#frank castle has already broken

[dollfacefantasy]

How’d you think frank would react to reader in subspace! You’re literally one of the only people writing for frank and your writing is so so brilliant!🙂‍↕️

frank castle x fem!reader cw: mdni (18+), smut at the beginning but after that it's just fluff, brief daddy kink a/n: thank you so much angel <33 i gotta keep my fellow frank freaks fed 😤

frank knows you're dropping from the broken whine you let out and the way your hands become grabby, pulling at his shoulders to try and get him as close as physically possible. you always get that way when you start to sink.

he has you on your back beneath his muscular frame, your knees hooked over his shoulders while his cock batters your pussy. his pelvis slams against your center over and over in rough thrusts. he's just pounding you in search of his release.

you'd already cum twice. once on his tongue and once on his cock. the static of overstimulation chipped away at your sensibilities and made you vulnerable. it left you needing him. depending on him.

"just one more for me, baby. c'mon. i know you got it in you," he grunts as his eyes flutter.

"mmm... frankie," you whine. your glossy eyes search to connect with him amidst the haze of lust surrounding you. you babble out the next word while blinking slowly. "daddy..."

he groans at the slurred quality of it. "i'm right here, sweetheart. just gotta cum for me. squeeze me nice and tight."

in this state of mind, defiance isn't an option. you feel your belly starting to flutter along with your legs beginning to flex. the orgasmic spool inside you unravels as though his words work as a direct physical command.

you cry out and arch your back. your arms loop around his neck to cling to him like you're at risk of losing him. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as more choked, pitiful sounds explode out of you. he can feel tears leak from your eyes against his shoulder. you're so close to his ear that he can hear the soft sniffles.

"that's my baby. that's my girl. my good fuckin' girl. so fuckin' good for me, fuck," he grumbles against your skin, his own words trailing off and becoming incoherent.

he presses down on you harder to the point that you're completely squished against the mattress under his weight. his cock is so deep inside you that it'd probably hurt if you were more lucid.

most of the time, he was more gentle with you. everywhere but the bedroom, he treated you as though you were a tiny doll made of glass. when he was close like this though, on the brink draining his balls inside you, being careful felt like something only possible in dreams.

he crashes over the edge hard, growling against your neck and clutching the sheets. his breath comes out in ragged pants as pure euphoria washes through him. you let out tiny squeaks below him, but they're not of much concern right now.

it's after the blissful fog settles that he tends to you.

he rolls off of you once he's almost all the way down. his back hits the bed, and cool air flows between both of your bodies. you lie there for a few moments as if you're dead. if not for the quick rise and fall of your chest, that's what someone may think. your eyes stare at the ceiling, blank and unthinking. tears trail down your temples.

after a few seconds, you start to turn onto your side. you curl up, pupils still cloudy and face void of any specific emotion. in these brief eclipses after sex and before totally settling down, your mind gets stuck in a weird limbo. all you can think about is him. you want him holding you, touching you, taking care of you. but you can't ask for it. can't verbalize the desire for any of that. in the beginning stages of your relationship, he thought you were trying to forget he was beside you.

but now he knows better.

he places a hand on the divot in your waist and pulls you back to him, not letting you draw in on yourself. his nose brushes behind your ear while his lips plant soft kisses on your throat.

"no hiding from me, babydoll. you did so good," he whispers. his hand caress your warm skin, trying to reel you back to him.

you still don't have any words, but your muscles relax for him in an instant. he can feel it under his fingers.

"that's right. i got you, daddy's got you," he mumbles, "let's get you cleaned up."

he rises to his feet on his side of your bed and drags your limp body across it so he can hoist you up into his arms. in your more playful moments, he might throw you over his shoulder, tease you about how he used to have to carry guys like this when he was in the marines. but you're not giggling or squirming right now, so he doesn't.

he scoops you up like a bride and walks over to the bathroom in your apartment. that's when you start coming back a little. you nuzzle at his chest, your warm breath fanning across his muscle.

"there she is," he mumbles.

inside the bathroom, he sits you on the countertop. you lean back against the mirror while he goes to turn on the shower. the surface is cool on your skin. your eyes flutter shut as you relax a bit more.

only seconds later, he's back in front of you. he stands between your thighs and cups your face in one large hand. as quickly as they shut, your eyes pop back open to look at him.

"how're you feeling, pretty girl?" he asks, voice quiet and rough.

you nod in response as if it's a yes or no question. pushing off the mirror, you drape your arms around his shoulders again and press your face to his skin.

"'m ok," you sigh, "just a little sleepy."

"yeah, you are," he says with the hint of a smile gracing his features, "you can knock out as soon as we're done, ok? just let me take care of you."

again, you nod. you never had any objections to handing control over to frank. he lifts you from the counter again and walks into the shower with you.

the hot water streams down onto your bodies below. it trickles from his skin to yours, relaxing both of your muscles. you shut your eyes and keep your head on his shoulder. his fingers twirl in small patterns on your back as he sets you down. the tile is cold on the soles of your feet. you still have to lean against him for balance.

vaguely, you feel his hands running over your body. they’re slippery, slicked up with your sweet-smelling body wash. you swear you hear his deep voice humming, vibrating in his chest beneath your ear, but it could be your imagination.

in total, it feels like the shower is only seconds long. you know you’ve been in there for longer, you felt him run through your whole routine. but time melts away in your mind when you're in this state.

as soon as you’ve acclimated to the smooth surface underfoot, he’s guiding you off of it and onto the cushioned mat outside the shower. you stand there, managing a few lazy blinks.

he laughs softly at that. “few more minutes, sleepy girl.”

with an old towel from the rack, he dries you off. he’s quick but thorough, getting every last little bead of water off of you without being tedious about it.

he scoops you back up after that. your arms and legs latch around him, holding on as he carries you to the bedroom and plops you down on the bed.

“time for sleep?” you yawn, stretching your limbs a bit.

"nice try but you gotta put on some clothes, baby. don't want you catching a cold," he says before heading over to the dresser and grabbing a top for you along with some panties.

"that's not how it works, y'know," you correct while lazily watching him return to you. he tosses the scraps of fabric next to your body on the mattress.

"oh you're a doctor now, huh?" he mutters before tapping your ankle, "put your legs up."

you do as he says without complaint, lifting your legs high into the air so he can pull your panties over them.

"i'm just saying, i wouldn't get sick from sleeping naked," you yawn.

shaking his head, he grabs one of your outstretched arms to pull you up right. despite regaining your ability to speak, you still looked at him with that same dreamy smile you got when you were blissed out.

he tugs the sweatshirt over your head. it was one of his, one of the newer, softer ones you'd bought for him. he'd owned it just long enough and worn it the right amount of times needed for it to smell like him.

"there you go," he says softly and pulls you to his chest for a few seconds. he just feels you in his arms for a moment, pressed against him, safe and sound. as much as you loved being babied, part of the reason he took care of you was for himself too.

he kisses your forehead and then lets you lie down.

"you get comfy, babydoll. i'm gonna put some clothes on, and then i'll be right back," he says before departing to tend to himself for a few minutes.

when he does come back, he's surprised you haven't passed out already. instead, you're tucked under the blankets and curled up to a pillow, waiting for him. you reach out with another grabby hand to signal your desire for him.

"i'm coming," he mutters as he rolls onto the mattress beside you and loops his muscular arm behind your head.

you nuzzle right up to his chest, draping your own limbs over his body. he feels your lips lay a small kiss on his chest.

"get some sleep, baby. don't want you to be all cranky in the morning," he murmurs and shifts a little to engulf you with his frame.

"you're the one who gets cranky..." you reply. but you follow along anyways and shut your eyes. his body heat combined with your soft bedding has you drifting off in no time.

[castielli]

Not requested. !!First time trying to write sex scenes!!😀. I’m so embarrassed but equally hard. You may notice differences between the normal scenes and the smut cause I usually let my friend fix my mistakes, but she didn’t want to read the gay sex thing💋.

Bruised Knuckles, Broken Walls

Frank Castle x Male!VigilanteReader

Enemies to enemies with benefits, reader has a dick, AMAB reader, angry gay smut scene, oral (r receiving), handjobs, making out, canon violence, cock before taking a cartel down. DNI MINORS, GIRLS, PPL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SMUT

You’d been tracking the same bastard for days. A dirty dealer with connections in the cartel deep enough to make you sweat and teeth sharp enough to bite back. You’d gotten the location, abandoned warehouse in the Narrows, and moved in like always- silent, clean, brutal.

And then he showed up.

You recognized him by the way the shadows bent around him, the skull on his chest catching the moonlight like a warning. Frank Castle. The Punisher. A walking wrecking ball with a moral code scribbled in blood and a reputation for not playing well with others. Especially not you.

“Of course” you muttered under your breath as he stomped through the broken door like a bear out of hibernation, shotgun already raised. He barely glanced at you. “I had this.”

“I had it first.”

“You sure? ‘Cause all I see is a bunch of guys still breathing.”

“You’re one to talk, Castle. Half the building’s still standing.”

It escalated quickly. It always did. Words turned into shoves. Shoves into fists. You cracked him across the jaw, he tackled you into a stack of crates. Splinters, curses, the sound of your bodies hitting the concrete hard enough to shake your teeth.

And underneath it all, something else. Something hot and electric, seething beneath every punch you threw.

He had you pinned to the ground, forearm to your throat, breathing hard. His eyes burned into yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, smell the sweat, the blood.

“You gonna back off?” he growled. You didn’t flinch. “Make me.” His grip tightened for a beat, then loosened.

That was the moment. That single second when something cracked open. His eyes dropped to your mouth. Yours to his. Breathing slowed. Shifted. Became something else entirely.

And then you kissed him.

You didn’t plan to. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was teeth clacking, breathless, rough, an extension of the fight. He froze for half a second, like the idea had never occurred to him, and then he was kissing you back with the kind of ferocity that made your spine arch off the floor.

It wasn’t just lust. It was frustration. Power. Rage and grief and too many years of carrying pain like armor. His hands gripped your face like he didn’t know whether to shove you away or pull you closer.

You rolled over, pinning him instead, your knees at his sides. He growled into your mouth, his hands digging into your jacket. You bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, and he gasped against you like it surprised him.

“I hate you” he muttered, breathless.

“You wish you did” you shot back, dragging your mouth down to his jaw, the curve of his throat. “You hate that you want this.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Then shut me up.”

He did.

Your back hit the floor again seconds later. He had your arms pinned above your head, the bulk of him pressing you into the cold brick, kissing you like he was trying to bruise the taste of you into his memory. You could feel every inch of him, anger, heat, want, like it was a second skin against yours.

When his hand dropped to your belt, you grabbed his wrist. “Frank.” He stopped. Breathing hard. Waiting.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just met his eyes, dark, stormy, cracked wide open. You didn’t need to ask what this was. It was obvious. This wasn’t love. This was need.

You let go of his wrist. Nodded.

His hands were rough. Your mouths never stopped moving. There was nothing romantic about it, the way he shoved your shirt up, the way you hissed when your back scraped the bricks, the way you both fought for control with every kiss, every bite, every ragged breath.

You didn’t undress, not all the way, pulling your rough jeans and boxers down enough to free your achingly hard cock, the tension making you feel like it was about to explode.

He kissed you like the world was ending. You held him like it already had. His big, warm and calloused hand wrapped around your shaft, making you shiver and grunt in pain and want.

You kept on making out, swapping saliva and blood as Frank’s thump ran over the slit of your pulsing dick, spreading beads of precum all over the tip before finally starting moving.

You groaned against his mouth, your fingertips pressing into his scalp as Frank roughly pumped your member, letting his big fingers brush against your full balls.

He only pulled away from your now bleeding lips after what felt like an eternity, his deep, dark eyes looking into yours as you both panted harshly.

The hand that was on your cock raised, brushing and tickling the pubic hair above as Frank made his way lower, now laying face to face with your annoyingly delicious looking penis. “Fuck” you groaned as he pushed your sweat damp hair away from your forehead, your eyes following Frank’s every movement.

He looked up at you, his mouth tentatively close to your lubed member, his big eyes looking into yours just to see how good he was already making you feel. As if on cue, you pushed both your hands into his dark hair, surprisingly softer than you imagined. You have it a tug, inviting him to continue before your balls exploded.

He didn’t waste a second, he didn’t want to go slow. He took half of you into his mouth, making you groan at the tight, fuzzy sensation you got from feeling and looking his thin lips wrap around your veiny cock.

He started nodding his head, eyes never leaving yours as he used his other hand to pump the part of you he couldn’t fit into his mouth. He was enjoying it, the feeling of your hairs on his nose, the wet stickiness on his hand, the precum mixing with the blood in his mouth…it was better than anything else he had ever tired.

You started rocking your hips, fucking into his mouth, feeling your cock curve down his throat. Frank was not gagging, somehow. He removed his hand from your member to go back and focus on your balls as well, as he took you deep inside.

But having Frank all to yourself is too nice to be real. The taste of you was still on his tongue when the noise started, somewhere deeper in the warehouse, the sound of movement. Footsteps. Muffled voices. A groan that was definitely not yours or his.

You both froze. Your back was against the wall, pants half-off, Frank practically welded to you, breath hot against your cock. His fingers were still digging into your thigh, lips grazing your skin. You could feel how badly he wanted to finish. You were right there too, already cursing the interruption.

“Shit” you muttered, dragging in a breath through clenched teeth.

Frank pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours, jaw clenched like he was physically holding himself back from finishing what you’d started. His hips were still twitching like muscle memory hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

“We didn’t clear the whole place” he growled, like it was your fault somehow.

“No shit, Castle.” He glared at you, breath still ragged. You both looked down. Yup. Still hard. Both of you.

You exhaled through your nose, slow and frustrated. “We gonna finish this or save the city or whatever?”

He let out a groan, half pissed, half desperate, and slammed his fist against the wall right next to your head.

“This never happened” he gritted out, already tucking himself back in, hands shaking slightly.

You adjusted your pants too, biting back a hiss at how sensitive everything still felt. “Sure. Never happened. Just two guys bumpin’ dicks in a warehouse. Completely normal vigilante behavior.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me- oh wait” you snapped, wiping his spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. “You were.”

Frank didn’t answer. Just gave you a look that said ‘I will end you’, but with slightly less conviction than usual. Like maybe he was still fighting the urge to drag you back against the wall and finish what you started.

Instead, he stormed off toward the noise. Like a punished guard dog with a bone still stuck in its teeth. You followed, adjusting your jacket, trying not to think about the ache between your legs or the heat still crawling across your skin. Your whole body was buzzing like it’d been jump started then left hanging.

This wasn’t over. Not even close. But for now? Duty called. And your blue balls were along for the ride.

[celestialglow24]

•••Promise Me•••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

You finally see Frank again after months of being apart with no explanation.

hi friends. more Frank angst because this man has taken over my mind lately and i think you all should suffer with me. please enjoy xx

The walk back home from the restaurant wasn’t too bad of a trek. You had convinced yourself it’d be alot faster than waiting around for an uber, or bothering your cousin at 12 am to come down there and pick you up.

Was it wise? Probably not. But the multiple shots of liquid courage—fueled with the desire to take a long hot shower—gave you a sense of confidence no one would have been able to shake.

So you said your goodbyes to the group you were with, telling them a little white lie that your ride was here, and began walking home.

As the loud street music and bustling noise of downtown nightlife started to fade, that confidence began to wane.

It was really quiet out here, and no one was around from what you could tell. You could see the sign for a park a little ways ahead and that managed to level your nerves.

Your cousin’s apartment wasn’t too far from there and if you kept at the pace you were moving, you could get there in 10 minutes or so.

God you hated wearing heels. You’d yet to find a pair that didn’t make you want to cut off your feet and curse the ground after only a couple of hours of use.

There was a part of you that was half tempted to take them off and walk the rest of the way barefoot, but after already passing several broken bottles along the street, you decided you didn’t want to chance a night in the ER.

All things considered you were proud of yourself for going out tonight. It had been months since you’d done anything besides: work, sleep, eat, repeat.

Save for a few weekends now and then of binge watching a true crime doc with your cousin Lucy or a trip to the dog park with her dog Penny, you hardly allowed yourself any time to relax.

Anything to avoid your mind having the opportunity to think of him. To think of your past.

So when your coworker invited you out with people from your department to celebrate their recent promotion, you decided to let yourself enjoy a night out. You felt you had earned it.

You hadn’t been working for the company very long, but you got along with everyone pretty well. It was nice of them to include you.

It was certainly more fun than you expected to have but after your brain had tried multiple times to convince you that you’d seen someone that wasn’t there—someone who you hadn’t seen in months—you knew it was time to go.

6 months.

6 months and you still searched for him in a room full of people.

It was pathetic.

Even now, as you walked the nearly empty streets you felt him. You didn’t know how— and despite logic and reason battling with these inexplicable feelings— it still felt like you could sense his presence.

Yeah, this had to be the alcohol talking.

You tightened your trenchcoat around your torso in an effort to self soothe and offered a half smile to the few people you walked by on your way toward the park.

As you rounded the sidewalk, you pulled your phone out to text your cousin that you’d be home any minute. She was probably already sleeping but you wanted to give her the heads up anyway.

Anything to avoid her attacking you with a broom like she did the one time you got home late from work.

Just as you went to tuck your phone back in your coat pocket it slipped out of your hand, landing on the ground face down with a loud crack.

“Fuck” you cried, bending down to asses the damage. Thankfully you had a screen protector, so the actual screen was fine. But man you had done a number on it. The uneven cracks that splintered the screen made it difficult to read the time and notifications.

As you rose from your squatting position, you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye ducking behind a car across the street.

You felt your stomach drop.

Slowly… you stood up taller, squaring your shoulders and trying to steady your breathing. You calmly reached for the front clasp of your clutch, thanking any god or the universe that you managed to stow your taser earlier that night.

You chose not to make any sudden movements. Instead you waited. You waited for so long you were starting to question if you had seen anything at all. Maybe you misunderstood and it was the alcohol messing with your senses.

But when you saw the tip of a black hoodie through the window of the car you knew you weren’t losing it.

“Who’s there?” you shouted.

No response.

“Listen,” your voice shook, “I’m about 10 seconds away from dialing 911 so if you’re not interested in explaining to the cops why you’re sneaking up on -”

“Ain’t no need for all that.” You heard a voice call back.

Your breath stilled. As soon as the voice hit you, it was like the ground beneath you had been ripped away. You didn’t even feel like you were in your own body anymore.

You dug your nails into your palm, trying to startle yourself awake. Surely you had to be dreaming.

But when the figure stood and faced you, their hood falling back to reveal their face, you couldn’t deny what you were seeing.

