#madani tube

[madanitube]

عورت کی شرمگاہ کو تنگ اور خوشبودار کرنے کا نسخہ

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

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𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

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The aircraft door opened and you stepped out gratefully onto the air jetty. You weren’t scared of flying, you just didn’t like being cooped up in a flying tube for several hours on end. Up an escalator and along a short corridor and then you were able to see outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was beginning to shade into the colours it would take on for dusk. It looked like it had been a nice day and you hoped the good weather would continue for your stay.

Karen had texted you while you were sitting on the plane at JFK, waiting for it to push back. Frank had told her that Micro had tracked your phone to the airport so boy, were you glad you’d turned off your old phone and switched to the new one when you did. She’d also told you that Billy had asked him to find out where you were headed, and your heart sank. You knew it wouldn’t take long for Micro’s vast and nerdy computer skills to find you but then again, London was a huge city and they’d have no idea whereabouts in it you’d gone to ground, thanks to your new ‘burner phone’.

You were feeling super-excited. This was beginning to feel like an action movie, with you on the run from the bad guys.

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“London??!!” Billy shouted, making Frank quickly move his phone away from his ear on the other end. “Yeah, London,” he replied.

Billy was back at his usual post by the window. “I mean... obviously I knew she was gonna fly somewhere but I thought it would the West coast, Miami, Seattle, Alaska... somewhere like that. But to go to a whole other continent....!!!!” Frank sighed, “Yeah, Bill, sounds like she’s really not keen to bump into you anytime soon.” “Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me.” “Bill, you brought this on yourself, buddy.” “I know!” yelled Billy, “An’ all I wanna do is get her back and make it up to her for the rest of my life, and all I know is she’s in London! Do you know how big that place is?” “Yeah, I do. And t’be honest... I dunno how you’re gonna even try to find her over there.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I mean...” Frank continued, “I’m guessin’ you are gonna go over there and try to find her, Bill?”

Billy’s shoulder twitched upwards briefly, and he stared intently out the window at the New York skyline.

“Yeah, Frankie... yeah, I damn well am.”

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You’d left two of your big suitcases and the backpacks in a luggage storage facility at JFK, travelling with just the one suitcase and a large shoulder bag. You took the overground Heathrow Express to Paddington before negotiating a change onto the Tube to reach Tower Hill DLR station, boarding one of the driverless trains out to Canary Wharf. Settling back into your seat, feeling pretty proud of yourself for managing not to get hopelessly lost.

Your AirBnB apartment was in a part of the city called Docklands, beside the Thames on the Isle of Dogs. It was an area of shiny skyscraper offices and fancy apartment blocks built round the old docks, and your accommodation for the next two weeks was in one of those. You were suitably impressed when you got inside it... open plan, all trendy furniture and gleaming fittings. Big, big windows with views of the river and the tall buildings.

Your phone chimed and you saw a text from Karen on your notifications. Taking your suitcase and bag into the bedroom, you went back out to the main area and sat on the sofa to read it. Oh. Billy now knew you were in London, and had apparently booked a flight over - he’d be arriving tomorrow. Your heart rate sped up; Billy was a sniper, used to finding, stalking, watching his prey. But, you told yourself, he had no idea whereabouts in the city you were and no way of finding you.

Relax.

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Billy stepped off the Heathrow Express, looking around for signs indicating where the taxi rank was. He’d been looking at the Tube map during the train journey. Nah, fuck that.

He was too wired to even think about getting to London Bridge on the Underground, or ‘Tube’ as he found out Londoners called it. His brain had been working overtime trying to figure out how the hell he was going to find her in a city the size of London. She’d stay central, surely - she wouldn’t head to the suburbs, he felt confident of that.

Getting into the first taxi in the queue, he drawled out, “The Shard, please.” The taxi driver nodded and pulled away from the station without saying anything. Thank fuck, thought Billy, I can’t be dealing with a talker right now. But just as the thought had left his head, the driver’s London accent said, “First time in London, guv?” Billy sighed, “No. No, it isn’t.” In fact it was, but he wasn’t about to tell the driver that. He’d only end up getting taken on the ‘scenic route’, double the time, double the price.

The driver grunted and turned up the radio... really annoying music could now be heard but Billy would take that over inane small talk any day. He looked out of the windows at the city streets and his mind went back to his mission. Mission impossible. Finally he saw the river and the taxi crossed a wide bridge before pulling up outside the lofty skyscraper that was The Shard. According to the blurb he’d read on some travel website it was the tallest in Western Europe, and while there were taller buildings in New York, the shape of this one made it look quite dramatic.

He paid and got out of the taxi with his expensive wheeled duffel bag, heading to the Shangri La entrance of The Shard and going inside. (It’s one of the priciest hotels in London - of course). Checked in at reception on the 35th floor, he was then whisked up to his room on the 52nd by another express lift. The windows were huge and the views spectacular.

Once again, he was gazing out of a window at a cityscape.

Where is she?

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Your first full day, you occupied yourself with getting to know the surrounding area, doing some grocery shopping and sitting on your large balcony, enjoying the view and relaxing with a glass of wine.

Every time a plane went overhead you wondered if Billy was on it - he was due here today. You shook yourself a little, you’d just have to stop thinking about it. He wouldn’t find you.

Your mind wandered unbidden to his recent behaviour. Knowing Billy was a player from day one, you’d still got involved with him. More fool you. Another old cliché.... you thought you’d be the one to change him. And you thought you had. You’d dated him for a few months, he seemed to have ditched his old hound-dog ways and when he’d asked you to move in with him, you’d agreed without thinking it over too deeply.

Now, looking back, it seems like you’d made a big mistake.

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Micro had spent quite some time constructing a query table that he could run against accommodation reservations in London for her arrival day. She had no reason to book under another name and he’d just have to run with that assumption.

When Billy had come directly to him instead of going via Frank to ask that he try and track down her reservation, Micro had been too scared to refuse. Billy still really unsettled him - he always reminded him of a circling predator.

This query would take a while to run. He hit the go button and wandered off to work on another project while it tunnelled its way through layer upon layer of data.

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Billy was pacing his swanky hotel room like a caged panther. He’d given up on the idea of roaming the streets of London trying to spot his target, that was just one dumbass idea. He’d never find her that way, much better to just wait on that geeky twat to come up with the answer with his internet wizardry.

He’d spoken to Frank earlier, who had nothing new to report. Billy wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty at cutting him out of the loop on his recent ask to Micro. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Frank wouldn’t mention it to Karen. Much as he loved him like a brother, Frank was a big sap when it came to Karen and he knew he’d give in and tell her, probably sooner rather than later.

However Frank had told him that Madani had called earlier that day, wanting to know where Billy was and why she couldn’t get in touch with him. Billy had figured out that his girl had got herself a new phone, and he’d followed suit. Which is why Dinah hadn’t been able to reach him. “Whaddya tell her?”he’d asked. “That you were on an overseas operation and were incommunicado.” “Good,” nodded Billy, “....that takes care of that little problem for a while at least,” feeling a sense of relief.

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Frank cut the call, a grim smile on his face. He hadn’t been completely straight with Billy, but it was for his own good. What he’d told Madani, however, had been the unadulterated gospel truth.

He’d said to her that Billy had hared off to Europe in pursuit of his live-in girlfriend, who’d suspected him of cheating on her and left him. He was absolutely determined to get her back.

He’d taken great satisfaction in the dead silence on the other end of the line, eventually punctuated by an angry snort and the call being abruptly ended.

That ‘little problem’ was hopefully taken care of for good.

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Micro looked at his phone as it beeped at him, the notification saying that his query was complete. That had taken much longer than he thought it would. Now he could only hope it hadn’t returned too many matches as he’d thought it prudent to run it on surname only.

He pulled up the results table and was pleased to see that there were only a thousand or so, he’d feared there would be many more. He scrolled through the list and quickly pinpointed the one he’d been looking for.

With a deep sigh he picked up his phone, typed “Wood Wharf, Water St, London E14”, a building and apartment number into a new message, then hit send. It would be the early hours of the following morning in London, so he very much doubted that Billy would leap out of bed and head right over there.

He finished eating his supper, drank a beer and settled down to watch TV when his conscience started bothering him. Should he? He shivered when he thought about what Russo might do to him if he found out.

Popping another bottle of beer open, he sat and contemplated what he should do for quite a while. He suddenly picked up his phone, sending a quick text to Frank telling him about the whole situation and including the fact that Russo now had her London address.

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While you were lounging on your balcony, sipping your wine and watching the world go by, it suddenly occurred to you that this would be a great base to work out of for a while. You messaged the estate agent and extended your stay to one month, with an option to extend if required.

Then, on a whim, you booked a flight to Barcelona early the next morning from City Airport - it was really close to your apartment even if the flights were a bit more expensive. You’d been doing a little research into other destinations to explore, and having a base in London to travel to and from made you feel much more comfortable. The W Barcelona had caught your eye while you’d been browsing for accommodation and as you were only going for a few nights, you’d booked in there.

Feeling extremely pleased with yourself, you got up and went into your bedroom, looking for a folded-up smaller travel bag you knew you’d packed in your luggage. Finding it, you began to choose some outfits for your short trip, thinking what a joy it was that you could now leave your large suitcase here.

But damn, you were going to have to be up early tomorrow. Best to get an early night, you thought, immediately yawning.

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Billy shot up in bed as his phone chimed with Micro’s text. When he read the information in the text, contrary to Micro’s belief he did leap out of bed and started pulling on his clothes (Micro had forgotten that this was an ex-Marine he was dealing with here).

He sat back down on the bed and googled the location. Oh okay, East London.... Docklands. Too far to walk and he didn’t think the Tube ran at this hour. Then he pulled up the Uber app and booked an immediate pick-up.

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Walking into the terminal building at City Airport, you were in the middle of a total yawning fit when a text came in. It was from Karen and you stopped, putting down your bag so you could read it.

Karen: Sorry to tell you this hon, but Billy went direct to Micro 🙄 and intimidated him into finding your London accom. Frank’s told him not to do that again no matter how much he’s shitting himself! Please take care of yourself 💋

You: Bastard 👿 thanks for the heads-up, I will do 😘

Picking your bags up again, you hurried over to one of the automated check-in machines to get your luggage tag.

Whoever had said ‘timing is everything’ had definitely got that right.

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“Oi!!!” yelled an irate male voice. Billy turned his head to see a groggy-looking tousle-haired guy, obviously just having been woken up. “Keep the noise down!”

Billy said nothing, just gave the guy his death stare. His head quickly disappeared back inside his apartment.

After pressing the buttons of a few apartment numbers at the main entrance, someone had buzzed him in and he’d been pounding on her apartment door for the last five minutes. But there was no response, and he knew she wasn’t that heavy a sleeper.

He slid tiredly down onto the floor outside her door. Had she somehow known he was on his way over here? No.... how would she know that?

His head dropped down in momentary defeat and he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning.

She hadn’t moved on already, had she?

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The plane lifted off the tarmac, and immediately you felt a huge sense of relief. You just weren’t ready to see Billy right now - you’d probably kill him if you did, ex-Marine or not.

Now you were off on your next adventure.

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London

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss

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[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Darlin'

Warnings: the Punisher themes, blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, Agent Madani (cause she's a trigger warning for me XD), sweet Frank

Word Count: 9095. This is a long one. Buckle up! MINORS DNI!

Her father looked at her with his heart in his eyes, her face bruised and marred.

“Darling, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, patting her hand. She smiles at him.

“It’s okay.” She croaks, cracking her cuts on her face when she smiles bigger. He pats her lips with a paper towel, applying a couple drops off water to her mouth. “Chapstick in my purse, dad.” She coos, giving him a chuckle.

“Of course, baby.” He smiled, kissing her forehead and digging into her purse for that little tube of chapstick. She takes it, putting some on and sighing in relief. “I hired a bodyguard. Don’t fight me this time please. A different bodyguard; one more your style. Maybe you won’t run away from this one.” He chides, giving her a half-unimpressed look.

“Pop, it’s not my fault. He was old and boring.” She whines.

“Well, you can rest assured this one is not old or boring.” He chuckles, waving someone in. This beast of man, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and a dark look walks in. Her eyes drink him in. His all black apparel, tee shirt, cargo pants, military boots.

