#frank castle angst

[celestialglow24]

••• Even Still •••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way

once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx

“Don’t.”

He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.

The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.

It felt as though it was right in your ears.

Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.

It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.

But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.

You didn’t think about the possible consequences.

You didn’t care.

All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.

So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.

While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.

So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.

You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”

It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.

You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.

He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.

“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the kitchen sink.

“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”

He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.

You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.

“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”

As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.

“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.

“I did what was necessary.”

“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.

“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”

“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”

He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.

You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t seek his permission.

He was inquiring why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?

But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.

Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.

You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.

Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”

Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.

All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”

“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”

You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.

Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.

Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.

You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.

The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.

“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”

“Frank.” you sighed.

“No I wanna know.”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.

“Was it worth it?”

You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.

But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.

“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”

You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.

“Enough, Frank.”

He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?

“What about your mom, huh?”

That made you pause.

“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”

Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.

“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.

“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”

You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.

“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”

“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”

You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?

“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”

“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”

Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.

You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.

But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.

Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.

“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”

Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.

“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.

He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.

“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”

“No, but that’s my girl.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”

It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.

It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.

After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.

So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Frank?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”

“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.

“But what if-”

“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”

You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.

But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.

Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.

Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.

As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #the punisher #punisher x reader #jon bernthal #frank castle x you #frank castle

[amhrosina]

Ok what about Franks reaction when you come home crying? Idk why, could be anything at all. I’m just imagining Frank excited for you to get home, only for you to come through the door with tear tracks down your face

a/n: ooooooooooo yes! i made frank so soft here i think i need comfort lmfao not quite as angsty as i wanted, but i like how it ended up! also, said this would be a drabble, ended up writing a 1.2k ficlet sooooo enjoy!

warnings: implied violence, implied smut at end, reader gets mugged (off page), f!reader, no use of y/n, frank comforting reader, reader gets a little weepy

masterlist // join my taglist

You never thought you’d reach this point, but you were praying Frank hadn’t made it home from work yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him - you always wanted to see him - but the sight of your swollen, tear-filled eyes would probably send him into a frenzy, and really, all you wanted to do was curl up in his lap and forget about the entire encounter that had left you in tears. 

Luck, it seemed, was not on your side, however, because as soon as you stepped into your apartment, Frank’s overwhelming presence was immediately apparent to you. His work boots, neatly lined next to the door, were in the place he always left them when they were too dirty to store in your shared closet. His coat, the one he’d insisted he didn’t need but wore every single day in the winter, was hung in the corner, next to the empty hook that normally held your jacket, scarf, and hat. The most obvious indicator, though, was the irregular clatter of dishes being moved around, used, and discarded in the kitchen.

“Sweetheart?” He called, eagerness clear in his voice. “That you?”

Shit. Suddenly, the guilt of praying he wasn’t home moments before threatened to consume you.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice was closer now, much closer, and you hurriedly swiped the tears away from your cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice your blotchy cheeks, or the fact that your eyelids were more swollen than you’d ever seen them. You cleared your throat and tried your best to sound normal.

“Hey, Frankie.”

You turned around to meet him, smiling in an attempt to hide your sorrow, and suddenly felt extremely stupid. Frank wasn’t an idiot, and the look on his face when you finally looked at him told you he was seeing right through the facade. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shrugged, blinking away the fresh wave of tears building in your lash line.

“Did someone hurt you?” 

His voice was oddly calm, but there was a bite in his tone that he was clearly trying to suppress. 

“No.” You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “I’m fine.”

He blinked down at you, cupping your damp cheeks in his warm palms.

“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying to me, sweetheart?” 

“I’m not.” You denied instantly, resolve growing weaker with every pass of his thumb over your cheekbones. He was silent for a moment, eyeing your quivering bottom lip. He took in your appearance, the word ‘disheveled’ coming to mind as he looked you over, before finally pinpointing what was missing from your usual attire.

“Where’s your bag?” He queried, tilting his head slightly. 

You huffed, finally allowing the tears to spill onto your cheeks. “I was on the subway and this asshole was crowding me when I got off and before I could even try and get away from him, he took off with my bag.”

“Okay, shh shh shh shh, baby. It’s okay.” 

You were, embarrassingly, blubbering at this point. You hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. 

“The necklace you got me for Christmas was in there, Frank.” You sobbed, trying not to think too hard about the lost gift. It had been your most prized possession since the moment you’d put it on. Until this morning, you’d never taken it off. You cursed yourself for thinking it would be safe in your bag. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not mad, baby. Don’t apologize.” Frank cooed, pressing gentle kisses across your face. He was all too aware of how much that necklace meant to you. “I’m going to make a call, okay?”

“You think you can get it back?” You knitted your brows together in confusion. “I didn’t even get a good look at his face. I have no idea who he is.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pulled you into his chest and began dialing his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” You questioned further, nuzzling into his warmth.

“Lieberman. If anyone can find the guy, it’s him.”

You listened as Frank relayed the information to Micro, occasionally giving him additional information. Frank’s free hand cupped the back of your head, absent-mindedly running his fingers along the nape of your neck while Micro searched through camera footage and DMV records. You knew the second they’d figured out who did it, so tuned into Frank’s body that you physically felt the tension build in his shoulders. 

“You gonna kill him?” You asked, eyes focused on Frank's jaw, which hadn’t unclenched since his conversation with Micro.

“I should.” He mumbled, eyeing your reaction carefully. “He could’ve hurt you.”

“He didn’t, though.” You shrugged, “Maybe he needed food or something.”

Frank’s eyes softened. “Are you really trying to find the good in the man who stole your favorite thing from you?” 

“Maybe.” You shrugged again, grinning when Frank huffed in annoyance. 

“You’re too nice.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I’m not.”

“I thought you’d be more mad.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m pissed that he even looked at you.” His jaw clenched impossibly harder. “But I’m just glad you’re safe. If he’d hurt you, though…,” he trailed off, shaking his head, “I don’t know what I’d do. Something illegal. That’s a given.”

You nodded, understanding his desire to protect you. If the roles were reversed, you’d do the same. You sniffed, eyes flicking to the kitchen, where something was definitely burning.

“What were you cooking before I came home?”

Frank stiffened before taking off toward the kitchen. “Holy shit, I forgot I had something in the oven.”

You giggled and followed him through the apartment, the entire encounter on the subway a distant memory already. Frank would take care of it. He always did.

Later, hours after falling asleep on Frank’s chest, the distinct sound of your fire escape window closing woke you from your slumber. Frank was no longer beneath you, and hadn’t been for some time you realized, sliding your fingers over the cool sheets where he’d been earlier.

“Frankie?” You softly called, slightly lifting your head from the pillow.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He gently crawled into bed, hovering over your still mostly-asleep figure and kissing the tip of your nose. “I have something for you.”

He lifted his arm, and you nearly shrieked when you realized what was dangling from between his swollen and slightly bruised fingers.

“You found it?” You gasped.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” He smiled, kissing you again.

“Frank Castle, you absolute fucking gentleman.”

He chuckled at your crude language. “That’s high praise coming from a princess like you.”

You smiled, kissing him deeper. He groaned when you slid your tongue into his mouth. 

“Let me show you how grateful I am.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“Baby, you won’t hear any complaints from me. Your wish is my command, princess.”

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @fxlsealarm @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @coacaiyne @niki-is-a-thing @deactivating-this-blog @bxmaaa @kentdreamingspam

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher angst #the punisher fluff #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal x you #daredevil #nmcu #angst #drabble requests #amhrosina

[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.”

#murphy’s 5k celebration #frank castle x oc #frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle x reader fluff #frank castle x reader angst #frank castle x reader smut #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #the punisher angst #the punisher x you

[bellaxgiornata]

Love to See You Smile

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: For the past few days Frank has been emotionally withdrawn from you, struggling with his past and his pain. Even though it hurts you when he goes through these episodes, you decide to take the day off of work to take him apple picking in the hopes to cheer him up.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Frank

Word Count: 4k

a/n: There is a bit of angst at the beginning of this fic, but I promise there's vastly more fluff and sweetness afterwards! I mean it is Frank at an apple orchard after all. Feedback is always appreciated!

Frank Castle Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr

Slipping your arm out from beneath the warm sheets, you grabbed your phone from off the nightstand and turned your alarm off. You felt Frank shifting in the bed behind you, readjusting the blankets over himself as he did. At the movement you glanced back over your shoulder at him, frowning at the sight of his back. He’d been more closed off lately than he usually was, pushing you away the past few days even if it was entirely unintentional. 

You knew Frank sometimes had these periods where he withdrew into himself. It was something that had happened a few times now in your relationship with him. But honestly with the things he’d experienced, you didn’t necessarily blame him and you certainly didn’t fault him for it, either. Even if his nightmares had lessened, he still held onto the pain of what had happened to his family. Though while you never guilted him for it, it pained you to silently sit by feeling like there was nothing you could do to help, especially when it felt like he was shutting himself off from you.

