#punisher angst

[petertingle-yipyip]

BIGGER PERSON - BILLY RUSSO

Pairing: billy x castle!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 1,741

Summary: When Frank’s sister finds out that a) her brother’s alive and b) her boyfriend is supposed to kill him, the conversation quickly turns bad.

Your brother, Frank Castle.

Months had passed and his death still didn’t feel real. You had seen the headstone, found a church that was willing to give the infamous Punisher his last rites. Even though Frank didn’t really care for religion towards the end of his life, your parents would’ve wanted it done so you made sure of it. You sent them the blessed crucifix from the private ritual.

You were frozen in place as the news story played out on your TV. The job Billy was working for the senator, the one he claimed was to protect from the unknown bomber, was also intended to protect him from Frank. Frank, the alleged accomplice to the bomber, was being framed - yet again - as public enemy number one.

You paused the screen when the channel was playing video from a cop car that very clearly showed your brother’s face and pulled your phone to text Billy. But as your finger was finding the conversation, you realized he would very likely lie to you again. He lied about the job to begin with, so why would he owe you an honest answer now.

So instead, you paced your living room until he finally made it home.

When you heard the door open, your grip tightened on the remote and you felt the urge to throw it. Either at Billy or close to it, you didn’t care, but you refrained from either. He walked in and said his usual greeting, moving in to kiss your cheek but you shoved him off.

“Tell me you didn’t know.” You said tightly, hoping the anger in your stare was enough to burn him.

“What do you mean?” He asked, a slight nervous chuckle pairing with the words.

“The bombings. All of it is being blamed on Frank.” You continued.

“Frank?” His brows furrowed and you had the urge to shove him again.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

“No, I- I’m not.” His hands went up in surrender. “I want to finish this discussion, really. But honestly, baby, I’m too damn tired. Can it wait till later?”

“So my brother is alive and I find out by chance from some news story and you want to talk about it later?” You said angrily, gesturing to the paused screen that still displayed the photo captured from a police car’s dash cam.

“Can we not do this, Y/N?” Billy sighed and dropped on the couch, covering his eyes.

“No, I think we should.” You snapped. “That is my brother, Billy. If there was even a rumor that he was still alive, you should’ve told me!”

“It was just a rumor.” He enunciated, still not looking at you. “I hadn’t heard from him so how was I supposed to know it was true?”

“You still should’ve told me!”

“I’m sorry!” He shouted, standing suddenly and. pausing you to take a small step back. “What am I supposed to do about it now? What- What- What do you want from me?”

“Jesus.” You sighed and put your hands up in surrender. “Nevermind. It’s just my brother, right? Who cares? Not like I had a right to know but hey.”

You stormed off to the bedroom and ignored Billy’s muttering as you left. You didn’t even need Billy to confess that he knew or that he was helping Frank hide. All you wanted was an honest apology, but he couldn’t even do that.

The days went on and you still said very little to Billy. You still did your usual routine, breakfast and coffee ready before he went to work. Dinner either on the way or finishing on the stove when he got home. But outside of that, or answering a direct question he asked, you were busy with a book or a new TV show. Anything really that meant you didn’t have to say anything to him.

It was right before his TV interview about the attack on Senator Ori at the hotel, which they were attributing to Frank. He had came out and asked if his tie looked okay and you said “Sure, it’s fine” without facing him.

“Jesus, Y/N/N. How long you gonna act like this?” He complained.

“I shouldn’t have to be the bigger person.” You spat back, still keeping your back to him. “I shouldn’t have to bend to keep us on track. Let me ask you this, Bill. That guy with the- the eye thing. He having you go after Frankie?”

“Y/N…”

“I swear to God I will walk out that door.” You threatened and turned to face him. You watched his eyes dart between yours as he took in your expression. “Everything you’ve been doing lately, was it all about Frank?”

“Yeah...”

“Catching him?”

“Yeah…”

“Killing him?”

You didn’t even know how you managed to get that question out but you did. It felt as if your throat had tightened and the three short syllables were rung out of your voice box like water out of a towel.

“Yeah…” He answered, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart grew heavy in your chest and it nearly felt

like it had stopped beating.

“And you wonder why I’m pissed off.” You said flatly, pushing past  and leaving him behind you.

“Baby, it's just business, alright? Nothing personal.”

“It should be personal!” You turned and shouted. “That’s my goddamn brother!”

“You want me to apologize for doing my job?” He asked sharply.

“Yes!” You threw your arms forward. “Apologize for trying to kill my brother!”

“It’s my job!”

“Well excuse me for thinking you cared about me more than a fucking paycheck.” You put hands up in surrender and turned away, back into the kitchen.

“C’mon, babe.” He sighed, hurrying after you. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s always up to me, even when it shouldn’t be.” You complained. “You want me to take the blame for a fight and I do. I do because I love you and I always think it’ll be the last time.”

“Y/N…” He said your name softly, confused even. As if he had barely realized what the routine with you had become.

Argue about something, sometimes petty and sometimes not. Then you’ll make up when you apologize, but nothing changes. It was a vicious cycle that Billy was completely oblivious to, until now.

“I think that maybe next time you’ll be the bigger person cause I’m sick and tired of carrying the burden of every argument.” You shrugged, tears forming in your eyes that you ignored. “Keep moving my boundaries so you don’t cross lines, keep quiet when you yell. All cause I thought I had to to make it last between us.”

“I… I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He took a moment to think over his next words. It felt like a very defining moment for your relationship. He never meant to make you feel that way, and knowing he had was arguably the worst pain he’d ever felt. How did he not notice? How could he do that to you?

“Tell me how to make this right.” He said softly, gently reaching to take your hand. You looked up at him while you let your hand sit in his. He looked at you with wide, soft eyes that were begging for forgiveness. “I’ll do anything.”

“You think it’s that easy?” You countered with a small challenge. “Billy, you’ve been hunting down my brother for a man who doesn’t care about you. That guy will throw you under the bus as soon as he needs to, just like everyone else. But my brother? You know damn well Frank would’ve done anything to protect you. He never would’ve don’t this to you.”

“No… He would’ve.”

“Why?” 

He looked towards the ceiling and sighed heavily. Your stomach felt tight and your blood ran warm with anticipation while you took a step back, taking your hand away from his.

“What did you do?” You urged.

“The carousel.” He began and that knot in your stomach grew tighter.

“You were there?”

“No.” He looked back to you, a silent plea in his expression. To hear him out, to believe him, to forgive him. “No, I wasn’t, I swear.”

“You didn’t shoot him? Or Maria? Or the kids?”

“No, I wouldn’t do it.” He shook his head and you could’ve sworn you saw tears in his eyes. “I said no.”

You were quiet as things began to click and you knew it reflected in your eyes as Billy’s expression changed.

“But you knew… You knew they were coming after my brother and that’s why we went out instead of me going with them.” You realized and the thick weight of betrayal slammed into your chest so hard you thought the bones would break. “How fucking dare you stand in front of me.”

“No, Y/N, please. Let me-“

“Let you what?” You cut in sharply and your hands tightened into fists at your side. “Let you explain? What is there to explain when you just admitted to knowing that your worthless fucking friends were gonna kill my family and you did nothing?” Your voice grew to a scream as you rambled.

His eyes shot to your hands and he took a step back from you.

“My niece and nephew, Billy!” You shouted. “They were kids! And Maria, she loved you. And you just let it happen.”

“I couldn’t do anything.” He spoke quietly.

“You’re kidding, right?” You laughed in disbelief. “You could’ve warned him!”

“He wouldn’t have believed me!” He reasoned.

“Y’know what.” You took a deep breath. “Just get out.”

“Y/N..”

“Aren’t you late for your interview?”

He opened his mouth to speak but the glare you gave him kept him quiet. Instead, he collected his things and went to leave.

“I didn’t want all this.” He called from the door. “It wasn’t supposed to end up this way.”

“Yeah, you worked so hard to keep it from me.” You countered. “Good luck when Frank finds out.”

The door closed soon after and you found your phone. You scrolled your contacts until Karen’s name popped up. You had met the woman when her friends were defending Frank in court and you two had stayed decent friends. You texted and said you had seen the news about Frank and asked if she could help you get in touch with him.

karen (lawyer): just put flowers in the window

[cuddly-dean-baby]

The Lawyers 3

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader

Words: 630

Crashing through your apartment’s window in the very early morning, you groan in pain as you land on your wounded side, which is covered in blood and bruises. “Fuck.”

“Never would have thought I’d hear that leave your mouth.” After hearing the voice, you jump to your feet, a plant pot in hand, ready to throw.