“Wow.” She whispers, “definitely not old.”

“I thought you might enjoy his company more. Since he doesn’t talk and he can’t be persuaded to take you out onto the town at three in the morning for waffles.” Frank chuckles. “Can you be persuaded to take her to get waffles at three in the morning?” He asks, jabbing a finger at the man.

“No, sir. I just think it’s funny that a bodyguard could be, sir.”

“Great. Military.” She heaves a sigh and rolls her lips together.

“This is my daughter, Kat. She’s my baby. I need you to promise you’d give your life to keep her safe.” Her father explains, her eyes watching the gold watch on his tan wrist.

“Sir, can I speak to you in the hallway?” He asks, looking at the door.

“Sir, you know who I am right?” He asks, looking to the man with a partially confused look.

“I’m Frank Castle. I killed so many people the US government lost count and gave me a new identity. But please justs call me Frank.” He explains, and her father’s eyes widen for a moment.

“You are Frank Castle. Wow.” He whispers.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“Alright, well. My daughter, Kat, she’s my world. Do you understand that?” He asks, looking to Frank and seeing him nod.

“Yeah, I get that.” He swallows hard.

“Good, now. My daughter is my whole existence. I love her with everything I have. She’s in the hospital because some men were looking for me and she wouldn’t give me up. If you’re ever in that situation, and she’s with you, tell her to give it up. Okay? My life is not valuable if I lose her. Understood? So if she’s ever kidnapped with you, please, give them whatever information they ask you for, okay? And when she gets released today, I’m putting the two of you in a safe house so she can heal.” He offers giving her a smile through the window, waving. Something about the sweet woman laying in that hospital made Frank almost feel weak. His stomach seemed to turn.

“Okay, and who’s supposed to be posted anywhere else near it? I’ll kill on sight if I don’t know them.” He states as calmly as his own name. Her father, Gianno, grins and claps Frank on the shoulder.

“Your huge. You’re a killer. And it’s sweet.” He chuckles, leaving Frank outside for a moment as he goes to talk to his daughter.

“Honey, I need to tell you something, okay? When you’re released in a few minutes, I’m going to have you quietly placed in a safe house away from me. Okay? Until you’re healed. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad? Is Hercules going?” She giggles, pointing to the large man with his back to the door. Her father just nods and laughs. “Then I am not mad. I’ll be holed up in a one bedroom apartment with that sweet, huge man and I cannot wait.” She explains.

“Wow, you know you can’t sleep with him, right?”

“And if I did. I’d never tell you. Who’s packing my stuff?” She asks, looking at him quizzically.

“Lyla is, currently. I figured if any girl knew what to pack it’d be her.” He laughs. The door opens, Frank nodding to her father.

“Hello! I’m Doctor Haas. I’m here with the paperwork for you, dear.” The woman nods with a gleaming smile. Handing over a clipboard, Kat signs the paperwork in record time and happily changes out of the gown. “We’ll grab a wheelchair from the hall and--”

“No! No, please. No wheelchair. Between pop and Hercules I’ll be fine. Honestly. I wanna walk out on my own.” She whines, standing on quaking legs.

“Alright! No problem.” She smiles, giving her a nod and sending her on her way.

“Honeybun, maybe you should think about using the--”

“No! Pop, I’m not using it.” She gingerly steps into the hallway. Frank looks down at her for a moment, taking in the situation. Before he can say a word, she looks up with shimmering grey-blue eyes and a pleading smile. “I can’t use a wheelchair. I have to walk out of here.” She whispers, gripping his hand.

“Okay.” He whispers back. With a look at her, he tucks her under his arm, holding her up at her waist to keep her on her feet. Even when her legs start to give way at the exit door, Frank holds fast and gets her quickly to the car.

“You can do it.” He whispers as the steps get closer and closer, the car only a yard away. “Come on. If anyone can do it, you can. You didn’t take a wheelchair because you know you’re strong.” He coos, getting her to push through the last ten steps before collapsing into the SUV.

“Thank you.” She whispers, hugging his neck as he lifts her onto the seat. He climbs in next to her, buckling her in.

“Safe house.” Her father states as he gets into the passenger seat with a little smirk on his face.

“Tell me, Hercules. Where are you from?” She asks, gripping his bicep and gleaming up at him.

“Queens.” He smiles, his eyes scanning around them while he talks to her.

“You married?” She asks, looking at the necklace that hangs around his neck.

“I was.” He states, looking out the windows for suspicious cars.

“Ah sorry. Divorced?”

“Killed. My wife and two kids.” He states, looking to her with pain in his eyes.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” She coos, patting his shoulder. “God I’m tired.” She murmurs, tipping over onto his shoulder and falling asleep. He gently leans her to the other door onto the padded seat back and sits back up, eyes scanning again.

“Mister Luccianni, that silver grand am to your right, has been following us for the past two miles.” He states, grabbing for his weapon. “Gimme the go, I’ll smoke em.” He offers, narrowing his sights and putting his finger on the window button.

“Stand down. They’re your test. You passed. Good eye. Is she asleep?” Her father asks as they pull into a parking garage.

“Yeah.” He nods, the car coming to a slow stop in a parking spot.

“The silver car has her things in it. It’s the most common car in the state of New York it seems. So, Lyla, her best friend is in the car. She’s sex-crazed and will probably hit on you. She’s got Kat’s things and she can help put them in the apartment. Now. Next, I need you to carry her in, as unsuspecting as possible. It’s midday and people are out and about. Try not to give yourselves away. Lyla is dressed in a mover’s uniform. Short brunette, pencil straight hair. There will be neighbors out. You two are newly married until you get in that door.” Her father debriefs him with a smile and gives him a nod.

“Got it, sir. Is she to stay in the apartment all the time? Will she sneak out? What do the men look like who did this to her?”

“Don’t keep her cooped up the whole time, she’ll go crazy. Call a driver first. The driver confirms with you. You bring her out as your new wife. You get into the car. She will sneak out. Lyla will probably convince her to sneak out so they can go wine tasting or something. Lyla’s a good girl, but she’s crazy. The men who did this? They look dead.” He answers all the questions and he nods. Frank found her interesting. “She’s been engaged, but never married. He was killed, much like your family.” He coos, looking at his daughter with a loving, sad smile. “Alright, it’s time to go in.” He smiles, letting Frank get out first, scooping her out of the seat and starting towards the door.

“What-what’s happening?” She asks. Half awake, half asleep, the jostling is all to familiar and she kicks out, diving to the ground and waking up immediately. Frank stares down at her with wide eyes and a little smirk.

“You good now?” He gruffs, sticking out a hand. She takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” She whispers as he tucks her under his arm.

“It’s okay, hunny. Those men can’t hurt you again.” He states out loud, his big hand covering the side of her face and holding it against his chest. “We’re married when we leave this aparment.” He hushes as they walk, never missing a beat.

“Well, alright then.” She giggles loudly, letting him keep her against him. As her father lets them into the apartment, Frank almost has to peel her off of him. “Aw, c’mon hunny! I’m not done cuddling.” She whines, making grabby hands at him. “You’re so warm.” He just chuckles, heading into the room with her father and other guards to discuss what the next plan is. A knock at the door has Frank’s undivided attention. Peeking through the peephole, he sees the described woman who was bringing her things in. He waves her over, signaling to be quiet.

“Is this Lyla?” He asks, covering her mouth as she gasps. She nods violently, grabbing for the handle. Frank’s hand is faster, tugging hers away. “Go over there.” He hushes, pointing behind the couch. Huffing, she rolls her eyes and wobbles to the couch. Frank carefully opens the door and finds a petite woman with a cart full of suitcases. “Name.” He barks, hand resting on his pistol.

“Lyla. I’m here for welcome party.” She grins so widely Frank finds it odd, but when he peeks out, he sees a neighbor looking over at them.

“My wife must’ve invited you! C’mon in!” He cheers, waving her in and shutting the door. “The arsenal arrived.” He chuckles, waving Kat over.

“I’m so happy to finally see you!” She cheers, gripping her best friend in a warm, tight hug. When Kat groans at the slight throb in her ribs, Frank’s head flips back to them.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” She assures, heading into the bedroom and Lyla follows, dragging the bags along with her. Frank laughs, heading back into the room with her father and guards again. She curls up onto the couch after waving goodbye to her best friend. Frank had tossed his jacket onto the couch with his duffelbag and when she saw his coat, the only blanket-like thing near her, she draws it to her and covers up with it.

“But we’ll head out so you two can get better acquainted. The fridge and cupboards have been stocked up for you. Drinks are in the island, as well as wine in the cabinet. If Lyla tries to kidnap her, just shmooze her with wine tasting.” He chuckles, kissing his daughter atop her buised head and stepping out.

As she wakes from her nap, she sees the most glorious sight. A glass-walled shower with frosted glass and her bodyguard’s naked body in said shower. He climbs out, wrapping the towel around his waist. Combing through his hair, he feels eyes on himself and looks out the open door to see she’s awake.

“Hey, hot bodyguard.” She gives an awkward wave, jaw still on the floor.

“Hey, Kat.” He waves, dropping the towel just outside of her eyesight, returning a moment later dressed in a gray tee shirt and jeans, hearing a audible groan.

“It’s Frank, by the way.” He chuckles, offering a hand.

“It might be wise to know my newly wedded husband’s name. In case the neighbors ask.” She laughs, patting the couch with an inviting smile.

“You should shower.” He ruffs, helping her to her feet. “Doctor said first night you shower, try not to lift your arms too much. So I’m the best you got.” He smiles, a little excited to see her naked, frosted glass or not.

“Great. So you’re name is Frank, you’ve known me twelve hours, and now you’re going to see me naked? This is a fucking treat.” She rolls her eyes, but Frank just laughs.

“You didn’t think you’d be the only one to get a show, did you?” He asks.

“Hey now! I happened to wake up at the right time. That’s not my fault.” She laughs, defending herself as she gives a grin.

“It is now, c’mon, doll.” He chuckles as she digs through the suitcase for underwear, a bra, and a shirt. She’d found shorts already.

“Did you just call me doll? Should I call pops and tell him you already have a crush on me?” He just rolls his eyes as she walks to the bathroom. Tugging off her sweatpants and underwear, she feels exposed, but she can’t get her shirt off. Snapping her fingers, she hooks the t-shirt’s collar onto the towel hook and tugs the shirt off, sobbing when her arm is raised so high. Frank comes through the door.

“You okay?” He asks, looking around her to find her shirt hanging on the hook.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She nods, letting Frank’s eyes drink her in. “Actually, Frank? Can you unhook this? I can’t get it.” She whines, pushing on her bra with one hand.

“Sure.” Unhooking her bra, his knuckles brushing her smooth skin, his eyes travel down the gauze pads that pepper her back.

“Those have to come off too.” She whispers, meaning the gauze pads. He peels each one off gingerly to find a variously shaped cigarette burns on her back.

“What the hell?” He whispers, his finger running between the burns. She shivers at the intimate touch and he jerks his hand away. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay.” She whispers, putting Frank’s hand back on her shoulder and letting him trail down again.

“It looks like a constellation.” He whispers, pulling away his hand.

“Thank you.” She coos, letting the hot water start.

Frank washes her back and shoulders, gentle around her burns.

“Thank you.” He puts the loofa down and steps out of the bathroom giving her a little privacy and himself a little space. He didn’t know why he felt this way, but he wanted so badly to kiss every little mark, trailing down her back. Huffing to calm down his nerves, he heads to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Not finding any, he mixes up a couple mugs of hot chocolate.

“So, uh, no coffee. But, I found some hot chocolate.” He smiles. Offering a mug of steaming hot cocoa.

“No coffee?” She asks, looking at him like he’d just sworn at her.

“Right? No coffee.” She pulls out her phone and sets up a delivery for starbucks in the morning.

“I probably shouldn’t drink any, anyway. It’s late, ya know. I should sleep.” She groans as they finish off the hot chocolate.

“Yeah, you hit the bed. I’m on the couch.” He explains, pointing to the bedroom.

“No, no. I can’t sleep there while you--”

“It’s my job. Okay? So you get in there and go to bed.” He orders, letting her get up and walk to her room.