Chewing your lip, you stared at his stationary form beside you in the bed with what little morning light was filtering in behind the curtains. If he was aware of you staring, he made no show of it. You knew Frank didn’t have work today, but even on those days that he had off he still always managed to give you a kiss and wish you well for the day before he went back to sleep. The fact that he hadn’t this morning only had your stomach twisting uncomfortably into knots.

Last night before you’d gotten ready for bed you’d had an idea about calling off of work today and spending the day with Frank instead. You’d been trying to think of something you both could do to get him out of the house and to put a smile on his face. Admittedly you had eventually thought of something, but when he’d been so distant and surly last night, answering you with only clipped responses and brief grunts, you’d decided not to bother even mentioning the idea to him. 

With a soft sigh you reluctantly slipped out of the sheets, trying not to disturb him as you did. Doing your best to ignore how much it hurt that he'd still not acknowledged you, you grabbed your phone from off the charger and quietly shuffled barefoot across the carpet and out of the bedroom. 

Making your way across the hallway, you flipped on the bathroom light, squinting when it nearly blinded you at first. Then you set your phone onto the bathroom counter and focused on brushing your teeth, though you continued to stare at your phone the entire time you did, your mind racing. By the time you were rinsing your mouth out and putting your toothbrush back in the holder, you’d made up your mind.

Grabbing your phone, you leant against the bathroom counter and typed up an email to your boss. You knew she was at the office already and you hoped that she’d respond soon and approve of your request for the day off despite it being so last minute. And thankfully only a few minutes later, as you were scrolling through the website for the apple orchard you’d been thinking about bringing Frank to, your boss had emailed a response approving the time off request. A big smile spread across your face at the sight of it. 

Hurrying out of the bathroom, you crossed the hall and made your way back into the bedroom, though you hesitated in the doorway. Frank was still lying on his side with his back to you and the smile faltered on your lips at the sight. Nervously chewing the inside of your cheek, you softly padded over to the bed before carefully pulling the sheets back. Gradually you climbed back into it beside him, noticing that he had begun to finally stir. 

Apparently your unexpected return to the bed was what finally caused Frank to roll onto his back, his head shifting on the pillow as he looked over at you beside him. His dark brows were knitted together, his mouth a straight line as he drowsily took in the sight of you lying back in the bed. Confusion further etched itself across his features.

"Thought you had work," Frank groggily asked. 

"I did," you answered him slowly, your arm hesitantly snaking its way across his bare chest, "but I requested the day off."

"For what?" he asked next. 

"To…spend it with you?" you nervously answered. 

A rush of emotions flashed across Frank’s face at your response, his features shifting so fast that you could only process a few–surprise, guilt, more confusion–before his expression finally settled on something soft and light. He wasn't smiling though. You couldn't even recall the last time you'd seen his beautiful smile in the past couple of days.  

"You took the day off to spend it with me?" he clarified. 

"I thought we could get out and do something together today," you told him with a shrug, fingers lightly dancing across his bare chest. "I could tell that you've been having a rough week. And I thought maybe I could try to cheer you up?"

The corner of his lip twitched faintly at your words, something warm shining in his brown eyes as he gazed back at you. Frank rolled further onto his side to face you as his large, warm hand glided its way up the outside of your thigh to land on the swell of your hip. Goosebumps rose across the flesh of your bare arms at his touch and the intensity with which he was staring back at you.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice a soft early morning rasp.

You nodded, scooting a bit closer to him on the bed. The fact that he was touching you now and stringing multiple words together instead of just grunting at you was a good sign. That uncomfortable knot that had been twisting and writhing in your gut was soon loosening and coming undone. Even though it wasn’t often that Frank got into these moods of withdrawal, your mind always jumped straight to the fear of him leaving you. 

“And what’d you have in mind, sweetheart?” he asked.

His thumb slipped up beneath the hem of your tee-shirt, rubbing circles against your bare skin. For a moment the small touch had distracted you because it was the first actual affectionate touch you’d felt from him in days. Your eyelids fluttered and you fought to keep them open, forcing yourself to remember to answer the question he’d just asked.

“The uh, the apple orchard,” you replied, clearing your throat and trying to focus. “I thought it–it might be fun to go pick some apples. Maybe grab a pumpkin to bring back and carve together later? I just remember you telling me you’d never actually had an apple cider donut the other day when we were talking about fall, and honestly, that’s a travesty, Frank. I thought I could…maybe change that today?”

For the first time in days you saw his lips slowly curl upwards into a genuine smile. You felt your heart skip in your chest at the sight of it, his thumb still dancing across the skin just beneath the hem of your shirt. 

“You want to take me apple picking?” he asked, tone teasing.

You couldn’t resist the grin that slipped onto your own mouth at the shift in his mood. Sliding your hand up his chest, your fingers eventually found their way to Frank’s jawline. For a second your fingers just traced the length of it back and forth, enjoying the way his smile grew bigger with each pass of your fingers against him. The slight rasp of his stubble against your fingertips met your ears in the quiet bedroom, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him lying there beside you.

“Is that a problem?” you asked.

“'S'not a problem at all, sweetheart," he answered.

He shifted his head, lowering his mouth to kiss the tips of your fingers when they neared it. Biting your bottom lip, you fought the way your smile threatened to overtake your face. 

You absolutely loved Frank and would do anything to put a smile on his face.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Reaching up, you plucked the apple from the tree, examining it in your hand for signs of insects and blemishes before you turned back around towards Frank. He held the almost full bag of apples that you both had been picking out towards you, but just as you’d been about to drop the apple inside, he snatched the bag back towards himself and out of your reach. You quickly caught the apple just as it had been about to fully leave your hand before it could drop to the ground, Frank chuckling in amusement as you gasped in surprise.

Immediately your eyes narrowed playfully back up at him, quickly losing the battle against the smile desperately trying to make its way onto your face. Frank was grinning boyishly back at you, most of his face covered by the knitted hat on his head and the hood of his sweatshirt that was pulled up over the top of it. The corners of his eyes were creased as he stared back at you, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Frank’s mood had certainly been lifted shortly after you both had arrived at the orchard and he’d tried that first bite of an apple cider donut before the pair of you had begun picking apples. And the sight of him gradually returning back to his usual self with you had warmed you from the inside out on this chilly October day. You loved seeing Frank’s playful and teasing side come out when he let his guard down with you like this. It was a side you knew no one else ever got to see with him. Just you.

“You sure you want to do that, Frank?” you asked him, ignoring the family that was passing by the pair of you and shooting you curious looks. “Cause I swear I’ll head back to the car and eat the rest of those cider donuts on you.”

Frank raised a hand, pointing his finger firmly at your chest. His expression quickly became serious, the grin slipping from off of his face. “Don’t you even threaten me with that,” he warned. “You don’t get me to come out here and fall in love with those goddamn donuts to just eat them all on me, sweetheart. Don’t play me like that.”

“Okay fine," you relented with a laugh. "I wouldn’t do that to you. You're right, that'd be cruel."

You took a step towards him, reaching your hand out with every intention to put the apple in the bag and continue filling it, but Frank took a step back. Coming to a stop, your eyes narrowed at Frank yet again, watching as he cocked his head to the side, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips now.

" Frank ," you said, dragging his name out. "What do you think you're doing?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "I'm not doin' nothing," he said.

One of your brows quirked up at him in disbelief. Slowly, you took another step towards him. Frank took another step back immediately, the smug smirk still on his lips as he watched you. 

"What are you playing at, Frank?" you asked him.

"Just thinkin' I owe you for that threat now," he teased back. "Thinkin' maybe if you wanna put that subpar apple in here then you gotta work for it."

Both of your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead, a laugh bubbling out of you. Raising a sweatshirt-covered hand to your mouth, you tried to stifle your laughter.

"I'm sorry Frank, but did you really just call this apple subpar ?" you asked him. 

You held the fruit in question up high so he could see it. The way his bottom lip slipped between his teeth as he tried to fight back his own laughter hadn't been lost on you, either. He was having fun and you were grateful you'd taken the day off of work even more now.

"This apple is a shining example of perfection, Castle," you told him haughtily. "I picked it myself. It is literally the perfect ratio of gold to red. There is not a single blemish on it."

"Don't care," Frank said, grinning at you. "Doesn't go in the bag if you can't reach it."

Eyes widening at his words, your mouth fell open as you gaped at him. Frank started walking backwards, holding the bag out in front of himself teasingly as he chuckled at the sight of you standing there in surprise. For a moment all you could do was gawk at Frank's retreating form and the growing, playful smile on his face. It wasn't until a cold gust of wind brushed past, sending a chill through you, that you snapped out of it. 