“What the fuck, Frank?” The pot plant slips out of your hand, splitting into pieces of shards and dirt. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

“Came through the same window you came in, but I didn’t fall over.”

“I- why are you here?”

“I heard about you and Red, wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Why start now?” Placing a hand on your wound, you walk to the bathroom, Frank following you. As soon as you sit on the side of the tub, Frank leans against the doorframe. “Why start caring now? You don’t give a shit about him, and you and I haven’t talked since him and I got together, only when we see each other on some night jobs.”

“Where’s your kit?” Pointing at the sink, he goes to it to grab the first aid kit at the bottom of him. You watch him do it before he kneels in front of you, in between your legs. 

His hands grab the bottom of your shirt, waiting for the go-to. He sees you raise your arms as far as they could go, letting him peel your shirt off to show a slash across your stomach, blood continuing to pool out.

As he cleans away at it, he lets you fist his shirt. He watches the blood flow down to your legs and collect on the sides of the bathtub. 

“You can’t keep going out, especially if this is what happens.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s doing anything, or you.”

Once finished and the wound is bandaged, Frank stands up, still in between your legs. He watches you lean your head against his stomach. “I don’t know what to do, Frank.”

Nothing is said for a short moment before you feel his hands cup your face, lifting it up to meet his. As soon as you look into his eyes, his lips are pressed against yours. 

Separating from the kiss, your foreheads are pressed against each other. 

“(Y/N)?!” The both of you hear from the lounge.

“Bathroom!” Footsteps come to the said room, having enough time for Frank to be leaning against the sink and not like the both of you just kissed.

“I’ve been trying to call- oh fuck! What happened?” Karen exclaimed, eyes widened. 

“Work,” was all that was said from you, which she knew what you meant.

“Have you heard from Matt?”

“No, not since I left the office after yesterday morning with your coffees.”

“And why would they hear from him?” Frank asks, getting Karen’s attention.

“I’m sorry, why does it concern you, Castle?”

“Because I’m their friend, and I care about them.” Frank gets up from the sink and walks towards her. He stops when you step in front of him.

“Go make something to eat,” you tell him. Looking back at Karen, he walks out of the bathroom and to the kitchen.

As you sit back down on the tub, Karen crosses her arms. “When did he get here?”

“When I came back from patrol, which was around 10 minutes ago. He helped me with the cut,” you answered, pointing at the bandage. “Now, why are you asking about Matt?”

“He didn’t come to work today and he usually calls one of us that he won’t come in, which is very rare. When Foggy and I went to his apartment, he wasn’t there. Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“My best bet is that he’s at hers.”

MARVEL TAGS

@spnfanboy777 - @wolf-knights - @blurredx18 - @emmaandkodak - @chrisevansangel

SERIES TAGS

@yarrystyleeza​

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| 20:20 ||

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Tags/warnings: breakup, Matt's morality, Frank's stubbornness, sadness and angst, oh god I'm really sorry I'll make it up to you all sometime soon! 😭 Um, please let me know if you 'enjoyed' it by reblogging or commenting, thank you. 💔

.

.

"-the point is you didn't have to!" Matt strides into the apartment, ripping off his cowl and gloves and throwing them across the floor as if they're white hot and burning his skin.

Frank storms in after him. "Christ, it was him or you! You really think I'm gonna just stand by and let you get put down by some low grade asshole just to preserve your moral superiority?"

Matt paces a furrow into the floor, overwhelmed with adrenaline and emotion. "No, you don't get to bring this back to me. You said you'd stop, you told me you wouldn't go back to it. Promised, even."

"I thought the obvious exception was if it was you they were gunning for!?" Frank says with incredulous laughter.

Matt braces his hands on the back of the couch, knuckles flashing white with how hard he's gripping it. "You don't need to kill people, Frank. Sometimes you act like it's the easiest solution!"

"Act like its the easiest- are you fucking serious? You'd be dead if I hadn't taken the shot. Dead! Do you not see that?! You know me, you knew what you were taking on with this." He scrubs his hand over his face, he can't stop the words from pouring out now that the gloves were well and truly off in all respects.

"What about you? You don't fucking need to be Daredevil do you?"

"It isn't the same thing Frank. It's not a choice for me, this city needs Daredevil!"

"Killing ain't always a choice, sometimes it's a fucking necessity. And yeah that's my whole fucking point! If you're dead the city won't have you to protect it! Stop trying to make yourself into some sort of martyr, Matt. It doesn't suit you. People will die if you want to live, that's just how it is. We've just gotta accept what happened and move on."

Matt's still pacing, shaking his head. It's starting to hurt. "Yeah, thing is, I don't know if I can. If you really feel like you can go on that way then maybe… maybe-"

Frank stops, looks at him. "What are you sayin'?"

Matt shrugs, throwing up his hands. "I don't... I don't know." He can feel the sting of the tears waiting to fall already.

"Bullshit. You know. Go on, say it." It's the last thing Frank wants to hear but he needs the truth out of him.

Matt chokes. "I'm not-, I can't…" There's a monumental lump of lead in his chest, the words feel barbed and bloody waiting in his throat. He can hear the steady beat of Frank's heart. It's so loud it's almost bursting his eardrums.

"Just say it." Frank challenges him again, his brow furrowed. "You want to. Say we can't be together."

Matt hangs his head, sniffs.

Frank keeps on despite the voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up, to stop.

"Say you can't love someone like that. Someone like me."

"Frank, don't…"

"Don't what? I'm fucking making it easy for you." Frank could feel his heart shredding into a million pieces as he watches Matt give up fighting for them right before his eyes. What a dumb fuck he had been to think that they could ever actually work. Hindsight is 20:20.

"It's not easy." Tears are freely rolling down Matt's beautiful face now. "I love you." he sobs. Frank grabs his coat from where he left it on the back of the couch.

"No, you don't. You can't love a killer." He spares him a last glance, it feels like Matt's unseeing eyes meet his perfectly.

"You can't love me."

As the door closes and he listens to Frank's fading footsteps, Matt falls to his knees.

"I can't."

Sad Fratt tags: @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass

@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel @messymissy @evilbubu @lucy-sky @anna-hawk

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Fuck.

FUCK!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUU

This story and your Frank has had my heart and soul in a chokehold ever since the beginning. I feel pathetically unable to describe what going through this journey has made me feel. It's like anything I say would be inadequate. My eyes are now damp and have been several times throughout I'll say that much. The LOVE that you convey between not just Frank and reader, but also between her and her brother? Their friends Matt, and Karen, and even Madani? And the whole part about Maria... Please hold me! 😭

There is NO FUCKING DOUBT that I will be reading this again, I want to feel that rollercoaster of emotions again, I want to relive that yearning 🥹 (and I'm sure it goes without saying but I'll say it anyway: the sexytimes were AMAZING, every situation it was gorgeous and sweet, or so fucking ridiculously fiery hot that I had to go walk around outside to calm down. You are inspiring. 👌)

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

I just .. It's just so fucking perfect, I don't know how you go about crafting a story like this but I can honestly say from the bottom of my heart that you've nailed it.

This one is so very special to me and to loads of others no doubt.

Thank you so much for writing and sharing your craft with us on here. I love you I love you I love you! 💖

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you. 

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

Keep reading

[violetaquadelight]

Guilt

Under starlit skies,

Orion’s gaze pierces deep,

Haunted by lost time,

Guilt wraps around my spark tight—

Your light, a ghost that lingers near.

And Alternative ending

[zomtart]

A Second Pillow (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! Please pretend I'm not 3 days late lmaooo...here's my first addition to the lovely Tuna-Tober!

Tuna-Tober Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hospital, mention of injuries, a little bit of angst with fluff

Word Count: 600

“Frank,” you said quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He hadn’t let go of you since he got here, hadn’t taken his eyes off you, hadn’t stopped making sure you were safe. “You can go home. I’m okay.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he responded, his voice even lower than usual with how he was fighting to stay awake. It was past three in the morning, and you’d both been here since noon when he had rushed you to the emergency room. “If they wanna discharge you tomorrow morning, I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

You smile fondly, your thumb rubbing back and forth on his hand. “I appreciate the chivalry, but you look like you’re going to pass out. At least go get some coffee.”

He just shakes his head, shifting slightly in his seat. “I'm fine. You warm enough? Need another pillow?”

Frank, to most, seemed like an impassive man. His set jaw, his furrowed brows, his constant attempts to keep this expression blank, it all pointed to the conclusion he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. But you knew him. You knew his insistence on staying put, his frequent scans of the room, and the periodic twitching of his index finger meant he was worried out of his mind. He knew you were safe. Logically, he knew you were going to be fine. But the sight of you in a hospital bed had him on edge. He felt compelled to find the threat, something he could put down to keep you alive and well. 