Almost an hour passes when he hears her voice softly muttering under her breath.

“Darlin’?” He asks, looking into the dim room to see her thrashing on the bed, a scream filling the room. He bolts to her bed, grabbing her shoulders and hugging her against him. “IT’s not real. It’s not real. You’re in a safehouse. You’re name is Kat. You have a bodyguard named Frank. Your father is a mob boss.” He whispers things that are real as she comes out of her nightmare.

“Thank you.” She sniffs, curling into herself. He sits gently on the edge of the bed and draws her against him.

“No problem. Sometimes I get ‘em too.” He ruffs, looking at her with a small smile.

“Really? How do you make them go away?” She asks.

“I killed the men responsible.” He offers a crooked smile and she laughs. “Go to sleep.” He coos, smoothing her hair as she starts to drift.

“Oh, Frank? Tomorrow morning there’s supposed to a delivery driver at the door. I ordered coffee for the morning.” She smiles, letting him hug her against him, resting his chin atop her head.

“I’ll try not to kill them.” He hushes as he hears her lightly snoring. Sleep starts to push his eyelids closed and slowly, he leans back against the headboard, exhausted. Soon, she’s climbing on him in her sleep, cuddled as close as possible under his chin and on his chest. His arms curl around her instinctively. Safety washes over her as she peeps through one sleepy eyelid to see Frank so close to her asleep. Smiling, she tucks her head back under his chin and goes back to sleep.

A knock sounds at the door, waking them both out of their comforting bubble.

“Ssh. Don’t move.” He rises, scrubbing his face and stalking silently to the door. She takes a ten from her wallet and slides it under the door. “Put the coffee down, take your tip and walk away.” He demands, never opening the door. Once the man’s out of sight, she slips out and snatches the two coffees and the small bag of coffee grounds.

“Frankie!” She calls, handing him a coffee when she finds him standing in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Yes, coffee.” He chuckles, taking the cup and sipping the hot caffeinated drink.

“Thank you for last night. Ugh, sounds weird to say like that, but you know what I mean. I didn’t have a nightmare when you slept there. Can-I just-well-sorry. It’s stupid.”

“Nah, ask.” He assures, sliding a plate across to her.

“I just wondered, you know, if maybe--if you wanted to--possibly sleep in the same bed again. It doesn’t have to get weird. I just--that was the first night in almost two weeks I didn’t have another nightmare. It was exhilarating.” She stammers, so afraid of what the big brute might say.

“That’s fine.” He nods, sitting down to eat, but not before he pats a hand to her shoulder.

“So tell me something about you.”

“I was in a special forces military ops.” He offers, finishing his plate in record time.

“Wow, that’s explains your nightmares.” She wags her brows, almost halfway done with her plate.

“No, it doesn’t. My family was shot in a park. While I was there. It was meant for me but they didn’t get me. They got my son, my daughter, and my sweet wife.” He husks, his throat starting to close. Springing from her seat, fork clattering to the plate with a glass ‘ting’ she jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and gripping tight.

“Christ, I’m so sorry. My husband was shot down while working with my father. The bullets were meant for my father, but the killer got the wrong info.” She whispers, and Frank’s arms wrap around her, hugging her tight to his hard body.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, letting her hold him for what seems like hours.

“Frank? Can you promise me something?” She asks as she leans back a little.

“Sure.”

“Promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay alive. Okay? You’re a good man, Frank, and I don’t want to be the reason you die. I--You could walk out and I’d understand. You can leave.” She assures, elbows resting on his shoulders. Frank rises to his feet, towering over her and grabs her chin in his thumb and first finger.

“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I already made a promise to your father to keep you safe if it kills me, so his negates yours. Sorry, hunny.” He hushes, grinning at her.

“Ugh, no fun.” She whines, tugging her face away from from his warm, firm grip and finding a sweatshirt to put on. It was chilly, Frank found it soothing, but his roommate not so much and she came back into the room in his black hoodie, almost drowning in it. He couldn’t hide the the small chuckle. “Hey Frank? Do you think we could go out today?” She asks, rolling the sleeves once so she could use her hands.

“No. I think we could not.” He mocks in a high pitched voice. She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. Frank huffs, not sure if he should take her out. Grabbing his phone, he dials her father. “Why do you need to go out? We have coffee now, what else do you need?” He asks.

“I want fresh veggies from the market. I’d love to make something for dinner but all we have are like--lettuce and carrots.” She complains through a hand at the fridge in exasperation.

“Lettuce and carrots, fresh veggies! By the way! And you’re complaining.” She grabs his hands and gets right up to his chest.

“C’mon sweet husband of mine. Don’t you want to go out with your new bride?” She asks, jumping a little in excitement.

“Darlin’. Listen to me-- Yeah!” He answers his phone as her father calls him back.

“Hey Frank! You rang?”

“Yeah, your daughter wants to go out to the market right down the block. She wants to buy some veggies. I’m on my A game, sir. If you’re fine with it, I’ll take her.” He offers, shushing her with his hand clasping over her mouth. She looks at him with a smile, Frank feeling his heart swell.

“If you believe you can handle it, I don’t care if you two love birds go out.” Her father chuckles. “Put her on quick.” Frank puts the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Hey baby. Listen to me. I don’t care if you two leave, but you have to stay at Frank’s side. You have to stay glued to him. You understand?” He asks into the phone, his expressions matching his words as if he were speaking to her face to face.

“Yeah, pop. Like glue. I love you!” She smiles into the phone, her father saying it back before they hang up.

“You ready?” He ruggs, offering her an elbow after letting her put on her white Gucci sneakers with her shorts and Frank’s sweatshirt. Sweater paw on his elbow, they leave arm in arm. His grips her hand as they step out. “Also, I’m Pete, your Honey.” He smiles, earning a half-upset look from her as they get into the elevator.

“Alright Pete.” She coos as they get into the car waiting for them. Driving them the two blocks, Frank gets out first, eyes scanning the perimeter. Finding nothing alarming, he nods to let her out. Her sweater paw reaches for his arm, but his hand cups high on her hip, pulling her against him as they walk through the market. “Aw hunny, over here! Some tomatoes! And some fresh basil, oregano, thyme, and ooh! Parsley!” As the two pay for their vegetables at each stand, Frank notices the man a few yards back, following them. Frank tries to hurry her along, but she’s intrigued by every stand and wants to look at everything. With two bags of veggies, a bag of chicken, and a grin as wide as Frank’s chest, he convinces her to get in the car just as the man reaches for her. Frank’s hand comes down hard and fast. When the man sees Frank’s face, his heart hits the floor and he turns, running away.

“Hunny, did that man just run the other direction?” She asks, looking to him as he shoves her into the car and they get into the apartment as fast he can. Once in the door, Frank’s hands graze over her body to be sure of no injuries, but she laughs it off.

Stepping into the kitchen, she opens the cupboard and heaves a sigh of relief.

“Thank god they brought cooking wine.” She assures, reaching but not quite grasping it. Climbing onto the counter and grabbing the wine bottle, her hand slips and she falls backwards but she and the wine bottle, never hit the floor.

“You are so clumsy.” He chuckles, righting her small frame and handing her the wine. “What are you making?” He asks, looking to her with a smirk.

“Chicken cacciatore, my nonna was the best at it, but I try my best.” She smiles shyly as she starts cooking.

As Frank takes his first bite, his eyes roll back and he moans. His reaction catches her offguard and she looks at him with a confused smile.

“It’s good. What can I say?” He shrugs, giving her a smile.

“Right, thank you.” She coughs, going back to eating her own. It didn’t taste like home but it almost did. She was happy to have it. She thinks back to earlier when the man trying to attack her saw Frank and ran away. It was remarkable yet a little unnerving. “Hey, Frank? Why did that man run away from you?” She asks as he takes a bite of dinner and looks up from his plate. His eyes are calculating, not sure what he should say. He assumed she knew about him. Since her father had found out, he assumed that she knew.

“I uh, I killed a lot of people. Bad people, but, still alot of people.” He wags his brows, holding his breath.

“How many?” She asks, taking another bite as if this were small talk.

“Thirty five.” He coughs, trying to disguise it. She looks up for a moment and a grin crosses her face.

“Wow, thirty five? My father’s record for one day is only ten.” She blabs, continuing to eat.

“It wasn’t in one day. I killed all the people responsible for my family’s deaths. Everyone.” He hushes, looking at her as she continues to eat. When she glances up, her eyes meet his and she gives an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Frank. Holy shit!” Her fork clatters to her plate and she jumps to her feet. “Frank Castle! Holy shit! Oh my god! You’re Frank Castle! Holy fuck.” She stammers over and over, staring at him with wide, loving eyes. “Sorry, most girls crush on celebrities, but not this one. I mean, you are a celebrity, a dead one. But still, wow. You are beautiful.” She coos, staring at him. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. Wow, Frank Castle. I gotta call Lyla! She’s never gonna believe this!” She crows like a teenage girl, fumbling for her phone. “We used to watch your news pieces and when you killed all those people in prison, amazing.” He plucks the phone from her hand and he laughs.

“No out calls.” He laughs, trying to compose himself.

“Oh come on! I just made the discovery of a century, and you won’t let me call my best friend?” Whining, she stamps a foot like a child and he gives her a half smirk.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“Stop calling me that.” She huffs, her playfulness gone for a moment.

“Why?” He prods. A knock sounds at the door, making both of them jump. His hand grips her wrist across the table and he creeps around, putting her against the wall. Sneaking to the door, he looks through the peephole to see Lyla standing there, but instead of her giddy self, she’s rather squeemish, shifting from foot to foot, looking around nervously. Frank carefully opens the door, but it comes blasting in on him, sending him soaring into the couch.

“I’m sorry!” Lyla sobs as three grown Russian men shove in, grabbing Frank and throwing fist after fist into his face. Looking for her, one Russian reaches over the counter to grab her, but she stabs him with a knife in the arm. The man growls, yanking his arm back. Dislodging the knife, he tosses it aside to find she’s gone. Hunting for her while they kick Frank. A gun shot echoes and one of the Russians falls to the floor. Lyla stands with the gun in her hands, tears in her eyes as another Russian jumps on her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her into the wall. Kat finds a gun in Frank’s bag and she shoots the large man beating on her best friend and just as she points the gun at the one on Frank, she sees the man’s dead body flop over onto another of the Russians. Frank rises to his feet, blowing air out his nose, blood spraying as he did so. Foot steps slow and calculated as he walks to Lyla, her scared whimpers enough to break Kat’s heart as Frank grabs the front of her shirt and drags her to her feet.

“You brought them here?” He growls low, his voice dark and feral.

“I-they were gonna kill my mom and me if I didn’t tell them.” She whimpers, tears falling down her face.

“And they almost killed you and her.” He barks, pointing to Kat, who stands in shock, quaking with a gun in her hand. Frank limps to her, slowly drawing the gun from her hands and placing it on the couch. “It’s okay.” He whispers, letting her drop her head to his shoulder. She hiccups and then sobs, gripping the back of his blood soaked shirt.

“Frank--you--you’re--” He covers her mouth with a bloody hand, shaking his head.

“I’m fine, darlin’.” She huffs and smiles, tears staining her cheeks. When her eyes lift over her shoulder, she sees the front door still wide open. Giving a shriek, she slips from his grip and slams the door, locking every deadbolt and chain before running back to Frank and gripping him tight.

“Frank, you-you’re bleeding.” She coos, carefully taking him to the couch. Appearing a moment later with a kit in her shaking hands. “Lyla, grab the bottle of rum from the cupboard. Also, it’s Frank fucking Castle!” She cheers as Lyla brings the bottle to her. When her eyes finally meet the man’s face she gasps.

“Holy shit. Your serial killer boyfriend is real.” She laughs, trying to calm her down. Taking a couple swigs from the bottle, she offers it to Frank.

“You want any?” She asks.

“Nah. Really I’m fine.” He hushes, letting his hands cover hers.

“Shut up, Frank.” She nips, swatting away his hands. Cleaning up his face, she puts a couple butterflies on the cut on his forehead, and a bandaid on the little ones on his cheek and chin.