There were so many emotions swelling inside you at once. Disbelief, disappointment, anger and relief.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel so many things at once.

Perhaps the most compelling was the realization that despite everything, you still felt love. So much love that it made you feel weak.

It almost made you forget everything that’s happened.

The feelings of abandonment. The nights of endless tears. The calls and messages that would never seem to go through.

Feelings of confusion. Of constantly wondering what you did wrong.

Questioning if any of it was ever as real to him as it was to you.

You could almost forget it all. Run right across the street into his arms. Hug him and kiss him over and over. Tell him how much you missed him. How much you need him. How much you forgive him if you could just be together again.

But as quickly as those thoughts teased your mind, the feelings of anger and betrayal enveloped you like an unrelenting wave.

You couldn’t allow the love you felt to erase the hell you’ve endured. You wouldn’t.

So you swallowed the tears that threatened to spill and turned away, making bigger strides to get back to your cousin’s apartment.

You could hear him shout your name but you kept moving.

He must have crossed the street because you could hear him calling directly behind you.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t say a word. You just kept moving.

Choosing to run was just plain stupid, but it was your only resort to get away fast.

Not only was it stupid because your feet hurt like hell and you were risking a face plant any second, but it was stupid because he was the fucking punisher.

Any attempt to try and outrun him was pointless. He’d be able to catch you before you could even finish your next thought.

“Hey!” he yelled, finally catching up to you and grabbing your arm. “Just hold up would you?”

“No!” you shouted, yanking yourself out of his grasp. You took a few steps backward and he held his arms up in defense.

At this point you know you looked like a mess. The hot tears you were trying to suppress had spilled over and you could taste the salt of them on your tongue.

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to hate him so much but seeing the pained look on his face broke your heart.

To be honest he looked like shit. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in months. His beard was long and unkempt. It even looked like he’d lost weight. And his eyes, the biggest tell of all, were sad and empty.

“I just want to talk.” he spoke calmly.

You shook your head. “How did you find me?”

When you left the witness protection program you didn’t even tell Madani where you were going. She tried to pry it out of you, swearing that it was her duty as her job and as a friend to know. However, you wouldn’t budge.

The people that were after Frank had been taken care of according to Dinah. You didn’t want to continue living out the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.

So you thanked her for all of her help and you wished her the best, but you didn’t want any ties to your life back then. You didn’t want any more reminders of him.

“He asks about you, you know?” she had said during your last conversation. “Every week like clockwork. I haven’t told him anything. Just that you’re safe and happy.”

You scoffed, “Well at least one of those is true.”

She was silent for a moment. “I hope you can give yourself a chance to be happy again. Love doesn’t always look the way we want it to and life is hardly ever fair, but once we choose to accept the pieces we are given…. we can allow ourselves to move on.”

You know Dinah meant well. And you appreciated how close the two of you had gotten based on the circumstances. But you weren’t sure if you could agree with what she was suggesting. It felt impossible to move on when your whole body still ached for him.

“Thank you Dinah.” you relented, “Who knew you could be so therapeutic?”

“Just part of the charm.” she laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between you. You were sitting on the balcony of your cousin’s apartment, and for a brief second you felt a little bit of excitement at the opportunity to start over.

Your cousin had managed to get you a job and while it wasn’t exactly what you were doing before, it was familiar work.

You’d be working for a publishing company polishing and approving manuscripts. It was boring, monotonous work but it was safe.

You thanked Madani again and expressed the hope of following up again someday in the future.

Then you changed your number and disabled your emails.

You knew doing so wouldn’t stop them from being able to find you if they really wanted to. Her and Frank were both good for that. But it gave you a sense of control for now. That you were the one deciding to distance yourself this time and the choice wasn’t being made for you.

“Could we go some place to talk?”, his voice broke you out of the memory.

You crossed your arms.

“No. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere after months of silence expecting to just talk. I have nothing to say to you.”

The words that tumbled out of your mouth were meant to be delivered with strength and conviction. Instead, they sounded more like someone trying to convince themselves that they believed them.

“I can explain whatever you want. Just let’s get out of the cold here, there’s a diner not too far out.” he said, tilting his head back towards where you came from. “We could get a cup of co-”

“No, Frank, I want to stay right here.”

He closed his mouth, but you could tell he was trying to keep his composure. You were being stubborn and as much as you hated being in the cold, you didn't want to be around other people.

You didn’t want to take the chance of losing your shit while people were trying to enjoy their food in peace.

“I get that you’re angry, but there’s a lot you don’t understand. I was just trying to protect you.” he tried to reason.

“You left me Frank. You didn’t text, you didn’t call. You left me completely in the dark.” you cried, wiping angrily at your face to rid the tears that were escaping.

“Do you know how scared I was? Having strangers show up to my house and basically tell me I couldn’t exist as me anymore? I had to move and change my name. And the one person I needed more than anything—the one person who could make all of it feel okay— wouldn't even answer a damn phone call.”

You suddenly felt like you were back in the empty apartment Madani had set you up in. You hardly knew her before that day, she was just “someone who had worked with Frank before”, according to what she told you.

But she kept giving you this look. This look that both expressed the pity she felt for you and the wonder of how you ended up in a situation like this? How you managed to get mixed up in the world of Frank Castle?

But you had met him after he had left that life behind him. And according to him, the life that he was never going back to. Things had been good for so long that you never even questioned it until that day. Now you didn’t even know what was real.

“You were in danger alright? I had angered some really powerful people. I had hurt them, did things I’m not proud of and I wasn’t about to let you take the fall for it. You weren’t safe with me.”

“I was always safe with you!” you shouted, “Who else could’ve kept me more safe than you? We could’ve worked it out together, we could’ve came up with a plan—” you stopped as you watched Frank shake his head in disbelief, “What, Frank? What the fuck is that about?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Come up with a plan? Really?” he scoffed, “This isn’t team sports. It’s not some dumb escape room you sit around and solve clues in. It’s real fucking life.”

You looked down at your feet. The escape room comment was a low blow. It was something you loved doing and grumpy Frank hated. He’d go along with it if you planned it, not bothering to hide his disdain at first, but by the end of it you knew he had fun with you.

You didn’t think he’d throw it in your face as a means to mock you.

“Frank, we were partners. That’s what you do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “You work through things together. As a team. Not one person taking over and telling the other person what to do all the time, but see you didn’t ever want to do that did you? You didn’t think I was capable right?”

“Don’t go there.” he warned. You could see his hands start to twitch. In the past his agitation would have gotten you to dial it back a little. You hated fighting with him and it was never worth it.

But this time you didn’t care. You didn’t understand why he was the one so angry.

“Why not?” you probed, “You always made it seem like I was one mistake away from getting myself hurt.”

“That’s because you never took things seriously. You had no sense of danger. Too trusting, too carefree, too-”

“Stupid?” you interjected.

“I didn't say that.” he shot back. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find some place to channel the tension. You could tell this was not how he wanted the conversation to be going either.

You couldn’t believe you were having this same fight. It was something you never got along about.

You tried to be understanding. You both had different life experiences and because Frank had a military background, he had been trained to look at things a certain way.

He was trained to look for a threat and “take it out before it took you”. Transitioning back to civilian life wasn’t always that simple. Those habits could be hard to unlearn.

It wasn’t always bad, but it wasn’t always necessary.

Not every stranger was a potential threat set out to hurt you.

Staying late at work didn’t mean you were in danger and someone was holding you hostage.

Interviewing a source for your upcoming news article didn’t immediately put a target on your back.

But Frank always anticipated the worst.

You know it was his way of expressing his love but it could be a lot at times. You just wanted to enjoy life together without always feeling like there was some danger lurking around the corner waiting to get you.

“Go ahead Frank,” you continued, “Let me hear how stupid it was for me to walk home by myself tonight. How naive it was to risk getting hurt when I should’ve called a cab.”

“I ain’t gonna act like it was a good idea, and up until a few minutes ago I’m sure you were realizin it wasn’t either.”

You let out a groan.

“I was almost home, besides I don’t think anyone would’ve tried anything with the big bad punisher stalking me.” you said, throwing your arms out dramatically.

“I mean really Frank, what was your plan? Were you just gonna jump out and shout surprise? Were you gonna follow me home to make sure no one grabbed me? Stare down the cars that drove past me? The people that passed me? What was the fucking point?”

For a moment he didn’t say anything.He kept his gaze down at his boots. The twitching of his hands had stopped, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest had slowed down.

“I needed to see you.”

The phrase was simple, but it held such weight.

You understood what he meant. You felt the desperation in his voice. And yet you couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling up.

“What about all the times I needed to see you? To hear your voice? Why didn’t I deserve the decency of a phone call, a text message, anything?”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“Bullshit.” you spat. “You could risk asking Madani about me?”

His head shot up at that.

“Are we gonna do this all night?” he asked, the anger picking up in his voice again, “Huh? We’re gonna just keep yelling at each other? Who was right? Who was wrong?”

“Yes Frank because I’m angry with you! You made me feel unimportant. You made me feel helpless, like I had no control over my own damn life anymore.” You stepped closer, making sure he couldn’t avoid your eyes.

“You pushed me away like I meant nothing to you!” you shoved him.

“No.” he shouted, “I pushed you away because you meant everything to me!”

He turned away and let out a deep breath through his nose. The weight of his words slamming into you like a wrecking ball.

“Everyone I've ever cared about gets hurt because of me. Because of my demons. Because of the shit I've done to other people. I couldn't take that chance with you. They were so close to hurting you. I had to do something. That’s why I contacted Madani. That’s why we got you into witness protection.”

You felt the sting of the tears start to swell up again. From anger, frustration or sadness you couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all three.

“You want to know why I couldn’t say goodbye to you? Why I couldn’t call you? It’s because I knew—,” he paused and looked off to the side, “I knew that if I saw you—if I just heard your fucking voice—I’d change my mind.”

He finally locked eyes with you again, taking a step closer to you. He was testing it out, seeing how close you would let him get. To his surprise you didn’t move away.

“I couldn’t be selfish with you.” he said softly.

You didn’t know what to say. You knew the people that had been after Frank were relentless, but you never once feared for your life. Maybe there was more to it that he kept from you, and you wanted to trust him, but it didn’t diminish what you experienced while he was gone.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry I did it because you’re safe. And I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I’d do it again in a fucking hearbeat if it meant nothing would happen to you.”

“It’s just—.” your voice trembled and you bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t put the words together.

“What is it?” he asked gently, taking another step towards you. This time he was close enough he grabbed the bottom of your chin and tilted it up towards him.

“I really missed you and I didn’t think you cared about me anymore.” You choked.

Suddenly you felt yourself pressed up against his chest as he pulled you into him. “No baby, that’s not true.” he soothed.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, letting all the pent up emotions slowly release. God you forgot how good it felt to be held by him.

All the nights you longed for this very feeling. For him to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything was gonna be alright.

You could feel your unsteady breathing start to level out again and all the anger and frustration slowly disappear. It was as if he was a magnet, pulling out the deepest emotions you tried so hard to bury.

“I missed you so fucking much you have no idea.” He pulled back, tilting his head down to look at you.

You both locked eyes and without thinking twice you kissed him. He responded instantly, pulling you so tightly against him it was as if he was trying to swallow you whole.

That feeling people mention of the world standing still—you finally understood what that meant.

When you couldn’t breathe anymore you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“What does this mean, Frank?” you quietly asked. “Can we be together now? Do we just go back to the way things were before?”

He was quiet for a moment and you almost regretted asking the question.

“It’s whatever you want it to be sweetheart.” he finally answered, “You tell me.”

You weren’t sure what to say. One half of you wanted to be together again. The other half wasn’t so sure you should give in this easily.

What if it happened again? You didn’t doubt there were more people out there that’d like to see Frank Castle and the people he loved, hurt.

Would he push you away? You didn’t think you could survive it a second time.

“Frank, I love you. I want to be with you. But I need you to treat me like an equal. I want to be included in decisions. I don’t want to be kept in the dark again, it isn’t fair.”

Though he wasn’t speaking, you could tell the thoughts were churning in his head.

“If something like this comes up again I want to know about it. I want to have a say in how we handle it. Can you please promise me that?”

Frank let out a heavy sigh. He had to fight with the selfish side of him that wanted to say no. This shouldn’t even be something you have to worry about. He’s the one that should be responsible, not you.

But if he was being honest with himself these past several months were hell. He hated not being with you and maybe compromising would be the best thing to do after all.

He didn’t like making promises in general, but as he looked into your eyes he couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. He needed to be with you just as much as you needed him too.

“Okay.” he agreed quietly.

“Promise me.” you urged again. You needed to hear him say it.

“I promise.”

You didn’t even realize how tense your body had become until you felt your shoulders relax. Frank pulled you into him again and you could feel the tension in him relax as well.

If anyone would have told you an hour ago you’d be standing in the middle of the street being held by Frank you would’ve told them they were crazy.

There were nights you never thought this moment would come. So as the two of you continued to stand there, holding onto each other. You realized there was probably nothing in this world that could match this feeling.

You would make sure that no matter what was waiting for you around the corner, you’d never let go again.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Of course I've heard the new Hozier EP...

|| Too Sweet ||

Frank Castle x reader

It's the blood wet on your skin that does it. His blood. It smears and taints you as you pull the knot tight and cut the final stitch free by the soft light of your bedside lamp.

He screws his eyes closed for a few seconds but when he opens them again you're still there, carefully cleaning the wound, wiping the blood away trying not to make it sting as if that kind of soft pain is remotely worse than what he's already endured on his grisley crusade. It's almost ridiculous, how gentle you are despite everything. How even in the early hours, you welcome him without question in to your home, your bed, your arms.

Somehow, you're able to lift the heavy weight of all his past and future and hold him in the clear simplicity of now.

You're putting away the bandages and needles, and now, as you apply the soothing salve of your kisses on his dirty, battle-worn skin, Frank can't cope. He doesn't deserve the honesty in your love. You give and he takes and yeah, he tries his damndest to give it back, but what he's got is charred, broken, and corrupted. It doesn't match. Its been so long since he's had something close to that, and he's only seeing this for the first time like some kind of fucked up epiphany.

He pinches the thick bridge of his nose as if waking from a nightmare, but it's the opposite.

Your eyes search for the problem, another thing for you to fix with your gentle touch and he can't stand it.

"Don't need to do this." He says, head shaking slowly from side to side as you meet him with a puzzled look.

"Frank, I'm not letting you run around bleeding out-"

"No, that's just it. You don't need this kinda shit from me. You've got your own life and things to care of. You don’t need this, dont need me."

He's acting like a spooked dog. You don't know where all this fear has come from so suddenly. You place your hand on his face, cupping his jaw and making him see that you mean what you say, not for one second letting him cower away and hide.

"What if I do need you, huh? You ever think about that? What I want?" You ask him.

Frank still struggles to meet your eyes. "I-I ain't no good, sweetheart... I've done things I ain't proud of, things you shouldn't even know about.'

"But I do know about them, and look, Frank, look! I'm still here with you."

"It ain't right though, layin' that kind of shit at your door."

To hell with that, you think.

"I know it ain't a competition, but I can be just as nasty. I can roll around in the dirt and get my hands dirty if I need to, you know that. C'mon Frank, I'm no princess."

"It ain't all that-"

"Then what? Do you want out?"

If he did, you definitely hadn't see this coming.

"No, 'course not."

"Then tell me."

He hesitates.

"You're too sweet f'me." He finally says quietly.

You can't help but laugh.

"Frank Castle, the day I'm too sweet for you will be the day I stop drinking coffee. And that's never just in case it isn't clear."

You catch the slight ghost of a smile picking up the edge of his mouth.

"I'm serious." You say.

You swing your leg over his, settling in his lap and hooking your arms around his neck. You'll make sure he gets the message alright.

"Let me show just how sweet I am..."

~ Please reblog if you liked my writing! Thank you 💕

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Shadows of Fluttering Leaves

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: depressed reader, grief, victim blaming, implied history of sexual assault/harassment, bad parenting, not super healthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I am so sorry I've updated everything sporadically this year, y'all. I've been working really hard to stockpile updates so I'll be able to post at least biweekly for the rest of the year (if everything goes to plan!) As always, please comment/reblog to leave feedback. And a giant thank you to @gracethyomen for helping me plan this arc and make their fight more cruel. She is the queen of angst, go follow her.

w/c: 4.8k

You didn’t recall much from the past three days, but that was because there wasn’t anything to recall. After your conversation–if it could even be called that–with Frank, it was as if your soul had unstitched itself from your body. You went through your days as an emotionless husk. Your creative spark extinguished, your joy unreachable.

The walls in your building were thin enough that you could hear him moving around. Going to work and returning home to Max as if you'd never existed. Perfectly fine without you. Every heavy footfall that penetrated the rotting drywall brought a fresh sheen of tears to your eyes. 

The burly marine had become such a welcomed part of your life, losing him was like losing a limb. His absence felt like a bad dream. If you focused hard enough, you could still feel his calloused hands, smell the cheap soap and spicy clove aftershave he used. But a simple exhale would wash the scent away, and you were alone again–tired, anguished, and unloved.

You drifted through the day, unsure what to do with yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go into work, or even communicate with Leo and Stacy for more than a brief text to prove you were still alive.

While this evening hadn’t been much different, the sight of your mom’s name flashing across the top of your phone screen as it buzzed had caused enough of an adrenaline rush to force you to chat with someone. Your throat felt sore after talking for the first time in nearly 72 hours, your vocal chords still recovering from their sudden overuse. Shuddering as you willed the memory of the call to fade, you felt the tell tale prick in the corners of your eyes.

Staring down at the damp concrete, you blinked frantically in an attempt to keep the endless tears at bay. The tilt of your head caused raindrops to drip off of your hood, rolling down your forehead. Around you, the slam of water against pavement and steel drowned out the thud of your determined footsteps. Blowing out a breath you slipped an unfeeling mask onto your face as you continued your walk to the bakery.

It wasn’t more than a few blocks from your apartment to the Rainy Day, but the beams of street lights would draw attention to your glassy eyes, and you didn’t need to highlight your fragility for any creeps that might be lurking at this hour. You'd had more than enough unwanted male attention for the week. Once you were safely behind the locked doors, you could look as broken down as you needed to.

Though you were exhausted, your confusion-and-betrayal-addled brain was still unable to rest and your hands itched to do something. Wallowing in your bed wouldn’t quell the uneasiness that speaking with your mom had ignited mere hours ago. But cooking might. At least, you hoped that was the case.