“Frank,” you said softly. “I’m okay. It’s just a broken bone.”

“Two broken bones.” he corrected gruffly.

You gave him a nonchalant shrug. “One broken bone, two broken bones…the only difference is gonna be my hospital bill.” you tried for a laugh but only got a grimace. You sat up and put your other hand below your joined ones, bringing them up to kiss his.

“I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m with you. Alright?”

He just stared at you for a moment, his eyes unconvinced and wavering. 

With a small grunt you move yourself to the right and pat the open spot next to you. “C’mon, big guy. You need some sleep.”

“I’m fine—“

“If you’re not gonna listen to me when I say I’m fine, I won’t listen to you when you say it. Come on.” you pat the spot again. When he doesn’t move, you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “Really? You would deny a woman cuddles?”

That cracked his shell, a twitch in his lips making him smile, just a little bit. It was the world to you. 

“There’s barely enough room on that mattress for you by yourself--”

You sighed, shaking your head and feigning offense. “No, no, I see how it is. I guess I’ll just have to sleep in here all by myself. Alone. Cold. Wounded--”

“Oh hell--”

You beamed as he climbed in next to you, moving close to him to rest your head on his chest.

“Easy, easy, be careful, honey.” he grumbled, enveloping your body in his arms, careful to not bump into your injuries. 

Once you were both settled and comfortable you sighed, letting your eyes drift shut. His fingers trailed back and forth on your forearm in a soothing motion, pressing a kiss to the top of your head every now and then. It wasn’t long before you both fell asleep, the sound of each other’s breathing a soothing lullaby.

@tunatober

[miss-americanbi]

crowley’s demonic form being a snake is so devastating to me because not only do snakes have notoriously terrible eyesight, but also they’re cursed (in the biblical sense) to crawl flush to the ground forever. his fall wasn’t just painful from the, you know, falling of it all. it was the day crowley was damned to be blind to his own creations, to be forever banished as far away from his stars as heaven and hell could possibly force him.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lilac

a/n: ...yes i did spend about an hour in procreate trying to change the sign on the right photo to say lilac and not the name it originally said... welp. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't an overachiever.

summary: moving back home to the family-run inn isn't exactly what you had expected, especially not with the mysterious lumberjack that now calls the quaint little town of Dunbrook his home as well...

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, running an inn in a tiny rural town, explicit sexual content, violence, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, pete castiglione era, total word count is 51k

masterlist | join my taglist | series playlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

A SUMMER IN DUNBROOK

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[bellaxgiornata]

You're My Safe Place

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here.”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, panic attack, mentions of Reader being teased for weight (and a couple other things), soft Frank

Summary: Frank and you are getting ready to attend your family's Thanksgiving dinner later, but the stress of the holiday season and the distress of seeing your horrible aunt has you nosediving right into a panic attack.

a/n: I've always wanted to write Frank comforting Reader over a panic attack so I slipped one in for this event. This is for anyone with a family member (or members) that are awful to be around now that the holidays are coming up. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

With both hands grasping the kitchen counter in a near death grip, you leaned over the countertop as you tried to stay focused on the coffee machine in front of you. You were tired, having woken up early to a string of anxious thoughts about the Thanksgiving dinner tonight with your extended family that Frank and you would be attending. But as the coffee began to brew with a soft whir, your mind continued spiraling like it had been doing since five this morning. Ever since you’d woken up in bed next to Frank, staring at his bare shoulder poking out from beneath the bed sheets, you hadn’t been able to stop the dread and anxiety about what horrible comments your aunt would subject you to at this holiday gathering. Especially with all of the stress you’d already been under with the holiday season now in full swing.

Breath coming in sharper, your hands gripped the countertop even tighter. Farther down the hall you could hear Frank moving around in the bedroom getting ready for the day, and as much as you tried to ground yourself in the familiarity of that, you felt yourself steadily slipping as your mind replayed all of the awful things your aunt had said to you in the past–about your age and lack of a husband, the fact that you were still childless, that your profession was a joke, and even making jabs about your weight. Your vision began to blur as her irritating voice rang clear in your mind, your heart pounding so heavily that you felt the resounding vibration in your throat. Your rib cage felt as if it had clamped itself around your lungs and heart like a vice, constricting them both tighter and tighter while you fought to take a single full breath.

A panic attack. You were on the verge of another panic attack. Teetering just right at the edge, waiting to topple straight into it.

But no–no, you couldn’t. Not here. Not with Frank just in the other room. He had never seen you like this before and you never wanted him to see you like this. He had enough to worry about already and you refused to be another reason for the crease between his brows. He didn’t need to know how much something so ridiculous affected you. But at the same time, you knew tonight was the first family gathering of yours he’d be attending. Which meant it would be the first time he’d meet your aunt. The first time he’d be hearing the things she’d say about you.

Desperately you began sharply inhaling air through your gritted teeth, your eyes snapping tightly shut as you tried to get control of yourself. You just needed to focus, to breathe, to think about literally anything else besides the dinner and your aunt. But the harder you tried to fight it, the more her insults kept slipping through the quickly crumbling cracks in your mind. 

You were falling into it now, too far gone. The memories of past family gatherings were surfacing now; her repeated passive aggressive comments at the dinner table about your plate of food, the Christmas gifts that were meant ‘to help you attract a man’ or ‘lose a few of those unnecessary pounds,’ the constant comparisons to her golden child of a daughter, the rude questions about your salary. Your body was curling in on itself as you kept struggling to fight off the sensation that was dragging you under. You were gasping for breath, hyperventilating and too deep in to pull yourself back out. With shaking, sweat-dampened hands, you tried to readjust your hold on the countertop as if it was some lifeline that would keep you grounded in the present. But with your eyes closed, your hand missed the countertop and accidentally bumped into one of the coffee mugs sitting on it instead. You’d opened your eyes just in time to see the white ceramic mug fall to the floor and shatter, the noise louder than that of your own ragged, sharp breaths.

That’s when you lost it.

Dropping to the floor in a heap, tears streamed down your cheeks as you pulled your legs up to your body, as if they’d somehow help to keep your heart from beating straight through your chest. Your nails dug into your calves, partially in an attempt to keep your legs firmly pressed to yourself, but partly because the sting of them biting into your skin helped to counteract the growing panic inside of you.

And that’s when you’d heard Frank’s thudding, hurried footsteps as he came rushing out of the bedroom and straight into the kitchen. With vision tinged in white at the edges, you struggled to look up at Frank when he paused at the entrance of the room. You could only imagine how you looked to him right now, huddled in a ball beside the shattered coffee mug, tears pouring down your cheeks as you continued to suck in shallow, gasping breaths. 

He didn’t stand there long. In four quick strides he was on the floor beside you, a stern and almost unreadable expression on his face. But even in the midst of your panic attack, you could still see the fear and worry hidden behind his dark eyes. He was terrified and confused.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he ordered.

His hands hovered in the air between you both, as if he wanted to offer you comfort but he wasn’t certain if he should touch you. Your tongue darted out of your dry mouth to wet your lips as you attempted to concentrate, but the lack of proper oxygen to your brain with the way you’d been breathing was causing everything to become a haze. And with the way your breaths kept coming in sharp and shallow, there was no way you could get a word out.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Somethin’ happen? Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You shook your head in answer to his questions, your entire body trembling against the kitchen cabinets behind you. There was no way you could form words right now, not with the way it felt like your throat was closing up.

Almost as if a light went off in Frank’s head a second later, realization dawned on him and his entire demeanor shifted. Immediately the urgency left his voice, his tone becoming something soft and soothing as his hands finally and gently landed on your shoulders. Though the concern was still apparent in his eyes, not something he could just push away.

“Relax, honey,” he said. “You’re alright. ‘S'just a panic attack.”

You nodded, breath still coming in sharp, short gasps. This wasn’t the first one you’d had, but that didn’t alleviate the fear and embarrassment that managed to surface within you at the moment. You didn’t want Frank to see you like this.

“Need you to take some deep breaths, sweetheart,” he told you. “In and out. Can you do that for me?”

Nodding again, you felt a few more hot tears streak their way down your cheeks. As Frank’s thumbs drew comforting little circles along your shoulders, his face hovering just a foot in front of yours, you tried to inhale a deep, shaky breath.

“That’s it, honey,” he praised. “Nice and slow. Don’t fight it, just breathe through it.”

