kiss you properly holding him back. It’s only when you weakly put your hand up to his cheek and try to push closer does he put more force behind the kiss. A low groan rumbles out of his chest as he presses his lips harder against yours, the hand cradling the back of your head moves to entangle itself in your hair. 

It’s when your hand slides off his cheek, nail gently scraping across his beard does he let out a very loud, strangled, groan. He pulls away from the kiss, his breathing heavy, warm puffs hitting across your face. “We gotta stop before I get too worked up sweetheart.” Dropping his head so it bumps against yours lightly. Frank places a kiss on your temple before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, the coarse hairs of his beard rubbing against the sensitive skin. 

You can’t form any words, both of your hands coming up to hold the back of his neck, brushing all the hair off his nape, fingers gently playing with the long strands.

“You’re a really good kisser Frankie.”

His body shakes with the force of the laugh that comes out of him. Frank pulls back from your shoulder, mouth in a full smile, eyes crinkled in the corners. You can’t help but think of how pretty he looks like this. He looks so normal like this, so carefree, like he just left everything that makes him who he is at the front door when he walked in. 

You can’t help the admiring and lovesick tone in your voice when you say “You’re so pretty,” bringing your right hand down and around to brush against the crinkle next to his left eye, down to the smile lines just barely visible through his beard. 

Frank slowly lowers you back down against the pillows before taking a spot next to you. He lays on his side facing you, half of his body on the edge of the small bed to give you more space. His left arm lays under his head, his right arm gently places itself along your midriff in a protective position. Being extremely mindful of your stitched up wound. 

He continues to look at you with that crinkled-eye, dazed smile on his face. “You’re even prettier, sweetheart. Now get some sleep, you’ll need rest to get better.” You say nothing, simply nodding your head in agreement. Right hand going to the side to grab the bottom of his shirt, gently tugging on it. He takes the hint and with extreme caution, scoots closer to you, his front almost pressed completely against your side. 

He moves his left arm out from under his head to lie under yours, pressing you snuggly against him. With your right ear pressed to his chest you can hear his heartbeat, even and strong, reverberating in your mind. You find that the warmth radiating off his body makes you extremely sleepy, eyes getting heavy, lids slowly slipping closed. Before you drift off to sleep you make sure you tell Frank how appreciative you are one last time. 

You tilt your head to look at him, and just over his shoulder you can make out the beginning of the sunrise slipping through his thin-curtained window. “Thank you for saving me, Frankie.” Eyes closing all the way as you fall asleep.

A gentle kiss placed against your hairline, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

~

Originally posted July 8th, 2022.

[lethalsubjects]

frank; steadily losing feeling in his body, hours away from dying

me, giggling; he looks so silly. goofy guy. little man.

[realfrankcastiglione]

Hey... not bad! I like that.

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime" 

Materials: Faber-Castell 36 Classic Color Pencils, Tissue, Craft paper (8.25” x 11.75"), BIC Fine tip permanent marker, UNI pin fine line pigment ink (0.3), Pilot Super color (white)

04/19/2017

Reference: Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle aka The Punisher (Daredevil Season 2 Netflix Series) 

[sleepytiredkatt]

introductions

a fitting name for this excerpt from my first official fanfic :) obligatory "never done this before so be nice" <3

frank castle x female!oc

summary: it's been a few weeks since Ruby's moved into her new apartment and while she's seen her neighbor around a few times, she hasn't known his name until now.

word count: 1.1k // no warnings!!

(photo in header by user kwistowee, the rest is by me)

this is my first ever tumblr post as well, so until i learn to format everything for this platform, you can find the story so far on ao3, here :)

Ruby jolted awake to a sharp, slow beeping. It definitely wasn't her alarm, and it was far away, but it was loud. For a moment, she stayed in bed, hoping it would stop on its own. But the noise was insistent, and after a frustrated groan, she got out of bed. She grabbed her hoodie from off the floor and pulled it over her shirt and shorts, shuffling through her apartment, sounds growing louder as she neared the front door.

Opening it a crack, she peeked into the dim hallway. The culprit was obvious—the smoke alarm near the ceiling blinked angrily as it screamed every few seconds. Her neighbor's door opened, and out stepped the man she often caught glimpses of.

He was barefoot and wearing a dark T-shirt and black sweatpants, his expression one of mild annoyance as he glanced up at the alarm. He didn't seem fazed by her presence, his attention focused on the noise.

Ruby hesitated before stepping into the hallway. "Does this happen often?"

He glanced at her, his eyes sharp but unreadable. "No," he said simply, before looking back up at the alarm. "Must be something wrong with it."

"Do you need to call someone to fix it?" she asked.

"Not at this hour." His tone was matter-of-fact. "You got an umbrella?"

Ruby blinked at the unexpected question. "Uh, yeah, hang on."

She ducked back into her apartment, returning a moment later with a black umbrella. She stepped back into the hallway to give it to him.

He gave a short nod of thanks. Without hesitation, he extended it upward and smacked the tip into the smoke alarm. The device wobbled, emitting one last shrill beep before falling silent.