“Darlin’ c’mon. Stop it.” He huffs, pushing her hands away. Jabbing a finger into his chest, earning a groan.

“Quit. Calling. Me. That.” She bites, clapping the kit closed and stomping to the bathroom to put it away.

“What’s her problem?” He huffs to himself, grabbing his cellphone and dialling her father.

“Yeah?”

“So the friend we thought we could trust, not so trustworthy. I need a discreet clean up crew.” He explains, when he sees her appear again. She hooks her arms under the man’s arms and drags him over to the pile of two more bodies and groans in disgust. “Hey, quit touching those.” He hushes, covering the mic on the phone.

“No! I want them gone.” She cries, tears starting to fall down her face.

“Ssh, it’s okay. Calm down.” He cuddles her against his strong body and coos in her ear.

“Clean up crew is on it’s way. Now, tell me my daughter is okay.” Her father’s voice calls to Frank.

“She’s fine, sir. She was cracking jokes earlier.” He chuckles, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Good. The clean up crew is four men. They’ll bring a laundry cart up, say they’re here for pickup. You let them in.” Her father says as someone knocks on the door. She dives for the pistol and points it at the door, quaking as Frank carefully opens it to find a two laundry bins and four men.

“Sorry, she’s still scared.” He offers, reaching out and pulling the gun from her hands.

“It’s okay, sir. We just want to remove the bed bugs and get you cleaned up.” The man informs, putting the bodies into the carts and cleaning up in less than an hour. A deep breath escapes her as she sags against Frank, relaxed. His arm closes around her shoulder and he pats her clothed back.

Two Weeks go by, fun had by the two holed up in a small New York penthouse.

“Hey doll, I’m gonna head down for coffee. Don’t let anyone in, okay?” Frank’s gravelly voice washes over her for a moment as he walks through the door. “Lock all of these. I’ll knock twice and call out to you.” He smiles, patting her arm before stepping out and shutting the door. Frank listens as the door locks click, breathing out softly. He was nervous to leave but he hadn’t heard a sound, and there were other men posted outside the room and the building.

He gets to the bakery just down the street and orders her coffee, and his, getting a strawberry turnover with a little smile. Paying for the items, Frank looks at the bag and coffee cups in his hand and he gives a chuckle. He thought to himself, for a moment that he could have this. This life could be his. Getting coffee and turnovers in the morning like some kind of domesticated husband, the kind of husband he wanted to be for Maria. He chuckles, shaking his head. As he gets up the stairs, he sees two guards knocked out, laying in a pile.

“Shit.” Sprinting into room, the coffee hitting the tiled floor and splashing out, splattering up onto the bottom of the sofa where they sat comfortable in each others silence for almost four weeks. His eyes drop to the blood on the couch and the blood on the table, smeared like fingers grasping for the edge. His breath hitches, trying to breathe, but he can’t. “Kat! Kat!” He shouts, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Frank Castle. It is Castle, right?” A voice calls, and when he turns, he finds a small woman standing before him, Agent Madani.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barks, voice low and eyes on hers like lasers.

“Saving your little girlfriend you’ve been playing house with. She’s safe. Undisclosed location. Thinks her father is in questioning. No worries, nothing incriminating. But, tell me, Frank. What would you do if I weren’t watching this place, huh? I need to make a deal with her father, but he needs to know it’s the FBI. He will go to a maximum security prison for the rest of his life, but he and his daughter will be safe. The safest she can be, which I think is a little important to you.” She informs, arms crossed over her chest, watching Frank stand there, his chest heaving.

“You have her? Is she under surveillance? Can I see her?” He barks, storming towards her like a black cloud.

“After you get me a meeting with her father, Gianno Lucciani.” She retorts, not letting up. Frank steps closer, hand gripped around Madani’s neck, ready to squeeze, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll see.” He whispers, yanking away the hand around her neck he grabs his phone, calling her father.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, Gianno. Listen to me, man. You gotta come down here to the safehouse.” Frank tries to be calm but his voice wavers slightly.

“Frank, what’s wrong?” He demands.

“There’s some FBI agents here. They’re questioning Kat. They want to cut you a deal. They said they’ll let Kat go when you’re here.” He informs.

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He barks, hanging up.

“You gotta handcuff me. When he gets here, he’s gotta think you busted in and got me down first. You’re gonna wanna bring Kat back in too.” He offers. “If his daughter isn’t here, he’ll kill everyone in here if he doesn’t see her face.” He shrugs, putting his hands behind his back and letting them cuff him. They cuff his ankles too for good measure and just as they drop him onto the ground her father comes bursting into the door.

“My daughter.” He growls, gun jammed into Madani’s head. “Unlock him. He’s just her bodyguard. Pete Castliglione. You’re name is Pete right? Why is he handcuffed?” He barks, jabbing a finger at Frank on the floor.

“Yeah, listen, Madani knows. I’m Frank fuckin’ Castle. Okay? We need to see Kat now.” He barks as they take the cuffs off.

“Bring her in.” Madani calls, waving to a couple agents as they head out, returning with his sweet Kat.

“Shit.” He whispers as she piles into him, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the middle of a raging sea.

“Frank, Frank. They broke in. They-the government. They took me to a room. Questioned me. Frank, I--”

“Ssh. Ssh. Ssh. It’s okay, darlin’.” He whispers, her father stepping out into the hallway with Madani.

“Frank I said--”

“Don’t call you that, but it’s important today. Okay?” He coos, grabbing her and kissing her forehead. Her father walks in just in time to see Frank holding her tight against him. His big arms wrapped around her, making her look small and frail.

“Kat, baby, you okay?” She twists around in Frank’s grip. As he starts to let go, her hands grip tightly to his forearms and she chokes on a sob.

“It’s okay. I’m right behind you.” He coos, tugging his arms away as she stumbles to her father.

“Baby, you’re okay. Listen, daddy’s gonna be going away for a while. Okay?” He coos calmly, as if he’s still talking to the same little girl from twenty years ago.

“Daddy, what--”

“The government woman is--”

“Quit talking to me like a child!” She shrieks, screaming at him and stamping her foot.

“I’m taking your father into custody for all the money laundering, the murders of five men, and for running a drug ring underground that we now have you admitting to.” Madani informs loudly as they cuff her father and start walking him down, out into the parking lot. “Put a vest on her, call it protection, whatever you need to do to put her into safety. We’ll shoot her. Take her as crossfire. The Russians and the Cartel will be down there. He’s safest in prison. And we’ll get him there. I need Frank removed safely. Once we’re out of here, they’ll load her into a body bag and get her somewhere safe with Frank. No one tip off Frank or the father. If they know something’s up they’ll take her, whether they think she’s alive or not.” She informs her agents as they load Frank and her father into cars. When she screams at them, the firing of pistols and semi-automatic hand guns fills the air.

“No! Daddy!” She screams, running to the car, but as the car pulls away, an agent strategically shoots her in the chest twice, Frank’s heart hitting the concrete.

“No!” He cries, shaking violently in his cuffs as he tries to get out. Slamming his head into the window, he doesn’t even crack it.

“No! My baby!” Her father screams, following Frank’s actions. They leave her lying on the concrete, tears falling down his face more and more as he fights harder. Madani draws Frank from the car and drags him kicking, into another building.

“Listen!” She shouts over Frank’s heavy, deafening breathing.

“Madani, let me outta these goddamn handcuffs or I swear on Christ I’ll kill everyone in here. You too.” He growls low and hard, his eyes dark burning into the agent as she stands her ground.

“Frank. Frank, calm down.” She coos as they roll a stretcher in with a body bag. “Frank, her father’s going to a white collar prison, he’ll be safe. Frank. Calm down. I’m gonna take these off but please--”

“The bag. What’s in the bag!?” He screams. As the cuffs come off, his hands wrap around Madani’s throat, squeezing until hse’s gripping at his hands, his knuckles white.

“Frank?” Her soft voice takes his breath from his lungs and he drops Madani on the floor, her gasping just quietly in the background. “Frank I’m right here.” She whispers, rising from her bag like a zombie.

“Darlin’. Baby girl. Holy shit.” He whispers, gripping her and holding her against him.

“Frank, my dad. My dad, he thinks I’m--”

“Your father thinks you are dead, and that��s the safest thing for him to think right now. He’s going to a good prison, where he’ll be safe, but he wanted you as safe as possible, and if he, the Russians, and the Cartel believe that his only daughter is dead you are in no danger.” Madani explains, giving her a soft smile.

“My father thinks his only daughter is dead! He’s being arrested and sent to a prison? Frank?” She looks at him with betrayal twinkling in her eyes and Frank chokes, grunting at the pain. She’d never looked at him like that before. “Did you know?”

“Yeah.” He whispers.

“You knew? You helped them?” She cries, grabbing his shirt and shaking him.

“It isn’t what it looks like. You’re father--”

“Your father needed to be safe, and taking him into a facility where the cartel and Russians can’t get him is as safe as he can be.” Madani tries to explain. Kat turns, a fire in her eyes that Frank might’ve been scared of any other day. He folds his arms around her, constricting like a boa, holding steadfast as she begins to kick and hit, screaming at the top of her lungs for Frank to let go.

“I’m gonna kill you, bitch! I’m gonna kill you!” She screams, kicking and slapping at Frank’s stony arms. “Let go of me!” She cries, pushing his arms away and running for the door.

“No! Don’t go out there!” Madani yells. “There’s a Russian mob and a mexican Cartel being arrested right now with the help of your father’s information and willingness to cooperate.” She stops in her tracks and faces Frank.

“You-you knew about this?” She whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. “I trusted you, Frank.” Shaking hands run through her hair as she stands near the door, unsure of what to do. “Frank, how could you?”

“Hun, I just-I wanted to keep you safe. You’re father asked for safety. This is the best I could offer him. I’m sorry.” He explains.

“Me too.” She grabs the handle of the warehouse and walks out into the daylight, pushing her way through the throng of curious eyes and speculating lips.

“Kathryn?” A voice calls, and when she turns, a gun is jabbed into her side she knows she’s messed up. “If you move or set off that Castle, I’ll kill ya for real this time.” The thick Russian accent gruff and low in her ear.

“Eyes on the bait! Eyes on the bait. Moving southeast with a russian, six feet five inches, short black hair, two tattoos on his hands, can’t make out what they say. Getting into a van now, license plate echo-six-bravo-nine-two-eight.” Frank listens quietly before he grabs the nearest gun and charges out the door.

Eyes scanning the vans, he sees one pull away from the curb and follows it.

“Castle is on the move.” Madani calls into the mic.

Frank sets into a sprint as he follows the van. Getting into the warehouse, he listens to hear her give a scream.

“Tell us about Frank Castle.” He growls, stabbing a small pering knife into her thigh. Crying out, she looks around and something about the empty warehouse didn’t feel empty.

“I don’t know any Frank. And that’s saying something, I’m Italian.” She giggles through harsh breaths as he slaps her. The crack across her face sends Frank into a frenzy of rage, killing every man but the man who stands between him and Kat.

“Pete!” She exclaims, rattling the chair legs on the ground. The Russian man’s eyes fall to where hers are locked he raises his brows, gulping audibly.

“Castle.” He growls, looking to Frank as his eyes narrow and he tries to put on a dangerous front. When his eyes meet Frank’s he finds something feral there, something predatory, and he steps back. Frank raises a gun, shooting the man between the shoulder and heart, dropping him on the ground. Gasp. Gasp. Frank ignores the man as he draws Kat from the chair.

“You okay?” He coos, leaving her with a giggle on her busted lips.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Punisher.” She laughs as she hugs his neck, pressing sweet little kisses to his cut face. Frank Castle, the Punisher, New York’s scariest vigilante, and yet these arms that had strangled, hands that killed were comforting her; they were carressing her body with such comfort that tears fell down her face. “Are you okay?”

“I just--I’m so mad at you, but I love you.” She whispers, sniffling. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“You mean that?” He coos as he walks her to his car. Stiffening, he looks at her rigid form and stops them, looking to her with a grin.

“I--”

“I love you too.” He assures, kissing her forehead as he meets Madani at the a roof top across town. Pulling into a parking garage, he leads her to the roof where Madani waits, a small bag in her hands.