Nails digging tight into your calves, you tried to focus on Frank’s face and his soothing words. Inhaling another ragged breath in, you tried to take a full breath while fighting the protesting burning in your lungs. Frank’s eyes remained fixed on you as you inhaled the breath, but his hands released your shoulders, both of them coming down to gently pull your fingers away from where they were digging into your calves. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Doin’ good.”

As you inhaled a few more sharp breaths, your tears gradually began to slow even if the trembling of your body did not lessen. The rough pads of Frank’s thumbs began soothingly stroking the back of your hands, the sensation helping to steadily draw you back to the present and out of your head.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” you gasped out.

“Shh, I’ve got you now. I’m here,” Frank murmured, pulling you in towards himself. “Don’t apologize.”

Clinging to him, your hands desperately grabbed at the back of his soft sweater as you buried your face into his shoulder. Your breathing was still shallow and uneven, your heart beating a little erratically in your chest, but you felt yourself little by little coming back out of the panic attack as you continued to follow Frank’s calm instructions to breathe in and out.

It was a few minutes before you finally felt yourself really calm down. You kept your face buried in Frank’s shoulder, embarrassment coursing through you. You couldn’t believe he’d just witnessed you have a panic attack, let alone over something so stupid.

“You good?” he eventually asked after a moment.

Nodding your head against his shoulder, your fingers eased their grip on his sweater, though you didn’t release your hold of him. “Yeah,” you quietly answered.

“What was that 'bout?” he asked.

You stiffened in his arms, afraid to tell him the truth. Tonight was the first family gathering of yours he’d agreed to attend, which meant he was bound to witness some of these comments firsthand. Even if you didn’t tell him about it now, you knew he’d eventually see it happening later.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Frank gently prompted. “Can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“It’s…it’s stupid,” you muttered into his shoulder.

“Not stupid if it’s got you this upset,” he disagreed. “Talk to me.”

Sighing, you turned and rested your cheek along his shoulder, keeping your eyes averted as embarrassment continued to flush your face. “It’s just…this Thanksgiving dinner tonight. I have this–this aunt that I cannot stand. She’s always stuck her nose into my personal business–and I mean real personal sometimes. And she makes these–” you paused, wincing, “–these horribly rude comments to me. Usually when it’s just her cornering me somewhere, but sometimes over the holiday dinners in front of everyone. And I–I just don’t want to see her.”

“Then don’t go,” he said. “We don’t have to.”

“I can’t just not go, Frank,” you replied. “I’d never see my family for holidays again if I simply just stopped going to family gatherings. And generally I enjoy seeing everybody else, it’s just–just her. And I’m…”

Your voice trailed off, your eyes focused on the shattered coffee mug still on the floor just behind Frank. Besides hearing the things she might throw at you this time, the other thing that had been bothering you recently was the fact that this time she would be making these comments in front of Frank. He’d be there to hear every jab she made about you, every comment about what a failure she thought you were or what she deemed wrong with your appearance. Right in front of him.

“You’re what?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, your eyes slowly closed before you answered him in a small voice. “I’m not looking forward to you hearing it.”

Frank’s large hands were immediately pulling your face away from his shoulder before turning it to look at him. You were met with a firm, fearsome expression, one that would’ve sent a shudder down your spine if you hadn’t known how soft he truly was beneath that gruff and intimidating exterior. 

“She won’t say a goddamn thing with me there, sweetheart,” Frank told you, voice a low warning. “Promise you that.”

You smiled softly back up at him. “Frank, you can’t start a physical altercation at Thanksgiving dinner,” you pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I don’t have to do that to get her to keep her mouth shut.”

An amused snort slipped out of you at his words, your mind racing through a myriad of possible situations of how Frank would keep your aunt from verbally attacking you this evening. Each scenario was just as satisfying as the next.

“Honestly, I don’t doubt that,” you replied before sighing. “And I know this…just seems like a dumb thing to get so worked up over but…her comments really get to me. Just every time I see her, she’s always twisting the knife. And then her words stick with me. Always have ever since I was little.”

Frank held you a bit tighter in his arms as he shook his head firmly. “Not alright with anyone talkin’ to you like that. Making you feel this upset,” he told you. “She’s already on my shit list and I haven’t met her.”

You couldn’t fight back the little laugh that bubbled out of you at the idea of Frank Castle putting your aunt on his ‘shit list.’ A tiny grin slipped onto his lips at the sound, a mischievous glint appearing in his dark eyes.

“I have a feeling you and her will not get along this evening,” you said.

“I’ve got that same feeling, sweetheart,” Frank replied, his grin growing. “But whatever happens, you know I’ll be right there.”

Smiling softly up at him, you nodded. “Yeah, yeah I know you will be.”

Frank pulled you back to his chest, his hands once more soothingly running along your back. When he spoke again, his voice a deep rumble, you felt a bit of the anxiety in your mind easing just a bit.

“Not gonna be alone tonight,” he murmured. “Be right there with you.”

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

seven - bad idea, right?

six // finale // masterlist

Pairing: frank x exodus

Word Count: 6,754

Summary: Beaten but unbroken, Livia manages to uncover a truth that keeps Frank from falling off a precipice. But as a result, she ends up caught.

You were screaming. Armed officers had escorted you and Frank out of the room and they kept yanking on your arm, pulling you away from Frank. You jerked in their holds, kicking and screaming and throwing every curse word in every language you had. You didn’t care that it made your wound leak blood. You didn’t care how it hurt.

“He didn’t do this! He didn’t hurt me! Let me go! Let me go!” You kept screaming, kept thrashing, until finally one of their grips faltered. The officer made an exclamation about the blood on your arm but you didn’t care.

You hurried to the gurney they were putting Frank on. The adrenaline must’ve crashed and all of his injuries were catching up to him. Yours were threatening to take you down as well, but you pushed through, using all your strength to keep your eyes open. Hands were on your arms again and you yanked hard. Your elbow smacked the railing while an exasperated sigh sounded from behind you. You refused to look, refused to budge, refused to speak. Instead, you took Frank’s hand in yours and willed him to live.

Paramedics talked around you while they loaded Frank. You tried to go with him but a stern hand on your shoulder stopped you. Your head snapped, rage now simmering in your tear-filled eyes, but you knew there was nothing intimidating about a woman crying her eyes out. Brett sighed deeply and gave you a once over. He motioned one of the medics over, said something that you couldn’t focus on, and stepped aside to let you up. You nodded gratefully and sat at Frank’s side.

The paramedic he had talked to came to your side and asked you a question. It didn’t register so when you didn’t answer, she pointed to the various injuries. You simply nodded, allowing her to reposition your body to whatever would be easiest for her to work with.

“Он не может умереть. Пожалуйста, не позволяйте ему умереть. Не он, не сейчас.” You mumbled, but you weren’t exactly sure how quiet you were. (He can’t die. Please, don’t let him die. Not him, not now.)

Was that what Frank felt when you were dying in his arms at the carousel? When you were bleeding out, staining him with the little you had left? When he begged and cursed and demanded you lived? You felt gutted. You had felt guilty enough in the coming days that you had nearly added another name to the death roll of that cursed attraction, but to now know what it felt like, it was almost enough to make you physically sick.

It was all such a bad idea. Going after Billy. Confronting the man from Ohio on your own. Coming back to New York before you had fully settled your head. You never should’ve gone to see Billy, maybe then he would’ve forgotten about everything between you two. 

Everything since had happened aggressively fast.

You arrived at the hospital and were taken to two different rooms. An entire team of E.R. staff flocked to Frank, while you had two nurses. It wasn’t important how many caregivers you had, so long as Frank lived. Quick stitches in various places and replacing the gauze you had already bled through were done while your focus was in the next room.

Please, God, don’t take him.

You were mildly surprised you let the thought come as a prayer. You truly were desperate, to turn to an entity that had turned His back on you and, despite having several chances to take Frank, didn’t seem to want him.

Hopefully you don’t want him this time either.

You were so lost in your prayers that you didn’t realize Brett was standing in front of you. Your nurses were long gone, but a prescription for antibiotics was in your hands.

“What?” Your brows furrowed as the hospital around you came back into focus.

“I just need a quick statement.” He repeated but there was something hesitant in his expression, like he knew you weren’t all there.

Clearly.

“Statement?” It was your turn to parrot. “No. No, there is no statement to give.”

“C’mon, Livia.”

“I need Matt or Foggy before I do that.” You shook your head. You folded the paper and tucked it into the waistband of your skirt. “Call my lawyers.”

“You're not under arrest.”

“I didn’t think I was.”

“Just tell me what you two were doing there.” Brett tried instead. “He was pointing a gun at you, Livia, but you still want me to believe he’s not the bad guy?”

That seemed to reel you back to reality. The sting of your wounds started to nag at you at the same time.