A grin sliding onto your own face, you gripped the apple tight in your hand before darting off after Frank through the line of apple trees. You caught the moment his smile had vanished and a look of surprise crossed his own face before he turned on his heels, taking off at a run with the bag of apples in his hand. The family that had been further down the alley of trees picking apples jumped out of the way of Frank as he sped past. You heard him offer up an apology as he maneuvered around them, racing out of the row of trees and turning right. A hand flew up to cover your mouth, unable to resist the giggle that fell out of you as you continued to chase after him, ignoring the stares that family sent you yet again as you ran past them. 

You loved this side of Frank whenever he let it out. He often looked so tough and surly, but you knew beneath that hard exterior of his that Frank had a big heart and was actually incredibly sweet. You also knew he had an absolutely childish playful side if he really got comfortable enough with you. It was something he said you had been the one to draw back out of him after all these years–and that was something you'd never forgotten that he’d told you. 

Taking a right turn, you ran past a couple of rows of apple trees, glancing down each one in search of Frank before you inevitably came to a stop. Head darting around you as you tried to catch your breath, you couldn’t find Frank anywhere. Still panting for air, you considered taking off again, thinking maybe he’d booked it down to the end of this section of trees–which you wouldn’t have put past him, the man was in vastly better shape with how often he worked out during the week–but then you heard a low whistle behind you.

Startling on the spot, you spun around. Frank was standing just a few feet behind you, a mischievous grin on his face as he gradually held the bag of apples out to you. Your eyes dropped down to the bag in his hands as he did, mentally calculating how fast you could slip the apple into it 

"Alright," Frank's deep voice rumbled out, "I'll make it easy on you."

Slowly your eyes made their way back up to his face. That mischievous grin was still present on his mouth and you didn't remotely trust it. Frank's head gestured down to the bag in his hands when you still didn't move.

"Go on," he urged. 

"This feels like a trap," you pointed out. 

"Does it?" he asked, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

Shifting your weight on your feet, you studied him for a moment. It was clear he was up to something, but admittedly you wanted to know what . Curiosity easily winning out, you cautiously approached Frank, your steps slow and careful. You had expected him to bolt, but he didn't make a move to run off on you, which only further had you mistrusting what he was up to. 

When you finally neared him, gradually reaching your hand out towards the bag, you were shocked that he hadn't pulled it out of your reach at the last second again. But you were surprised at how fast his other hand had come up the moment you set the apple into the bag, his large hand grasping the back of your neck and drawing you in towards him. A soft, surprised gasp slipped out of you at his touch, but when Frank quickly closed the space between you both, your eyes instinctively closed. The second Frank’s chilled lips met yours your mind went absolutely blank. He hadn't kissed you like this in days and you had missed it. 

You'd missed him .

Stepping into him, both of your sweatshirt-covered hands reached up and grabbed either side of his face, pulling him closer to you and deepening the kiss. You could feel his beard faintly scratching the tips of your fingers that were peeking out through the sleeves of your sweatshirt as you kissed him. His face was cold to the touch from the time you'd both spent outside picking apples, but that didn't stop you from eagerly moving your lips in sync with his.

The pair of you stood there kissing each other for a while, entirely losing track of time and place, surrounded only by the apple trees. The repeated scratch of Frank's stubble against you had you quickly forgetting about the bite of the cold on your skin, and the warmth of his tongue gliding its way into your mouth had your body soon heating up even more than your boots and thick sweatshirt had managed.

But you hadn't been ready for when Frank finally pulled away from you, a faint whine of protest falling out of you when he did. It took a moment for your eyelids to finally flutter back open, finding Frank's face hovering just before yours, his soft brown eyes quite clearly searching your own for something as he stood there. Both of your hands were still cradling his face between your palms as his hand slid from the back of your neck and down to your shoulder.

"'M sorry I've been such an ass lately," he apologized softly. "I just–just had some things on my mind."

"I know," you whispered. "And I get it. But it's just…"

You trailed off, unable to finish the thought. You quickly reminded yourself that you were trying to cheer him up today, not bring him down with your own insecurities. 

Frank's hand squeezed your shoulder encouragingly. "But what?" he asked.

Inhaling a breath, you shot him a sheepish, tense smile. You knew he wasn’t going to let this go now, it was written on his face–though you admittedly wouldn’t have expected anything else from Frank. 

"I–I get why you get lost in your head sometimes," you began slowly, "but when you pull away from me like you do…I just worry that you're going to–" you paused, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip with the way he was hanging on to your every word, “–worry that you’re going to leave me,” you finished weakly.

Frank's brows drew together at your confession, his eyes somehow softening further as he stared back at you. You could see the emotion washing across his face at your words, and you heard it clear in his voice when he spoke next.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he assured you immediately, a fierceness in his eyes as he spoke. "I love you. You know that." 

His lips thinned out as he stood there, a slight grimace creasing his features so minutely you almost missed it. It looked like he was struggling with telling you something, but you didn't have a chance to wonder what that was before he was speaking again. 

"You're it for me," he confessed. "That's the truth, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere. Not without you."

Something warm and safe flooded you at his words, tears pricking at your eyes. Frank had told you he'd loved you many times before, but he'd never said something like that to you. Never. Not once. You'd had no idea he'd felt that way. 

"I love you, too, Frank," you said, voice cracking as you tried to rein in your emotions. "You're it for me, too."

The smile that lit up Frank's face at your words broke through the gloom of the overcast day around the pair of you. You'd never seen a smile so bright and warm, certainly not on Frank Castle’s face before. The joy in it reached his eyes, radiating from him in waves. Overcome with love for the man before you, you tugged him back down towards you and kissed the beautiful smile on his lips, unable to resist. You heard him laugh against your mouth, amused by your enthusiasm. Pulling away, you rested your forehead against his, a smile breaking across your own face. 

“What was that about?” he asked.

Hands finally releasing his face, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close. Your eyes dropped down to the smile still on his mouth, the sight of it filling your vision with your foreheads still pressed together.

"I love to see you smile, Frank," you confessed softly. “Always have.”

"You always manage to pull one out of me," he replied just as quietly. "Don't matter what shit I'm goin' through, there you are. Somehow always bursting through the darkness like the goddamn sun."

You swore your heart felt so full that it was going to burst its way straight out of your chest right in that very moment. Arms tightening just a bit more around Frank, you affectionately brushed your nose against his. He huffed out a light laugh, his hand snaking its way back up to grasp the back of your neck as he broke away from you. Before you could protest, his cold lips were placing a kiss to your forehead and you melted beneath them.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice a rough rasp. “For always makin’ me a priority in your life. For always bein' there.”

“That’s not something that requires a thank you, Frank,” you told him, looking up at him. “That’s just what you do with the people you love.”

You could see the glisten of unshed tears welling in his eyes at your words, the sight causing something to stir in your own chest. Unwrapping an arm from around his neck, you wiped away a stray one that had begun to fall.

“Now,” you began softly, “would you like to finish filling this bag with apples–preferably without anymore running–so we can go pick out a pumpkin to carve tonight?”

Frank laughed lightly, nodding his head as he tried to blink back more tears. The pad of your thumb managed to catch another wet droplet that you tenderly wiped away.

“Yeah,” he answered, swallowing thickly. “I’d like that.”

Disentangling yourself from Frank, you reached out and grabbed his free hand. You entwined your fingers with his before gently tugging him forward, guiding him back towards a row of apple trees. He followed willingly beside you, carrying the bag of apples in his other hand.

“The hell are we gonna do with this many apples, though?” he asked.

Looking over your shoulder at him as the pair of you walked, you shot him a wide grin. “You’re in luck, Castle,” you said. “Because I make a damn good apple pie.”

Frank bit his lip, grinning right back at you as he shook his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” you answered immediately. “For starters–chase your ass through an apple orchard.”

An abrupt bark of laughter flew out of Frank beside you, the warm and joyful sound drawing a smile on your mouth that had your cheeks beginning to ache. As you watched him beside you, once again shaking his head at you with a broad smile on his face, you couldn’t help but admire how incredible he looked when he smiled.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #bellas comfort fic week

[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."

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle imagines #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fluff #marvel angst #frank castle x you #frank castle reader insert #frank castle x y/n

[itwasthereaminuteago]

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

|| Too Sweet ||

Frank Castle x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To hell with that, you think.

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

"It ain't all that-"

"Then what? Do you want out?"

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

"No, 'course not."

"Then tell me."

He hesitates.

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

You can't help but laugh.

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

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

"I'm serious." You say.

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

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

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

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #ficlet

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the epiphany

lilac, chapter twenty

a/n: I cannot believe that this series is done! thank you, everyone, for coming along for the ride, hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it ♡

summary: “…you don’t have to stay here anymore… you could go live anywhere you’d like.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kissing, love confession, swimming in a lake, frolicking in nature and shit, piggybacks

word count: 1227

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist 

masterlist | join my taglist

Staring up at the twisted metal of the headboard, lazily tangled in the soft linen of the sheets, Frank’s arm was curled around your neck, his bicep in a way becoming your pillow as his fingertips stretched down to draw feathery patterns across the softness of your breast. 