“This is yours.” She hands the bag to Kat with a smiling nod. Skeptical and mad, she snatches the bag and hands it to Frank without a second glance.

“No, darlin’. It’s for you.” He smiles, handing it back. Glaring at the bag, she tugs it back to her and opens it. Drawing out it contents, she reads over them carefully.

‘Marriage Certificate

Katalina Jane Foster and Peter Michael Castiglione

Were married at Wilson City Courthouse

July 15th, 2010’

Among the items in the bag was a social security card with her new name, and a driver’s license, passport, and the deed to a house in Atlanta, Georgia. Frank looks at her with a smile.

“Well what if I didn’t want to marry you?” She asks with a challenging smirk.

“Then I’d have to take this back.” He pops open small, velvety red ring box, exposing a dainty piece of silver jewelry with pretty little blue sapphires in it. With a huge grin on her face, she jumps into his waiting arms and kisses his face. Madani watches on with a smile as Frank loads his new bride into a car and they drive away.

[redbelles]

kastle prompt ficlet

for the lovely @ltfrankcastle (tumblr ate the ask when i tried to answer it, wtf!!!!!!) for the prompt “frank comes over one day and just... doesn’t leave. karen isn’t prepared for it, or just doesn’t consider it, but one day they run out of coffee and frank literally cannot function.”

also for @karenpage b/c she’s had a hell of a time recently and i love her muchly

title from “leather and lace” by stevie nicks and don henley because of reasons, okay? okay.

stay with me (stay)

He shows up at her door three months later, flowers in hand, complete with hangdog expression. She shouldn’t let him off the hook so easily, but shouldn’t hasn’t ever really mattered much when it comes to Frank.

“I had no idea The Punisher was so old fashioned.”

“Karen—”

“Just— shut up and come inside.”

Frank may be a goddamn idiot sometimes, but he’s far from stupid. He shuts up and comes inside.

The flowers go in a vase on the coffee table. White roses again, dotted with carnations. He’s either figured out her favorite flower or he’s the luckiest idiot in New York. Probably the former, given how their luck tends to run. It makes her chest ache just thinking about it.

She sets the vase down and turns away before her hands start to shake, fumbling with her phone. The number for Ming Wah Chinese is saved in her contacts. Good thing, because she’s not sure she’d get it right if she tried to dial from memory. She and Frank share approximately half the menu and a beer or two, sitting quietly on her couch.

She stays up as long as she can, until her eyes are gritty and she can’t stifle her yawns, and then she has to call it a night. He stays put as she moves through her nightly routine, scrubbing away the last traces of makeup, wrestling with the toothpaste because she keeps forgetting to buy a new tube; at the end of it, she stands in the doorway to her room, trying to commit the sight of him to memory.

No blood, no bruises. Frank Castle at rest.

She can’t fight down the lump in her throat, but she forces herself to speak around it. She wants to go to bed and pretend he’ll be there in the morning. Wants to pretend he can stay. Three months ago, she might have taken it on faith, trusted him and just— swallowed down the hurt if she was wrong. Now…

So make it mean something.

He couldn’t. Can’t. Now, she needs ground rules.

“Frank?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

A grin pulls up the corner of his mouth, ragged and rueful.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, more apology in those two words than she can handle at 11 pm on a Thursday.

Her heart clenches in her chest. This is why she forgives him again and again, her own better judgment be damned; he’d rather face a bullet than offer himself a little kindness. Still, she can’t bring herself to regret it.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, but when it does, it’s dreamless.

The apartment smells like fresh coffee when she wakes up, the familiar scent drawing her out of bed before her alarm even has a chance to go off.

Frank is leaning against her counter, staring at her janky old coffee maker like he can will it to work faster. He’s nicked the throw blanket off the back of her couch, wrapped it around himself like a shawl. The sight is so unexpected that she bursts out laughing.

He blinks at her like an owl, sleepy and vaguely disgruntled.

“Here,” she says, taking pity on him. She prods the machine with the ease of long practice until it finally starts percolating in earnest.

“Don’t know how you live with that thing,” he mutters, voice raspier than she’s ever heard it.

“I work with a pair of broke lawyers and I freelance as a journalist on the side. You’re lucky I’ve got a working coffee maker at all.

Frank grunts in response, but it’s a familiar sound, fond.

He’s on his second cup when she leaves for work. She can’t quite bring herself to say goodbye—afraid she used up all her luck last night, and this time he’ll take it more literally than she means it—so she takes a page from his book and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. He smells like coffee and apple-scented laundry detergent, the kind she uses because it’s always on sale. From the blanket, no doubt, but it makes her smile all the same.

She carries the smile with her all the way to the office, where it lingers until Foggy gets suspicious and starts asking questions.

“A date, Karen? Snagged your favorite pastry at the deli this morning? The New York Post finally published that retraction you’ve been after? C’mon, spill. What’s got you grinning like a loon over there?”

“Apples,” she says, like that’s a reasonable answer. Matt and his super senses aren’t in yet, so Foggy can’t look to him for back up, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He scoffs and keeps at it, like he can ferret out the secret if he’s just persistent enough.

“It’s no big deal,” she promises, still grinning.

“Denial! That means it’s absolutely a big deal.”

“If the court reporter reads back my remarks, you’ll see I did not—”

“—hey, hey! Don’t you John Mulaney at me, Karen, we’ve talked about this!”

Frank stays.

He comes and goes during the day—either that or groceries have started magically appearing in her fridge—but he stays.

The first weekend is hard, a little awkward. He fumbles through an apology for the way things played out in the hospital, winces when she tells him if he’s making amends he has to make them to Amy and Curtis and probably Madani. He draws the line at Mahoney, and she lets it slide. Brett’s had enough of them for a while; she’ll let Foggy ply him with cigars before they try anything else. Let him get his equilibrium back.

“You scared me,” she admits. “If Amy hadn’t been there, if Dinah and I hadn’t come back in time—”

She breaks off, sucks in a shaky breath. Tries again. “Maybe it was selfish of me to ask you to fight through it, to live with it, but you can’t do that again. You can’t just— lay down and die. You have to promise me you’re past that.”

His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but he meets her gaze without flinching.

“I’m never gonna be past it, but I’m here.”

He reaches out, cradles her hand between both of his. His palms are warm and callused, achingly familiar. She’s in so goddamn deep.  

“That enough of a promise for you, Karen? Because right now that’s all I got.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, that’s enough.”

So he stays.

He’s there when she goes to bed, there when she wakes up. He gripes about her coffee maker, folds the throw with military precision when he’s not wearing it like a cape, and tries to get her to eat something homecooked at least once a week. It’s— nice. More domestic than anything she’s imagined since he burst into her life in a hail of gunfire and graveled promises, but. Nice.

She kisses him on the cheek like ritual now, every morning before she goes to work. He never denies her, never tries to dodge away, but he never takes her up on the implicit invitation. Never turns to meet her halfway, never gives into the mutual ache between them and just— kisses her.

Maybe once upon a time, she’d have pushed, but not now. He’s here; that’s all that matters, really. He’s here, and he’s safe. Anything else is just... wishing. She’s greedy for him, for everything and anything he can give her, but she can live with this.

Still, she leaves the bedroom door open at night, just because. A silent offer, easy enough for him to ignore if it’s too much. And maybe it is, but there’s a part of her that’s always going to hope.

She falls asleep listening to the sound of his breathing, just a room away, and lets herself dream.

A case blows up so badly that she spends a week and a half working past close. It doesn’t bother her—she worked stranger hours at the Bulletin—but when the schedule is finally back to normal, Matt and Foggy (mostly Foggy, let’s be real here) tell her go ahead and take the rest off the week off. Karen’s many things, but she’s not a fool. Desperate for a shower after a night spent at the office, she takes them up on it, breezing out the door just before noon and hailing a cab.

It’s quarter to one by the time she makes it through midday traffic back to her apartment. She still doesn’t really know what Frank does with his days, but if he’s around, she’s thinking maybe a late lunch? She’ll even try her hand at cooking if he’s willing to risk potential food poisoning.

Instead, she walks into her apartment to find Frank sprawled out on the couch, dead asleep. He stirs when she shuts the door, the click of the deadbolt making his eyelids flutter.

“Karen?” he rasps, and her heart beats out of time. Former Spec Ops soldier, comfortable enough in her apartment—safe enough—to let his guard down. To trust that it’s her.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Her voice is admirably steady.

He makes a pathetic noise and rolls to face her, sleepy and disgruntled.

“Coffee maker’s broken,” he mumbles. The combination of gravel and petulance in his voice is fucking adorable.

“Want me to go take a look?”

She expects him to say yes. She’s already moving toward the kitchen when he reaches out and snags her hand, pulls her close, until she’s directly in front of the couch, struggling against the urge to cradle his face, run her fingers through his stupid fluffy hair.

“Nah,” he says instead, tugging gently at her until she folds herself down onto the couch with him. It’s not a perfect fit, not by any means. Her couch is tiny, and she and Frank are about the same size, give or take some muscle. A lot of muscle. The point is, it’s a squish, but—

She scoots down until she can rest her forehead against the crook of his neck and just breathes, savoring the warmth and the calm, the quiet of the moment.

Frank Castle at peace.

“Nah,” he says again. “Got everything I need right here.”

“Mmm. That so?” It’s a good thing he can’t see her face right now, because the hope on it right now would shatter him. She knows that in her bones.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah, that ah, that open door mean what I think it means?”

“Anything,” she tells him, so honest she nearly chokes on it. “Anything and everything. Whatever you want it to mean.”

His fingers tighten around hers, his other hand moving to stroke down her back, gentle but lingering. Just past this side of platonic. Karen bites at her lip, fighting back a shiver when his hand settles on her hip, warm and full of promise.

“Okay,” he says, all traces of sleep gone, nothing now but heat and smoke.

Still—

“Okay,” she echoes back. Presses a kiss into the skin beneath his jaw, once, twice, three times, then stands, tugging at his hand until he unfolds himself and joins her. She grins, made helpless with delight at the sight of him, whole and safe and hers. “But first, let me show you how to defeat the coffee maker,” she teases. “ I don’t want you falling asleep on m—”

Frank cuts her off mid-word, a sweet kiss that turns sly and filthy halfway through, both of them too hungry for each other to bother going slow.

He’s panting when he breaks away, the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin as he hoists her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest like it’s nothing.

“All due respect, ma’am,” he says, moving toward that open bedroom door, kicking it shut behind them as soon as he’s across the threshold. “Coffee can wait.”

[read on ao3] // [buy me a coffee?]