“He wasn’t going to shoot me.”

“Like he shot those other women?”

“No, something wasn’t right about that.” You confessed. “They shouldn’t have… Frank was looking for Russo.”

“And you?”

“Also looking for Russo.” You nodded.

Brett scoffed slightly but you noticed he didn’t have anything to take down your statement. That conversation wasn’t supposed to be happening, not like that at least.

“Good way to get yourself killed.” He nagged and you refrained from rolling your eyes. “Seems a habit with you.”

“Yeah, well, God doesn’t want me and neither does the Devil.” You shrugged. “Hopefully they don’t want him either.”

“You can’t save this guy, alright? Whatever you think you owe him, you don’t.”

“You weren’t there.” You said flatly but your voice sounded miles away, lost in the memory. “At the carousel. You didn’t see the way Billy looked at me, like I was just something to get rid off. To throw away and not worry about again… But Frank, he wouldn’t leave my side. You may not think I owe him anything but I owe him my life, Brett. How do I repay that?”

“Maybe you don’t.” He shrugged. “Man’s got a rap sheet that can cover the globe. That’s not the kinda guy you need to run around with.”

“You’d be surprised the company I keep.” You pushed off the bed and groaned as your leg buckled slightly, fresh pain throbbing in your stitched wounds.

They’d be healed by morning, whether your body’s doing or yours. 

“You shouldn’t go till the doctor discharges you.” Brett tried.

“I’m not gonna sit around and wait for some guy in a coat to tell me I can leave.” You countered. “The nurses did their jobs. They’ll bill my insurance. Everyone still gets paid.”

“Livia-“

“No.” You said firmly. “You say I don’t owe Frank anything. You don’t owe me anything so stop trying to protect me. I was FBI SWAT and before that, something worse. I’m fine.”

“Okay, clearly you need a concussion eval because there’s something going on.” He complained. “Stay put. I’m finding a nurse for you.”

You blew out a sigh and watched him go. Once he disappeared down a hallway, you left. You wandered the emergency area, peeking into rooms until you found Frank. You couldn’t and it made a hole in your gut. You cursed yourself and then found a small collection of nurses, muttering about having treated the Punisher and how they were glad he had moved to another unit.

You found your way to the hospital gift shop and were able to get a clean shirt and shorts. The lady at the register, after her eyes flicked to every stitched wound and shadowed bruise she could see, said she would add it to your existing bill. She reached over to scan the bracelet and sent you on your way. You changed in the closest bathroom and decided to take the long walk to your apartment.

When you got there, you took a warm shower. You felt the remaining blood washing away, soaked your hair and scrubbed it firmly. You wanted to stay in the water, to pretend there was no war against Billy outside your apartment. Pretend the man from Ohio wasn’t hunting you as well. Pretend there wasn’t a terrified teenage girl counting on you. But you knew that your apartment wouldn’t be safe forever.

So you got out, finished getting ready, brought yourself to tears forcing the slashes to heal, slipped the stitches that were still wet with blood, and left. You wore a short sleeve compression shirt with your vest over it. You hid it all under a loose fitting button up and blazer. You clipped the badge to your waistband on one side and slipped your gun into the back of your belt. You slipped a small switchblade into your pocket and grabbed your purse before returning to the hospital, almost as a whole new woman.

“Sorry, ma’am.” The posted officer said easily, stepping in front to block your path. “Hospital staff and police only.”

“I’m with Nelson and Murdock, Castle’s legal team.” You countered and went to pass. He stepped in front again and your head cocked in annoyance. “What do you want, my Bar license? I have a right to see my client.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “Strict orders.”

“Hmm.” You nodded, tongue pushed against your cheek. Your eyes flicked to the name pinned to his chest. “How about now, Officer Smith?” You shifted your blazer to show your FBI badge.

“I could also pull out the Sixth Amendment from the Bill of Rights. Neither my bureau nor your precinct can deny a person legal representation. Due process and all, but hey, this is great grounds for a mistrial.” You continued, a shrug of your own. “Or I could just have your badge now. Your choice.”

“Alright, just go.” He groaned and waved you on. As you passed, he muttered something about the second ‘know-it-all bitch’ to come for Castle.

Karen beat you to it then.

When you stepped inside, Karen was sitting silently in the closest chair.

“Livia…” She gasped and sat a little straighter.

You were suddenly thankful you had taken care of yourself before you came.

“It’s good to finally see you.” She continued.

“Right, well, things have been busy.” You nodded and went to Frank’s other side. You slid off your blazer and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m just glad he’s alive.”

“Well what about you? Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Does um- Does Matt or Foggy know you’re back?”

“They saw the news about the ReadyQuick check place.”

“I know they’d love to-“

“I didn’t come back for a reunion, Karen.” You sighed.

It wasn’t fair to be mean to Karen. You knew that and you knew you should apologize. There was too much going on that she didn’t know that had your focus. Amy. Billy. Frank. The man from Ohio. The bounty on you all. There were pieces that you weren’t even sure how or if they fit anymore. Dinah. Dr. Dumont. Curtis. Your mind was too busy, too locked in on your mission, to worry about pleasantries.

“I came back because he needed me.” You looked at Frank. “Because he and…”

You knew Karen was trustworthy. She had kept your secrets until she physically couldn’t anymore. She kept Matt’s secret, even in his alleged death. She kept Frank’s in his. But telling her about Amy felt more vulnerable than anything. Instead, you trained your eyes on the cuffs around Frank’s wrist. You wondered if the pins in your hair would be enough to trigger the pins and release them.

“Livia, what the hell happened?” She asked and the fear in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I saw the news.”

“Billy.”

“Did he… Did he see you two coming?”

“Don’t.” You sighed.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get involved this time. Look at what it did to him, and you don’t even know what it did to me.”

“She’s right.” Frank murmured and you felt the relief roll through you. He wouldn’t look at her, barely even looked at you. “Walk away, Karen.”

“What? You two think you can scare me off that easy?”

“It’s not about scaring you.” You sighed. “It’s about keeping you alive.”

“I don’t think you want me to go.” She shook her head and stood.

You sighed and got to your feet. You angled your body so you could face them both and you kept a hand on the side rail.

“It’s a tough situation.” She continued and you raised a brow. “But nothing we haven’t dealt with before. We just have to figure out what to do about it.”

“What to…” Your brows furrowed and you took a few tentative steps forward. Karen shifted but didn’t move. “Karen, we don’t do anything. You think there’s a firm in this country that can do anything? We’re fucked on that front.”

“I did it.” Frank said quietly.

“Shut up.” You said sharply.

“I killed three women.”

“Shut up!”

“Why?” He scoffed and you turned quickly. “You’re not gonna fix this. Neither of you are. What you’re both gonna do is turn around and walk out that damned door, alright? You’re gonna get as far away from this and from me as you can.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me to go.” You threatened. “I dare you. I’m not leaving until you actually have the audacity to pull the trigger on me.”

Karen went back to her seat and took a gentler approach. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“It should.” He said quietly.

“It doesn’t.”

Was that what you and Matt looked like, when you were practically begging for him to hate you for what you’d done? You could remember the way his expression shifted everytime you brought up the blood on your hands. He had cringed, not at what you had done but at what you thought you were. He never thought you the villain and you would never understand what you had done to deserve that. Something in a past life, maybe, but when you stood and watched Frank bully himself for something you weren’t convinced happened, you knew he deserved that same treatment.

You didn’t see bad in Frank. He had done admittedly bad things, illegal things, but you were no better. Call it whatever name, you and Frank were still soldiers, trained to fight whatever war found you. This wasn’t one you’d let him fight alone.

You all sat in silence for a little while. You played the scene of that night over and over, trying to picture the wounds on the women, but so much had happened so fast. You hadn’t gotten a good enough look. You couldn’t say for absolute where the bullets came from but you were willing to bet it had nothing to do with Frank. It was something Billy did. You were sure of it. But how the hell were you going to prove it?

After a long while of silence while Frank tried to sleep off his injuries some more, Karen spoke.

“What about you?” She asked carefully.

“What about me?” You replied tightly.

“If this is what happened to him, I can only guess how you were hurt.”

“Few slashes, bullet graze, more bruises than anything.” You shrugged and thought of the deep purples and blues that covered your body from your fight against the Ohio man. You wondered how much was still there.  “I wasn’t wearing anything so he made sure to take the brunt of it. Most of it just hurts from before.”

She nodded and you could see she wasn’t sure how to segway into what she wanted to talk about.

“There’s a reason I haven’t seen anyone.” You said plainly. “This fight with Billy and-“ You shook your head. “It’s too much to risk to see them.”