The morning sunlight softly streamed in through the sheer curtains, a gentle bird song sounding from just the other side of the glass as you tilted up your head to look at Frank as he spoke. 

“…you don’t have to stay here anymore…” his gaze was directed at the ceiling as he said, “you could go live anywhere you’d like. You could go back to New York now if that’s what you want. Nothing’s stopping you anymore, you could go home.”

Nodding gently at his words, you uttered, “I know I could, but I don’t want to anymore,” sitting up in bed, Frank’s palm lingered at your waist as you found his eyes, “things have changed, I’ve changed, Frank,” a roiling furnace suddenly ignited and crackled within you, “I don’t wanna go back to New York anymore. I wanna stay here, with everyone, with you,” your words now left your lips with an air of desperation as your tone grew sharper, “I don’t wanna leave Dunbrook and I especially don’t wanna leave you, I love you, I–…” your babbling came to a screeching halt as you realised what truth you’d just uttered. Feeling breathless a moment, your eyes grew as you retraced your steps, “I–… I–… I love you,” a bubble of airy laughter then tumbled out of your lungs as your eyes once again locked with his, “I love you.”

Raising himself up to a seat as well, the sheets tumbled down his bare chest as he seized the sides of your face and pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. 

He had kissed you plenty of times before, but this somehow felt different. Maybe it was the overwhelming high of love chemicals coursing through your veins just doing its trick and making you feel as if he was kissing every nerve ending on your body, perhaps it was something else entirely. 

But as he eventually withdrew only to stare back at you in complete and utter awe, you couldn’t stop yourself from pleading, “oh, please say something. You can’t just kiss me like that and then go silent. You gotta say something–”

“Y/n,” his molten timbre washed over you and warmed you to your very core, “I love you too.”

Feeling tears begin to blur up your vision, you sniffled, “yeah?”

Sweeping his thumb across your misty cheekbone, his own gaze swiftly grew glossy as he echoed, “yeah.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me where we’re going?” you leaned in and pressed your cheek against the side of his head as he continued to stride forth around the lake with you clutched to his back like a sleepy child at an amusement park. 

“Nope,” he suddenly stopped, “because we’re here,” and gently sat you back down onto your feet. 

It took you a second you figure out where you were, but when you followed his eyeline, the pieces slowly began to fall into place. 

Exhaling slowly, “Frank…” you blinked up at the recognisable wide tree with hearts and initials scratched in and marked all along the thick trunk.

“You remember when you told me about this? How you always wanted to carve into it yourself?”

“Yeah, but Frank, we don’t have to,” you glanced back at him with a soft smile, “I mean, that was just a silly little childhood fantasy, like wanting to go to space or slay a dragon or something,” but when he didn’t offer you a reply and instead just conjured a small pocketknife, folding it out and extending it for you to grasp, a tender chuckle bubbled out of you, “wow… you really do love me,” accepting the small blade, you stepped up over the protruding roots and searched for a blank spot of bark. When you found a small area on the trunk just above your head, you then began to scratch the first letters of both of your names in, joined them with a small plus sign as well a slightly wonky heart encasing it all. When you were halfway through, you felt Frank’s presence come up behind you as his palms closed in around your waist and soft pecks began to bloom all along your shoulder. With the chicken scratches complete, you admired them a second, folding the pocketknife back up before you leaned back into Frank’s weight and giggled, “so what’s next?” you slid the knife back into his pants, “are you gonna take me to a playground and help me heal my inner child even more?” 

Letting out a short laugh, “yeah, you never know,” he placed one last kiss just below your earlobe before his warmth suddenly disappeared.

Turning around to face him, you saw as he suddenly began to shed his clothes with a playful smirk on his lips. Chuckling lightly in amused confusion, you halted yourself from enquiring what exactly he was getting at when he slowly began to wander closer to the shiny lake, letting his clothing drop to the forest floor as he neared. 

Your mouth blissfully dropped open a second before you too began to mirror his actions, undoing your buttons and peeling off your garb, stripping till nothing covered you at all. 

He was already knee-deep in the water when you dipped a toe in. Swiftly sucking in a sharp breath, only your feet managed to get wet before you exclaimed, “oh my god, it’s freezing!” and ran back onto shore. 

Reacting quickly, Frank whooshed after you, “oh, no you don’t,” caught you with one of his long arms and dragged you back, “get in here.”

“No! No!” you giggled as he threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, marching with you deeper into the lake, “Frank! It’s too cold!”

When the water finally reached his ribs, he swung your fluttering form back down and held you close to his chest. As you sucked in bubbly breaths, you tangled your legs around his hips and your arms behind his neck. 

So, perhaps freezing was a bit of an overstatement. It wasn’t that cold. Now that you were in it completely, it actually wasn’t that bad and became more and more pleasant the longer you soaked. 

Feeling him shift his grip on you, supporting your floating weight with a wide palm on each side of your bottom, your laughter slowly faded away as you gazed back into Frank’s eye, letting yourself get swallowed by the deep coffee irises sparkling back at you before your lips promptly crashed against his, kissing him, nay, devouring him, your teeth briefly caught his plump bottom lip and made him groan lowly. 

Tightening your locked limbs around his burly frame, your boobs smooshed up against his chest as his tongue danced across yours. His fingers flexed and dug into the curve of your ass just before you eventually parted ways, leaving just a sliver of hot air for you to share. 

Breathlessly, you rested your forehead against his and uttered, “you and me…”

“Yeah,” his sturdy nose tenderly nudged against yours as he vowed, “you and me…”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle series #lumberjack au #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff

[saberlight1]

the red means i love you — frank castle

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: violence! like a lot of violence.. and detailed accounts of said violence, reader goes insane, mentions of murder, trauma, reader is a past widow for the red room, Y/N usage, kidnapping, established relationship, fluff, standard the punisher warnings.

authors note: hii theree! so this one is kind of insane, i may have went just a tad bit overboard, but y’know. thank you anon for this request that this fic is based on! this story is heavily based on the song, ‘the red means i love you’ by madds buckley, so give it a listen if you’d like. much love to you all, i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

You panted, your hand pulling the machete out of the last man’s chest. Your vision was still hazy, and you didn’t exactly feel like you were in your body.

But, that’s how you always felt when you killed.

As you gathered your bearings, your eyes began to dart around the room— and you realized how many men you had just taken out.

“Motherfucker,” You groaned as the pain began to set in due to the knife that was currently in your thigh. One of them must of done it when you were distracted, and your adrenaline was far too high for you to register it.

You no longer had that problem, it hurt like a bitch. But, you’ve had worse— a lot worse, and you could handle it. So you did was you were trained to do: push the emotions and pain away get the damn job done.

You had to. For Frank.

You see, he was taken by God knows who. You and Frank had no shortage of enemies, so you weren’t exactly sure who you were even invading, but you didn’t care. You knew they had Frank.

You were getting him back. You didn't care how many lives you had to take, you would do it all without second thought.

One of them had his sawed-off shotgun, they tried to shoot you with it. So you knew he was here. You just didn’t know exactly where.

And you’d go through hell and back to get to him.

So with a sharp inhale, you began to walk over to one of your victims, snatching the shotgun from his cold grip. A new sense of rage washed over you when you held the cold metal in your hands— they tried to take Frank from you.

You couldn’t let that stand.

Anger flooded your bloodstream as you began to stalk over to the hallway in front of you, cocking the shotgun along the way. You looked damn insane—you were covered in blood, a knife sticking out your thigh, your machete in one hand and Frank’s shotgun in the other.

One thing was for sure: you were out for fuckin’ blood.

You kicked open the first door you saw with your good leg, and inside were 3 men. Before they could even get a chance to react, you let the first round of bullets fly at one of them, the man dead instantly.

You narrowed your eyes at the two remaining men, putting the machete in your belt, you cocked the shotgun and aimed directly towards them. “Where the fuck is Frank.”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” One of the men stuttered out.

You scoffed, shooting that same man in the shin. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’ around? I said, where the fuck is he?! What did you do with Frank?!” You shouted angrily, cocking the gun once more.

The man cried out, falling to his knees as his partner put his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the building..” He murmured, but you could see the man you shot reaching for the gun that the other had so obviously in the back of his pants.

Rolling your eyes, you shot the man who was still unharmed in the head. “Fuckin’ useless. I’ll find him myself.” You muttered to mainly yourself before grabbing your machete once more and stomping over to the last one.

“No, no, no!” He begged, backing away as far as he could from you. “Killing me won’t do anything. You’ll never get through all of us. You and Castle are as good as dead,” He spat and you only gave a sinister smile in return before you dove the machete into his chest.