[jareckiworld]

Tala Madani  -  Three Tubes   (oil on linen, 2015)

[rasikul-india]

🎙️ শাইখ আব্দুল হামিদ মাদানী হাফিজাহুল্লাহ ।। (whatsapp Q&A group ) ➡️যার আকিদা ও মানহাজ সম্পর্কে জানেন না , চিনেন না, তার বই পড়বেন না ।। দেখা গেলো, মাঝখানে এমন একটা আকিদাগত ভুল লিখে দি��ো যেটা সম্পর্কে আপনি অবগত নন, তখন আপনি বিপদে পড়বেন ।। ➡️যাকে চিনবো - সহীহ আকিদা, সহীহ মানহাজের অনুসারী তার বই পড়বো , আর যাকে চিনবো না তার বই পড়বো না ।। ➡️ভালো লাগে বলে, ভালো বক্তৃতা দিতে পারে বলে you tube এ গিয়ে যার তার ওয়াজ শুনবো , এটা ঠিক না , এমন জিনিস ঢুকে যাবে মাথায় যেটা দ্বারা নিজের সর্বনাশিতা করা ছাড়া আর কিছুই হবে না।। 🎙️ শাইখ Abdul Hamid Faizi Al Madani হাফিজাহুল্লাহ ।। (whatsapp Q&A group ) ( বি.দ্র. বিখ্যাত লেখক #আরিফ আজাদ সহ যত লেখক আছে , যাদের আকিদা ও মানহাজ পরিষ্কার না তাদের বই কেউ পড়বেন না ।

আবু ত্বহা আদনান , মিজানুর রহমান আজহারী সহ যত celebrety বক্তা আছে যারা আকিদা ও মানহাজে সালাফী নন তাদের বক্তৃতাও শুনবেন না ।) ⚠️⚠️

[grosirhidroponikmalang01]

Distributor Sarana Irigasi di Malang

HP/WA 0856.4752.0664 atau link wa https://wa.me/message/T25RFSFVPMWNN1

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 Untuk info pemesanan :

HP/WA 0856.4752.0664

Alamat :

MADANI FARM

JL Ikan Tombro NO.07 RT5/RW 04, Kel Tanjungsekar, Kec. Lowokwaru, Kota Malang, Jawa Timur, Indonesia (65142)

[ymifune]

アウトテイク

8月10日。できたことを中心に。 精神的に疲弊している。・・・ということはもう、瞑想して寝るぐらいが正解なのだろうな。SNSでまた鼻につく惚気を見てしまって、意気消沈した。あの・・・SNSで私と彼氏しか見えていない状態でのキラキラポエム付きで写真を投稿するというやつは、どう寛大に捉えようと努めても、無理だ。今はまだ。 なので、早速ミュートして、もう見ないで済むようにした。これもまた大切なセルフケアなのだ。 筋トレ、睡眠、瞑想は大体大丈夫。粛々と続けられている。 明日から1週間はディロードウィーク。余った時間で音楽など進められるところを進めようと思っている。 夏休みに入って10日ほど経って、今日が何月何日かという感覚が若干なくなってきているのを感じている。 今日の体組成計の結果は82.4kgで体脂肪率は18.7%。温泉卵3個の代わりにサラチキスティックを食べるようになってから、そこまで大きい増減はないようだが、体重は82kg代に乗って安定し始めているので、これでも少しずつは前に進めているものと思う。 ディロードウィークできちんと蓄積した疲労を落とし、また歩き始めたいと思う。 新曲"Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others"の15秒CMを完成させることができた。結局、晴れた日に明治神宮を再訪して、動画素材を撮り溜め、ざっくりと編集して形にした。今日、You TubeとVimeoにてフライング公開をした。 今、夏休み中に完成させようと思って、できるだけ作っている新曲"夜々"のジャケットも"Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others"のジャケットを撮るためのフォトセッションで撮影したアウトテイクを援用することにした。 締め切りが文化を作るというやつを地で行っている。 夏バテとまでは行かないが、エネルギーがどうも足りていない気がしている。コーヒーのポーションを買ってきて、豆乳割りで飲もうかと思っている。ブラック無糖のコーヒーももちろん大好きなのだけどね。飲み物でもちょっと栄養のあるものを飲んで、この暑さを凌げるものかなと画策中である。 フィリピンのRとのフォトセッションが実現されることになった。8月13日の土曜日に、草加に引っ越したというRの自宅にお邪魔してくる。このフォトセッションに先立って、小さいメールインタビューが行われた。自分の今の心境、何に影響を受けてここにいて、今何を感じていて、これからどうなっていくのか、パーソナルなことを聞きたいというので、正直狙いがどこにある質問なのかはわからなかったのだが、特にそれを気にせずに飲み込んで、正直なところを送った。どんなフォトセッションになるだろうか。フィリピンのRとも、コロナが始まる前からの付き合いではあるから、もう意外と3年とか不定期ながら写真家と被写体という関係を続けていることにはなっているのだな。 今日はWhat Museumに寺田倉庫のコレクション展の新作を見に行った。Tala MadaniのShit Mamaが1点だけなのだけどあって、それが一番刺さった。先ほど見られるようトリミングを施し、Instagramに上げたところ、海外のアートファンからのLikeが多いようだった。風の噂ではニューヨークで個展があったと聞くし、今人気がある作家なのだろうな。 さあ、できることをしよう。焦ることなく、自分の歴史を自分で紡いでいこう。 寝よう。 心配するな、俺。よくやってるほうだよ。 お前、そんなに悪くないぜ、マジで。

[madanitube]

دولے شاہ کے چوہے دراصل کون لوگ ہیں ؟ کیا ان کے پاس روحانی طاقیتں ہوتی ہیں ؟

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 6

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 with a side of angst. The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My GIF)

He made it out onto the street, looking around him in all directions, heart sinking as he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Running his fingers through his hair, Billy continued scanning the crowded streets. No.... nothing. He grabbed his phone and dialled her number. She didn’t pick up. So he texted her.

“Angel, just saw you in the restaurant. I was there for a business lunch, really hope you don’t think there was anything else to it cos there wasn’t. Please - call me back or pick up when I call.”

He tried another couple of times including FaceTime but no, she definitely wasn’t picking up. Trying once more, he let it ring through to voicemail, and left basically the same message on there. He had no intention of returning to Madani and continuing lunch - too many awkward questions to face there apart from anything else - so he went back to his car, got in, slamming his hands down onto the steering wheel a few times before starting the engine, and driving back to Anvil.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You and your friend had only gone a few doors down to another restaurant, and luckily they had a table available. Once you’d ordered and had glasses of wine in your hands, your friend Karen had fixed you with a steely gaze and said, “Okay, give.”

She worked as a reporter at one of the big newspapers, and you hadn’t had the chance to catch up with her for a good few months. And you knew she wouldn’t let this go until she’d wrung all the juicy details out of you, so you took a big sip of wine and sighed.

Catching her up from the whole ex-boyfriend situation to the cocktail party and meeting your new love interest, through to becoming lovers and maybe thinking it could go somewhere, you finally got to today’s fiasco.

“So, literally as soon as we sat down, I look up and that big fucker’s walking in with some pretty girl and looking extremely comfortable with her!” You gave what could only be described as an angry growl, “I mean I’d sussed out from the get-go that he was a player, but ... uhhh!!!... how could I be so damn stupid to fall for his shit talk?!!! Telling me I was his girlfriend!!!” You blew out a big breath.

“And then...“ you switched to your fake “man” voice, “‘Oh, I got a job I’ll be on for the next couple of days, angel.’” Another angry huff from you. “Yeah, right, on a ‘job’...he was obviously gonna be ON her! For about 48 hours by the sound of it. Bitch! And he’s a fucking jerk.”

Once Karen could get a word in edgeways when your rant drew to a close, she said in a calming voice, “Honey, it sounds like you had a lucky escape. There’s a lot of them in New York, you know... fucking jerks, I mean.”

You felt your eyes welling up, but blinked the tears back fiercely, you weren’t going to cry over that stupid big douchebag. You pulled your phone out of your bag, “I mean, look! Look at what he literally put in my phone yesterday evening...” and, ignoring your notifications for the moment, you scrolled to Contacts and turned the phone towards her.

Karen rolled her eyes, “Urrrghh, how lame is that? ‘Your Boyfriend’?” shaking her head. Even though you were furious at him, you felt a twinge of annoyance at her comment. You’d thought it was quite cute. Well, you had before that little shitshow. Then she put her face closer to the screen, “Hey, wait a minute!.. lemme see his photo?”

You handed the phone to her, and she peered at the image. “Oh my god,” she breathed, looking up at you, “...what’s your guy’s name?” “Billy Russo,” you spat back, loath to even voice it. She handed you the phone back. “Well, that’s just damn spooky,” she said, looking amazed. She leant in to you, “I’ve been seeing a guy for a couple of months, his name’s Frank,” and your mouth dropped. “Billy’s got a friend called Frank!” you said, staring at her. She nodded, “Yep, works at Anvil which is owned by the one and only Billy Russo!”

She sat back, taking a long sip of her wine. “What a freaking coincidence this is,” she shook her head. “Frank’s told me a little about him, you know and I’m afraid you’re right - he sounds like a total player.” She looked at you sympathetically, “Sorry.” You waved a hand in the air, “Nothing I hadn’t guessed for myself, Karen. But... he seemed so sincere.” You laughed self-depracatingly, “I was gonna be the one who tamed the bad boy. Huh!!”

You scrolled through the notifications, realising they were all from Billy. “I think he must’ve seen me! He’s called and texted.” You read the text, huffing and showing it to Karen, who raised her eyebrows and commented, “Nice recovery, Russo.” “The voicemail’s the same,” you said, as you listened to it. “What a load of bullshit. I mean, c’mon, who walks a business lunch date to the table with his hand on her back?”

Karen nodded, “No-one, unless they wanna get slapped with a lawsuit.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy slammed his office door behind him, and threw himself into his chair, tapping out a staccato rhythm on his desktop with a long finger. He reached down, opening his bottom desk drawer and taking out a bottle of whisky and a glass. A moment later, the door opened and Frank came in, looking concerned. He took in Billy’s less-than-immaculate hair, bouncing knee and tense demeanour.

Billy waggled the whisky bottle and quirked an eyebrow at him, but Frank shook his head.

“Okay, Bill, what’s up? Something go wrong?” Billy looked up at him, scowling ferociously, “Fuck yes!” he bit out, “Frankie... everything’s gone wrong.”

Before he could say anything else, Frank’s phone rang and he held a finger up to Billy to say he was going to take the call.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he answered it, “how’re you?” Billy heard a big outburst of indecipherable speech from the phone, and then saw Frank’s eyes flick over to him. “Oh, uhhh okay.. umm right, yeah he’s here. Yeah... yep, I’ll let him know. Will I see you later?” He smiled fondly as he went on, “Okay! That’s great, see you then.” He hung up, hand going to his jaw and running over his stubbled chin, looking worried.

“Bill...” he started, just staring at him and Billy stared right back, “What?”

Frank said a name to him, his angel’s name, and continued, “You know her?” Billy nodded, “Yeah, that’s my girl.” Frank plopped down into the chair across from him, “Not sure that’s the case now.” Billy nodded, “I know. That’s what I was about to tell you. I took Madani out to lunch and my girl was in the fuckin’ restaurant.” He shook his head, “She ran right outta there and I followed but couldn’t find her. So I headed back here. Left Madani sitting there in the restaurant.”

He poured a generous slug of whisky into the glass and knocked back most of it. “Now my girl’s mad at me and Dinah’s mad at me, and this operation could be down the tube.”

Frank sighed, rubbing his big paw over his face. “And Karen’s her friend, can you believe that? So she’s mad at you too. Fuckin’ hell, Russo.”

“Yeah,” said Billy, also sighing. “How the fuck am I gonna fix this?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani was not a happy bunny. She stomped into her office, yelling out “Sam!!!” as she went. He hurried in behind her. “Something wrong, Dinah?” She gave him a contemptuous look, “I see you’ve been working on your powers of observation. Well done! Yes, something’s wrong!” Sitting down behind her desk, she glared up at him, “Russo!!! That’s what wrong. That piece of shit.”

Inwardly, Sam laughed to himself. Despite Madani’s sarcastic gibe at his perceptiveness, he’d quickly realised as soon as Russo had popped up in this case that Madani had the serious hots for him. She thought she’d been getting somewhere with him, both on the case and personally, but now something must’ve put a spanner in the works on either one or both of those.

“What’s pretty boy done now?” he asked, trying and failing to completely hide his smirk. She scowled at him, “We’d gone out for lunch - to discuss the case,” she hastily added, and Sam thought to himself ‘yeah, right, and what were you hoping dessert was gonna be?’

“He spotted someone leaving the restaurant and off he goes, saying he’s got to catch up with them.” She viciously powered up her laptop. “Think it was a woman,” she mumbled. “Sorry, what?” said Sam innocently. “I said, I think it was a woman!” spat out Madani, “are you deaf or something?”

Sam smirked again, “Oh. Dear. Someone to do with the case, you think?” She stared at her screen, “How should I know? But that bastard’s got some explaining to do.”

Well this afternoon was gonna be a complete blast, thought Sam.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d returned to Chelsea, and spent the whole afternoon getting under your team’s feet in the café. Not wanting to sit and brood in your office, you’d busied yourself ‘helping them out’, when in fact they didn’t actually need any assistance. And you could sense you were vaguely irritating them. But you didn’t feel up to telling them what the problem was.

Eventually, you’d asked if one of them wanted the rest of the day off as paid leave, and Gabrielle had jumped at the chance. Her older sister had just recently popped out another baby, and she was keen to visit and fulfill her role as doting aunt.

The two guys had watched you warily for the rest of the day, in case all your nervous energy ended up causing some kind of coffee-shop catastrophe. You sent them off at the end of the day, saying you’d close up yourself. Which turned out to be a mistake. Looking vacantly out at the street, you closed and locked the door when they left, and that’s when you spotted the Wraith, parked diagonally opposite the café.