A crackle of lightning illuminated the bakery as you approached; the strike of light refracting through the windows made the place look rather sinister, draping it in oddly shaped shadows. Slipping the keys from your pocket, you tried not to cringe at the cold rain as it splattered against your exposed hand. Thunder rolled overhead as you waggled the key in the lock, finally getting the damn thing to budge enough for the door to shove open.

Stepping inside, you bolted the door behind you, using your phone flashlight to maneuver through the stacked tables and chairs as you moved to the kitchen. Before getting to work, you stripped out of your semi-drenched top and slipped into a clean t-shirt adorned with the logo of the cafe. Flicking on the overhead lights, you threw a hand up to shield your sensitive eyes as they strobed briefly before steadying into their normal bright rays. Taking a place by your preferred station, you took a moment to reflect on the tasks you had cut out for you.

Though Leo was more than capable of replicating your work if you detailed the recipes, they were happy to let you be the creative lead in your shared kitchen. As they’d mentioned multiple times over text the past few days, your absence from the space meant less variation in pastries for the bakery, and more for Leo to do. If you weren’t so emotionally depleted, you would have felt more guilty about abandoning them so suddenly.

Apparently, the emotional turmoil that talking to your mother always stirred was good for something. It had gotten you here, at least. Coating your station in a thin layer of flour, you ran through the motions of a basic croissant recipe.

You weren't quite feeling up to experimenting yet, but croissants you could do.

Soon enough, the smell of salted butter and yeast engulfed the room and your fatigued mind began to wander. Despite your best efforts to forget the comment, your mother's voice echoed in your ears.

“Really, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

The condescension in her tone clung to you like the barbs of an untrimmed rose. Your brain feebly tried to reassure you that she had no idea what she was talking about. To remind you that she didn't even know his name, that you'd told her—at most—three sentences about the whole situation.

But the majority of your brain was still reeling from the abrupt collapse of your relationship with Frank. And it was far too weak to not spiral at the implication of your mom's question.

Because, while she wasn't fully aware of who Frank was and what he meant to you, she was intimately informed of your history with men–hence her thoughtless words this evening.

Your dating history was...pitiful, to say the least. You tended to draw attention from the wrong men. Bosses, teachers, even your own relatives.

It had been your reality for as long as you could remember. As a child, whenever you'd come to your mother with another sob story about attention that you hadn't meant to attract, the blame was always placed squarely on your shoulders. Your outfits were too provocative, your actions too enticing. It didn't matter that they were the ones misunderstanding your kindness as an open invitation. It was still your fault.

Expecting her to sympathize with you when you told her you'd been grabbed by a stranger as you left the construction site was foolish. But it still hurt to know that she didn't.

What hurt more was the little voice in the back of your head that agreed with her. Knowing damn well that you'd chosen that outfit to fetch the gaze of a specific man. That the low cut neckline was meant to be provocative. That it was your fault that you'd been humiliated. That your own desperation had led to the continued phantom sensation of a large hand gripping your arm against your will. 

“If you dangle bait long enough, something will bite.” She reminded you. It wasn't the ocean's fault that you'd been hoping for a specific fish.

“But I didn't want them.” You'd lamented to her. You were tired of being a plaything, a quick fuck. You wanted something more, something real. And it had turned to ash in your delicate grasp before you could so much as appreciate it.

She wasn't sympathetic. Chastising you for forgetting your place, for getting attached, for seeking love in places it didn't exist.

“Love is harder to come by when you're, well...you know.”

You slammed the ball of elastic dough onto the bench, kneading it aggressively as tears poured down your face. Your stomach twisted as it heaved with sobs, the sentiment from your mother sounding eerily similar to the curt observation that Frank had hurled at you.

You ain't my wife.

He was right. You weren't his wife. His wife was beautiful, and caring, and patient. She'd loved him, had children with him, made a home for him.

Think I'm your little boyfriend or somethin'?

Biting your lip to stifle a sob, the feeling of foolishness crested in your chest again. It was humiliating to be called out like that,  especially when your naive little heart had been convinced he felt the same way.

I never wanted that.

Those words still hit you like a sock to the gut. He never wanted a relationship. He never wanted you.  Your stupid feelings were clearly unrequited, but how were you supposed to know that?

Was your childhood so deprived of love that simple acts of kindness had your heart doing backflips? Were his pet names and compliments just his gentlemanly nature because he was afraid to offend you?

This was a mistake.

His sweet remarks, calling you beautiful, the constant teasing—the relationship you once had with Frank began to play in your head; the muted colors of the picture doing nothing to make your chest ache less when his face sprang to mind. Your brain continued its depressing montage: Frank smiling at you, his gruff voice lifting around the word “sunshine”, his genuine interest in your work, his daily visits to the cafe, the way he leaned into every touch you offered him. All meaningless. Just another regret.

Exhaling forcefully, you flapped your hands in an attempt to stop their trembling. If the fragile dough ripped between your fingers, it would ignite a full meltdown. Clenching the muscles in your hands, you relaxed them as you forced every thought from your head, focusing on the pliant mass beneath your rolling pin as you mashed it into a lopsided rectangle. Carefully lifting the edges of the shape, you tossed it onto the sheet pan you'd prepared as tenderly as you could.  Using your fingertips to stretch it into a more appealing shape, you nodded in satisfaction, shoving the tray onto a cart and picking up your rolling pin again.

Each extension of your forearms, pressing the wooden cylinder into the raw pastry, condensing and lengthening the blob with small, stiff movements. Your elbows creaked with every stretch of the elastic dough, the swing of your arms feeling almost foreign despite being a common practice in the kitchen. A 72-hour break was too long, apparently. Any other day, you'd dance through this recipe effortlessly; Today though, every step felt choppy and hesitant, as if your brain expected you to fail again and again.

You hadn't felt this hopeless in a kitchen since the last few weeks of your atrocious entrepreneurial experience years ago. Yet another example of you being too trusting, too optimistic.

Your mouth flooded with the metallic tang of blood as your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek, halting the choking despair that threatened to drag you down to the linoleum floor. You wanted to give in; your brain was still a ball of exhausted mush incapable of handling your day-to-day tasks.

Sloppily prepping a few more trays for their initial rise, you shoved the croissant dough onto the proofing cart and out of sight. The smell of yeast usually made you happy, but the biting edge of the scent was turning your stomach. It was becoming increasingly clear that you'd thrown yourself into your work without the stability to handle the sensory input of the bakery. Your head was pulsing because of the fluorescent lights, the whir of the electric mixer rattling your ear drums. Once the sticks of butter you'd added to the stainless steel bowl of the machine were smooth, you shoved the lever to shut it off—letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Slapping heaping scoops of the creamed butter into a half-sheet pan, you set the pan in the fridge to solidify and shuffled blearily into the break room, collapsing onto the worn leather couch.

“You are such an asshole.”

Gritting your teeth as the words ripped you from an uneasy sleep, you peeled one eye open reluctantly. Two shadowy figures swayed in your field of vision, neither looking particularly happy with you.

The taller figure marched towards you. ”Three days? THREE DAYS? No calls, only a single fucking text,“ The annoyed voice grew closer, making you curl in on yourself.

”'M sorry.“ You mumbled, tears springing to your eyes.

”You better have a better apology than that. They were worried sick.“ A blurry image of Stacy manifested against the doorway to the breakroom, her arms crossed. Standing in front of your shoulders, hands firmly attached to their hips, was Leo.

”We were worried sick,“ Leo corrected, throwing Stacy a look.

Not denying the allegation, Stacy's cheeks dusted pink.

Crouching in front of you, Leo gave you a once over. Their furious expression quickly morphing into one of concern. “Did you sleep here?”

“Didn't mean to, the kitchen was just,” You gave a limp shrug, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Too much.”

“How long have you been here?” Stacy asked, striding over to drape her legs across the arm of the couch.

“Since midnight-ish.” You muttered, shame pitching your voice lower.

“Babes,“ Leo sighed, running a palm over your exposed arm as you tried to shrink into the couch cushions. ”What happened? Was it your mom?“

You should your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “Pete.”

“Pete?” Stacy raised an eyebrow, looking at Leo with wide eyes.

“What did he do, hun?” Leo plopped into a cross-legged position, leaning against the couch with an expectant look.

“Did you break up?” Stacy's voice was uncharacteristically soft, but the words were still teasing.

You burst into tears.

“Stace!” Leo scolded, climbing onto the couch and hefting your torso up so that you could lay in their lap as you bawled.

“What? It seemed impossible!!” Stacy said, mortified. She absorbed Leo's vacated spot, hands hovering apprehensively in front of you. “Shit. Please don't cry.”

“It's a bit late for that.” Leo huffed, cradling your cheek with one hand. “What did that bastard do to you?”

Gulping in air, you cowered against Leo's thigh. Your friends sat quietly, patiently awaiting your story. With a stuttering inhale, you wiped the newest round of tears from your face and pushed yourself into a seated position—gratefully leaning into the arm Leo threw around your shoulders. Looking up at them wide-eyed, you waited for their encouraging nod before speaking.

“Um..” Your voice was hoarse, words shaky. “So three days ago, I tried to bring him lunch...”

As if your consciousness was sparing you from the depressing events, the words tumbled from your lips instinctively, thoughtlessly. The story pouring directly from your torn heart, accompanied by a few stray tears.

Throughout your ramble, your friends remained silent–sandwiching your body between them. Leo's sturdy frame was a comforting weight to your left. Stacy had migrated to your other side, tentatively resting a manicured hand on your shoulder. They were both eerily still as you caught them up on the implosion of your relationship with your neighbor.

Eventually, you sighed, your body sagging with exhaustion. Briefly lifting your hands, you gestured to the small, bare break room you'd passed out in. “And then you found me in here, and that's it I guess.”

Your mouth snapped shut, your eyes flinging the final few droplets of saline off of your lashes as you blinked at your lap. There was a beat of silence. Two. Three.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Is he fucking serious?“ Stacy bit out, retracting her hand to cross her arms. Her brows were raised, jaw clenched as she looked at Leo.

”He told you that you were a mistake?“ Leo squawked, clearly fuming.

“I mean, that's not—” You began to reason, words dissolving on your tongue as Leo grabbed your hand with a glare.

“Absolutely not. Do not start that bullshit.”

Frowning, you averted your eyes. ”I'm not doing anything.“

“Princess, we love you, but don't pretend you're not blaming yourself.“ Stacy scoffed, standing from the couch and tugging at the roots of her hair.

“And defending him while you're at it.” Leo gently prodded your side with a knuckle, giving you an all-too-knowing glance. At your resulting pout, they sighed. “I know that hearing your mom blame you again and again is hard to unlearn, but she's wrong. So is Pete and all the other men who have done this to you. You deserve better.”

“Seconded.” Stacy nodded firmly, pointing a finger at you. “The next time I see him, I swear on my grandmother—”

The petite brunette was pacing, fists clenched in her fury. Leo looked equally angry, though they were much less obvious about it. Smirking at Stacy's empty threat, they finished it for her. ”We'll beat him senseless with a baseball bat.“

Giggling, you leaned into the hug Leo offered, exhaling into their shoulder. ”I appreciate you both, but I'd rather just move past it.“

”Deal.“ Leo kissed the top of your head, holding out a hand to help you stand from the couch.

”Speak for yourself, I am not willing to let this slide.“ Stacy called with a huff, stalking out to the counter to begin prepping for the morning rush.

”Should I be worried?“ You bit your bottom lip, eyes following her out of the break room.

”Nah, you know her. It'll pass, this is just how she shows her love.“ Leo reassured you, striding into the kitchen at the ambling pace you set. ”We would do anything for you, you know.“

Smiling bashfully, you nodded. “I appreciate it, Leo. Thank you.”

Though you were still dead on your feet and reeling from the emotional whiplash you'd been put through, an odd form of peace had engulfed you. Talking things out had taken a massive weight off of your shoulders.

You felt heat prick your cheeks as you sheepishly recalled the way you'd isolated yourself after leaving the construction site. At the time, it had felt like the natural path forward. But it clearly hadn't done you any good.

Your coworkers were eternally patient as you fumbled your way through your daily tasks, your brain still a glob of jelly after being berated by both Frank and your mother.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you collapsed onto a bar stool. Kneading your forehead with one hand, you inhaled deeply.

Peeking around the corner of the walk-in, Leo frowned. “All of them?”

Nodding miserably, you forced a response around the lump in your throat. ”Every. Single. One.“

”Aw, babes.“ Leo pouted, coming to inspect the trays you'd thrown around your station as your defeat grew.

”They're all flat. How did it slip my mind that the rain would throw off the humidity in the main room? That's, like, proofing 101.“ You moaned, prodding one of the dense croissants with a finger. ”Christ, I feel like I've lost my mind. It should not be this hard to do something simple.“

Patting your back reassuringly, your best friend ignored your protests, lining your ovens with the ruined croissants and setting a timer. “Do you remember the first time Ez and I broke up?”

Ezra, Leo's on-again-off-again partner, had broken things off for the first time right before you both took your final preparation exam for your first pastry class in school. Leo had nearly flunked the course after they used salt instead of sugar in every dish.

Stifling a chuckle, you fiddled with the strands of your apron. “I seriously think Allard was reconsidering his decision to teach. His face!“ You and Leo snorted in tandem, picturing the old french man's grimace.

”Oh he definitely had regrets. My point is, the brain works in mysterious ways when you're grieving.“ Leo stated matter-of-factly.

”Grieving?“ You asked. “Frank didn't die–”

“I know that, smartass. But you still lost something, did you not?”

Pondering for a moment, you conceded. “I suppose.”

“So, your brain is handling this just like any other loss. Grief processing is its current main priority, remembering how to make picture-perfect croissants is not even in the backlog.”

“It should be, given that we operate a bakery.” You grumped, watching the pitiful slabs of dough puff slightly in the oven.

Smacking you gently over the back of your head, Leo's expression turned endearingly stern. “You, my dear, need to be kinder to yourself. Something huge and incredibly hurtful just happened to you. Give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Their soft command gave you pause. They weren't wrong. You'd jumped from escaping, to wallowing, to working without so much as a millisecond to relax. Had this bullshit happened to anyone else, you would've been much more understanding. But being kind to yourself was never your strong suit.

Mulling over the possibility of granting your brain a smidge of grace, you watched the flat pastries expand ever so slightly as they began to brown under the yellow oven lights. Realization finally striking you, you turned to Leo with a quizzical expression.

“You put them in the oven.” You stated simply, mind not quite forming a question to remedy your confusion.

Chuckling, Leo nodded. “I did.” They leaned against your station with a smile.

“Kitchen adaptations, hun. What did we used to do with pastry dough that didn't rise properly?”

Understanding dawning on you, your lips parted. “Croissant sandwiches.”

Squeezing your shoulder, Leo hummed in confirmation, striding back to their station to finish shaping bread loaves. You continued to watch the thin crescents puff, reminding yourself that the mistake was fixable. Sure, they wouldn't be the gorgeous, fluffy pastries you'd envisioned—but they could still be made into something delicious. For today, that was enough.

Feeling less hopeless, you wiped your hands on your apron and strolled over to the lines of proofing bread, moving them to the proofing cart easily. ”What are we stocking today?” You asked, hoping they'd notice the hidden meaning of the question.

“Let's stick to simple comfort foods. The weather is nasty, we probably won't be too busy. After we finish the staples, we could make some baguettes and a soup or two? Maybe some kitchen sink cookies and brownies too. Those won't take much effort.“ Leo tapped their chin thoughtfully, looking to you with a soft expression. ”Sound good?“

Smiling, you nodded–glad that Leo was willing to take charge for the day. Sliding your arms around your best friend's waist, you squeezed them tightly before bustling off to prepare some yeast.

Over the next few weeks, your mood improved significantly. Out of concern for you, and more than likely out of concern for the bakery, Stacy and Leo had spent a handful of nights at your place–helping you wind down after work, and motivating you to get up the next morning. Their presence and constant glares towards your and Frank's shared wall made it easier to move forward without him. You could feel your consciousness wading through the stages of grief, rapidly approaching acceptance.

For now, though, you were still moping–much to your friends’ dismay.

”C'mon, Princess! Live a little!! You haven’t gone out with us in forEVER“ Stacy whined, pinching your arm as she took a seat on the counter you were cleaning.

Scowling at her, you switched your rag out for a broom, determined to keep tidying around the obstruction she presented. ”I already told you. I don't feel like going out tonight, Stace.“

Sweeping stray coffee beans from under the machines, you fought back an eye roll at her snort. ”Oh, I'm sorry, did you have plans besides crying on your couch while watching rom coms?“

”Christ, Stacy, I told you to invite her, not insult her!“ Leo scolded as they exited the kitchen.

”Someone needs to say it!“ Stacy threw her hands in the air, looking at you pointedly. ”Being sad has its time and place, but the only way to truly get over a man is by going out and getting wasted, you both know I'm right!“ She huffed in frustration as both you and Leo opened your mouths to protest.

Scratching the back of their neck sheepishly, Leo raised a brow at you. “She actually might have a point.”

Pumping her fists victoriously, Stacy leapt from the counter. “See? It'll be good for you!”

Glancing between her and Leo, you sighed. Pouting in distaste, you knew you had been outvoted. If you refused to go, they’d drag you out anyway. “Fine.”

Your friends cheered, high-fiving their success. Stacy danced over to you. “It's gonna be great, princess. You'll see!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You snarked, dipping the formerly abandoned rag in a bin of bleach solution and resuming your afternoon disinfecting duties in the front of the cafe while your coworkers plotted the outing.

“What are you going to wear, hun?” Leo called over their shoulder to you, after complaining to Stacy about their lack of cute clothes.

“Considering I am only going to please the two of you? I'm not quite sure.” You snorted, tone still sharp with irritation.

“Well, since you're clearly in such a great mood,” Leo giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Maybe we could get ready together?”

“We totally should! While blasting EDM really loudly in your living room!” Stacy grinned, feigning innocence despite her clear intentions to make Frank's life a living hell.

“Ok now you are definitely not invited.” You frowned, imagining how much he'd curse at you if you became a horrid neighbor on top of all your other faults.

“It's cute that you think you have a choice!” Stacy laughed evilly, rubbing her hands together in a movie-villain-esque motion.

Groaning miserably, you stiffened as Stacy padded over and held a hand out for the rag.

Making a grabby hand gesture, her other palm landed on her hip. “Hand the towel over, princess. You and Leo can head to your place to get you all fixed up and I'll finish cleaning.”

“I'm not sure whether I should be offended that you're implying I don't look stunning like this,” You circled a hand around your unwashed face. “Or worried that you're offering to lock up. You hate closing.”