After he was dead, you took your machete and wiped it clean of the blood before storing it back in your belt. You walked out the room without another thought as you continued your walk down the hallway, Frank’s shotgun tight in your grasp as you pointed it for precaution.

The next room you walked into contained 5 men, and then 3 after you let your itchy trigger finger take over.

3 guns were pointed at you in a instant, and you smirked in delight. "Drop them now!" He nodded towards your weapons. With a smirk still on your face, you let your machete clattered to the ground, but still kept Frank's shotgun in your hand. If you were going to die, you wanted it to happen with at least something that tied to Frank.

Staring them all down, you tried to wait for one of them to make the first strike— but eventually you got bored.

You hit one of the men over the head with the shotgun as you kicked one of the other one’s knee in. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife that was still painfully lodged in your thigh and pulled it out-- causing a sharp roar of pain to leave your lips. And with a menacing stare, you used that very same knife to slash the third man's throat.

In a flash of motions you turned to the next man and shoved the knife into his throat, causing him to stumble back with fearful eyes before dropping dead.

That left the last one that you practically bitch-slapped with the gun. He stared at you with wide, rage filled eyes before he grabbed you by your neck, throwing you into the table next to you. Your now open wound on your thigh got caught on a nail on the way, only tearing it open further. A cry of pure pain left your lips at the act, but you recovered quickly, turning to the man with a evil glare.

You let out a yell as you tackled him to the floor, letting all of your anger out as you brutally laid punch after punch to his face until he was unrecognizable. You let out another broken cry as you left one last hit to his bloodied face.

Ragged breaths left your lips as came back down to reality, shakily standing up. Your knuckles were bruised and cracked, and you knew it would hurt like a bitch later, but as of now, you really didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. So, without another thought you grabbed your machete and the shotgun and headed out the room.

There was only one room left. It was at the very end of the hallway, and you silently prayed Frank was in there. At this point, after all the people you had just killed and fought— you were fucking tired, and quite frankly; fed the fuck up.

You cocked the gun with nothing in your brain other than bloodlust and kicked open the door harshly. “Where the fuck is he?!” You bellowed as you stormed in, gun raised. You had tunnel vision, seeing nothing over than the targets before you.

8 or 9 men were scattered around the room, and before you knew it bullets were flying everywhere. With wide eyes you dove down for cover behind a fallen table, and on the way down you were grazed by several bullets. Your hand flew up to the blood you felt trickling down your ribs, a low groan leaving your lips. You fought tears of pain as you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the goal: Get to Frank.

“Come out, now!” One of them yelled, and it only fueled your anger further.

“Fine.” You growled, standing up and shooting the first two men in front of you. Standing up, you ran to the side of the wall where their bullets couldn’t hit you. You let out a small laugh to yourself— you had to admit, you kind of missed this.

The chaos of it all.

You were raised in the chaos of this— you were brought up in the Red Room, killing people all around the globe. Yelena Belova, one of your fellow past widows, had broken you out some time ago and you tried to give the life up, but it seemed it was in your DNA.

Who were you to fight that?

You shook the thought away just as quickly as it arrived— you had more pressing issues right now.

You pulled the pistol out of your boot, peaking around the corner and picking off 3 men, leaving now 4.

“You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” One of them roared, running at you with a dagger.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, blocking his attempted strike by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm, the man now yelling out in pain. He dropped the dagger that was clutched in his hand, while you caught with your free hand, not hesitating to plunge it into his heart.

“Y/N?!” You heard that familiar voice yell, causing you freeze. His call made a soft smile spread across your features, but at the same time ignited that dedication to get to him now.

You grabbed Frank’s shotgun, cocking it and getting your pistol in your other hand. And with a devilish glare, you turned the corner and proceeded to pick off the rest of the men that remained.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you realized they were all dead. Turning on your heel, you ran to room in the back that was connected to the room you had been in, throwing open the door urgently.

“Frank,” You practically whispered. He was bound a chair by chains, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, taking in your current state. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you were sure it was nothing short of horrific. You were covered head to toe in a mixture of your own blood and your victim's, wounds and bruises littering your entire body. "Christ, woman, what the fuck happened out there?" He asked with a worried tone.

You aimed your pistol at his chains. “Don’t move.” You spoke gently, yet firm. He nodded, giving you the okay to take the shot. Once you did, he was up and bringing you into his arms almost immediately.

The weapons in your hands clattered to the ground in an instant as you let yourself melt in his arms. You were exhausted. Due to your search for Frank and also just your pure anxiety in being away from him, you had barely slept in the past couple days. That definitely came back to bite you in the ass, and on top of it all, you were in a lot of pain. The kisses Frank was leaving to the side of your head made you feel a lot better, though.

You pulled back just a bit to cup his jaw, your eyes scanning his injuries. “Are you okay?”

He let out a dry chuckle before turning his hand slightly to leave a kiss to your palm. “Baby, you are in no position to be askin’ me that right now.” His hands came up to cradle to your face, and you nestled your face into his palm. "Are you okay?"

You managed to give him a smile. “I'm better now.” You let out a shaky breath. Now that you had found Frank, the pain really began to set in. You wouldn’t let yourself feel all of the pain until you knew you were safe— and you now knew that Frank had you. “They’re all dead.” You told him. "I killed them all."

“Damn,” He licked his lips, staring down at you. “And here I was thinkin’ no one was comin’ for me.”

“You should know by now I’ll always come for you.” You expressed, leaning up to connect your lips. You didn’t care if you were covered in blood, or that Frank had been tied to a chair for 2 days— you missed him.

You loved him. And you would set the world on fire for him.

Once you two pulled apart, he stared into your eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled softly, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love you, Frank.”

#anon asks #the punisher #netflix punisher #marvel punisher #punisher #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle x reader #frank castle #marvel #mcu #anon answered #fem!reader #widow!reader

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Not in this Alone (part 1)

pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x fem!reader (Fratt x fem!reader)

summary: After a week of stressful, lonely days, your boyfriends take the time to comfort you.

warnings: swearing, brief descriptions of stressful events (items breaking, period symptoms, sickness, etc)

a/n: This is the first half of a comfort fic that I wrote for my love @madschiavelique when she was having a terrible week a bit ago. I hope that you all find comfort in its softness!

w/c: 2.6k

Dropping your bag on the floor, you yanked your shoes off and plodded directly to your bed, planting face down into the mattress with a groan. A floorboard creaked behind you, signaling another presence, but your fatigue outweighed the anxiety you felt. 

“If you’re here to kill me, can you do it in the bathtub? This is a new mattress.” Your words were muffled by the layers of fabric over your face. 

The intruder chuckled deeply, “Not here to kill ya, sweetheart.” 

“Frankie?” You turned your face towards his gravelly voice, keeping the rest of your body pinned to the bed. It had been over a week since you’d seen him—and you weren’t expecting him to be home this soon—but there he was, in all his broad-shouldered glory. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, that was definitely not his given the way it stretched over his sculpted abdomen. He looked cozy and soft—clearly having been home for a few hours. 

“Hiya, doll. Your day was that good, huh?” He nodded down to your horizontal position, making you groan and turn your face back into the mattress. Huffing a laugh, he sat down beside you, stroking a large hand over your back. “Today’s your long day, ain’t that right?” 

Nodding tiredly, you hummed in appreciation as he rubbed circles into your tense shoulders. Frank pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before poking you in the side gently. “Get up for a sec, sweet girl. Let’s get ya into some comfier clothes.” 

Gluing your arms around your sides protectively, you whined, not lifting your torso from the bed. Undeterred, Frank pinched your hip before sliding his hand around your smaller figure and flipping you upright into his lap. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he smirked at your exaggerated pout, “There’s my girl.” 

Shuffling out from underneath you, Frank planted another kiss on your cheek before standing to grab you a sweatshirt rather than the more presentable clothes you had on. Collapsing backward against the pillows, you stared blankly at the ceiling as you waited for Frank to return. After a grueling 11 hour day of traveling to and from your various art classes, you didn’t have the energy to do much else. On top of the sheer amount of time you’d been in public today, you’d been balancing a slew of intense bad luck–from your computer breaking to coming down with a cold. It had not been your week, and you’d been on your own to deal with most of it.

You knew that it wasn’t either of your partners’ faults, just incredibly terrible timing, but Matt had been sleeping at his own apartment all week after late nights at the office, and Frank had been out of town. The past few days had pushed you almost to your breaking point, but nothing actually terrible had happened, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking either of them to come to your aid. You’d been living a cycle of dosing up on medicine, going to class, coming home, and passing out–which was what you planned on doing before Frank interrupted you. 

As if your thoughts had summoned him, he padded back over with two garments in hand. He held up one of his own sweaters and Matt’s favorite Columbia crewneck. “Ok, doll, I wasn’t sure which you’d want, but…hey, what’s wrong?” 