Resting your forehead against the cool glass of the door for a moment, knowing you should really have anticipated that this would be Billy’s next move when you didn’t respond to his attempts at contacting you. Either turn up here or at your apartment. Not difficult to work out. You got the fright of your life as the doorway suddenly darkened, and long legs clad in suit trousers and a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in your line of vision. You’d jumped back in surprise and Billy leant one one arm on the door, staring in at you and mouthing “Please?” at you, followed by (you thought), “I just wanna explain.”

You’d looked away from his pleading eyes, contemplating what you were going to do. Let him in, don’t let him in. You couldn’t deny you wanted to hear his explanation. In all its no-doubt manufactured glory. So, heaving a big sigh, you unlocked the door and immediately walked away to the counter, leaving him to actually open the door and walk in. A small victory, you thought. You hadn’t actually let him in after all. Sort of.

“Coffee?” you asked over your shoulder. “Please.” You made an Americano for him, and a caffé corretto for yourself. You weren’t too fond of grappa, so topped up the espresso with some brandy. Billy, who was leaning on the counter watching you, raised an eyebrow at you. “Ooh, that bad, huh? Can I get some too?” You just stared at him, and he added, “Please?” so you added a shot to his coffee and handed it to him.

Sipping your own strong and bracing beverage, you leaned back against the unit behind you, face neutral, waiting. He took a long drink of his fortified coffee, eyes never leaving yours. He carefully placed the cup back into the saucer, leaning his arms on the counter and looking back up at you, the tip of his tongue swiftly moving over his bottom lip.

“I know you’ll probably think this is total bullshit, but I promise you it’s not,” he said into the silence. You nodded, “Mmhmm.” His eyes drilled into yours, sincerity shining out of them, “That was purely a business lunch. She’s a Homeland agent, and Frankie and I are... in the middle of something with that agency. I can’t tell you any of the details... yet. I’m sorry.”

You huffed out a long breath. “Firstly, Billy, since when does a business lunch entail walking the woman to a table with a hand on her back?” He winced, but you weren’t finished, “And right now, to me, the only thing you looked like getting into the middle of was her.” This time he flinched back from the venom in your voice, but he maintained eye contact with you.

“Angel, I swear to you... On. My. Life. There is nothing and will never be anything between me and Agent Madani.” So.... Agent Madani, your brain rolled the words around your mind. “We’re in a joint operation with them, and I need to make sure she doesn’t drop us out of the loop, they’re good at doing that.”

“And how’re you doing that, Billy? With ‘business lunches’, with lots of flirting? She got the hots for you, hmmm Billy? Yeah? So, ultimately with sex? Keep her really sweet?”

Damn, you knew you’d hit the nail right on the head. His face had flushed, guilt written all over him and he’d slid back on the counter slightly. You’d like to bet that If he hadn’t met you, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. Maybe he’d just not got that far down his timetable with her yet.

You stared intently into his eyes, “Slept with her yet, Billy?” He straightened up to his full height, looking down at you, a strange distant expression in his eyes. “No, angel, I haven’t. And I can’t deny what you’ve just said. That was the plan. Me and Frankie need to know what information and leads she’s got. Yeah, she’d like to fuck me, she’s made that pretty obvious. But we hadn’t quite got to that stage yet.” He took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “We had a drink after work one night, and I kissed her.”

“Uhuh. Did you.” Statement, not question, folding your arms over your chest.

“Before we met!” he hastily added, emphasising the ‘before’, “...it happened days before we met. And it was purely business to me. Nothing more.” “Really? She’s pretty hot.” You could tell he spent a split second thinking how best to reply and keep his balls intact at the same time. “Well, yeah she is... but the spark’s not there for me. She doesn’t float my boat. Not like you do.” You smirked, good answer Russo!

“So what would your schedule have been?” He looked at you, puzzled, “What d’you mean?”

“Flirt, tick. Kiss, tick,” you made little air ticking motions with your finger. “Fuck...? Now, just when would that’ve been on the table, Billy?” He looked away from you, shaking his head, “I dunno. Whenever it would’ve been necessary.” Glancing back at you, “Look, I know this sounds really...” “Shitty?” you supplied. He allowed himself a small grin, “Yeah, shitty,” then the grin dropped. “But this is life and death, angel, and it means finally clearing our names as long as it all goes down okay.” You decided to spare Billy the verbal barb which had popped effortlessly into your head, along the lines of ‘would it depend on who went down on who?’

But you didn’t, instead saying. “Oh right, that’d be clearing your name from when you and Frank got arrested by Homeland, yes?” Billy gave you a hint of a smile, “So, you have been digging after all.”

You nodded, “Yes, I have. Not that I found out much. The dead CIA guy, him having funded you, you guys getting arrested. That was pretty much it.” He nodded, “That’s the bare bones of it, the important parts though. I promise you that as soon as I can, I’ll tell you the whole sorry story. We’re still right in the... it’s all still goin’ on right now.”

You smirked to yourself, you knew he’d changed what he’d been about to say as he was saying it, in case you took another dig at him about exactly what he was in the middle of.

He moved round the counter, and stood next to you. His dark eyes looked huge as they stared into yours, “I promise you, angel, you’re the only woman I’m interested in. The only one I want to be with. Please say you believe me.” The annoying thing was, you did. You didn’t like what he’d told you - that basically if you hadn’t been on the scene he’d have slept with Madani to keep her ‘on side’ - but you did believe that he hadn’t had sex with her. You thought that the small snippet of her body language you’d observed had screamed ‘I want him’ but not the casual touching and languid looks of ‘I’ve had him’.

You gave a big sigh. “Okay, Russo, I believe you.” A look of pure relief crossed his face, and he immediately grabbed both of your hands, pulling you close and kissing you hungrily. You pulled away after a few moments, just as he was trying to deepen the kiss. “But you’re on parole for a while.” He groaned, which became a laugh, “Okay, yeah... whatever you want, angel. For however long you want. I guess I deserve some punishment.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After closing up, you and Billy crossed the road and headed towards his car. He beeped his car remote at it as he approached and then opened the passenger door for you. As you folded yourself into the seat, he put one arm on the door frame and leant in to kiss you again. “Sneaky,” you said as you moved your lips away from his. “Always,” he replied and smiled widely at you. He seemed very happy to have been granted ‘parole’, you thought.

As Billy drove off in the direction of his place - realising this produced a part-exasperated smirk on your face - you contemplated what a fucking awful, emotional, but ultimately good day you’d had.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Someone else was stewing about precisely the same thing. Only without the good ending.

Dinah Madani had a furious scowl on her face as she put her SUV into Drive and pulled out into the traffic flow, following Billy’s car.

She’d just watched that whole little pantomime as he’d opened the car door for that woman, then leant in and obviously kissed her, although she hadn’t been able to actually see that from her vantage point a couple of cars behind his.

When she’d followed Billy from Anvil out to Chelsea earlier on, for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he’d headed into a coffee shop, of all places. She’d discovered that she couldn’t see into the café from where she was parked, and didn’t want to break cover and walk over to the window in case Billy spotted her.

Then out he’d trotted, hand in hand with whoever this woman was - a waitress in a coffee shop? “Classy, Russo, very classy,” she said out loud, in a bitchy voice. She could ask him about it, she thought, but knowing him he’d more than likely tell her it was none of her business.

Well, she was going to make it her business to find out whatever she could about this apparent liaison of his. She pulled over and watched as his car disappeared into the underground carpark of his apartment block.

It could have some bearing on the case, she thought, trying to justify this course of action to herself.

She ignored that other little voice in her head which said to her that she was just plain jealous.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

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[caveartfair]

Expanded West Bund Art Fair Builds Market Momentum in Shanghai

Installation view of West Bund Art & Design, 2018. Courtesy of West Bund Art & Design.

For its first four years, West Bund Art & Design—one of the two major fairs that open in Shanghai in November—existed as a stylish boutique fair, attracting a small selection of mega-galleries and influential outposts alike to this former industrial area by the Huangpu River. But like seemingly everything in this city, West Bund is expanding—rapidly.

This year, the fair, which opened to VIPs Wednesday, ballooned to a list of 115 exhibitors from 43 different cities. Eighty-seven galleries take part in the fair’s main section, up from 39 that participated in its 2016 edition. In order to accommodate the new booths, the government-owned Shanghai West Bund Development Group Co. constructed a new expo center called Hall N, doubling the complex’s overall exhibition space to 20,000 square meters (roughly 215,000 square feet).In a testament to Chinese speed and ingenuity, the new space, snaked through with indoor courtyards lined with trees, was constructed in just 100 days.

Georg Baselitz, Sind wir schon da?, 2018. © Georg Baselitz/DACS. Courtesy of Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac.

Adrian Ghenie, Favela, 2018. Photo by Charles Duprat. Courtesy of Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac.

Meanwhile, the larger cultural district of West Bund has welcomed new galleries and museums to set up shop along the waterfront—the most significant addition this year being the West Bund Art Museum. On Wednesday night, exhibitors and collectors celebrated the opening of the fair in this forthcoming, David Chipperfield–designed museum’s shell. Next year, the Centre Pompidou will begin a renewable, five-year run in the space. Between West Bund’s expansion, the opening of the 12th Shanghai Biennale, and the sixth edition of the Art021 fair, which opened to VIPs one day after West Bund, on Thursday, all eyes are on Shanghai this week.

China’s share of the art market has also been expanding, even as the country’s economic growth slows. It pulled ahead of the U.K. to become the second-biggest market worldwide in 2017, according to The Art Market | 2018, a report compiled by arts economist Clare McAndrew. With a 21% slice of the action, or $13.2 billion in sales, China’s art market is now second only to the United States.

Dealers at the VIP preview of the fair said increasing demand from an ever more serious and free-spending class of collectors in China has allowed a regional fair like West Bund—which focuses on Asian collectors rather than trying to lure the jetset from Europe and America—to expand at such a rapid pace. Whether or not they have already hired a local representative or opened up an actual gallery in the region, fairs like West Bund and Art021 offer a foothold and opportunity to experiment in this important market.

A Feudal Vassal's Jade Memorial Tablet 诸侯瑹, 1989-1990. Yang Jiechang 杨诘苍 Ink Studio

Vegetable #1 素1号, 2015. Li Jin 李津 Ink Studio

At the VIP opening of West Bund, Ben Brown Fine Arts sold a small work by Gerhard Richter, Abstraktes Bild (1990), to a Chinese collector for just under $1.6 million. Just across the aisle, Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac sold a massive, untitled Georg Baselitz painting from this year, of two upside-down naked bodies, to a Shanghai-based collector for €850,000 ($971,460).

Ropac, who has participated in Art021 since last year, was doing West Bund for the first time and said he enjoyed how, compared to the internationally-focused Art Basel fair in Hong Kong, the Shanghai fairs really focuses on Asian collectors. While lining up buyers for certain works alongside Nick Buckley Wood, his director in Asia who is based in Hong Kong, he said he found the collectors in China to be “much more serious now” than they have been in years past. Nonetheless, he said, having a successful fair here takes work.

“For us, we identified the works we wanted to bring, and prepared beforehand, and I think that was key,” Ropac said. “I don’t think this is a place where you bring a thing and just expect it to sell.” In addition to the Baselitz, he had sold a new painting by Adrian Ghenie, Favela (2018), for €1.1 million ($1.2 million), to a foundation in South Korea.

untitled (to Sonja), 1969. Dan Flavin David Zwirner

“We wanted to place both of them in Asia,” Ropac said. “With the Ghenie, work like this is so in demand, we wouldn’t just bring it and sell it off the wall.”

Other big sales on West Bund’s opening day included a large Yayoi Kusama pumpkin sculpture from 2015 at Ota Fine Arts’s booth, which went for between $1 million and $2 million; at Lehmann Maupin’s booth, McArthur Binion’s Ink: Work (Vermillion) (2018) went for for between $100,000 and $120,000 and Hernan Bas’s Hide and Seek (Fuming) (2018) for between $150,000 and $200,000.