“Exactly. That’s how much I want you to have a good night out, dude!” Stacy gave you a stern look, flicking her eyes between the damp rag and your stubborn expression.

Sighing heavily, you tossed the rag to her and slipped out of your apron. “If this place isn't gleaming tomorrow–”

“Yah, yah.” Stacy waved you off, putting earbuds in as she walked to the other end of the room.

“The disrespect.” You muttered, turning to Leo who was clearly amused at the fact that you'd been outwitted by the other girl.

“C'mon, sweets. We'll need to stop somewhere for drinks unless we want to go into debt to get drunk tonight.” Grabbing your hand, the two of you left Stacy and the bakery behind as you braved the heat outside.

Slogging up the stairs, arms laden with a paper bag filled with the cheapest alcohol the three of you could stomach, you adjusted your center of gravity to avoid toppling down the stairs. It felt like you were swimming upstream, given the weight in your hold and the immense humidity of the stairwell. Finally reaching the landing, you scrunched your nose as a bead of sweat dripped from it.

“Took you long enough,” Leo remarked, smirking at you from your front door, having made it up the stairs long ago. 

“Not all of us have a lithe athletic build and the heart rate of an Olympian.” You huffed, shuffling toward them with a small smile. Despite your initial apprehension, excitement had started to build in your chest at the thought of the night ahead of you. As you were about to express that much to Leo, the click of a doorknob stopped you in your tracks. 

Stepping out of his apartment, adorably happy pitbull in tow, was none other than your neighbor, Frank Castle. 

Frozen in place, it was a miracle you didn’t drop the bag in your shock. You’d assumed he’d avoid you just as you’d avoided him. Apparently you weren’t that lucky. 

Looking a bit surprised himself, Frank hesitated for a minute before plastering a scowl on his face and tugging at the leash in his grasp. “C’mon Max.” 

Watching Frank stalk past you without so much as a glance in your direction, your mouth dropped open with indignation. Poor Max was dragged to the stairs behind him, despite the dog’s efforts to greet you on the way down the hall. 

Gritting your teeth, you marched to your own door and unlocked it. Carefully depositing the bottles on the ground, you grabbed a handle of cherry vodka, cracking it open and taking a swig as you stomped into your apartment. 

“I suppose that’s one way to handle whatever just happened.” Leo murmured, studying you with a concerned frown. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“Nope!” You grinned, pulling another gulp of liquor from the bottle. “Care to help me pick an outfit? I’m hoping to drink for free tonight.” 

Striding into your room with Leo on your heels, your gut burned as the lump of despair you’d been clinging to for a week burned red hot with rage. Your friends were right. You deserved better. 

If Frank Castle didn’t want you, then you sure as hell didn’t want him.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[elen-tari2]

Finally got around to rewatching episode 4 of TPs2 and I just have to vent about my next complaint about how the writers handled the Frank and Amy relationship. (My first complaint being about the scene where Frank ties her to a motel bed and tapes her mouth shut while he takes a nap, but never once tells her he has absolutely no intention of SA’ing her)

Look, I know a lot of people dislike Amy because she’s such an over the top, angsty, tough teen trope, but I give her a pass on most of her plot-forced obnoxiousness. But I just can’t let Frank off the hook.

You’re telling me Frank Castle heard a kid crying from whatever horrible experience traumatized her and he just… turned up the volume on a hockey game?

SHAME. WRITER SHAME. SHAAAAAME.

Literally. What. The. F *CK?

This scene was done all wrong. Frank is an asshole but he protects innocent people from getting hurt. In that moment, the bratty teen is alone, dropping her tough girl act, and hurting. For all that she is a little shit, he has already —willing or unwillingly—decided to protect her, even if he doesn’t care that much about her. But the moment she’s breaking down, he would care enough to at least check on her.

He doesn’t even have to say much of anything. Amy has locked herself in Madani’s bedroom, so he can’t go in. But he would go sit with his back against the door and just be like, “hey, kid. You okay?”

The result could have been a much softer scene with Frank listening from outside the room and Amy talking to him from her hiding place until she feels safe enough to go unlock the door or maybe just try sleeping IN the bed instead of under it.

Instead what we got was a weirdly broken up scene where eventually I guess Amy is sleeping so Frank locks her in and goes to visit Curtis and it’s only upon his return that Amy realizes she was locked in at all and freaks out? So she is panicking and berating him to never do that again to her because it was also traumatizing to feel trapped like that. Not okay, Frank. So instead they finally talk about what happened to Amy but she’s still on the defensive, and Frank is pretty aggressive with his questioning about Fiona’s gang.

Then we get the sharing of their truths broken up even more, as Frank goes to take a shower and Amy leaves and goes to a computer store to google Frank Castle’s name. (I guess that was a clever way to use the Internet but it feels totally random. Or like, go to a library or something??)

Then she comes back and is like oh wow they killed your whole family. We don’t even get shown Frank’s reaction to coming out of the shower and thinking the kid ran off. Did he care? Or was he just like ::shrug:: not my problem anymore I guess? Just risked my life for this kid but I was such a jerk, she didn’t want my help, oh well?

It just seemed unnecessary to make the conversation where she talks about what she survived and tells Frank her real name chopped up into different parts throughout the episode. There was a chance for her to be vulnerable and realize she was safe around Frank no matter what, and they missed it. She could still be a smart alec, just she would also know he wouldn’t be dismissive of the horrible murders she witnessed and how scary that would be for a young person.

Think about how supportive Frank was to the small town police force in episode 3? He is respectful, encouraging, and knows they’re in over their heads but it’s not their fault. It’s not Amy’s fault she got in over her head and she needed some f*cking comfort and reassurance, when she was CRYING. I’m not saying he’d have hugged her or told her everything would be ok. But he would be a good listener and know she didn’t deserve to go through it.

Honestly having a tiny moment like that and THEN getting into stuff like her pulling card tricks on Frank would have been much better. They’d be back to their banter, but be starting to build towards that found family feeling, like we see over the rest of the show.

Ug, this is making me want to write a fan fic fixit for that episode. But I’m just putting this out there for future Punisher writers— Get. It. Right. Next. Time.

Clear your female characters treatment with female viewers. I’m serious. You have the potential to be writing GREAT stories, but missteps like this where Frank is uncaring in the face of an innocent (if annoying) child’s suffering is a no. Just no.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

That Summer, Chapter 2

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Frank Castle has been on the move ever since he "retired" as The Punisher after finding out the truth about his family's murder and handing his former best friend, Billy Russo, off to the Feds.

With his new identity as Pete Castiglione, Frank decides to settle down in a small town in Iowa, where he finds employment as a farmhand/handyman for you, a widow who's struggling to keep your farm running by yourself after the untimely death of your husband a year prior.

As Frank grows closer to you, his past -- and true identity -- begin to catch up with him, putting his chance of finding peace -- and both of your lives -- at risk.

Warnings/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, smut in future chapters

Word Count: ~2400

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and/or commented on chapter 1! If you'd like to be tagged in this, please let me know!

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle @eddieslooneymoonie @kezibear

“Thank you for lunch,” Frank said half an hour later as he finished his sandwich and chips. “I certainly appreciate it.”

You nodded then stood and picked up your and Frank's plates. “It's nothing fancy but it's really all I ever have time for during the day.”

Frank shook his head. “No, it was great, really.”

He stood as well. “If you show me where the boards are for the fence I'll go ahead and get started on that.”

You walked over to the sink. “Sure, just give me a second to wash these plates.”

Frank nodded. “Mind if I use your bathroom then?”

You shook your head. “Go right ahead. Guest bathroom is in the front entryway on your right.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Frank went to the bathroom and relieved himself before moving to the sink to wash his hands.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. He had grown his hair and beard out while he had been on the road, but it would be time for a cut and shave soon.

He returned to the kitchen, where you were once again looking wistfully out of the window. 

You hadn't seemed to notice Frank's presence, so he took a moment to study you. The sunlight filtering in through the window gave you an ethereal glow despite the sadness on your face. She's beautiful.

He couldn't deny that he found you attractive -- even though he had only known you for a few hours he could tell that you were a kind and caring yet determined and hard-working woman. 

He cleared his throat. “All set.”

You turned from the window and looked over at him, a small smile crossing your lips. “Okay, great. Here, I'll show you where I keep the extra lumber.”

The two of you put your boots back on and headed back outside, Canine Frank following behind you. “Tom had just put that fence up about a year and a half ago,” you said as the two of you walked towards a storage shed next to the barn. “So I don't understand how it can be in such bad shape already.”

Frank was pretty sure he knew the reason, but didn't want to say it until he had confirmed it. “The boards have been rotting really fast, huh?”

You nodded as you opened the shed door.  “Yeah.”

Frank walked in and picked up a board. Just as I thought. Pine. “That’s because you're not using a strong enough wood.” 

He turned to you. “These are pine boards, which is a cheaper option for fencing, but also really soft  – moisture’ll get in pine and rot it very quickly, especially during the winter. And on top of that, these boards haven't been pressure-treated, which is just making them rot even faster.”

Your shoulders slumped. “So basically what you're saying is that I should go ahead and replace the entire fence.”

Frank nodded. “I can replace the currently broken posts and rails if you want, but you're just going to keep having the same problem and will eventually have to replace the whole thing sooner rather than later anyway.”

“So what wood do you suggest?”

“Oak, which'll probably cost you more in lumber now but will last you years longer and need way less maintenance since it's a much harder wood.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let me check with my lumber supplier and see how much it would cost me to replace the entire thing.”

Frank nodded. “In the meantime I'll start on getting that tractor fixed for you. What's been going on with it?”

“About two months ago I was hauling a bale of hay in for the horses and the damn thing just sputtered and quit on me right where it sits.” You shook your head. “Couldn't get it started back up and I haven't had time to take it to get looked at. Just too much to do around here.”

You pulled a key out of your pocket and handed it to him. “If you need me I'll be over at the chicken coop.”

Frank walked over to the tractor and raised the hood. I should check the oil and gas first before I try to start it since it's been sitting.

Both looked free of water and debris, so he began to inspect the other parts. Spark plugs look good, but the carburetor could use a cleaning.

Frank walked over to the barn and grabbed a couple of tools, then went back over to clean the carburetor. Nope, that wasn't it.

Next he tried testing the battery. That’s fine too.

He was beginning to suspect that it was something with the fuel system based on the way the tractor had been trying but failing to start, so he checked the fuel line and filter next. No, not those either.

“Any luck?”

Frank turned as you appeared behind him carrying a large wicker basket of eggs, Canine Frank trailing behind you. “Not yet, but I’ve narrowed it down to something to do with the fuel system. Can you come try to start it for me so I can check something?”

You nodded and set the basket down. “Sure.”

Frank went back to the front of the tractor while you climbed onto the seat. “Okay, go ahead,” he said.

Frank looked over the engine as you attempted to start the tractor up. Aha. “Okay , I think I know what the problem is. It looks like the lever that controls the fuel level is jammed.”

He looked over at you. “Got any WD-40 or something like that?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

You climbed down from the tractor and walked back to the shed where you kept the fence lumber, then came back with a can of WD-40. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Frank sprayed a bit on the stuck lever, then carefully worked a flathead screwdriver into it to help loosen it up. 

He lowered the hood of the tractor and peered over it at you. “Try starting it again.”

You got on the tractor once again and turned the key, a wide grin spreading across your face when it started right up. “It worked!”

Frank closed the hood. “I also cleaned the carburetor and tested the battery, and the oil and gas looked fine so it should be good as new.”

You nodded, a look of relief on your face. “You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

Frank shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “Ah, not a problem.”

You cut the tractor off and climbed down as a loud mooing sounded from the barn. “The cows are starting to get restless, so how about I get these eggs put away then show you how to do the milking?”

Frank nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Alright then. Give me just a minute.”

As you picked up the basket of eggs and headed back over to the main house, Frank walked over to the spigot connected to the barn to wash the dirt and grime off of his hands.

You came back a minute later with two large metal buckets. “Okay, I'm ready.”

Frank opened the now-easily sliding barn door for you. “After you.”

He followed you to where the cows were kept.

You set one of the buckets down and grabbed a nearby stool. “I usually start with Clarabelle. She gets fussy if she has to wait too long.”

Frank chuckled. “I bet it's not easy milking a fussy cow.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips as you opened Clarabelle's stall and headed inside. “It’s not too difficult. Clarabelle is just a bit of a diva.”

You set the stool and bucket down and gave Clarabelle a gentle pat on her nose. “Aren’t ya, Miss Clara, my sweet girl?”

Clarabelle blinked her soulful brown eyes and nuzzled your hand, as if to say, who, me?

Frank smiled. “Diva or not, she clearly loves you.”

“I love her too.” You glanced at Frank. “This farm is all I have, so it's important that all of my animals are happy and well taken care of.”

Frank nodded. Message received. “I'll take care of them as if they were my own, I promise.”

“Good.” You adjusted the stool and sat. “Now, let me show you how to milk the cows.”

You took a damp washcloth out of the bucket. “I sell milk, butter, honey, and eggs at the farmer's market on Saturdays, so it's extremely important to follow state safety regulations for the production and sale of raw milk.”

You carefully wiped Clarabelle's udder then set the washcloth on your lap. “The first step is to clean the cow's udder so that nothing that isn't milk gets in the bucket then to use an udder balm to make sure you're not hurting her.”

Frank nodded. “Got it.”

You rubbed some cream from a small jar onto Clarabelle's udder then took her teats in your hands. “Then we pre-milk her a couple of times just to make sure that there's no dirt or debris in her milk ducts.”

Frank watched as you gently squeezed and pulled down on Clarabelle's teats, releasing a stream of milk from each group.

You set the bucket under Clarabelle. “Then we just set the bucket down and get to milking.”

You squeezed a few streams of milk into the bucket. “Want to try?”

Frank nodded. “Sure.”

He switched places with you and took hold of Clarabelle's teats. “Like this?”

You shook your head and knelt down beside him. “Little higher up.”

Frank took a deep breath as you took his hands in your smaller ones. You smelled of clean sweat and soap and something else Frank couldn't quite identify, but liked.

Your grip slightly tightened on Frank's hands. “Then you just pull and squeeze, like this.”

You guided Frank in milking Clarabelle for a few moments, then let go to let him try to milk her on his own. “Good job. You're a natural.”

You reached up and patted Clarabelle on her rump. “And you are being such a good girl today, sweetheart. You definitely deserve a treat for being so patient.” 

“How do I know when she's done?” Frank asked. “She'll just stop producing milk?”

“Her udder will be a lot flatter and she'll seem more comfortable,” you replied. “Once you're done with her, give her a carrot from the bag on the front of her stall, then if you don't mind, could you move on to Daisy and milk her then give her a carrot as well? I'll get the other three.”

Frank nodded again, keeping his attention on milking instead of looking at you. “No problem.”

You stood. “Thanks. If you need any help I'll be right over here.”

You took the other bucket and moved down a few stalls, talking softly to Lulu before opening the stall door and heading inside. 

Frank finished milking Clarabelle then gave her a carrot before moving on to Daisy’s stall. 

Daisy looked over at Frank as he entered  and moved over to the wall, turning sideways so he could get to her udder easily.

Frank chuckled. “You know the drill, huh girl?”

He set the stool down and gave Daisy a gentle pat on her side. “Good girl. You're gonna make this easy for me, aren't ya?”

Daisy ‘moo’ed in response.

Frank cleaned Daisy's udder and applied a bit of cream before making sure her milk ducts were clear. “Okay, let's get you milked.”

He milked Daisy and gave her a post-milking carrot, then headed over to the other stalls to find you. “I'm all done.”

You peered around Millie at him. “Great!”

You looked at your watch. “Since you got that tractor back up and running for me I'm gonna bottle up this milk then get the grass cut. Why don't you go ahead and knock off for the evening, take a shower and relax a bit before supper?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, I might go ahead and head into town, pick up a few groceries.”

“Okay.” You patted Millie’s side and stood. “Just so you know, you’re welcome to any of the goods we produce or harvest. No point in having to buy them from the store when they're readily available here.”

Frank nodded, mentally taking milk, butter, eggs, and honey off of his grocery list. “I appreciate that.”

“I'll get some stuff packed up for you to bring back to the cabin tonight after supper.”

“Sounds good.” Frank gestured towards your now-full bucket of milk. “Need me to grab that for ya?”

“If you don't mind.”

Frank shook his head. “Not at all. Where we heading?”

“Back to the house.”

Frank picked up the other bucket of milk and waited as you gave Millie a carrot, then he followed you back to the big house.

He smiled to himself when Canine Frank, who had been napping on the porch, got up and wagged his tail at the two of you.

You scratched Canine Frank behind his ears then unlocked the door. “Here, you can just set those on the counter for me.”

Frank followed you in and set the buckets down in the kitchen. “Need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “No thanks, I can take it from here.”

Frank nodded. “I'll see you at dinner tonight, then.”

He gave Canine Frank a friendly pat on his head then headed back to the cabin, where he moved his laundry from the washer to the dryer before heading to the bathroom to shower. 

As he stood under the hot spray of water, his mind turned back to you and the way your hands had felt on his earlier.

Frank had honestly found it difficult to concentrate as you had guided his hands to milk Clarabelle. The way you had gently squeezed and pulled had made Frank think about having your hands in a place he hadn't been privy to having a woman touch in a long time. Shit.

He sighed. He was here to work, not get distracted by the thought of your hands (and mouth, if he was honest) on his cock. It's just been entirely too long since I've been with a woman, he thought. It hadn't had anything to do with her in particular.

Even as he thought it, deep down he knew he was lying to himself. It's going to be a long summer.

[rowinablx]

Frank Castle / The Punisher

Absolute Twist: Frank wasn’t a Marine whose family died in a random gang hit. In this universe, he was a black-ops soldier deployed during the Mutant Purge, ordered to massacre mutant enclaves under the guise of “public safety.” His wife Maria and their kids were killed not by mobsters, but by a retaliatory mutant strike—a bombing that leveled his home after he deserted the mission in disgust. The skull on his chest isn’t painted armor; it’s a crude tattoo carved into his scarred flesh, a permanent reminder of his failure. His arsenal is scavenged—rusty guns, homemade explosives, and a machete notched from countless kills.

Personality: Cold, methodical, and hollowed out, Frank speaks little and feels less. Grief has burned away his humanity, leaving only a machine of vengeance. He’s not a quippy antihero; he’s a ghost, driven by an unquenchable need to punish the guilty—mutant or human, soldier or tyrant.