A drop of moisture trailed down your cheek and you hastily wiped it away. Overly preoccupied with your own thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. “Nothing, Frank, just tired.” You sniffled, giving him an unconvincingly tiny smile.

Narrowing his eyes, Frank set the clothes aside, drawing you closer to him as if you weighed nothing. Draping you over his lap and holding you close, he studied you for a moment before cradling your cheek in one of his massive, calloused hands. “You sure?”

You shrugged, nuzzling into the cool touch. “It's just been a rough week, nothing to worry you or Matt about.” A part of you felt relieved that it was Frank in front of you rather than Matt, who would have surely called you out for lying. Though your treacherous emotions might have given you away regardless, given that salty tears continued to roll down your cheeks as Frank gently stroked the droplets off of your face. 

“I know I ain't a genius, but I can tell when you're hurtin’, doll. Talk to me?” His voice was as gravelly as ever, but his deep brown eyes pleaded with you, encouraging you to be honest about your woes. 

With another half-hearted shrug, you averted your gaze, focusing on your lap rather than your concerned boyfriend. “I dunno, it's been a long week, Frankie. I started my classes again, which is fine, but my PC broke when I was trying to finish up my assignments so I had to frantically email my professors to make arrangements. And then I started my period, and then I got sick, and then all these little things started piling up like the printer not working or my backpack breaking or my train being delayed and I just—” Your voice cut out as Frank pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses against your hairline as more tears formed along your waterline. 

“Sweetheart, you shoulda called me. Or Red. You been dealin' with all this on your own?” His lips brushed over your forehead as he spoke. At your lack of response, he sighed. “Honey, we've talked about this.”

“I know, I know, but I didn't want to bother either of you with something so small.” You murmured against him, shivering as he rubbed your lower back. 

“You're not a bother, doll. Not now, not ever.” Frank tenderly rested his forehead against yours, touching your lips to his as he cradled the back of your head. “Here, why don't you put on my sweater?” 

Pulling back from the embrace, Frank tapped your arms, waiting patiently for you to lift your arms so he could remove your top and bra. After placing a soft kiss to your chest, he slipped the soft fleece over your head and arms, nodding in satisfaction at his handiwork.

“Better?” He held your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, lips quirked up in his signature barely-there smile. 

With a nod, you snuggled back into his embrace, sighing appreciatively when his fingers carded through your hair. 

“Glad to hear it, sweet girl. Let’s get you bundled up and we can order somethin’ to eat, yah?” 

Nodding again, you let him peel back the duvet before crawling off his lap and underneath the covers with trembling limbs. Sinking into the pillowy mattress, you sighed in relief—the exhaustion and stress of the past week sparking a deep ache in your bones. 

“Where do ya want me, babygirl?” Frank’s voice broke through your sleepy haze and you smiled despite your foul mood. Flopping onto your back, you made a grabby gesture at him. 

Chuckling quietly, Frank raised an eyebrow. “On top of ya? You’ll suffocate.” 

Pouting, you repeated the hand motions. Your throat was aflame after crying because of the stupid virus you’d picked up, leaving you hesitant to open your mouth again—but you wanted a Frank-shaped weighted blanket immediately to soothe your aches and pains. 

“Ok, doll, I won’t argue with ya after the shit week you’ve had. But promise me you’ll tap out if ya can’t breathe.” He waited for your eager nod before clambering on top of you and clumsily settling down. 

His body was tense as he held himself a few millimeters above your body, clearly still worried about crushing you. That simply wouldn’t do. Bringing your hands around his waist, you began kneading his back and shoulders in the way you knew he loved. 

Frank was fairly easy to please. A few well-placed touches to his upper back and he was putty in your hands. Running a single nail up his spine beneath his shirt, your lips broke into a grin at his deep, satisfied rumble. “Thought I was s’posed to be takin’ care of you.” He murmured, mashing his face against your neck. 

“You are. Just wanted you to relax.” You murmured, sleep tugging at your consciousness after the immense amount of energy you’d spent during your day of classes. Your voice must have revealed how desperately you needed a nap because Frank’s body shuddered with a laugh. 

“Sleep, sweetheart. I gotcha now.” 

Sandwiched between the mattress and the warm weight of your boyfriend, you let sleep drag you under. 

A thundering rumble sounded in your stomach, the vibrations breaking you out of a peaceful slumber. Groaning, you clenched your arms around your waist, hoping the pressure would cause the intense hunger pangs to fade. During your impromptu nap, your delightfully warm, boyfriend-shaped weighted blanket had been replaced by the duvet. Eyes still closed, you reached across the bed, groping the sheets in an attempt to find your partner and drag him closer to you, but you were unsuccessful. Whining miserably, you opened one eye, wincing at the bright rays of the setting sun temporarily blinded you. 

The room was, upsettingly, empty. No grumpy-yet-adorable man to be found. Coughing pitifully, you whimpered, hands clenching around the blankets, as if they would bring you comfort like Frank had. Had your interaction this afternoon been a dream? Were you alone all along?

A drop of saline rolled down your face and splashed onto the pillow, the moisture cool against your warm skin. Sniffling feebly, you shut your eyes again, praying that sleep would take you before you could wallow in your loneliness for too long. 

“Sweetheart?” Wiping your eyes, you glanced to the doorway to find the source of the voice, spirits lifting when you saw two beautiful men staring back at you, brows puckered in concern. 

They were by your side in an instant; Matt sat at the edge of the bed next to your pillows and Frank crawled into bed beside you, kissing your forehead when you immediately latched onto him. Matt frowned, running a hand over your arm before sliding into a horizontal position at your back. 

Their warmth was divine. Four burly arms wrapped around you, tangling you between your two partners. Matt’s nose brushed your nape as Frank hooked his chin over your head, guiding your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Your entire body sagged in relief, so grateful to be surrounded by the two men who loved you more than you could comprehend, so happy that you weren’t alone in your anguish any longer. 

“You ok, my love?” Matt’s gentle, unexpected question pushed your delicate constitution into emotional turmoil. 

A choked cry ran through your body with a tremor. Barrier broken, your body was suddenly wracked with vicious sobs, interspersed with weak coughs and sniffles. 

The muscular walls around you compressed as your partners pressed impossibly closer, cooing in sympathy as you bawled. 

“Hey, you’re ok, doll. You’re ok.” Frank’s dulcet rumble shook his chest beneath your ear. 

“That’s it, darling. We’re here now.” Matt spoke quietly, kissing the shell of your ear when he finished. His large hand splayed over your stomach, rubbing gentle circles as you trembled. Frank’s hand mirrored the motion along your back. 

The pair of them continued caressing you tenderly as your cries gradually halted. Drawing in a deep, hiccuping breath, you wiped your eyes, a rush of embarrassment flooding your body. 

“‘M sorry.” You whispered, blinking back a new wave of ashamed tears. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, babygirl.” Frank promised. 

“After the week you had, I don’t blame you.” Matt sighed, placing a line of kisses down your neck. “Next time you’re this miserable, pretty girl, give me a call, ok? I’ll come check up on you at the very least. I don’t want you at home alone when you’re this upset.” 

“I didn’t know if I could ask you to come over.” You explained shakily. 

“Oh, love,” Matt sounded almost mournful, hugging you tightly from behind. “Always. I’ll always come for you.” 

You nodded, a few lingering tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“You’re a bit feverish, darling. Are you feeling ok?” Matt’s voice was tight with worry. 

Shrugging timidly, you sighed, burrowing further into the cocoon of limbs you were wrapped in. “‘M ok. Better now.” 

Frank huffed out a laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “Forgot to mention, she’s got a cold.” 

“On top of everything else? You poor thing.” Matt crooned, running a knuckle over your cheek comfortingly. 

“It’s nothing.” You assured them, because it really was the least of your worries right now, with all of your impending assignments and broken equipment. 

Your loves seemed unconvinced, but they didn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, Frank switched gears. “I’m sorry I left ya, doll. I ran to pick up dinner and got stuck talking to this one,” He gave Matt’s arm a shove, “In the living room.” 

“You started talking to me!” Matt argued with a bright chuckle.

“You wish, Red. I was tryin’ to get back to my girl and you were blabberin’ on about court.”

”YOU asked ME how my day was!“

”Out of politeness, and you went way beyond the one word answer I was hoping for.“ 

”Well, excuse ME for thinking my partner wanted to hear about my day.“

The two continued bickering, their dramatic inhales expanding their chests, pushing you around like the bellows of an accordion. It could have been annoying, being jostled by their argument, but each swell of muscle reminded you of their presence, soothing your nerves. 

You let your limbs go slack, your body bouncing between the two sturdy frames surrounding you as if you were a ping pong ball. Smiling happily, you let their rising voices wash over you as you began to nod off again. 

”You alright, sweetheart?“ Frank's question startled you awake and you were unsure of how much time had passed. ”Ya got quiet on us.“

”'M fine. Sleepy.“ You responded, basking in the soft touches that you were once again bombarded with. 