Han-I Wang, the former Christie’s vice president who left the auction house in August to join Gagosian as its senior director in Hong Kong, said that the gallery sold multiple works during the preview day of its first West Bund. Though she wouldn’t specify which artists’ works were among those sold, the booth included works by Dan Colen, Hao Liang, Alex Israel, Jennifer Guidi, and Urs Fischer.

Installation view of Hauser & Wirth’s booth at West Bund Art & Design Fair, 2018, with works by Larry Bell, Eduardo Chilida, and Roni Horn. Photo by JJPhoto. Courtesy of Hauser & Wirth.

“Collectors here in China—in Shanghai in particular—they’re actually very savvy, they’re very sophisticated, and when they look at [Rudolf] Stingel or Urs Fischer, it’s not like a first-time experience,” she said. In addition to these Shanghainese collectors, Wang said they had seen clients from Singapore, Hong Kong, and other cities in China at West Bund.

A number of galleries could report only reserves on opening day. But those galleries and others stressed that it’s tough to judge the success of a fair like West Bund based on what sales are notched at the beginning. Collectors in this part of the world often take several days to decide whether or not they’re going to buy, they said. In the case of West Bund, specifically, these buyers also have Art021’s offering to contend with—many galleries participate in both—before deciding what to take home. Craig Yee, the director of the Beijing contemporary ink art gallery Ink Studio, said that he’s done more than five fairs in mainland China in the past year, and that each time, his best day was Sunday.

While he had sold the smaller abstract, Ben Brown had yet to find a buyer for an arresting bubblegum-pink-slashed abstract Richter from 1983, Zaun (Fence), priced at $6.7 million. Similarly, David Zwirner was still trying to place what must be one of the more wowing single-work booths at an art fair in quite some time: Dan Flavin’s untitled (to Sonja) (1969), a rare two-part neon work in which the gridded barriers lined with green- and yellow-tinted fluorescent bulbs face each other directly. At 32 feet long, it filled the entire booth, and by Thursday remained unsold at $3.5 million. Leo Xu, the former Shanghai gallerist who closed up shop last year to become co-director of Zwirner’s Hong Kong location, said that he wanted to bring the most ambitious project possible to the fair as a sign of respect to the local audience and art community.

Coffee table music (some other causes for celebration) VI, 2017. Samson Young 楊嘉輝 Edouard Malingue Gallery

“We are trying to look at institutions in Asia, and trying to find it a good home, but it’s evidently going to take some time. But that’s not the purpose of this presentation,” he said. “For the booth, it’s very much about giving people the chance to see the work. Not everyone gets a chance to go to Dia:Beacon or MoMA.”

Indeed, the Flavin was attracting a raft of visitors, many of whom approached the glowing tubes in a similar fashion: one arm outstretched, phone-in-hand, trying to get the angle just right for the perfect selfie.

Xu said that an uptick in institutional and gallery shows has been stoking interest in American Minimalism in China. Zwirner’s Hong Kong gallery is set to open a show featuring Flavin, John McCracken, Donald Judd, and Fred Sandback on November 15th, and Hauser & Wirth will host Roni Horn’s first exhibition in China later that month, also in Hong Kong.

Installation view of Edouard Malingue Gallery’s booth at West Bund Art & Design Fair, 2018. Courtesy of Edouard Malingue Gallery.

An azure blue work by Horn sat front and center in Hauser & Wirth’s themed booth called “Metaphorical Spaces,” which also features with pieces by Larry Bell and Eduardo Chillida. The gallery was fêting exhibitions of Matthew Day Jackson’s work at collector Qiao Zhibing’s Qiao Space and Louise Bourgeois at the Long Museum—both also located in Shanghai’s West Bund—this week, but decided to bring other artists to the fair itself. Director Fiona Romer said the gallery “take[s] this region very seriously,” and, while she wouldn’t specify what, if any, works had sold on West Bund’s opening day, reported that sales in Asia have doubled in each of the past five years.

Across the street in the new Hall N, the Los Angeles gallery Kayne Griffin Corcoran decided to bring work by fellow Dia-affiliated Minimalists Mary Corse and James Turrell. Director Beatrice Shen said Turrell had an exhibition at Shanghai’s Long Museum in January 2017 that sparked interest in his work among local collectors. Installed on two sides of a white structure in the front of the booth was Medium Diamond Glass (2017), where an LED light shone onto a pane of glass; on the opposite end of the structure was Small Glass (2018), another LED on glass work.

“It’s our first time doing the fair, but we brought Mary Corse and James Turrell because Chinese collectors were asking about them,” Shen said.

Elevation Painting, 2018. Tala Madani 303 Gallery

Untitled (fruit bowl), 2018. Doug Aitken 303 Gallery

She added that they had sold one work by Corse for $300,000, and were working to place what she called multiple “domestically scaled” Turrells—as opposed to his giant ganzfeld and skyspace works—for between $375,000 and $650,000.

Elsewhere in the sparkling new Hall N, König Galerie was negotiating with a collector who had put a hold on a painting by Katharina Grosse, whose awe-inspiring, immersive show at the K11 Art Foundation’s Shanghai space opened this week. Edouard Malingue Gallery was selling work by Samson Young, who repped Hong Kong in the last Venice Biennale, and is currently showing in Malingue’s Shanghai space. 303 Gallery was selling work by Tala Madani. And in the roofed courtyards lush with greenery that cut theatrically through the building, fairgoers lounged on couches sipping champagne—an atmosphere rivaling most major convention centers, a hundred days or several years in the making.

from Artsy News

[syriuse71-blog]

L'INTERVIEW WTF - «C'est beau un pull de Noël», «Non, c'est absolument pas beau»...

« Faut-il autoriser le dopage ou interdire le cyclisme ? », « En quoi auriez-vous honte d’être obligé de vous déguiser ? », « Sous quel motif pourrait-on vous virer du cinéma ? », « Avez-vous VIII bonnes raisons de ne pas aller voir Star Wars VIII ?

A l’occasion de la sortie, le 17 janvier, du film Ami-ami, les deux comédiens se sont gentiment prêté

au jeu de l'Interview WTF, en remontant le fil de l’actu de ces derniers jours.

En bonus, Jonathan Cohen, alias Serge le mytho, « interprète »

trois tubes de Johnny Hallyday.

Retrouvez cet article sur 20minutes VIDEO. Quand les Shaka Ponk parlent de la coupe mulet, de doigts d'honneur et de chocolat VIDEO. Quand Grégoire annonce une reprise de Blur VIDEO. Quand François Berléand et Nawell Madani parlent de soutien-gorge, de lion et de maquillage VIDEO. Quand les Stentors parlent de cadeaux moches, de l'espace et de chaussettes

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[ymifune]

Ryoさんと同じもの

12月23日。 今日も朝一ジムにして森美術館に行った。インビテーションをいただい���まま行けていなかった、未来と芸術展だ。研究発表みたいな内容である、みたいなことは父からも聞いていたのでそう思って行ったら、やっぱり研究発表というか、レポートのようなものだった。自分はアートをアートとして認識する時、やっぱりもう少しパーソナルな感触のものを期待していると思う。個人的なもの。私見が8割ぐらいのもの、というか。 新進作家紹介のMAMプロジェクトでフィーチャーされたTala Madaniさんという方がとても良かった。勝手に男性だと思っていたら女性だった。イランの人。アラブ諸国〜アフリカ諸国のアートに必ず散見される痛々しさがこの作家さんにも横溢している。その痛々しさだけにフィーチャーして欧米のキュレーターがキュレーションしているのであれば、それはそれでゾッとするけど、少なくともこの人の作品は痛々しさに満ちたもの。で、アラブ〜アフリカの人というのは、痛みをシェアしようとしない。というか、痛みを必ず自分で飲み込むという手法を最終的に取る方が多く、それがなおさら痛々しい。ただ、痛みを自殺なり自傷なり、シェアしない形で飲み込もうとするから、こちらはある意味では安心して痛みを追体験できる場合が多い。 去年の終わりに設定した今年の目標が胸囲100cm越えというものだったのだが、それは果たして叶わなかった。先ほど胸囲を測ったら97cmだった。背中との合わせ技で97cm。今年の後半割とダーティーバルク寄りになった時もあるのだけど。 今年の初めぐらいまで多少の付き合いが続いていた中国人の友人に2018年の末ぐらいに、やっと自分の体重と同じ重さがベンチプレスで持てるようになったよ、と報告したシーンがなぜか頭の中に鮮明に残っている。つまり75kgとか。 今日が70kgで6/5/5。重さ自体は落ちているが、形は良くなっているものと信じたい。その時より、指を二つ分ぐらい狭めていて、マッスルコネクションを意識するようになっている。歯を食いしばったりもしていないし。 自分は元々運動神経が全く良い方じゃないのだけど、それは筋トレ時の形を精確さを保つのにどれだけ影響するものだろうか。 肩や上腕二頭筋や、本格的なテコ入れが功を奏した部分もあるし、それは自分でもきちんと評価すべきだ。 こう、グルグル考えてしまうのは、Sho FitnessのYou Tubeチャンネルで、Shoさんのお兄さん、Ryoさんに筋トレ2ヶ月目にしてスクワットの重量を抜かされてしまったのを見たから。Shoさんという完璧なフィットネストレーナーがつきっきりという贅沢を差し置いても。これはRyoさんの努力ゆえだ。努力と、あとはロジカルなアプローチ。 適当にやっていたなんてことは全然ないけど、今年も足は一年かけて迷いに迷った。ただ、スクワットをどうにかしないことには、絶対に次に行けないということだけは分かっている。俺は形から入るタイプでは全然ないのだけど、スクワットとデッドリフトをする時に使うリフティングベルトを初めて買った。Ryoさんと同じもの。もっと早く買っておけばよかった、とか思うのかな。 来年1年はとことん足を何とかすることに神経を注ぎたい。足をどうにかできないことには、体脂肪率も全身の筋肉もどうにもならないと思うのだ。体の70%の筋肉は足にあるのだから。 来年の目標は足をどうにかすること。新しい学校でも、さらに良い授業をすること。英語をきちんと学び続けること。この3つぐらいだな。音楽は副産物的にいくらでも作って良い。そして出し続けて良い。

[public-new-yahoopartner-blog]

Mort de Johnny Hallyday : un prime spécial pour la demi-finale de Danse avec les stars 8

Le décès de Johnny Hallyday ce mercredi 6 décembre a provoqué le bouleversement des programmes dans les médias. TF1 lui a notamment rendu hommage avec un JT de 20 Heures spécial Johnny Hallyday, suivi d'un documentaire inédit Johnny Hallyday. Dans la foulée, deux concerts ont été diffusés, celui de Bercy en 2013 et Johnny allume le feu au Stade de France de 2012.D'ailleurs, ce n'est pas fini. Ce samedi soir, alors que les fans de Danse avec les stars attendent impatiemment la demi-finale du programme, la chaîne a annoncé que l'émission sera dédiée au chanteur.Toutes les danses exécutées par les quatre demi-finalistes seront en effet réalisées sur les tubes de la star, ainsi que les autres chorégraphies, telles que celles de groupe, le "face-à-face" et une danse en compagnie des juges. Les producteurs ont sélectionné les différents titres sur lesquels s'élanceront Elodie Gossuin, Lenni-Kim, Tatiana Silva et Agustin Galiana en fonction des rythmiques sur lesquelles toutes et tous étaient déjà en train de répéter. La demi-finale sera animée par Sandrine Quétier et Denis Brogniart, tout juste de retour en France après deux mois de tournage passés dans le Pacifique pour les tournages de Koh-Lanta All Stars, et de L'Aventure Robinson. À voir également : Mort de Johnny : Michel Drucker fond en larmes sur France 2Anne-Sophie Jilot-Guérand ... Retrouvez cet article sur Public

Mort de Johnny Hallyday : Goldman, Aznavour, Zazie : ils ont écrit ses plus grandes chansons

Santé de Johnny Hallyday : "C'est un RoboCop" pour Eddy Mitchell

Vidéo : Johnny Hallyday : Son évolution physique !

TPMP : Jean-Luc Lemoine : voici pourquoi il a refusé Danse avec les stars...

Nawell Madani : maintenant, elle veut bien faire Danse avec les Stars !