“Would they make that choice?”

“I know Matt would, and he’d also agree that Foggy doesn’t need to be dragged into this either. You’re the only one insisting.”

After that, you went to get a coffee from the cafeteria. You had to argue your way back into the room when a new officer was posted, but the flash of your badge and your ID let you through. When you got back to the room, you stayed out of sight for a moment while you listened.

Frank was awake, telling the full story of the carousel. He mentioned the way his kids looked at him and you could hear the pain in his voice, feel it crawling under your skin and freezing your veins. You shivered and the warm drink in your hand felt as if you had pulled it from the fridge.

The blue fog in the room was growing thicker with every word, making it harder for you to breathe. Tears you hadn’t realized were building fell down your cheeks and you had to take a few shaky, labored breaths before you managed to find control of yourself and your powers. You knew you were growing more tired and in turn, your abilities were more sensitive, but you’d expected to break down over your inability to be done with Billy, not the Castle family’s tragedy.

You came fully into the room and wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. You set the coffee on the far table and sniffled slightly. Karen looked at you with her own tears forming and Frank’s eyes were glassy as well. You knew there was nothing to say about his family so you didn’t. While you were thinking of something, anything, to try to explain your theory, the door opened and a nurse’s cart was pushed in.

Your head snapped and your hand went for the switchblade. As your fingers found the metal, the “nurse” turned out to be Amy. Frank grumbled in annoyance and you laughed in relief.

“Thank God.” She sighed with a smile and you smiled back, but then her suspicious eyes latched onto Karen. It almost made you laugh. “Who are you?”

“Easy, killer.” You teased.

“I’m Karen Page and I’m guessing you’re not a nurse. Who are you?” Karen answered, taking a defensive stance in front of Frank.

“Nobody. She’s nobody.” Frank answered.

“Hey.” You snapped and glared at Frank, who purposefully looked away from everyone.

“Yeah, I’m the nobody that came to get you out.” Amy answered and went to the cuffs opposite of Karen. You shook your head with a small, amused smile before following behind her and staying at her side.

She fiddled with the locks before Frank tried to snatch his arm away. You grabbed his wrist purposefully and sent a flare of anger towards your palm, enough that he groaned and offered you a glare of his own. Amy explained to Karen the bounty on all of you when Dinah Madani walked in.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered, turning to the woman and crossing your arms.

“Gang’s all here.” She said in greeting.

“What do you want, Dinah?” You asked sharply while Frank insisted on Amy being taken away and protected.

Karen and Dinah went back and forth about the situation and Amy. You didn’t intend on stepping in, given both women had a right to be annoyed with so much that they didn’t know, but a snide comment about Amy’s sticky fingers made you.

“Okay, you know what.” You commented loudly. “She may be a little klepto, but if you’ve got a problem with anyone in this room, you can take it up with me. You don’t get to sit on a high horse anymore, got it?”

“You really wanna do this now, Yersova?”

“You say that like I need backup to knock you on your ass.”

“Not like you fair well without it.”

“Look at that.” You smirked. “All it takes is you getting shot in the head and a skeleton out the closet for you to grow a backbone. Tell me, again. Who was the one that actually drew blood from Russo?”

“Enough.” Karen tried but that didn’t stop the hand that was already on its way to your pocket. “Why are hitmen after you?”

“It’s a long story.” You snapped, not looking away from Dinah.

“And she’ll tell you when you get her and the kid outta here.” Frank continued and you scoffed. “You know I’m right, Livia. It’s not safe for any of you to be here.”

“I don’t need safe.” You argued over your shoulder. “What I need is for y-“

“Can’t you just-“ Amy tried loudly. She came around you and stood in between your standoff with Dinah. Hesitantly, you withdrew your hand and took a step back. “Can’t you wave your stupid badge around and get him out?”

“No.” She said firmly.

Amy turned to you, desperation hiding behind her eyes. “Can you?”

“My badge doesn’t mean shit anymore, kiddo.” You answered sadly. “Otherwise I would’ve had everything cleared by now.”

She let out a loud sigh of frustration and went back to fighting with the handcuffs. “Then someone’s gonna need to help me get him out. Otherwise he dies either way, in here or in jail.”

Karen and Amy began muttering a plan when Dinah stepped aside for a call. You watched her for a moment and the tension in her body gave it away. You snapped your fingers to get the conversation behind you to stop and you snatched Dinah’s phone from her hand. You put it on speaker and Billy’s voice came from the other side.

“…no matter how many cops you surround him with. Are you gonna visit him every day?” The broken man taunted. “Like you visited me?”

You opened your mouth to speak but Dinah beat you to it.

“So why don’t you come here, Billy? Join the party?” She asked.

“Can he hear me?”

“Yes.”

“How’s it feel, Frankie? To be locked up in a cage like an animal? To be confined to a room with nothing but your miserable thoughts to comfort you? Nothing temporary about that pain. It’s like a waking death, like you’re burning in hell… Yeah, yeah, you’re your own devil now, Frankie Boy. And you are no better than me.”

Your head cocked in interest. You're no better than me. Why did that matter to Billy, if Frank was or wasn’t, or even if Frank believed he was or wasn’t?

“You done, Bill?” Frank finally spoke. His voice was cold, distant. Miserable, almost.

“No, you. You’re done!” Billy screamed. “And every day you’ll remember that I’m the one that put you there.”

“But you didn’t.” You spoke up, brows knitting as you remembered that night. “The guys you ran with did more damage than you did…”

“There she is.” He sounded almost proud. You hated that he felt he knew you still. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still at his side. Not like you have anyone else, right? No place in the world. Isn’t that what you said?”

You could feel three pairs of eyes on you. Karen, Dinah, Amy. Frank was still looking at the phone.

“Right.” You agreed tightly. “But you realize that doesn’t bode well for you.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Nothing’s stopping me from burying a knife so deep in your chest it’ll come out the other side.” You threatened. “I can put so many bullets in you that no one would recognize what’s being buried. I’m sure you’d want a closed casket anyway, given those nasty scars.”

He laughed dryly and your empty hand clenched into a fist. “When are you gonna give it up, hmm? I win, Y/N. I win.”

“Not yet. Not until I’m dead.”

The call ended after that. You handed Dinah her phone without looking at her. Instead, you waited for Frank to meet your eyes. He wouldn’t and all it did was deepen the divide you could feel growing between you two.

Frank was punishing himself for those women, but in your bones, you knew it was wrong. That certainty was seering through you, sharper than you had felt anything before. You tried picturing the scene but everything seemed to be missing pieces. Where were the blood splatters? Where were the entry wounds? Were the women lying in puddles of blood when you found them?

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly and the certainty shifted to something else, something wild. Trying to piece together the missing facts played into the unpredictability that came with Billy’s return and it tightened around your throat. It constricted your chest until you felt you couldn’t breathe.

You slipped out of the room and away from everyone until you made it outside. You took a deep breath and tried to focus, to see through the blurring scenery around you, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped. You dropped to the nearest bench and bent over, putting your head between your knees.

Your eyes closed and behind your lids, gray wisps danced and teased you by creating the outlines of the dead women. If you were alone, you would’ve screamed. Instead, you forced all of it down to your palms. It stuck to the circular scar on your wrist instead. Your other hand grabbed it as you righted yourself and leaned against the building.

Your scar seemed to pulse with the intense emotions but you didn’t know what to do with them. You could turn it to anger but what would you burn? Sadness but what would you cool? Fear but what would the bitter taste change? You let go of your wrist and looked down at it in defeat. Beneath your skin, you saw the rolling waves of gray moving like water. It made you shiver.

“Everything okay?” Karen asked. Your head snapped up and your friend was looking at you with concern in your eyes and Dinah in tow. “You snuck out.”

“Just needed to think.” You shrugged as each woman took a seat on either side of you. “Something’s not right about this.”

“Yeah..”

“Why would it matter to be better than Frank?”

“It’s a game, Yersova.” Dinah said firmly. “You know Billy just wants to get back at you and Frank so he’s messing with your head.”

“I can’t stop thinking that it was all planned.” You continued. “The women at Valhalla get escorted out the main room. Why were they in that office? And why did Billy lead Frank there? If he didn’t have the women leave, he would’ve known they were there.”

“There’s a lot about the crime scene that doesn’t add up…” Dinah agreed.

“And Billy calling like that. It means something, right?” Karen looked to you.

“I think so.” You nodded. “If I had just looked closer at their bodies…”

“It’s Mahoney’s case.” Dinah added. “He’s not gonna let either of us in close enough. I know I wouldn’t if it were the other way around.”