Matt chuckled against your neck. “That makes sense, my darling girl. You can rest here with me while Frank gets the pizza.” 

You could practically hear Frank's resounding eye roll at Matt's demanding tone, but you were more interested in the promise of food. “Pizza?” You asked, hopefully.

“Yah, doll. Pizza. From your favorite place. Thought you deserved somethin' tasty after everythin' you had to deal with this week.” Frank kissed the tip of your nose, sliding out of your embrace and off the bed. “I'll be right back with it, ok?” 

“Mmmkay.” You yawned, making both men smile. Matt carefully maneuvered your body so that you were propped against his chest, sitting up ever so slightly. 

“There we go, pretty girl. How's that?” His lips tickled your forehead as he spoke and you giggled.

“Tickling me, Matty.” You whispered, tilting into his grasp with a sigh. 

“Thought you were s'posed to be helpin' her rest.” Frank remarked from the doorway, pizza box balanced precariously as he wolfed down a slice. 

Matt scoffed, “And I thought that pizza was for her.”

Shrugging, Frank smirked at his boyfriend. ”It's my tip. For the delivery.“ 

Matt snorted in response, taking the box from Frank so he could sit behind you. 

”Let's get some food into ya, doll. Then you can sleep as much as ya want, ok?“

The rest of the night was spent laying on a firm chest as the boys fed you slices of your favorite pizza, eventually falling asleep blanketed by their embrace. 

Admiring your beautiful face, your expression lax with sleep, Frank spoke as lowly as possible to avoid waking you. 

”We have some work to do, Red. You ok handlin' things here if I go out tomorrow?“ 

”Absolutely,“ Matt confirmed. ”It shouldn't take us long.“ 

”Nah, but it'll make her day.“

”And that's what's important.“ Matt smiled, kissing Frank's arm that was draped across the 3 of you. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #charlie cox #my writing #marvel #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #the punisher #fratt #fratt x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #marvel daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #daredevil netflix #daredevil mcu #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader

[whoreofdilfs]

Put me in a room with Jon Bernthal and we would be doing things other people would not think is possible

#Jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal #smut #i need him #punisher x reader #the punisher #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle angst #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle smut

[amhrosina]

Good Girls Get Rewarded

Summary: Frank gets tired of you running your mouth and decides to remind you who's in charge. Smutty antics follow.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k (holy shit!!!!)

masterlist // join my taglist

a/n: im not ashamed to admit that this fic is the only thing i thought about for three days straight. please enjoy. it is an absolute smut-fest!

warnings: buckle the fuck up bitches, cursing (obvi), all porn no plot, oral (male & fem receiving), fingering, pet names!!!!!, p in v sex, praise kink, size kink a little??, frank is so mean at first lmfao, lots of teasing, spanking, frank gets called sir a lot lmfao, reader is a brat, physical violence (this does not transfer to the smut!!!), i am probably forgetting so many pls let me know what i need to add!

“How’d you get this number?”

Frank’s familiar rasp was even more apparent over the phone, a tingling revelation that sent a shiver up your spine. He was in a sour mood, and you were itching for a fight. It was the perfect way to end your evening.

“Oh, c’mon, Frankie. You know I can get whatever I want whenever I want.”

“How could I forget you’re such a spoiled princess, huh? The fuck you want, princess?”

He spat the last word at you as if it were an insult. Good. He was angry, too.

“Did I catch you at a bad time? I was just admiring these pretty curtains. They designer?”

Annoyed resolve rang through in Frank’s tone as he replied. “You know I don’t know what you’re talking about. You gonna make me ask?”

“Sure, honey. I think you’ll want to know the answer.”

You smirked, eyes roaming the living room you were currently standing in the middle of. If only Frank could see you now.

He huffed. “What curtains?”

“These blue ones in your living room. Did you pick them out, or was it that Karen Page with her over-eagerness to please you?”

“You leave her the fuck out of this.” He paused, and you smirked at yourself in the mirror as the realization of what you’d said was processed fully by Frank. “You’re in my fuckin’ house? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He was already moving. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear the hitches in his breath as he barreled his way across Hell’s Kitchen, you’d know he was coming. Your plan was working. You were ecstatic.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?”

“Clever.” You hummed, running your tongue over your teeth. Since you’d first met Frank, he’d managed to throw a cat pun in your direction during every interaction you’d had. He claimed it was because the newspapers were calling you the Black Cat, but you thought it probably had something to do with the latex suit you wore. He never could keep his eyes off the curve of your hips. “Lazy, but clever, I suppose. I’ll allow it, considering the spontaneity of this phone call.”

“How kind of you.” Frank spat, and you resisted the urge to giggle over the phone. He had to be getting close, now. He’d come bursting through the door at any second. Your muscles were giddy with the thought of finally being challenged.

“You know I love chatting with you, darling, but I’ve got to run. I have a thing. Ta-ta!”

You hung up the phone, placing it on the counter and angling yourself so that you could see the front door. You weren’t exactly sure how angry he’d be that you broke into his house, but you wanted to at least seem like you had the upper hand when he charged through the door. You waited, anticipation building until you could no longer stay still. You began to pace, nervous and giddy at the same time, and of course, if you’d just been a little more patient and quiet, you probably would’ve heard the creak of the window opening behind you.

You didn’t realize Frank Castle was standing directly behind you until you backed into him. Your heart thundered in your chest, realizing exactly who was behind you and how he’d managed to perfectly out-do you in your own plan. The hands around your throat shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“It’s fuckin’ rude to break into people’s houses, princess.”

He pulled your body fully against his, attempting to wrap his arm around your neck from behind to pull you into a chokehold. You were a tricky little kitten, though, and you slipped out of his grasp almost as easily as you’d waltzed through his door earlier. Maybe he let you out. Maybe he was curious about your unprompted visit, too.

“You’re one to talk. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to grab a lady like that?”

He snorted. “Lady? Someone confuse you with someone less bitchy?”

“I’ll have you know, I am perfectly fucking civil to most people.” You assured him, jutting your chin out in defiance.

“We really doing this?” He ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. You eyed the movement and shrugged.

“Eat your fuckin’ heart out, honey.”

You both lunged for each other, your leg rising to connect with his stomach before his fist could connect with your face. He sprang back, unharmed but winded, and caught your leg before it could connect with his chest. You were suddenly on your back, having been thrown off balance by Frank, who was pushing most of his weight down on your hips to keep you from thrashing beneath him.

“You’re rusty, kid.” His eyes were bright and fiery, a combination you’d grown accustomed to during these bouts. You brought your forehead to his chin in a headbutt that would’ve knocked anyone else out completely. Frank, unfortunately, was just dazed for a moment, blinking the confusion out of his eyes before you could make much leeway against his ridiculously strong hold on your hips.

You were, however, able to wiggle one of your legs out from underneath him, giving you the perfect opportunity to pull Frank into an armbar.

“You’re old.” You smirked. Old or not, the best thing about fighting Frank was how incredibly resilient he was. No matter who ended up on top at the end of the night, your pent-up energy was always spent.

He resisted the pull into your hold, though the only other direction for him to go was on top of you. Your breath rushed out of you as he landed directly on top of your lungs, your grip on his arm loosening enough for him to roll away from you.

“Real cute, princess. You break into my house, and now you’re trying to what? Hurt me?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you coughed and remained on his kitchen floor. He really had landed hard, but you were playing the long game. “Good fucking luck. I’m not an idiot, in case you were wondering. You can stop the act.”

“You sure about that?” You rolled to your feet, pulling your hands into fists and holding them up to block your face. He rolled his eyes again, and even though he looked relaxed - unready, even - he caught your fist before it could connect with his jaw.

“You learn that on TV, princess?”

Your brow furrowed in anger. He was annoyingly good at reading your body language now.

“Actually,” you smiled up at him, face so close to his chest that you could nearly feel his thundering heartbeat, “I learned it from your mom.” You punctuated your insult with a swift knee to Frank’s groin. “I win.”

He hunched forward and you let him fall to his knees on the linoleum flooring. It was a low blow, but you weren’t in the mood to fight fair. He never did, anyway. You pushed yourself onto the counter, watching him breathe through the worst of the pain. You were an asshole, sure, but you weren’t the type to kick a man when he was down.

“You’re a fucking menace.” He grunted, nostrils flaring with anger when he took in your relaxed posture on the counter.

“Oh, please, Frank. It’s not like you fuckin’ use the thing.” You rolled your eyes, flipping your hand through the air in the universal sign for “whatever”.

His gaze shifted from anger to something you couldn’t quite place. You’d seen the look on his face before, but you’d never been able to figure out exactly what he was thinking during those moments. He tilted his head and rose to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on your face. Predator stalking prey. Goosebumps broke out on your skin.