Ruby's eyebrows raised as a piece of plastic fell to the floor. "Well, that's one way to fix it."

He handed the umbrella back to her. "Thanks for the help."

"Anything to get that noise to stop," she responded.

Before he went inside, he paused and looked back at her. "Pete."

Ruby tilted her head slightly. "Hm?"

"I'm Pete," he clarified, holding out a hand.

She hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm, his hand warm despite the chill in the hallway. "Ruby," she said.

He gave a slight nod, his hand lingering a second longer before he let go. Without another word, he stepped back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Ruby stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned and returned to her own apartment, shutting the door behind her. As she sat the umbrella down in the coat closet, she mulled the interaction over in her head.

It was nice to have to have been officially introduced to him. She had lived here for about three weeks now, and aside from the people she had to introduce herself to at work, Pete was the first person she had met since moving to New York. The apartment leasing process was all done completely online, so she never met her landlord. She didn't go anywhere to meet new people. She didn't care to meet new people.

Ruby wasn't looking to make friends, but there was also something reassuring about having a friendly face nearby. Even if he didn't have such a literally friendly face, Pete had been nothing but helpful since their first encounter. It reminded her of the conversation with the old lady in the laundry room, who had warned her that Pete was odd. Ruby had found herself being thankful that she had Pete nearby. 

She had had a few interactions with other neighbors, but had yet to be introduced to any of them, besides Pete. Well, Pete and Mrs. Fernandez. But Mrs. Fernandez hadn't asked for Ruby's name, or even given her a chance to speak.

One day Ruby had stepped out of her apartment with a trash bag in hand, and was turned around towards her door, locking it behind her when a bag of trash was thrown at her feet.

She turned around to see an older lady in a leopard print jacket retreating back towards the end of the hall very quickly, and was about to call out when the lady yelled over her shoulder in a very strong Long Island accent.

"I've got an online meeting starting in one minute sweetie, no time to take out the trash-- thanks darling, lovely meeting you, I'm Mrs. Fernandez!"

She almost didn't catch the last few words, as Mrs. Fernandez had said them as she was quickly closing the door on the stunned figure of Ruby, who now had double the trash to take out.

When she went to pick up the bag, the sides of the white bag strained, and she could tell it was about to rip open. She was surprised it hadn't done so when the lady had thrown it so carelessly at her feet. She thought about the way the bag touched her legs as it had hit the ground. The unspoken expectation and demand of her time. If there was one thing about Ruby, it was that she did react well to demands. She quickly decided that she wasn't fond of Mrs. Fernandez. She also quickly decided that this was not her problem.

Setting her own bag of trash down on her doormat, Ruby cautiously carried Mrs. Fernandez's overfilled bag back to the door she had just disappeared behind. She gently placed it down on the doormat that said "it's always happy hour here," careful not to let it make any sound as she leaned it against the door. 

She quietly backed away from the bag, smiling softly at her work. She turned to face the elevator as she passed her apartment and picked up her own trash in one smooth motion.

The smile dropped from her face and she stopped in her tracks when she saw a figure at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall next to the exit to the stairwell. She could see a smirk pulling at his usual frown.

Her neighbor. 

"I never liked her either," he said, pushing off the wall and approaching her, hand outstretched. 

She realized he was asking for her to give him her bag of trash.

She held the bag out behind her, out of his reach, face neutral.

He looked at her in disbelief for a moment before chuckling lightly, "you not gonna let me take your trash out for you?"

Ruby shook her head, face shifting to one of resolution as she continued to withhold the bag from him.

"There's a cat out there, I have treats for him," she said, patting her black hoodie pocket.

He slowly nodded his head in growing understanding, then replied, "Ah I see." He dropped his hand. 

"I'm on a mission," she continued seriously, walking past him and towards the elevators. "Not a trash run."

Had the elevator door not been so loud when it slid open, Ruby would've been able to hear the amused scoff he made as he watched her step inside, turning to face him with determination on her face.

"A mission, huh?"

She nodded at him as the door slid shut, her face breaking into a small smile right before it closed completely.  

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

"Francesco Castiglione...I liked him, I really did. When things went sideways...when he started coming after his own...damn if we didn't deserve it for what we did to that little family of his. He deserved his revenge, and we deserved to die...but then, so did Our Man Frank."

[lehoodcollector]

The Theme is Vengeance!!! Punisher and La Muerte!

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Answer: The Gnucci crime family

The Gnuccis only appeared in the first episode of Punisher season 1 and they were never made aware of Frank’s existence. Well done everyone, the right answer won.

[avianandloaded]

Hasbro Marvel Legends Death's Head Punisher (kitbash).

[siriuslylantsov]

i see frank castle with a beard and i start going batshit crazy. my fingers are itching. the open google docs tab.... staring at me....

[valkblue]

Pete Castiglioni celebrating Christmas with a sledge? 👀🔨

... like this? 🙃

[brw]

every time i remember punisher is canonically italian american i have to sit down. why canonise that.