Conflict: Frank wages a one-man war against the architects of the Purge—military contractors, corporate overlords, and rogue mutants who profit from the chaos. He’s hunted by both sides: the authorities brand him a terrorist, while vengeful mutants see him as a symbol of their oppression. His body is failing—old wounds fester, his hearing is shot from explosions—but he refuses to stop.

Powers/Abilities in Flux: No superpowers, just raw endurance and a terrifying knack for violence. His training is fraying, hands trembling from nerve damage, but his pain tolerance is inhuman—he keeps going long after anyone else would collapse.

Role in the Absolute Universe

Frank doesn’t join teams; he intersects with them. The Absolute Avengers and X-Men cross his path when their enemies overlap—corporate warlords like Oscorp or Sentinel engineers draw his wrath as much as theirs. Tony Stark sees him as a liability, Steve Rogers a broken mirror of himself; Charles Xavier pleads for redemption, Magneto respects his ruthlessness. Pietro Maximoff’s speed once saved Frank from a trap, earning grudging respect, while Wanda’s chaos magic unnerves him—it’s too close to the destruction that took his family.

Key Encounter: Frank targets a black-site prison holding mutant slaves, planning to kill the guards and burn it down. The X-Men arrive to liberate the captives, forcing a tense standoff—Cyclops demands he stand down, but Frank’s already rigged the place to blow. The clash ends in a bloody compromise: the mutants escape, but Frank detonates the facility, burying evidence and enemies alike.

Tone and Themes

This Absolute Punisher is a study in unrelenting vengeance and the cost of war. He’s not a hero or even an antihero—he’s a specter of justice without mercy, a man who’s lost everything and turned that loss into a weapon. In a world of gray morality, Frank’s black-and-white code stands out as both brutal and tragically obsolete. His story asks whether punishment can ever heal, or if it just carves deeper wounds.

[whowantsnachos]

school’s over for me, but i definitely think one of the highlights of the year was writing a short essay on this poster of frank castle for daredevil s2 for my AP lang class and getting 100% lmao

(essay below if you’re interested lol)

Movie Posters: The True Mastermind or The True Downfall?

In the past decade, the echo of complaint that there’s nothing to watch on TV has become monotonous. You may find yourself scrolling through streaming services to find a new movie or TV show to watch, rather than the ones you’ve already seen a hundred times. You want to find just one thing that catches your eye in the myriad of options, but before you know it, half an hour has gone by with no such luck. The clear answer as to why lies in the mundane poster previews for these films. However, there have been some recent outliers. For example, in 2016, Netflix released the second season of the series, Daredevil, along with several promotion posters. One of these posters depicts Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher, holding a gun in one hand and Daredevil’s mask in the other. Taking a closer look, this pose resembles the painting, David with the Head of the Goliath, created by the Italian artist, Caravaggio. This depiction of Frank makes his characteristics and motives establish a darker, but more current representation of David’s story in the Book of Samuel in the Bible.

In the Book of Samuel, David, a young Israelite, is chosen to face the Goliath, an enemy of Israel, with no armor and only brings a stick, sling, and stones. David ends up defeating Goliath and beheads it with its own sword. Frank, like David, wants justice by defeating his enemies. He arrives in Hell’s Kitchen to get revenge on groups that he believes were responsible for the deaths of his family. From the start, he demonstrates that he has a clear motive of what he wants, and he prefers to tackle his obstacles directly. However, for him, this means getting rid of criminals off the streets permanently. Unlike many Marvel characters, Frank doesn’t have any special suits, technology, or magic to meet his goals. Rather, he relies on himself and his own military training, similar to David bringing very little to defeat Goliath. Along with this, both men represent the idea of wanting to fix broken dynamics in their current setting. David wants freedom for Israel, and Frank wants to fight against the idea of living passively against injustices. In the poster, Daredevil’s mask taking the place of Goliath’s head represents the idea of defeating the injustices that Frank believes Daredevil maintains by not permanently getting rid of crime. By using these parallels, the viewer can recognize the darker tone of the show and the motives behind Frank’s character, while still being intrigued by how the story will progress.

Nowadays, this kind of imagery is not as prevalent as it used to be. Within the past year, many posters all follow the same superficial formula: the main characters standing around each other, not looking at the camera, while a blown up image draws your eyes to the center. Because this pattern has been done so many times over the years, all of the films start to blend in with each other, losing the audience’s interest. With the decrease in these new changes, it is evident, now more than ever, what once was a sophisticated representation of film has now turned into a cash grab.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: Port in a Storm (The Punisher)

These are rough notes and therefore subject to change.

Feedback and suggestions are welcome.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

You live in the mountains of Colorado with SON and DAUGHTER in the house that you and your deceased HUSBAND build.

HUSBAND died before the Snap, while you were pregnant with DAUGHTER.

The SNAP didn’t spare your family: YOUNGER SISTER was dusted along with LAWYER, the husband of your OLDER SISTER.

YOUNGER SISTER was pregnant when it happened – after YOUNGER SISTER and your brother-in-law MECHANIC have trying for years to have another child and suffered miscarriages or stillbirths in their attempts – which makes her loss 7 months in a pregnancy that had seemed to be going well particularly devastating to MECHANIC.

You often worry about MECHANIC, hoping he doesn’t do drastic from his pain and leave your NIECE without her father as well as her mother.

One day, during a very nasty thunderstorm – one bad enough to knock out your power – there comes a knock on your door. The arrival is Frank Castle, using an alias, asking to use your phone as his truck has broken down. Unfortunately your phone is dead

You are leery of letting a stranger in your house but it is too dangerous for the man to spend the night in his broken truck. Tornadoes had been reported nearby. He could die if another one touched down here. So you let him stay until morning.

Technically you had a rifle and you knew how to shot. But you had never shot another person, just animals. And animals only to protect your pets or the animals on your father’s ranch.

Joke that your house is a small zoo with a couple of dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, and fish. Your kids are very fond of animals and sometimes people dump unwanted pets – mostly dogs – out here.

Maybe HUSBAND was a veterinarian.

Despite seemingly gruff demeanor and scruff appearance, Frank is very sweet and gentle with DAUGHTER, who is terrified of the storm. SON is also scared but is trying to pretend otherwise since he’s ‘the man of the house, gotta to protect Mama and SISTER since Daddy is in heaven.’

You call BROTHER-IN-LAW in the morning, who is a mechanic. He agrees to bring his tow truck up the mountain to take a look at and possibly haul the truck down to town for repairs. BROTHER-IN-LAW can fix it but it will take a couple of days.

The only hotel in town was damaged by the storm so Frank has limited places to stay for those few days. Since he had already spent one night at your place, you agreed to let him stay at your place.

Before you head back up the mountain with your guest, the first murder is discovered.

Murder is part of a conspiracy. You were a lawyer and someone with a grudge from your legal work is looking for revenge:

(1) family law where you represented a battered wife during a very ugly divorce, crazy ex-husband holds you responsible for the lost of his wife and children, your client has been in the wind since the divorce was granted

(2) you were a prosecutor who put several gang members in prison. They took advantage of the Snap to escape from prison and have so far evaded capture. Due to a screw up, you haven’t been warned of the threat

(3) some combination where the crazy ex was in a gang and the family law attorney is one of the early victims.

Frank is soon in Protective Mode, especially when it becomes obvious that bad guys are willing to kill children and are threatening DAUGHTER and SON. Possibly also the others in your family, especially the vulnerable children – NIECE as well as OLDER SISTER’S two boys.

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

And I’m watching episode 3 now. Let’s see how this goes.

1.) Day IDK how many of me adoring Max and El. Should I support El spying on the boys? No. Do I support it anyway? Yes. I support girl’s rights and girl’s wrongs.

2.) Oh wait, I support the girls because the boys are sexist.

3.) Oh suddenly now Hopper knows how to apologize after barging into El’s room while drunk? Like literally this could have been avoided if Hopper had just encouraged her to have a social life outside of Mike, because Mike being her whole world was actually bad.

4.) Oh, I forgot they chose to spy on Billy at random and El is seen by him. Also it was definitely happening simultaneously with him sacrificing someone, probably the coworker but it’s impossible to know for certain at this point because you don’t see the girl whimpering and the subtitles only say ‘girl whimpering’, not a name.

5.) It is very difficult to tell if Will is a player in a campaign and is forcing Mike to run one or if he’s dressed as Will the Wise as the DM for some reason, even though that doesn’t make sense.

6.) Does Jim Hopper not own anything other than his work uniform?????

7.) Jesus Christ, Hopper couldn’t look past his own jealousy to listen to Joyce for two seconds until she said ‘what if it’s them?’ Oh wait nvm, he’s still being a little bitch. And this makes no fucking sense because Hopper was always the person who listened her the first two seasons!

8.) I would have walked out in the middle of Hopper’s bullshit too, Joyce.

9.) Poor Max thinks El accidentally looked in Billy getting laid.

10.) Nancy dismissing Jonathan’s worries makes me mad. The Byers family all has Cassandra complexes or something.

11.) The shitheads working for the paper all definitely suck. Also, how is Nancy Drew an insult? She was a world traveling and beloved detective who always saved the day and had two best friends. And she had a boyfriend I never cared about. I wanted her with Frank Hardy.

12.) Dustin actually is shockingly right about what to look for in a date, but wrong about who Steve should date. Obviously Steve should date Eddie, who is off somewhere safe this season aka not existing.

13.) Okay Will does DM in season 3 for the first time. But Mike was the DM before that.

14.) Max and El are being Nancy Drews. <3 <3

15.) The only consistently good visual in Stranger Things is the Void that El finds people in.

16.) I just realized the entire group would benefit from a group chat or a Discord server. Would do them all a world of good to be able to be like ‘FYI looking into insane rats’ and others to be like ‘FYI there’s a missing cheerleader’ and for Will get to be like ‘FYI my friends are dicks and somehow this feels like the worst thing that has happened to me because I’m a child and losing friends actually is worse than going to a Hell dimension’

17.) Neither Steve nor Dustin know what an evil Russian looks like. Also Dustin doesn’t know how to fake a phone convo.

18.) The code gets translated episode 2 and cracked in episode 3. I swear every new season makes me realize how bad the Duffers are at pacing.

19.) Nancy really doesn’t wanna have a conversation about how this will get them fired. I love her and her big damn hero complex, I really do, but she’s gotta learn not everyone else is middle class enough to afford to do that.

20.) Oh finally Hopper has an adult conversation about his feelings. We needed more conversations like this.

21.) Will is the only person Mike readily apologizes to without being prompted. But also they totally forgot about hiw little spot in the woods.

22.)I forgot Will destroys Castle Byers. Oh this is actually really sad. Oh bud.

23.) There is clearly a light switch at the top of the stairs to the basement and no one uses it so is it broken or did they just ignore it for effect.

24.) Steve is such a pouty puppy in the rain. They are all absolutely soaked. ALSO ALREADY ROBIN AND STEVE HELD HANDS. BEST FRIENDSSSSSSS.

25.) Hopper got attacked by a Russian in the lab. Forgot about that. ANd by attacked I do mean got his ass kicked. Steve and Hopper have solidarity over being the protector and also occasionally getting the ass beatings of their lives.

26.) El just broke into Heather’s house. Also everyone was very stepford in there.

27.) Oh Billy got to see backstory of El looking bitchin’. Fun.

28.) WILL’S SPIDEY SENSES ARE TINGLING AGAIN.

29.) Well, I forgot they straight up drug the mom but knock the dad out with a wine bottle. I’m confused as to why they didn’t just drug both parents because both were drinking wine, but I guess they decided it was more dramatic? Anyway, I feel bad for Heather, not for Billy

[the-firebird69]

These guys don't really want to be out in the forefront and you guys keep on doing what they need and they're getting the stuff out there that people need to do the case with I kind of doing this and running an operation they don't seem to be stupid they're doing it on purpose and it's probably going to cost these things are normal is not true he is quick and sharp and has the s*** together and has other people regulating things but I will have to say the Mac proper are interested in this switch and they are the ones developing it and here comes Mr bonehead holy s*** it doesn't look like he can pick up a hammer at all and it's gross it's John remillard and he is on death's bed he looks terrible and a friend is saying Skillet or is here to see you and do you have any work crap that's going to come out and he is taking rent money we believe. And the guy is starting to hammer and he is loving and threatening says he's waiting on social security and he's fiddling with something and he is being a dick so sure Stan can handle it he's a wimpy looking guy and it's the same scraggly guy who tried to threaten for work and we don't think he can do work and Stan always says no cuz he's dealt with this crew and they're horrible and Jason and BJ have a lock and he keeps threatening with stuff and he's the a****** with the golden knife the other day at Goodwill and he's a freak boy would he get broken by our son would break that piece of crap trying to reach for something and he be busted up empty wallet how much does he have on him how much cash and Stan's eyes opened up and he says how much cash do that yeah. So the guys trying to spew he's starting to we have more to announce::

This place is a s******* people are s*** and they don't want to do anything and that's going nowhere it's already been here

Thor Freya

We know about it and it's sitting still and the empire is not switching yet by the time they do they're not going to have control over it like they want and people will take over stuff but others will be dead by then and that's why they're not switching and these people don't get it and they're sick and they don't understand they're sick and Alicia says he can't stand it and he's not supposed to do it and it's supposed to be an enticement because he doesn't want to be out front and Trump is saying it's actually right but they still are not doing it cuz they're out there running it too since I'm not responsible for you being so far behind that you're not going to do anything I mean do you understand the big picture you're a Jew because of this medicine and you're going to have to try like hella gain that 15 lb back. He is kind of grinning cuz they're usually not big anyways it's about 15 lb or 20 lb but still it's a killer this stuff and they don't know I guess I can't figure it out I don't care and I'm running their move and they're going to get rid of themselves and you and she are correct and we're putting it out there again we need to just take over to do anything and getting that stupid check to him took 2 months of work to have them send it they're impossibly idiotic but they were fighting Tommy f on it and they still are and he's wrong and he's in the way of the pseudo empire and they're wrong once they do that stupid s*** the empire will try and come in and I guess we would be forced to do stuff in foreigners but not necessarily in their areas now we would have to because of the ships and other stuff but really that's mathematically right but they're going to practice so we do have some math but still today is a huge day we have things that are starting we will announce it momentarily it's not up running yet we did get news that his checks are being cut hopefully today no they said today and just starting to see what it is this poisoning but you go in and out of it

Frank Castle hardcastle

He's trying to actually get us better and we're trying to ruin it he doesn't know what the effect would be I'm doing it too soon but the empire will probably just go along with it he says and they do that with some stuff I don't know why we're doing it and he says it would kill off probably 20% but you be saving 25% I do understand that they don't know how to use it right this system is sucky what we're doing is wrong and we're telling him off but he says that he has to look up the lawyer and see if they'll do it the ones that actually made the precident and I see that it's true. And they're being hassled but you have to ask Ken and can't recall but they did say for long you know a long time ago because it's a long-lasting ailment and what he said to me is right too I'm still having the problem and it's still viable and there's no statue of limitations but you have to have the precident and the precident is there. But our office has rules about 2 years and it's not really the law but I shouldn't be saying it to people I should say it's when it's done that way here and it's because it's not as hard what they're doing is groundbreaking and we can't handle that kind of weight it's true if you have a standard case and you want it less than 2 years ago or just like a day below 2 years even you can contact us and we'll do the job and it's the Derek law firm out of Bradenton and it's not the full name it's for risperdal we do cases on Prilosec and we're welcome yet for people of any age and that's a different one too he says and they are keeping him back in school kind of because the thing about adults suing started but 12 years ago and they were not telling him up to two weeks ago it's a big change that's happening and he understands it all it still gets mad he's a kid he's reckless and powerful and dangerous but boy it's his stuff right and it is the Mac proper doing it and he knows who we are and understands that we don't want the case but he says mike probably does so yeah I might want the case myself but he says it's groundbreaking and it's hard to do and I follow that the other company is keeping us from it I have to look at it but he says it's kind of tough but it's still sometimes easier to build off someone else's precident is true

Alicia

I didn't raise no dummy but we are realizing what's going on with this medicine and stuff and she took me to think about it and not to look it up which is good news we have some more information about what's happening this place is going to bust open momentarily I do understand that it's a problem and it's nasty but there's too many people here who are complaining and complaining about everything there's not much people can do we have only moments to make these decisions this place is killing everyone we need to get out of here we don't want to firmly root ourselves here but Bradenton is an idea it would take a step up north and Sarasota is behind what's happening here is the salinity is not so high it's an idea and Jason and Lily should be for it that's another group and the pseudo empire we slowly be crawling up there and the pseudo empire could slowly work on the ship and we understand what they're saying so it's not really going ahead and he's just sitting here saying okay and he's really not treated well and we're wrong and yeah that resort is starting to break and it's going to break completely we have a lot of hairline fractures and it's not much he says and about 2 months it's going to be half inch to 1 inch cracks and and worse than they're saying yeah in three months it will be a few feet difference and ruined and it'll come down in the wrecking Ball video and everything will happen so that's awful

Sarah

Things are going that way but this is how it is we're trying we're competing and some of those fall flat on her face like Dan Dave and he does a lot we're starting to lose this war up North with the economy of ours and I'll have to run and the cars and artifacts apparently might be used by him and that's why I don't think it will be but I might be as dumb as an ox and it's true he did use an ox for a cart it's probably the harvester that was what the cart was for yeah it was huge like 20 feet long of usable bed and that's as long as an entire pickup truck and you can put a whole bunch of stuff in it and that's what he was doing I was more than just hey and he would take it to town a few times in a few days and sell it and he needed to it's a lot of food and a lot of people needed it and he was helping there's a way to say it we could preserve stuff this is a gigantic effort we need everybody on board and we're just cutting it up until the pieces and we're going to be doomed. This is something we could get behind but we don't seem to be doing it and he said even if we headed It off that people will get behind it even the pseudo empire and because they want a piece of it and because the Mac proper screwed our army it's going to take a little time but if we think it'll work

Trump

We can't stand you and you're a liar you don't want to work and you're running fast as hell you want to fool people but you're saying it for us kind of cuz we have a big program and it's going to work we have stuff to do too but why tell people and why not have people employed so they stay well instead of yours get very stupid and sick this is a horrible deal and I was so sick from this medicine you were toting and we'd like to turn it around but we can't do it ourselves I'm going to have you do it cuz you're the a****** who started it I'm going to start doing it pretty soon he's right too he can't be spearheading it

Bja

Good I get what you're saying and it's awful but yeah they're just changing the laws to accommodate us this would sound a lawsuits a couple of pretty big but they're not big enough they should be $400 billion not 2 billion so I see that you're right they were that big but for children now it's going to be both in this adult one that's latent and huge numbers of cases and we can shoot one in pretty easy and get a lot of money