“If there is even the slightest chance that Frank didn’t do this, we have to check it out.” Karen urged. “C’mon, Liv, you owe him that much.”

There it was again. Someone saying you owed Frank something. You weren’t really sure if you did or didn’t when it came down to it. Sure, he could’ve killed you when you first met, but it was in his best interest not to. He could’ve let you die at the carousel, but he fought tooth and nail for you to live because it was his vendetta too. He could’ve left you at Valhalla, but he took the beating so you didn’t have to because it was his unfinished business. Yet every time, the first priority seemed to be your wellbeing. Your survival.

“Dinah, you talked to his psych.” You turned to her. “What did you talk about?”

“Just that to understand one you had to understand the other.” She shrugged. “We talked about their differences and how Frank was better than Billy because-“

“You’re no better than me. That’s what Billy said on the phone.” You pointed out firmly. “She knows where he stays and she still talks to him. You gave her exactly what Billy needed.”

“What are you saying?” Karen asked.

“It’s the center of gravity approach. You don’t attack someone directly but you go after what’s most important to them. For Frank, his code. For me…” You rubbed the tattoo at the back of your neck. “It’s the same tactic Fisk used against me. It’s something I used for years. It works, clearly.”

“Frank seemed pretty sure back there.” Dinah countered.

“But it doesn’t feel right.”

“Besides, you know you can’t accuse Krista of aiding and abetting or collusion without proof.”

“You’re on a first name basis now?” You accused and she sighed slightly.

“What if I can get us in the morgue?” Karen offered. “To take a look at the bodies.”

Your brows furrowed for a second before you nodded quietly. She returned the gesture and you both looked to Dinah. Her eyes went between you two in confusion before she sighed and agreed with her own nod. After a moment, you all followed Karen.

She took you to the morgue and introduced you - as FBI Special Agent Yersova - to the man at the desk, Ed. You smiled politely and shook his hand, but you were distracted by the man’s lack of shoes. Karen began to convince the man but he was still hesitant.

Before you could work magic of your own, Karen agreed to some unspoken request. You quirked a brow at the man’s giddy response but opted to stay quiet, if only to ensure you didn’t ruin anything. She turned and offered you a tight, uncomfortable smile, and you found some relief in knowing that what she had agreed to was a last ditch effort. You nodded and Ed guided you three to the bodies.

He gave a quick rundown but you tuned his words out. Everything inside the small room seemed to buzz, filling your head with an expectancy that manifested as pressure. No taste, no tingle, no colored mist. Just suffocating, engulfing pressure that felt like it would break through your ribs if you breathed too deeply.

Karen’s voice cut through the buzzing but the words didn’t make it to your ears. You dared to lean in closer, gently prodding near the bullet wounds. Ed reached out to stop you but you batted his hands away. As you palpated the dead woman’s stomach, you felt a twist of nausea. This was still a person, after all. You shook your head slightly and willed yourself to focus, to see past the lost life and find the evidence you needed.

“Gun powder.” You muttered.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice came to you like the ringing of a church bell and you almost winced at the sudden clarity. “The grains of it on her skin means she was hit at close range. Any of these would’ve been fatal.”

“But Castle wasn’t…” You trailed off, gently pining your arms back to your side. “What about the trajectory?”

“Exit wound was straight out, parallel to the ground. Someone stood right in front of this girl and unloaded right into her.”

“And that’s the same with all three?” Dinah asked. Another voice too loud. This time your head cocked and you winced mildly.

“Yeah.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line to keep the relieved laugh down. You nodded in thanks to Ed before gesturing for Dinah and Karen to cross the room with you.

“Those women were executed.” You said quietly. “Frank didn’t do this.”

“Well, is this enough to convince him?” Karen asked.

“It’d hold up in court.” You nodded. “It has to.”

You and your friends tried to leave but Ed blocked the doorway. He kept his eyes downward, at your feet. You rolled your eyes slightly and had to refrain from kicking him in the shin. He just might like it. He was rambling about some no-so-nice nickname but you simply shoved past him with a quiet apology. You assumed Dinah was quickly behind you but you didn’t look back to see if Karen was with you or holding up whatever bargain she struck with Ed.

You nodded to the few workers on the floor, but you passed the officer that had been posted at the door. He told you about the shift change and to show your Bar ID to the new guy. You didn’t show it, but that feeling of something out of place settled in your stomach. You moved a little faster but the shouts from Frank’s room drove you to a full-on sprint.

You brandished your switchblade as you came up to the door. You threw your shoulder against the man that had Amy pinned to the ground and you two tumbled a few feet before knocking into the wall. You heard Amy’s coughs as she scrambled to her feet, Dinah and Karen talking over each other, Frank shouting for the man to go back to him. You were stuck under the faux officer’s weight and he kept a firm grip of the wrist for the hand holding the switch. You winced as his finger dug into the scar but your free hand scratched at his throat.

Deep red lines followed the path of your nails and he cried out, jerking his head to get away from your reach. His other hand pushed down on your throat and for a second, you were hit with the memory of a fight that felt like a lifetime again. Pinned under a fake officer, hands at your throat, all for someone that was the game changer you needed. Only there was no Man in the Mask coming to your rescue.

You blinked away the memory and turned your head to find your small knife. You wiggled it around in your fingers until you were able to change the angle of your blade. You watched the tip press against his wrist and you jerked your hand, shoving the sharp metal through his skin and bone. The very tip poked out the other side and the man cried out wildly. You slammed a knee upward and connected with either his stomach or his groin but his position faltered and you were able to throw him off. You righted yourself quickly and grabbed his head, slamming him to the floor until he fell unconscious.

“Yeah, thanks for the help.” You wheezed, glaring at Dinah.

Amy kicked the unconscious man with a made up not-quite curse word and you laughed breathlessly. After that, she fell against you and you wrapped one arm around her shoulders while the other hand rubbed your throat.

“What was that, huh?” Amy stepped away and yelled. Your brows raised at the outburst but you said nothing. “You were just gonna let him kill you?”

“What the hell, Frank?” You added, a rasp still in your voice.

“Frank, you didn’t do it.” Karen explained quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked tightly, but you didn’t miss that underlying hope.

“They were dead before you got there.” Dinah added.

Frank turned to you for confirmation.

“Exit wounds were straight through. Gunpowder still on their skin.” You nodded.

“But I- We were…”

“I know.” You urged. “It was a setup. I can’t prove this but I know Billy killed them. I thought those ladies were being escorted out before I met with you but they were walked to their executions.”

“You sure about that?” Frank finally met your eyes and the suffocating grip deep in your chest loosened enough for a full breath.

“He wanted to break you. He wanted to take away what mattered most to you and he damn near did.”

“You’re not the monster, Frank.” Karen added gently. “You never were.”

“This is great and all but what is that gonna for us right now?” Amy asked tensely. “That was a cop that just tried to kill him! What’s next, a nurse?”

At that point, everyone began talking over each other. Frank wanted out of the cuffs to kill the cop. Dinah was calling him an idiot. Karen wanted a plan. Amy was looking between everyone like a deer in headlights.

“Just shut up!” You shouted. You saw the white wave roll out of your chest and hit everyone in the room and you immediately regretted the lapse of control. Your power took hold of all four people and settled them to an eerie level of calmness. “Sorry.” You muttered when the glassy look left their eyes and they were in control of themselves again.

“What the hell?” Amy mumbled.

“Give us the room.” You told Amy and Dinah. “Just a minute, okay?”

Hesitantly, they left so you and Karen were the only ones in the room.

“Does that Matt Murdock know you’re here?” Frank asked Karen.

She looked to you and you gave a small shake of your head. Of course Matt didn’t know where you were, just the vague idea that you were in town and stuck in the middle of a dangerous war.

“What does that have to do with this?” She answered. “Come on, Karen.” He sighed. “He’s good. Don’t throw that away for me, either of you.”

“Matt trusts me to make my own choices as to what fight I’m in.” You said sharply as Karen undid the cuffs. “I expected you to do the same.”

“And it killed you last time, didn’t it?” He spat back before focusing back on Karen. “Walk away, Karen.”

She said nothing.

“Look, I know you both.” He began and you rolled your eyes. “You’re brave. You’re strong. But you’re both so goddamned stubborn that you will throw everything away for me and I cannot let that happen.”

You took a step forward but Karen reached for your arm.

“So they can risk everything but not me?” She said then gestured to you. “Not her?”

“Don’t do that, okay? That kid needs me to stay alive. Madani, she’s as batshit and lost as I am. And Livia?” He locked eyes with you. “Billy beat her so bad her heart stopped. He gets the chance again, no one’s gonna be able to restart it.”

“Да пошла ты.” You spat. (Fuck you.)

Karen continued trying to reason with him but you put your hands up in defeat, letting them fall back against your legs. You began pacing while they talked, registering their voices but not their words. You looked down and noticed she was barefoot, Was that what she agreed upon with Ed? Her shoes.

No wonder they called him Creepy Ed.

“I gotta walk outta here and you can’t do it with me.” Frank said quietly and when you looked back, he was standing a few inches from Karen.

You wanted to give both of them the push they needed, to admit that unspoken thing between them and finally break the tension, but it also felt wrong to do it to friends. You had no problem in college playing up on a new couple’s emotions. Back then it was like your special version of people watching, but it just felt like crossing a line to do it to them. Luckily, the door opened before your power could start reaching.

Karen left first, offering you one questioning look. All you could do was nod. You retrieved your switchblade and wiped it on the officer’s uniform before you tucked it back into your pocket, replacing your blazer to hide your gun. You helped Dinah get Frank to the stairwell while Amy played her role as a nurse to blend into the crowd. Dinah split from you at the base of the stairs and you kept with Frank.

He leaned heavily on you and you were just outside the hospital when Brett cut you off. You cursed quietly while he yelled instructions to drop your weapons. You released Frank so he could drop the cop’s belt and you put your hands up in surrender, slipping your fingers to pull two pins from your hair. The small pieces of metal dropped down either sleeve just before Brett snatched one of your wrists. As he pulled your arms down and behind your back, the pins slid out and landed in your palms. You slipped the thin metal into the latch for the cuffs so they didn’t quite lock while he was muttering about obstruction and how it was only a matter of time before he had to cuff you.

He locked Frank’s other cuff around one of the handrails in the back before he shoved you inside. Frank met your eyes with an apologetic expression but you smiled.

You hadn’t lost quite yet.

[k-wame]

Maxwell Caulfield as Roy Alston & Charlie Sheen as Bo Richards The Boys Next Door (1985) · Horror · Crime · dir. Penelope Spheeris

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

ee congrats. What about a blurb or headcanons, whichever u want i suppose, of fake dating with Frank Castle having to infiltrate something or another? ^_^

Faking It.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - cursing. allusions to sex.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

He’s got his hand on your ass.

Sure, the two of you are playing a couple, undercover in a Mr & Mrs Smith style mission. But surely there’s a thousand other places he could put his hand.

You look at him with a scowl on your face and he winks, all cheeky and boyish. Heat crawls its way up your skin, and you beg yourself to calm down. It’s fake. It’s all pretend.

When you enter the ballroom of the gala, it’s packed with people. Frank winds a hand around the back of your neck, steering you in the right direction. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

You’re laughing and playing fake niceties to an old couple at the bar. They’re telling you how beautifully in love you look, and all you can do is rest your head on Frank’s shoulder and sigh wistfully as they coo. He pulls you into him with a hand on your ass, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs. He knows he’s riling you up. That’s why he’s doing it.

It’s becoming a game, now. Who can wind the other person up more.

Frank is sat on a fancy leather couch, sweet talking a middle aged woman in a long purple dress. You approach, and take the spot right on his lap, wiggling your hips to get comfortable. He hisses in your ear, fake smile still on his face, and the satisfaction you feel is unparalleled.

You’re out in the hallway coming up with a plan when two men walk past, eyeing you suspiciously. You do what any logical woman would do - smash your lips to Franks and hope he doesn’t question it. He kisses you back with much more passion than necessary, one hand around your neck and the other one on your stomach, pushing you backwards into the wall. You bite his lip as hard as you can and he groans, all deep and pretty, and you’re starting to think this plan has backfired massively.

“Damn, girl.”

“Had to think on my feet.”

“Don’t think your feet were the body part you were thinkin’ with.”

You punch his arm as hard as you can, laughing when he grabs it in pain.

“Let’s get that fucking info and get out of here. I’m sick of everyone telling me how handsome my husband is.”

“He is though, isn’t he?” he teases as he grabs your hand, walking back into the crowds of people unaware of your scheme.

Your fingers stay intertwined for the rest of the evening. He squeezes every now and again, once or twice, and you figure out the code pretty quickly. It’s a silent communication, and it works. In no time, you’ve got what you needed, slipping out of the front door and down the huge winding driveway.

You snatch your hand away, and smack his ass as hard as you physically can.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Revenge. You grabbed my ass way more than necessary tonight.”

He laughs, and you hate the way it makes you smile.

“Good kiss, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re a good kisser. Even if you did draw blood.”

“I’m about to draw a lot fuckin’ more if you don’t shut up, Frank.”

He chuckles, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Might suggest we play a couple every time we go undercover. This is kinda fun.”

[darlingshane]

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

[dameronology]

home (frank castle)

warnings: a little bit of frank being depressed but that's about it. probably language too? i don't even notice anymore.

this is the first thing i've written in so long and it's very short buuuut i hope you like it

--jazz xx

You could always tell when Frank had had a bad night.

The signs were clear as soon as he got home. Boots thrown to the side with a loud thunk (he would apologise for the noise in the morning); body haphazardly hitting the mattress beside you as he let out a huff of exhaustion. Normally, his hands would be on you before he even in bed. He had to sleep with his chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you, any signs of breaking free met with intense refusal until the morning. You felt safe but he felt safer.

Tonight was different. You heard the crash of shoes, and the thump, thump, thump towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you but instead of his hands, you were met with Frank's back to you. It was tense, littered with pink scars and red ones, and fresh cuts and bruises. You could have reached out, but you didn't want to push it. A few years ago, before you, before this, before he'd learnt love again, he probably wouldn't have come home at all. He would have stayed out til the crack of dawn, fighting, fighting, fighting; fists beaten to a pulp and every part of him rigid and exhausted to his very core. Frank had learnt now: when he got really bad, he had to come home. When the going got too tough even for him, it normally meant it was the end of night. You were just grateful he had come at all.

You said nothing; just a small sigh. For him, for you, for whatever the morning would bring.

10AM came quickly. It was a Sunday, so Manhattan was nice enough to wake a few minutes later than usual. The silence in your bedroom was quickly filled with the sound of horns and brakes and the yells of the outside world. You didn't have work that day, thank god. That meant there was no rush. Frank could rise whenever he wanted.

Except - fuck - you had forgotten to turn off your alarm. It came blaring out your phone as soon as the clock struck on the hour, vibrating across your bedside table and onto the floor with a loud thud. Frank, being the world's lightest and potentially most dangerous sleeper, quickly rose. His hair was getting longer now, so it was tuftier in the mornings. You would have laughed if your chest wasn't so heavy.

You quickly hopped out of bed, sheepishly picking up the phone.

"Shit," you muttered. "Frankie, I'm sorry."

He let out a grumble, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay. I had to wake up at some point."

"Are you okay?" you quietly asked. "I know you're not but...I gotta ask."

Frank didn't say anything - instead he just sighed. Then, he opened his arms and ushered for you to come back to bed. You did so without hesitation, dropping into the sheets beside him. Strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you to his chest, one hand cupping the back of your head. You'd always found irony in the fact that he had to be the one to hold you when he was upset. No matter how shit he was feeling, Frank was always the big spoon. His ability to protect you was the one thing he could control. It was the one thing that made him feel a little okay again.

"It was a really rough night," he quietly admitted. "I'll be okay, sweetheart. I just wanna take it easy today."

Frank said nothing else. What he had said was beyond anyone else's wildest dreams; this was coming from the man who made a point of closing himself off, from refusing himself love and anything good. You were the only person he would ever say anything too. It was safe to assume at any given moment that he wasn't okay, but he was a little closer to it when he was with you.

The rest of the morning went like a ghost.

You moved around each other with ease; his small touches lingered - a hand on your back here, another on your hip there - and you could tell he was coming back around. Sure, he burnt the first three pancakes and didn't realise the milk was out of date til after he'd poured it into your coffee, but he was being Frank. You would have been more worried if he'd cooked properly or made good coffee.

You'd moved to the sofa by midday, dirty plates piled up in the sink and Max snoring on the rug in the middle of your living room. Die Hard was playing quietly in the background (Frank argued it was an all year round movie). You were sat between his legs on the sofa, large thighs either side of yours and arms wrapped around your front. He had his head resting on top of yours, giving you the occasional squeeze with his legs and arms.

"I love you," Frank quietly murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You turned your head to look at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I love you too."

"I'm sorry for being quiet last night. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"You don't have to apologise," you hummed. "I'm just grateful you came home."

"I'll always come home."

[myokk]

🥺

[farfromstrange]

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.