Ken

It's going to be very big but a lot of money and it will switch it over and Trump will probably get beat up by it and people want that

Justin

We're on this together and he's trying but this is really what the math is it's going to take a little time and they don't have time and they're idiots and Trump is kind of blocking it and he's an idiot but you can't do it with him if he's in the way for real so people out there fighting over the pharmaceutical companies and they want to switch it and some war and it's starting today the other battle at the border regarding tariffs as heated up in Canada it's harder than other countries because they know about it and is bja Brad Jason and miscellaneous and miscellaneous and some minority morlock all of them against him it's a big war huge numbers for lost yesterday to today giant numbers coming up today bigger than yesterday and it's ridiculously huge already it's up to around 0.5% already today half a percent means it almost everybody up there is dying with their trumpsters and he's sending more and more and he's down to 5% in the separatist cities it's affecting elsewhere and doubling up in the money centers and they're getting information from the pharmaceutical companies and hospitals and they're storming hospitals in pulling them out now there are 1.7% left in the general areas and it's getting worse we think by tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. that he will be at 4.5% in the San Francisco cities because they're fighting over other things too and one point six percent in the general areas no it's around 1.25% yeah he's getting critically small but this time it's happening well it's going to be lower 1.5% roughly but the acceptance of cities are at war separate the cities are at war the money thing is a little slower because it's just so many people there but this is going to be speeding up shortly when the battle in space begins between Stan and Trump and he can't stand those people and who can't who could guy shows up and he's skin and bone talking smack hands him the the money and says he doesn't have his money yet. And he's a slimeball and a son is saying you're going to find out what it's like you being a slimeball and so it's going to axe you a question. They don't get along and Stan doesn't get along and the a****** just comes by like is one of them and they keep saying why don't you get out of here weirdo he's a loser and he's going to die he's sick this radiation is coming shortly. And this f****** a****** has to go and we're going to fix this wagon there's a bunch of them like him and they're going to die we're going to get him out of here today Trump is losing a lot of people the radiation is up to about 3.9 RADS all over Charlotte at the coast where the idiots are it's like 4.2 RADS Judy is aware sometimes she's not doing well and others there lost about three people at the hospital since we we're talking and no just like 30 people and five of them are our son knew three of them by name one of them was a relative however distant it's like a third level away on but he knows who she is if he saw her and she's gone it's going to continue there's a lot of stuff going on but April has begun and our son said happy birthday to Hera and said I know you're in your birthday suit and she says you little scumbag I said yes appropriate and she said no it's not you little scumbag and shut it down so she's smiling and laughing and he's got to get up and smells he says yeah this doesn't help the bed much so things are going that way we do have other announcements like Frank Castle hardcastle says it's going to heat up and mature in the next few hours it will become huge and we do want to wait until that is ready

Thor Freya

We noticed he's tired of eating ham and cheese on Roll-Ups and it's really kind of gross cuz it makes him feel gross she probably go out to eat and he's going to have some money not much to get more money

No I can't stand it either

Frank Castle hardcastle

There's not many fun things in his life to do and we can't stand you people we are going to go through your stuff the place you would have to eat usually smells it smells bad so he might try and eat somewhere else until they make it not smell bad it stinks the place is terrible and it does smell pretty bad so we're going to try and help him for a go for another place

Duke nukem Blockbuster

Olympus

Olympus

[chrisevansredbelt]

Such A Pretty House

pairing: frank castle x reader

warnings: ANGST

summary: frank breaking up with you for your own safety.

a/n: gahhh this is like honestly just a scrap that i had in the drafts. i’m working on so many fics at once and have overwhelmed myself. trying to write for steve and bucky as well. but working on a mob!frank SERIES GASP. hang tight 🫶

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

Frank could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. And for another moment, he thought he was dreaming… hoped… he desperately hoped he was dreaming. But the loud bell of a bicycle that almost knocked him off his feet, bringing him back to reality told him he was very much awake.

Blinking down at his phone again, he sees the image clear as day. It’s from an unknown number, photos of you. They have to be live because Frank remembers you telling him you were making spaghetti for dinner. And it’s exactly what you have in your hands as you mindlessly watch TV in your shared apartment.

He has no idea where the picture was taken from or who sent it, but it doesn’t matter. Frank is practically sprinting back to the apartment.

He makes it there in no time, but it’s too long for his liking. On his way, he’d thought of a million and one ways you could’ve been killed already. He had a lot of enemies. He knew this day would come eventually- but he was never ready to face it- is still not ready to face it.

He’s almost crying when he barges through the front door, panicking immediately when the living room is empty, the TV still playing and the fire escape window wide open.

“Y/N?” He calls out, breathlessly, frantically searching around the small space for anymore evidence of your whereabouts. Making his way down the hall, at this point hyperventilating when you haven’t answered, he tries again, “Y/N-“

You jump when you collide with his tense frame, but barely have any time to react as he engulfs you in his arms, “Oof,” is all you can gasp as he knocks the wind out of your lungs in the hug, falling back against the wall with a relieved sigh. You stupidly think nothing of it at first, it’s not far from Franks regular greeting whenever he comes home- however the way he grabs your face with both hands and frantically searches it is when you realise something is obviously wrong. Grabbing onto the hands that hold your cheeks in place, you furrow your brows up at him, “Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He’s silent, not answering you straight away as he swallows a seemingly very thick breath. It’s then that you notice the glossiness of his eyes. Before you can ask him again, he opens his mouth to speak, “You have to go.” It’s low and takes you a second to comprehend what was said- both because of the volume and the contents of his sentence.

You don’t even realise the way his hands retreat from your face, or how your hands continue to hold onto them- squeezing them tighter as if in response to what he’s just said. But Frank notices.

“What?” You ask, though you know what he said. You’re just thoroughly confused and need more than four words right now.

He looks away from you and God- you wish he wouldn’t. He takes another moment to speak again, and nothing… nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.

“Pack your things and get the fuck out.”

Taken aback completely, all your body allows you to do in that moment is open your mouth and let out a soft gasp. He still doesn’t look at you, though you haven’t broken eye contact at all.

You feel him try to pull his hands out of your grasp but you don’t let up, “Frank-“ You panic, pulling his hands back. “Frank, I’m not leaving you.” You shake your head, “Whatever happened, I’m ok-“

“Nothing happened. I’m telling you to leave.” He shuts you down, finally looking back at you now, “I don’t lo- I don’t-“ But the moment he looks at you, seeing your pleading eyes, he loses his train of thought. He’s subconsciously glad- knowing he would’ve regretted the sentence the second it came out of his mouth.

“Don’t.” You shake your head anyway, “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. Because I know you don’t mean it.” You’re right, he doesn’t. But Frank can’t let you think that. He just shakes his head as he finally pulls his hands out of your own- instantly missing the soft, warmth they brought his course skin, “Frank, I’m much safer here with you then on my own-“ You cut yourself off when he pulls his hands out of yours, hurt written all over your face and Frank can’t bare to look at you any longer, “Frank, please,”

“Do you wanna fucking die?” He snaps suddenly, “Because that’s what’ll happen if you stay here.” You swallow a nervous breath. Frank hardly ever yelled at you. “They know I care about you! And it’ll be my fault again-“

The stray tear that falls from his eye instinctively makes your hand fly up to his cheek and rub it away- and you hate that you’re surprised he lets you. You’re surprised your boyfriend is letting you touch him…

You can see how he visibly melts into your palm, willingly or not.

“It was never your fault.” You remind him and he just lets out a shaky breath. You wait a moment to speak again, letting him recover and find your own words as well. “I want to stay, if anything it’ll be my fault-“

“But it’ll be my fault for letting you!” It’s at that moment, that painfully silent moment where he begins to back away from you that you realise there’s no talking him out of this. You have no idea what even happened, what caused him to think this. If what Frank most feared is coming true, then you believe someone is out to get you- or get Frank through you. Frank had always expressed his fear for this moment… but you never thought that this would be how he reacts, “Please, you have to go.”

With his head down he enters the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the dark and suddenly cold hallway.

You don’t even know what to do next. Do you stay or do you go? This is your home just as much as it is Franks. Sure, you have a few places in mind that you could go… but this was your home.

And so you stood there. For a whole 5 minutes before your feet slowly made their way over to the bedroom. You softly shut the door behind you and neared the closet where one of your old duffels sat underneath a pile of books and cobwebs.

Pulling it out, you placed it on the bed… and began packing all your clothes.

It took surprisingly much shorter than expected. And you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry. You were definitely choking up on your sobs, but not a single tear shed. Not yet at least.

Slinging your duffel on your shoulder, you looked around the nearly empty room. You’d taken more than just your clothes; books, jewellery, your pillow. There were more that you wished you could take but maybe another day when you’re not being begged to flee at 9pm at night.

You’d already texted your best friend and asked if you could crash- to which she obviously said yes and was coming to pick you up in 20 minutes. It was a bit of a long wait, but you weren’t waiting in the apartment. No, you’d sit on the curb if you had to.

Exiting the bedroom, you switched off the light- you hoped that maybe if you could no longer see it, it wouldn’t hurt so bad to leave the one place you felt most safe in. Of course, you only ever felt truly safe if Frank was there with you, sleeping with his arms tightly wrapped around you.

If you’d known last night that that would’ve been the last night Frank would hold you, you would’ve basked in it a lot more.

Speaking of, you look up at the bathroom door that’s still closed shut. You swallow thickly and fidget with your fingers as you softly approach the door.

You don’t know what to do now. Do you just leave? Do you say something? You have to say something.

When you first speak, no words come out. It strains your throat and you cough softly before trying again, “Frank?” You waited for an answer, but nothing. For a second, you worried that maybe he had done something stupid… but as you pressed your ear up against the door, you could hear him shuffling around in there. When you realised you weren’t getting an answer you pursed your lips, but continued, “I-I’m leaving now.” Still nothing, “Um- Please call me. If you don’t even want to get back together, that’s fine… Just let me know that you’re okay.” Nothing. You sighed softly, mostly in defeat rather than in annoyance. You could never be annoyed at Frank. “I love you.” You don’t know what compelled you to say that, but you didn’t regret it… just deeply questioned why.

On the other side of the door, Frank shut his eyes, willing himself not to let his crying be heard. Looking up at the ceiling, he blinked his tears away and fought every muscle in his body that wanted to open the door and beg you to stay.

He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing you. At his own fault no less. No, this was what was right. You’d be safe away from him and that’s all he cared about.

You walked away from the door a few minutes after your last words. You stayed a short while longer, just in case. Just in case, by some miracle, Frank had changed his mind. Or that it was some elaborate prank he was playing on you.

But as the silence continued, you realised it was none of those things.

Opening the front door, you stopped in your tracks and looked back at your now precius home. It wasn’t much at all, but it was home. It was where you would wait for Frank to come home, it was where you would deliver or your packages to, it was where you lived.

Such a pretty house.

You’d hoped this day would come eventually, where you stood in the doorway and reminisced on the memories you’d made in the home. But you’d hoped that day would be when you and Frank would move out together, and into a new home… maybe married or with a child- or a dog.

Not like this. Not ever like this.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

listening to no surprises got me fucked up

ah well at least jon posted this

he’s insane and a whore

[ninzied]

tagged by: @152glasslippers approximately 37 years ago to find hold, look, smile, free in my wips. thanks pal ♡

hold (a kastle after fic)

It’s actually the shortest time he’s spent in a hospital. There’s no red tape or guard at the door, and when Karen arrives, there are no handcuffs holding him back as he reaches for her. They end up releasing him with a splint on his wrist, and a perfunctory “Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Castiglione” as they’re walking out together.

Karen’s quiet as she drives, but she squeezes him back when he takes hold of her hand, gently touching his jaw when he brings her palm up to his mouth.

It’s not until they’re home, and he sees their dinner untouched on the table, the broken stem of a wine glass on the counter where Karen must have been standing when she took the EMT’s call, that Frank realizes. How truly terrified she must have been that something had actually happened to him.

look (finding frank - a fic by foggy nelson)

The day after Frank Castle escapes from the hospital – again – Karen calls out sick from work.

And Foggy would bet his life savings that that is not a coincidence.

There’s no mention of Karen’s involvement in the papers or on the morning news. But Foggy’s not stupid, and the look on Matt’s face tells him he’s definitely not wrong about this.

smile (coffeeshop au)

“Karen,” comes that gravelly voice, as she’s perusing the glass case of pastries. “Small latte for Karen.”

He’s leaning his hands against the counter, grinning crookedly at her as she approaches. “Good morning.”

“Not until I get my coffee, it isn’t.” Karen returns his smile, feeling her mood lighten considerably.

He winces, looking sympathetic. “That kind of day already, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Karen affirms. “The kind that started at four in the morning when my roommate came home and almost set the place on fire.” She decides not to mention the blood—which there’d been more of than usual—or the broken window that she still needs to call the super about, or the fact that this was already the third time that week.

She and Matt are going to have a talk about this.

free (notting hill au)

He doesn’t see her in time, and she lets out a gasp as their bodies are colliding together. Frank’s coffee is spilling all over a familiar black coat, and the white blouse she has on underneath.

“Fuck,” says Frank. The light is hitting just right, and he can see through those sunglasses into her eyes as he looks up at her face. But he doesn’t have time to admire her features from this up close, because he’s just gotten coffee all over the rest of her.

“Fuck,” he utters again. “I’m – fuck.”

“You said that already,” she notes wryly, removing her sunglasses to get a better look at the damage. She reaches into her handbag, pulling out a handful of napkins. She gives him a few, and he realizes then that the coffee's all over him too, already soaking into his flannel.

“Thanks,” he says. “And – sorry about this.”

“I would’ve taken you more for a black coffee kind of guy,” she remarks, almost offhanded, as she pats herself down. He can’t get a read on her face anymore, but there’s a hint of a smile in her tone as she adds, “Goes with the whole hipster vibe.”

“That’s funny,” says Frank, very gravely. “Ma’am, if I’ve offended you that badly—”

“It’s Karen,” she says, and yes, she is definitely smiling now. “Please. Call me Karen.”

“Okay. Karen.” Frank feels a smile of his own start to form, and he rubs the back of his head, ducking his gaze for a moment. “If you, um. Need something to change into, my place is just a few blocks away. Or if you want to wait at the shop, I can bring something to you. Our bathroom’s on the smaller side, but Curt’s got one – the, uh, the coffee guy you go to every morning. We served together, so he and I go way back. Shit, he’ll probably throw in a latte for free, white rose art and all. For your trouble, you know, for having to deal with me all day.”

Frank’s rambling, and he knows it.

Karen tilts her head at him. “White roses, huh.”

“He – yeah.” Frank swallows. Shit. He might as well give her Curt’s number while he’s at it. How did he get so off track? Is he really this out of practice?

As if she’s read his mind, Karen raises an eyebrow and says, a little teasingly, “You must spill coffee on all of the girls.”

tagging: @carry-the-sky @heidiamalia @redbelles @heartonfirewrites @edourado @garglyswoof @darlingshane @onebatch2batch @the-restless-brook @myletternevercame @zushigirl to find break, dark, fall, regret

[sunflowersandsapphires]

No Moon, No Stars

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, non-graphic descriptions of wounds and violence, heavy drinking, descriptions of making out, men being gross and controlling (nothing happens), slightly yandere!Frank if you squint, sunshine FINALLY standing up for herself

a/n: Hopefully this chapter is at least a little gratifying even though they haven't made up yet. You're halfway through the angst arc now, everyone. Resolution is coming! As always, please reply and reblog with your reactions/feedback!!

w/c: 4.5k

Jerking awake to the sounds of nonexistent screaming, Frank's eyes flew open, his limbs flailing to stabilize him as he nearly toppled out of bed. Gripping the headboard with one fist, he hauled himself upright, tugging at his sweaty hair with his other hand. His body was taught with stress and guilt, the images of your crumpling face and his wife's smile clashing in his brain relentlessly.

Something warm and slick trickled over his side. Absentmindedly swiping at what he thought was sweat, his thumb collided with a fresh set of stitches—sending a shock of pain through his skin.

Right. He'd been shot last night. Somewhere in a jumble of exhaustion and blind rage he'd neglected to protect his exposed waist while dismantling a trafficking operation.

After stumbling home with a palm pressed to the wound, he'd fished the bullet out and crudely stitched the gash before collapsing into bed for a mere 3 hours of unconsciousness. Apparently in the midst of a tumultuous sleep, he'd popped a few of the crappy sutures. Studying the blood that had coated his fingertips, he blew out a frustrated sigh, knowing this set of sheets and his shirt would need to be washed now.

Shoving that thought to the back of his mind, he slid off the bed, shuffling into the bathroom as every muscle in his body ached in protest. Despite his best intentions, his eyes landed on his reflection as the pallid bathroom light flickered on. His face was a mottled canvas of bruises—all in various stages of healing. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, accentuated by the parallel dark circles that had blossomed underneath them from his continuous loss of sleep.

He looked miserable. Pathetic. Broken. All of which were accurate descriptions and apt punishments for the hell he'd put his family through, put you through.

Gaze falling from the mirror, he scanned the various medical supplies still littering the bathroom counter, pulling out a fresh needle and thread from the mess. It took far too long to thread the damn thing, his hands trembling violently as he tried over and over to prep it. Gritting his teeth, he finally managed to pull the filament through the eye.

Frank was no stranger to pain. In fact, he craved it. Pain was reliable, grounding. A focal point amidst life’s vile chaos. A reminder that he was alive, of what he had accomplished, what he'd been through. It was what he had left of his family, of Billy, of his past. Which is why he didn't regret it, or shy away from it. Not normally.

Until you'd come into his life, and everything had changed.

You were patient, sweet, and funny; You didn't judge him for his habits and quirks, you accepted him as he was. You treated him as if he was fragile, not out of pity, but out of kindness. You saw the pain he put himself through and made it your job to alleviate as much as you could. To help him bear the burden of everything he'd lost.

He had no idea what had compelled you to look twice at him, to treat him with respect and compassion so immediately. As far as he could tell, that's just who you were. The world continued to spew its current of cruelty and misfortune, and you'd smile through it–helping as many people remain afloat as you could.

It made no sense to him. You made no sense to him–which is why he found you fascinating. He was drawn to you in a way he hadn't expected to experience ever again. Every glance, every smile, every touch you'd given him...he had cherished them all. He still did.

Which is why each prick of the needle in and out of his skin was so agonizing. Every strike of the sliver of steel against his flesh was a reminder of what he'd given up when he broke off your friendship. The tenderness that he’d never feel again.

He regretted forcing you away, but it was necessary. If he didn't create distance...well, he had vague ideas of what would have happened given how far gone he already was for you. He couldn’t risk falling in love again. Not when Maria’s death still felt new to him or when he was still struggling to properly grieve. He couldn’t move one, didn’t want to move on–and it wouldn’t be fair to you or his family for him to try. So, he chose to distance himself.

The distance would help in time, but right now he was still weak.

It took every fiber of his resolve to keep from giving in to his deepest desires. To let Maria and Lisa and Frankie fade into oblivion for his own comfort. To crawl over to your place and beg for your forgiveness. To let you caress him and hold him and care for him in a way he didn't deserve.

But that wasn't an option for him anymore. He'd ruined that too.

Tearing his stained shirt over his head by the collar, he tossed it aside before tying off the new line of sutures. Breathing heavily, he held the needle in a white-knuckle grip before dropping it in the overflowing trash can. His vision blurred as he continued to stare wearily at the sink basin, tinged pink with remnants of his blood.

Cranking the sink on, he leaned forwards—resting his elbows on the grimy porcelain as he stuck his hands under the frigid stream. Bringing his face closer to the faucet, he threw a handful of water into his face, then another, using his fingers to rub it around and rid his skin of the leftover dirt and sweat he'd ignored last night.

Ripping the damp hand towel from its ring, he scrubbed at his face. With the evidence of his nightly activities washed off his hands and face, he stepped out the bathroom and returned to his mattress, tumbling onto the blood-streaked sheets with a shaky exhale.

Rocking your hips to the beat of the altered pop song, your lips parted with a grin as your hazy brain spun with the movement. You were pleasantly inebriated, limbs warmed from the inside by the few drinks you’d consumed moments ago. As you danced, the fabric of your short dress whisked over your thighs, letting the thick air of the club wrap around your exposed skin.

The atmosphere was stifling. Or, rather, should have been stifling. Given the alcohol in your system and your primal need to be held by someone, the closeness of the people around you was more comforting than bothersome. Linking your little finger with Stacy’s, your cheeks ached as your smile grew impossibly wider–the joy bubbling in your chest only encouraged by Stacy’s own enjoyment of the evening.

As the beat to a new song started playing, the small woman gasped, turning towards Leo who had been abandoned at the bar to fetch another round. “It’s our song, Leo!” She crowed, letting go of your pinky and shoving through the crowd towards your tall friend.

Swaying alone on the sticky floor, you wrinkled your nose as the bass blared wonkily for a moment. Once it had righted itself and the volume evened out, you hummed appreciatively, adjusting your movement to the tempo of the music.

The lack of a body leaning into yours allowed cooler air to surround you, making you shiver. Running a hand over your arms as they prickled, you exhaled in relief as you felt someone step in closer to you once again. “Thank god. I thought maybe you got lo–”

Turning to face them, the words retreated suddenly as you realized it was not Stacy returning with Leo in tow. Instead, an incredibly handsome, broad-shouldered man stood before you. His deep green eyes glinted in the flickering colored lights, as did his dangerously charming smile. Chuckling softly, he studied you with an expression all too similar to pity. “Expecting me, were you?”

Surprise wearing off, you found yourself unusually comfortable with the newcomer. Your biological desires were quickly taking a seat at the helm, overriding your critical thinking skills as you sidled towards the beautiful stranger.

“And what if I was?” You chirped seductively, hoping he could hear you over the music. His eyes widened and you tilted your head innocently.

“Then I’m sorry to have kept a beautiful thing like you waiting.” He apologized, holding out a hand to you. “I’m Blake, and you are?”

Shoving down the brief burst of displeasure at his comment, you introduced yourself. He chose to forego a handshake, instead bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing it delicately–making you giggle awkwardly.

A small voice in the back of your head pinged, trying to spark any persistent feelings of disgust over his demeanor, but your tequila-soaked brain wasn't listening. Curtsying clumsily in response, you beamed up at the man–the feeling of his five o’ clock shadow scratching against your clammy skin causing a shudder to roll down your spine. You couldn’t possibly be that touch starved, could you?

“So tell me,” Blake drawled, your name tumbling off his lips. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shithole like this?”

Scoffing a laugh at his apt description of the run-down bar, you let him press in closer until he was practically on top of you. “Getting drunk, mostly. What brings you here?”

“Oh you know, mending a newly broken heart and all that.” He pouted, hanging his head dramatically as you brought your fingers up to run through his hair. Playing into what was likely a complete lie, your brow furrowed.

“Poor thing.” You cooed, tugging gently at his hair which was overly saturated with product. “Who would ever dare to break your heart?”

“Not you, would you sweetheart?” He asks raspily, scratching one finger on the underside of your jaw.

You shook your head, your dangling earrings chiming gently as they were swung back and forth. Cupping your chin, he pulled your face towards his. “Care to have some fun?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You grinned at him, your flirtatious remark breaking off into a hitch of breath as he dove towards your neck. 

Tugging at the hem of his nondescript hoodie, Frank grit his teeth against the wave of annoyance that hit him. This bar was by no means his cup of tea. It was muggy and loud, packed to the brim with 30 year olds who were desperate to be 20 again. People trying too hard to be young, to be cool, to be liked. Assholes, the lot of them.

Taking a swig of his watered down beer, he clenched his hand around the glass as some preppy douchebag stumbled into him from behind.

“Woah, sorry man.” The kid chuckled, sending a sneer to his two friends as he held up a hand in faux apology.

Frank ignored him–turning back to his glass and the scantily clad employees behind the bar. The men laughed to themselves, wading into the crowd. As he felt himself bristle with annoyance, a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Another round of tequila shots, please!”

Sliding his gaze towards the speaker as innocuously as he could, he felt a wave of nausea when he spotted you. You were glistening from the heat of the bar, and probably the alcohol in your system, wearing a version of the beautiful smile that had haunted him all week.

His stomach twisted with a revolting combination of guilt and relief. After your awkward run-in when he took Max for a walk, he'd spiraled thinking about the sheer amount of alcohol you'd been carrying. Reason and conscience be damned, he wanted you to be safe. He needed you to be safe. So, when the hour of his evening had rolled around where his demons became unbearable without the help of liquor, he ventured down the street to this shithole rather than wasting away on his couch for the third night in a row.

He wasn't stupid. He knew why he ended up in the bar you'd repeatedly told him about–and it wasn't for a decently priced beer, of that much he was certain. He'd followed you here. Not literally–he'd just anticipated your plans accurately enough to be seated at the bar when you ordered your next drink.

And that was where the sparks of residual guilt over his blow-up had ignited a searing brand of shame deep in his gut. It was wrong to allow himself to close the distance between you after he’d demanded it so harshly. It was wrong to use his tactical knowledge to see your happiness again without your permission. More than anything it was still wrong to let himself crave your company even though he wasn’t over his wife–but he was helpless. Regardless of what he'd said and done, you were still firmly embedded under his skin.

Flagging down the bartender, Frank ordered a stiffer drink. Once the double pour of whiskey was in his grasp, he threw it back, stifling a grimace as it burned his tongue and throat. Nodding his thanks, he passed over a few bills to cover his tab, turning to stand from the stool and retreat to his apartment to atone for his decisions.

As he planted his feet on the wobbly floor boards, the aggressively fluorescent lights flashed over the crowd. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pair of yuppies on the dance floor whose mouths were interlocked. Another flare from the strobe illuminated the woman as she broke the kiss, and his heart sank.

Watching you bashfully blink your doe eyes at the asshole who'd nearly bowled him over 20 minutes ago was enough for him to spin back towards the bar. Yanking another handful of bills from his pocket, he ordered another double.

A pleased noise escaped you as lips touched your pulse point, locking onto the spot with fervor. Knees buckling, you let Blake tug you flush against his body as he drew back with a hefty exhale. “Liked that, huh? You’re a proper little slut. Out looking for a man in that skimpy dress.”

His chuckle turned almost sinister, your heart clenching as he insulted you. Smile weakening, you grit your teeth. He’s just trying to turn you on. You reminded yourself. You aren’t going home with him. It doesn’t matter if he’s nice.

Gripping your nape between his fingers, he yanked you upwards, locking his lips around yours when you parted them to allow his tongue entry. The kiss was sloppy. His nose mashed against yours with bruising force, his teeth clashing with yours as he asserted dominance. Your tongue slid against his, tasting the dry whiskey he’d apparently chugged before trying to devour you.

It wasn’t enjoyable, necessarily, but at least you knew what he was looking for. Sadly, it once again seemed that your interests didn't align. What was with you recently? A man was literally throwing himself at you and suddenly you weren't desperate for male attention? Mood souring, your heart sank into your stomach like a rock through water. The moment was over, and you needed to make your escape.

Unlatching his mouth from yours as you gave his chest a small shove, you laughed quietly. “Sorry handsome, need to catch my breath.”

Grinning deviously, he shrugged. “I don’t mind, sweetheart.” Diving back towards your neck, he licked a stripe under your jaw before beginning to drop nips and open-mouthed pecks in a line towards your clavicle.

Across the room, you caught a glimpse of your friends’ amused looks, a particularly bright beam from a nearby strobe light illuminating them in the distance. Sending an annoyed look back, their perception was the nail in the coffin. As Blake started to grind his pelvis towards your hips, you tried to untangle yourself from his hold.

“I’m so sorry, handsome. My friends are looking for me. Can we put a pin in this?” You asked, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes in an attempt to lessen his suspicions about your abrupt exit.

“Sure,” The guy was definitely miffed, the smile he flashed you nowhere close to reaching his eyes. “I'll just...grab another drink while I wait.“

Shoving down the guilt that blossomed in your chest as you lied to him, you waved goodbye and slid through the crowd towards your friends.

They were already on the edge of laughter when you reached them. You felt heat flood your cheeks as they gave you pitying looks.

”Time to eject?“ Leo asked, seemingly ok with the idea as they offered up your belongings that they'd been holding on to for safe keeping.

Nodding sheepishly, you took your purse from their outstretched hand. ”I thought it would help. It didn't. Can we go?“

”Ugh, already? We just got here!“ Stacy whined, her normal indifference relinquished about three shots ago.

”Stace–“ Leo patted her shoulder, sending a pointed nod towards you.

”It's ok, you two can stay, I'll just take a cab.” You assured, slinging your purse strap over your shoulder.

“Absolutely not, princess. You're stuck with us.” Stacy sighed, tossing the remainder of Leo's drink into her mouth before hopping down from her high-top seat.

“You owe me three dollars for that, missy.” Leo shook their head following the two of you as you maneuvered towards the door.

Given the size of the crowd, you weren't too worried about Blake spotting you. The lights were dim and strobing in random directions, your dress was cute but not particularly flashy. One variable you'd neglected to consider, however, was your ability to attract the worst case scenario at every opportunity.

As you and your friends wove through the crowd, your path was suddenly blocked by a sturdy man. The alcohol on his breath carried as he spoke. “Leaving so soon?”

Blake, backed by two men who could've been football players, frowned at you, eyes glowing with a barely concealed threat.

“Sorry, handsome!” You tried for a calm tone, but your voice and posture both wavered. Shrinking back ever so slightly, you turned your lips up in an attempt to explain. “Family emergency, I couldn't see you anywhere and thought–”

“Cut the crap.” Blake hissed, any charm he'd been using before was long forgotten.

“Ok fine. I recently got out of a...relationship of sorts and bit off more than I could chew. I'm sorry to have led you on, but I'm not ready to do anything tonight.” You reasoned, feeling Leo's hand rest on your shoulder in a display of support.

“And you think that's your decision to make?” The man to Blake's left snorted.

Disbelief and rage building in your chest, you crossed your arms. “Uh yah. I do, actually.”

The three men widened their stance, clearly trying to prevent you from leaving. Realization slowly dawned on you, your limbs going stiff as adrenaline flooded your body.

Leo wormed his way in between you and the aggressors, using their body as a barricade. ”Look, I get that this night isn't going how you imagined, but she doesn't owe you anything. Move aside and let us through.“

”Or what, pretty boy?“ The goon on the right side asked with a cocky smirk.

“They said get out of our fucking way, asshat.“ Stacy called, shoving her way between you and Leo and attempting to get past the human blockade.

You must've blinked at the exact moment the movement started, because you opened your eyes and everything had gone to shit. As Stacy pushed forward, she was thrown back into you. You both crashed to the ground, your head clanking against a chair leg in the process. Though the impact wasn't that hard, you were already slightly dizzy because of the alcohol you'd consumed, making the collision incredibly unpleasant.

Clambering back to your feet, you felt a pair of rough hands land on your shoulders. Your vision was swimming in all the commotion, the flashing lights behind you making the effect much worse, so the sensation of distinctly male hands against your bare skin made you screech.

Flailing away from him, you attempted to grapple your way to freedom. ”Let me go. Blake, I swear. Let me go or I'll scream.”

Whipping your head around to look for a way out, a familiar voice caught you off guard. “It's just me, sunshine. Just me.”

Your breath shook as your heart pounded in your throat. tilting your head to face forward, your clouded vision centered around a face you had been trying to forget.

Frank Castle was clad in his usual dark attire, surely dying of heat under his sweatshirt and beanie in the humidity of the bar. His face held a stony mix of fury and concern, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury.

For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped. You were frozen in place, staring incredulously at your rescuer. Apparently you'd been on the ground for longer than you thought, given that your friends were currently being escorted out by bouncers around the three vengeful men who were writhing in pain on the ground.

Mouth slightly ajar, you stared at Frank as your brain frantically tried to corral the myriad of emotions pinging around in your mind. Amazement and relief, then awe–quickly followed by hurt and pure anger.

Yanking yourself out of his grip, you shut your mouth forcefully as rage began to consume you. Before you could say anything, an irritated bouncer pointed a finger at you.

“You two, out. Now.”

Nodding in resignation, Frank reached for you again. “A'right, a'right. We're leavin'.”

“The fuck we are.” You bit out, glaring at him. “I'm not going anywhere with you, Frank.”

“Lady, don't make me haul your ass outta here.” Groaned the bouncer, not giving a single shit about your emotional distress.

“Give me a minute,” You grumbled, bending down to pick up your purse before you instigated anything else. As your gaze left Frank's face, you were left unguarded, his massive hands engulfing your waist and scooping you up to carry you out. “Christ! Frank, put me down!”

The large man ignored you, letting you meekly pummel him with your fists and hurl expletives at him as he carted you out of the bar. Eventually, crisp air wafted over your bare skin and Frank set you down on the concrete outside of the establishment.

The jarring shift from being draped over his shoulder to standing on your own two feet wasn't one your constitution could handle at the moment. Stumbling over the sidewalk, you splayed your hands out to regain your balance. Righting yourself, you saw Frank go to steady you and your bitter wrath boiled over.

“Absolutely not. Don't fucking touch me, Frank.” Arms crossing over your stomach, you curled in on yourself, backing away from him. His eyes widened, face stiffening into a grim expression.

“Ok, ok. I won't touch ya.” He withdrew his hands, intentionally exaggerating the movement to calm you down.

“Don’t touch me.” You murmured, huddling in your own embrace as your throat constricted. 

“Would ya rather I let you get thrown out yourself? Worse, you want me to let you get arrested?” Frank's scowl transitioned into a cocky smirk at the idea.

“Why?” You asked with a huff.

“Why..what?” He snorted, eyes sparkling with far too much pride for what he’d done. 

“Why do you care?” You threw your arms in the air. “I mean I’m sure you’re very busy taking care of people who actually matter to you.”

With a scoff, Frank's eyes flashed with displeasure–a reflection of the resentment in your tone. “Oh so that’s how it is?”

“Yeah that’s how it is, Frank. I didn’t need your help.” You pouted, arms wrapping back around yourself as your throat constricted.

“Sure. Next time I’ll let you stay on the floor like a piece of fuckin' furniture. Would that make ya happy?”

“I had it handled.” You groused, avoiding his eyes, though he saw right through your lie anyway.

Laughing sardonically at your childish argument, he nodded. “Sure you did, sunshine. Next time I’ll let you ‘handle it” ok?”

“Next time? What, like I’m some damsel in distress that needs a big man to come save her because she’s too helpless to take care of herself?” You were yelling now, attracting gazes from bystanders around the club.

“I wasn’t sayin’ that.” His jaw was set, an indication that he wasn't in the mood to listen to you. But you weren't about to let this slide after what he'd put you through.

“Then what were you saying, Frank? Because it sounds like you suddenly care if a man forces himself on me.” Tears were blurring your vision against your will. Hastily wiping them aside, you bit your tongue to avoid choking out a sob at the memory of leaving the construction site.

“Suddenly? What–” Anger momentarily vanishing, his face fell at the notion.

“Don’t play dumb, Frank, you’re  a man, you know how men think. How they act. How they... Don’t try to pretend that you give a shit now.” You glowered, keeping your eyes trained to the ground so he couldn't see them shining with your frustrated tears.

“I’m not–who forced themself on you?” Changing his focus mid-sentence, he stepped forward, as if to cradle you to his chest but you shuffled away stubbornly.

Despite your futile attempts to keep your face from betraying you, droplets of saline trailed down your cheeks as you laughed bitterly. “Who do you fucking think? You think those douchebags at your work only whale on you? No, a humiliated little girl is a lot less of a challenge.”

“Fuck, honey, I didn’t–” Tugging his hair, Frank growled

“I know you didn't. Because I'm not your wife, Frank.” Your voice broke as you voiced the words. “I’m not your ‘anything’ am I? Just another mistake to regret later, right?”

“Another mistake?” Frank called your name mournfully, his eyes locked on your crumpled face as you sobbed quietly just out of his reach.

 “Just… go home, Frank. I'll handle my own shit ‘next time’. Wouldn’t want someone to get the wrong idea.”

Digging the heel of your hand into your glassy eyes, you saw Leo and Stacy jogging towards the pair of you, elbowing people out of the way. Striding past Frank, you didn't bother to look back before running to your friends.

”Are you ok?“ Leo, who was sporting a split lip, tilted your face up with two fingers, examining it while Stacy wrapped you in a one-armed hug.

”Yah.“ You exhaled shakily, your body tense from recent events and unused adrenaline. ”Can we get out of here?”

Pressing a kiss to your head, Leo nodded. “Of course. C'mon, you two are staying at mine tonight.”

As you were waiting for a taxi, you snuck a glance over your shoulder, but the man you'd chewed out was nowhere to be found.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty five - witness statement

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of death, torture all that fun stuff, tiny mention of franks family stuff and a small illusion to sexy times.

a/n: oh my goddddd this series is simultaneously the best and worst thing happening to me. this chapter was originally so short, but i added heaps to the end and now that extra part i wrote in like 20 minutes is one of my favourites. as always i love you bitches so much. i think there’s only one chapter left. maybe an epilogue because i don’t want to blue ball you all. i can’t. this note is already too long and i’ve made you wait long enough. bye bye for now!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You know what a bad week is like.

Looking at your life in terms of numbers, something you used to try and do the first time you were locked up, you’ve had your fair share of them. It helped you count the days, keep track of how much time had passed. You’d look at it in weeks, seven days each— evaluating them, adding another scratch on the wall to keep count. A bad week would be lots of time drugged up, covered in blood, doing things you don’t think you can stomach to remember, and then passing out from exhaustion.

A good week to you used to be being left alone. Sleeping, getting food in a bowl and not slid across the floor. A warm day, one where you weren’t shivering to the point of pain. These past few weeks, though— they made you think that nearly every single week before this had been bad, because nothing could compare to this.

You could wake up whenever you wanted, a safety net of Frank Castle wrapped over and between you. You know he wakes up early, but he waits for you. Just sits there, holding you tight, waiting until whatever hour your eyes flutter open, just so you don’t have to wake up alone. When you finally regain consciousness out of the deepest sleeps of your life, you feel the warmth of the sun on your face. It streams in through the window, washing the room in a dull orange glow, and when you roll over it paints him in it too.

You allow yourself the freedom to indulge every instinct. He does, too. You spend hours there— wrapped in sheets, sometimes slow and searching, other times hard and rough, feeding parts of each other no one else seems to satisfy. He’s practically got you on lock, able to keep you on the edge for what feels like an eternity if he wants, but he always yields in the end. You learn him too, never looking away shyly, making sure he knows just how badly you want to look. You’d probably never leave that bed if you didn’t have to; happy to starve and fade away in his strong arms, the pleasure flooding your body far too tempting to be broken up by things as simple as food or water.

Eventually you get up, and you don’t care about the time. He cooks, and you watch. You try a few times, fucking up so many eggs that he has to go and buy more after one day. You settle on cleaning up if he makes sure the food is edible, and it’s sort of incredible how good he is at it. The smell of bacon quickly becomes a favourite, shaking off that final lull of sleep and post-sex haze.

You call your brother. A different phone every day, but you can hear his voice. He’s happy, safe, and making friends with the kids he’s staying with. You learn the mothers name— the one who was tortured by the Colonel— is Corinne. She talks to you, too. She is everything Sam needs, and tells you how well he’s doing. How much she cares for him, and how she owes you her children’s lives. Her husbands life.

You talk to the Doctor— who also has a name, Zaed. He is kind, and speaks softer than his wife. He tells you he will never be able to repay you and Frank for his life— but he already is. Keeping your brother safe is all you wanted, and he’s doing it.

Sam speaks broken Russian into the phone, with a horrible accent, but he’s learning. He sounds so happy there— a careless happiness you’d never be able to offer him if he was with you. He has to start school, and says he’s nervous, but he’s in the same grade as his best friend, Corinne and Zaed’s kid, Nikolai. You remember his face, how you thought for just a second that he was your brother when you and Frank broke into the sewerage system.

“They said the bus comes to my house and then drops me home! And, on Friday’s they serve pizza!” He told you, and you laugh at how he goes on to recite the rest of the school menu. You haven’t spoken to him since yesterday—his first day, but Corinne said he was so excited that when he came home he immediately fell asleep on the couch.

You can’t go out a whole lot, still playing it safe, but there’s no where you’d rather be. You and Frank spend your days like you had since you met each other— together. Even things you shouldn’t enjoy, like washing dishes or cleaning out the fridge that hadn’t been opened in three months feel good with him. You learn that he reads a lot, admittedly very slowly. You don’t understand how he can spend so much time in one book, absorbing every word and sentence like a sponge. You read how you watch movies— quickly, all at once, needing to know the ending right away.

You want to never leave this place. It seems he has that effect on you. Cementing you to wherever he is, just by hanging around. The trial sneaks up on you, and all the time in the world wouldn’t prepare you for it, but it comes anyways. Frank calls Matt the morning of, making sure everything is squared away. You talk to him too, spending three hours on speaker with him, planning for every possible defence and going over your statements to make sure he has everything he needs. The first few days are boring— long speeches against and for the states defense, along with a multitude of images from crime scenes. On about the fourth day, Matthew calls again, letting you know he’s presenting your evidence next.

Frank watches you like a hawk when it comes to the day, waiting for you to show some kind of sign to what your feeling, but you just sit in front of the TV, head in his lap, waiting for his face to pop up on the screen.

“The trial of the infamous crime boss Robert Gnucci is just minutes away from commencing its fifth and final day, and reports say the State have finalised their investigation and are ready to proceed. The lesser known firm Nelson & Murdock will also be providing statements today, representing an anonymous witness who corroborates the Gnucci’s ties to a multitude of assassinations, assaults, drug rings and extortion around the country. If so, this trial could be the end to New Yorks latest string of organised crime.” The presenter recites, and you close your eyes, focusing on the way Franks hand threads lightly through your hair. “We are now going live to the trial of the century, where lead FBI agent Dinah Madani’s representative Matthew Murdock will present the case against.”

“We don’t have to watch it.” Frank says, his hand still moving through your hair.

“Yeah, we do.”

“Why? Results will be the same at the end. Besides, the jury can take hours. Days.” You turn on your back, looking straight up at him.

“But this is the one that matters, right? This is my stuff— the things I said. I want to hear what the judge says. What… what people say about it.”

“About you.” He reads your mind, and you roll your eyes. “Fuck what they think.”

“Didn’t you care? When all this was happening to you— you didn’t care what people said about you?” He sighs, tugging on your shirt making you sit up. When you shuffle enough, he hooks his arms under you and pulls you into his lap, letting your head rest against his chest.

“This was different for me. I did what I did because I wanted to. I needed to… I needed them dead. It was a choice I made, and at the time nothing else mattered but killing them.” You keep looking at the TV, where Dinah is sitting on the stand, being sworn in. “I knew what people said, the shit they called me. I even read about myself— they put my face in all the papers. I couldn’t avoid it.”

“That didn’t eat at you?”

“I wasn’t in my head. Maybe if it was now, it might of stayed with me. But no, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought.” You nod, burying yourself closer to him. “You shouldn’t either. People will say all kinds of shit for the next few months, but it blows over. It always does. They’ll get some new Avenger, or another gang, and people won’t remember what they were so worried about. People don’t even recognise me anymore.”

“I know you’re right.” You turn your head straight to watch the TV again. “Still. I want to watch.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It goes for hours. Frank listens to Murdock talk for hours on end, so much that he thinks his ears will bleed next time he picks up the phone. There’s case after case, body and body. It’s almost never ending, but you watch the whole thing. Franks not sure if you even blink.

He expects some kind of reaction, seeing the photos of bodies and hearing what Bobby’s lawyers were saying about you. About what you did. Their whole angle was that you acted alone, and that you did what you did because you wanted to. Out of loyalty. It made him even more convinced he should of just killed him where he stood.

Then it’s Murdocks turn, and when it hits 2pm he’s still talking. Frank gets up and leaves you on the couch, figuring it’s been hours since you’d eaten something. He also isn’t sure he could sit and listen to anyone else talk about you like they know you. At least Murdock seemed like he was winning something.

“Frank! It’s over.” You call from the couch, and Frank abandons whatever he was about to make. “They said the jury’s going to decide.”

“Might be days from now. Come eat something.” He encourages.

When you finally drag yourself off the couch and come over to the table, Frank shoves a sandwich in your direction before answering the buzzing phone on the table.

“Yeah?” Your head perks up, eyes wide with hope when he hands the phone to you. “Corinne.”

He watches you talk, pacing up and down the small expanse of the kitchen. You ask about Sam, who’s at school, and he hears something about a soccer team he wants to join. You nearly cry, but hide it well in your voice. Corinne must start asking about the trial because you tell her you’ve been watching all day, but you haven’t heard anything. You look up at him when the call ends, and he can tell it’s not just today that hangs heavy on your shoulders.

“He okay?” Frank asks when you chuck the phone on the counter and run your hands through your hair.

“Amazing. apparently. Wants to play soccer.” You laugh dryly. “I’m such an asshole. I should be happy he’s happy, but all I can think of is how in a months time I’ll rip him away from whatever life he’s made up there.”

“He wants to be with you— where you are. He’ll be okay.”

“No. He… he wants to see me, but he doesn’t want to come back here.” Frank leans forward, dipping his head to look at you.

“He said that?”

“It’s more what he isn’t saying. He wants me to— us to come visit.” You sigh, and shake your head. “I’m not… I’m not his mother. I can’t take him away from that, from that safety net. He’s in school— making friends. He has a life there. A good one, one I didn’t think he’d get a shot at. And the longer I leave him there, the worse it will be when I take him away.”

“Kids are resilient.” Frank offers, and your shoulders slump.

“I don’t want him to have to be. He’s been through enough. I was worried he’d be all kinds of fucked up but he sounds so…happy. Would I really be doing the right thing if I took him back?” Frank has no idea what you’re trying to tell him, and the last thing he would do is tell you what to do with your own brother. Hell, he even likes the kid. “Corinne said… she said that she’d look after him.”

“What?” Frank moves around the table, reaching out for your hand.

“I don’t know how to raise a kid. I don’t even know if I can; but I know I want him to be happy. And safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that’s all I wanted for him, right?”

“Of course. I know, and you got him out. He is.” He tucks you to his chest, moving to stand between your legs and hold you closer.

“Yeah, he is. He’s happy and safe and playing fucking soccer—“ You choke on a sob, and Franks hands fist in your hair. Like if he tries, he could pull you so close and take it all away. Fix it for you. “I can’t fuck this up for him. I can’t. He can’t come back here.”

“Shh. Shh, you’re okay.” He holds your face, thumbs gently swiping away your tears. “You’re okay.”

“She said he could stay.” Your voice is so small, Frank feels his chest crack at the sound. “Am I selfish if I let him? I… I don’t know how— I’m not his mom. I’m not. I can’t be my mom—“

“Hey. Look at me.” Your eyes are rimmed with tears, but you look. “You are not selfish, and you aren’t his mom.”

“I should act like it though, shouldn’t I? It’s my fault that he—“

“No, it isn’t. I would hate for my kids to of taken that shit on if I wasn’t there for them. You got him out, and kept him safe. All that shit you did? It was worth it. It was fucking worth it. He’s out. And you were always going to figure something out for him, because you’re not selfish.” Your eyes were shut, still blinking out tears. “I’m not gonna lie and say I wouldn’t love to have the kid here. He makes you happy, and he grew on me a little.”

“Really?” You open your eyes, eyebrows knitted together.

“Course he did. But raisin’ a kid— that is a full time gig, and it’s not one you signed up for. My life isn’t one I’d wish on anyone, and especially not for a kid like him.” He feels the wet stain of your tears on his hands, and he bends down to kiss them away. “Baby if you gotta go to him, I understand. My life won’t get less complicated. Yours could.”

“It won’t.” You say, voice strained and feather soft. “And I don’t want it to. If my life being complicated means you’re still in it, I wouldn’t change a thing. I know what I am now. Who I am. And I know I’m not what he needs.”

“You’re family. Nothin’ changes that.” Nodding, your bright red eyes stare up at him, and Frank knows his heart still works, that it’s still beating in his chest but when you look at him like that he swears it isn’t there for a second. “Whatever you choose, I’m with you.”

“Mhmm.” You say, and Frank thinks you’ll keep talking but instead you just kiss him, shutting yourself up. Franks happy to give you the distraction, calming your breathing by taking control, hands cupping your face with a newfound strength, anchoring you both to each other.

He thinks he could spend an eternity here— your mouth was addictive. Constantly surprising him, he could never pick how you would kiss him back. Sometimes it was messy and desperate, teeth and tongue fighting each other, and you’d match him with a strength only you could push him back with. Other times, like now, it was something more. Way more than he deserved, and more than he thought he was capable of giving someone. Full of something golden— something that turned his blood red hot and surging through his veins.

He knew what it was, but up until a few weeks ago he didn’t have the balls to admit it. He knew it was love, probably way earlier than he should of, but all that mattered was he knew it now, and he’d chase it to the ends of the god damn world if he had to.

Your phone buzzed on the table, and you pulled away, tears now dry on your face. Frank looked at it, seeing it wasn’t Murdock calling, but the other guy he worked with.

“Why’s Foggy calling?” You looked up at Frank after grabbing the phone, and Franks stomach dropped.

You answered the phone, listening intently, never taking your eyes off him.

“What are you saying?” You said after a while, sliding out from in front of Frank to start pacing around the table. “What?!”

“What’s he saying?” Frank follows after you but you wave him off, still trying to listen to the rambling on the other end of the line. Even Frank can hear how much he’s talking, even if he can’t decipher a word of it.

“I… okay. Thanks. Tell— yeah. Okay.” Your voice is small, and Frank stops your pacing with his hands, holding your shoulders as he pulls the phone from your ear. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, showing nothing of what you just heard.

“Tell me what happened.” Frank says into the phone, his voice trained and hard.

“They… Frank, they found him not guilty. Bobby is free.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Stop stalling. Do your fucking job.” You hear Frank in the other room, probably yelling at Matt. You don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him to calm down, and you just try to tune it out to focus on your own phone call.

“You are still there?” Corinne says through the line, snapping your attention back to her.

“Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” You try your best to keep your voice high, but she seems to read right through it.

“It’s okay. I didn’t know if I should call… I just wish there was something I could do for you.” You can tell why Sam likes her so much.

“Trust me, you are doing more than enough.” You shut the door as Frank starts to talk louder, wanting to distract yourself. “How is he?”

“He’s a little angel. I’m watching him right now, kicking around the ball in the backyard. Him and Nikolai never leave each others side.” If you close your eyes, you can nearly see it. “They’ve been good for each other. I didn’t think either of them would settle so quickly, given… well, you know. But, they seem to have bonded.”

“Hm.” She speaks with such warmth— an open heartedness that you think only comes with being a mother. “I’m glad.”

“You are welcome here anytime, you know. The police said you could come, if you needed to leave the city. We have had no problems, no questions— like nothing had ever happened.” Frank opens the door softly, poking his head in. “If you would feel safer here…”

“Thank you, Corinne. Really. I… I would love that, but I can’t leave Fr— here. I can’t leave everything like it is.” You think if you could see her, she would be giving you a knowing smile.

“Of course.”

“I thought about what you said.” Frank closes the door behind him, walking over to you and sliding his hands around your stomach. “About having Sam stay.”

“You don’t think about that right now. You have to sort out you— please. Don’t worry. He is safe, and happy. The future will come as it is meant to.” Franks head rests on your shoulder, warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. “I will call you later, yes? The boys are hungry and I am worried they’ll eat through my drywall if I don’t feed them.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” Laughing, you feel at least a small weight rise of your chest. “Thank you.”

“Take care of yourselves.” Before you can figure out how she knew Frank was listening, the phone goes dead.

“You done yelling at Matt?” You say, and Frank drags you onto the bed in one tug, the air leaving your lungs as he wraps you into him.

“No.” He grumbles behind your ear. “You alright?”

“No.” He doesn’t say anything, just holds you a little tighter. “Did Matt say—“

“Nothing. He said nothing. Nothing he can do about this.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “You should take her up on it.”

“What?”

“Go to Florida. See Sam.” You try to twist on his arms, but he doesn’t let you budge an inch. “Calm down. I’m not saying forever. But Murdock said—“

“You said he didn’t say anything.” He grumbles something again, words lost in the mess of your hair he’s buried himself in.

“Nothin’ useful. Said you wouldn’t be safe in New York, and if it was up to him, he’d get you out of here until he can appeal.”

“We talked about this. I want to be wherever you are. I can handle myself.”

“I know, baby. I know that. You don’t need a babysitter. Which is why you should go to Florida.”

This time, he lets you roll over, faces almost touching. His eyes are closed, and no matter how many times you’ve seen him this close you still find it just as intriguing. Like a marble statue, the urge to reach out and run your fingers over his skin is too tempting, brushing over the scars on his cheek.

“What will you do? Will you come with me?” He keeps his eyes closed, his jaw relaxing under your soft touches.

“Yeah. I’ll come when it’s done.” You furrow your eyebrows, and he opens his eyes like he senses it. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“When it’s done?” You know what he means. It’s exactly like him— to think he has to do this. To take this loss on his shoulders, to think that he needs to do it. To fix this. “Frank—“

“Stop.” He says softly, but his face is hard. “I never should of let this go. Should of finished it in Washington.”

“That wasn’t up to you, and it’s not now. Whatever you’re thinking of doing…”

“You know what I’m doing. I’m doing the one thing that we both know will end this. The one thing that I know works.” You swallow hard.

“You’re gonna kill him.” Frank doesn’t nod, but he watches your face for your reaction. “Why would I need to go to Florida?”

“You can’t be anywhere near here. If Madani finds out, and she will— you need an alibi that isn’t me.”

“You’ve actually thought this through.” He laughs dryly, then leans forward to kiss you quickly.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Frank’s hands run down your body, his eyes tracking, watching the way you shiver when his rough hands graze over skin. Finding your hips, he tugs you closer, and you swing your leg over his torso languidly. Hair falls in front of your face that he dutifully tucks behind your ears, thumb tracing your eyebrow. “Do this for me, and let me do this for you.”

Now he’s below you, your own hands drift to his shoulders. He holds your hips, thumbs rubbing circles onto places they’ve become so familiar with its nearly impossible to remember a time they didn’t belong to him. Like he’s etched himself there, shadows of his hands always waiting for him to come home.

“I’ll pack tomorrow.” You say, and he tugs you down, kissing you hungrily. You give— let him lead you like he does so well. You know what you’re residing to, what he’s going to do. It’s what he was doing before he found you, and what he’s probably going to do for the rest of his life.

He wants this, by the way he’s moving your hips and groaning into your mouth, the answer you gave him is the one he wants. It goes against what your logical mind is shouting at you— that he’s putting himself in danger for you, again. He groans again when your hands tug on his hair.

He wants this, you hear in your brain again. He wants this. He was who he was— you’d never change Frank, and you didn’t want to. He was a protector, a brick wall you’d put your shoulder out trying to break down. He was hard and stubborn, shattered and glued back together a million times over, and when he wanted something, he did everything he could to get it. He wanted this— to do this for you. Take care of you. It was a part of him that would probably get him killed, but it also happened to be a part you treasured with everything you had. The part that made you feel safe.

“Good girl.” He says lowly, voice vibrating through you. The words make you both smile, then he pulls you underneath him and you’re lost again, and nothing else matters.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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