“What was that, princess?” He stalked closer to you, and you were suddenly very aware how cornered you were in this position. To make a hasty escape you’d somehow have to catapult yourself over Frank’s shoulder or burst through what you guessed was a solid block of drywall beside you.

You swallowed thickly. “I said, it’s not like you use the thing.”

Frank’s eyes were bright with delight. Coupled with the teasing smile on his face and the slight tilt of his head, you were a little frightened.

“And you’d know that, how?” He taunted, stepping closer to you. He was in your space now, close enough to touch.

“I know a lot of things, Frankie.” You desperately grasped at the semblance of control you had left. “I know where you live, I know what you order every morning from that diner around the corner, and I know for sure that you. Don’t. Fuck.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank was leaning on the counter now, hands pressed into the granite on either side of your hips. “You think I can’t handle myself in bed, princess? Wanna try it out for yourself?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

You didn’t know why you’d said it, or where it came from. Frank Castle was not the man to play games with, especially not these types of games. In actuality, you had no idea who the man was fucking or how often it was happening. You hadn’t expected him to rise to the challenge when you’d teased him about it.

“Is that right, princess?” His eyes gleamed with desire, and you finally realized what the look on his face meant. “Wanna bet?”

He pressed himself fully against you, the hardness of him apparent through his jeans. Your breath hitched against the column of your throat, and you swallowed thickly. You couldn’t deny the steady pounding between your legs, and you slightly widened your legs to allow him more room.

“Yes or no, princess? Wanna learn a thing or two?” His lips ghosted over yours, tongue darting out to lightly lick your top lip in a teasing, playful motion.

Your expectations for the night had been drastically different than this. You’d planned on a physical fight, maybe a black eye or two, and a slew of insults that you’d giggle about until you saw him again. You had not been expecting…this. Whatever this is. They probably existed, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why this might be a bad idea, so you leaned into the feeling that had been steadily growing in your core, and slammed your lips against his.

He groaned, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth in a desperate, aching kiss. Your teeth clashed against his, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“Fuck, princess.” He mumbled against your lips, angling your chin so that he could pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your throat. You panted, pawing at his shoulders as he nipped the sensitive skin below your ear. “You gonna be good for me?”

“I’m not good for anyone.” You tried and failed to sound feisty. Instead, it came out in a mixture of a whine and a moan.

“You can be good for me, kitten. I won’t tell anyone.” His hands ghosted over the bottom of your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He didn’t lift it up yet, and he probably wouldn’t, you realized, until you offered him some kind of consent.

“Only if you ask nicely.” You teased, brushing your lips over his jaw.

He snorted. “That ain’t happenin’.”

A feline grin made its way across your face. “I know.”

He gripped your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in close and whispered, “You’re going to be good for me, you fucking brat. Don’t make me say it again.”

Warm delight flooded your stomach, and even though it went against what you believed in, you nodded. You couldn’t think of a single thing you would rather be doing.

“Good girls get rewarded, kitten.” He adjusted his grip on your jaw, sliding his fingers further down your neck. He toyed with the hem of your shirt again, tugging it slightly so that you arched into his chest. “Can I take this off, sweet girl, hmm?” He hummed, running his tongue across your bottom lip.

You nodded again, and the hand around your neck flexed with displeasure.

“I kiss you for thirty seconds and your big mouth suddenly knows how to shut up?” He pinched your hip, eliciting a yelp from your unassuming mouth.

“Fuck yo-”

“Careful.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. “Use your words, kitten. I know you know how to be sweet. Be sweet to me.” His lips ghosted over yours, breath fanning across your flushed cheeks. “Can. I. Take. This. Off?” He punctuated each word with a slight squeeze of his hand, still wrapped around your throat.

“Yes.” You breathed, dipping your chin in a single nod.

“Yes…?” He cooed, close enough for you to see the amusement glittering in his eyes. The fucker was enjoying this entirely too much. Still, your core hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d cornered you, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t incredibly turned on by this, by him. You gave in to his question, as much as it hurt your stubborn heart to do so.

“Yes, sir.” You clenched your teeth around the word ‘sir’.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“Or should I call you master? Or daddy? Or maybe punisher? You gonna punish me, dadd-”

His hand clamped over your mouth, cutting you off before you could continue.

“Shut the fuck up. You just can’t help yourself, can you? You’re such a fucking brat.” He pulled your hips flush against his, and you bit your lip to stifle the moan making its way up your throat. He leaned in, centimeters away from your lips as he whispered, “You want to be punished, kitten, hmm? I can do that.”

You were suddenly pulled off the counter and roughly thrown over Frank’s shoulder. The swiftness in his movements made you yelp, anger coursing through your blood at his man-handling.

“Fuck you, Frank.” You gritted your teeth.

His only response was a swift slap to your backside, which was nestled directly over his shoulder.

“You can’t just throw me around like a doll!” You protested, though you did nothing to try and wiggle your way out of his grasp. The man-handling was making you a little hot and bothered, but you wouldn’t be admitting that anytime soon.

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” He grunted as he threw you down on his bed, grasping your legs and pulling you down the mattress until he was towering over you again. He brushed your hair out of your face, a gentle gesture that juxtaposed the usual ferocity of your meetings. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, and before you could think twice about it, you opened your mouth and began sucking on it. A grunt, a smirk, the subtle desire lurking behind his intense gaze - all of it was incredibly sensual. “Should’ve known the sweetness wouldn’t last. You’re a brat, through and through, kitten.” You replaced the sweet caress of your tongue around his finger with your teeth, softly biting down on the tip of his thumb in response.

“I like it though.” He mumbled quietly, more to himself than to you. His gaze coasted down your body, catching on the swell of your breasts and the curve of your hips. He looked back at you, having come to a silent decision. “I’m gonna give you another chance, kitten. Does that sound okay, baby, hmm? I want to make you feel good, alright? All you have to do is be good. That’s it. Can you do that for me? Can you be good for me?”

You blinked up at him, his frame so wide above you that it was almost sinful.

“I can be good for you.” You responded slowly, relinquishing your hold on his thumb. He quirked an eyebrow at you, and you quickly added, “I can be good for you, sir.”

His cheeks widened into a smirk.

“You’re already doing so well, sweetheart.” He praised, running his hands along your sides until they met the bottom of your shirt. You arched into him as he pulled the fabric over your head, relishing the gentleness of his touch while simultaneously missing the roughness from before.

He slid the tip of his tongue from your navel to the valley between your breasts, tugging on the thin material of your bra with his teeth. His breath fanned across your chest, bringing a renewed sense of urgency to your aching core.

“Frank.” You whined, pawing at his shoulders and attempting to pull him fully against you. He barely budged, instead choosing to narrow his focus onto your pebbled nipples.

“What is it, kitten, hmm?” He pressed a soft kiss to your nipple. It was through your bra, but it might as well have been to your bare breast, because the rippling heat that washed through your body elicited a breathy moan from your throat.

“I need- I mean, I want- Can you-” The warmth from his mouth around your nipple was scrambling your brain, and you couldn’t begin to function as his fingers began sliding your pants down your legs.

“You need somethin’, sweetheart?” He was teasing you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stay silent about it.

“Quit teasing me.” You whined, and his hands halted midway down your thighs.

“You think you have any control over this right now?” He chuckled, yanking your pants down your legs in one swift motion. “I haven’t forgotten how bratty you were earlier. You keep this up and you’ll be lucky if I let you come at all, sweetheart, and it’d do you good to remember that.”

Desire sparked deep in your core at his tone, and a devilish smile made its way to your face. He eyed you warily.

“Don’t do whatever you’re thinking about doing.” He warned, returning his attention to your breasts. “Behave. Can you do that for me?”

“Can you?”

The words were out before you could stop yourself. It was just so easy to talk back to him. He brought his teeth down around your nipple, biting hard enough to bruise.

“Brat.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed completely. You whined at the loss of contact, but it quickly turned into a moan when Frank’s rough hands flipped you onto your stomach and slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“You’ll learn to be good.” One hand held your squirming form beneath him while the other came down in another harsh slap. “I’ll fuckin’ teach you if I have to.”

You moaned, louder and louder with every slap. Sure, you were a menace to the streets of Hell’s Kitchen and, likely, Frank Castle, but you never knew being bad could feel this good. Frank hoisted you up against him, roughly pressing your back into his chest.

“You’ll submit.” He whispered, nipping at the exposed skin on your neck. “I’ll make you. I dare you to try and stop me.”

He shoved you off of him, pulling his shirt over his head as you flopped down on the mattress. You tried to crawl further up the bed, but his hand clamped around your ankle and tugged you onto your stomach again. The position gave him a perfect view of your clothed cunt, which was thoroughly soaked in its current state.

“This underwear is pretty, baby.” He mumbled, running his fingers over the damp cotton. You squirmed beneath his touch, moaning as his fingers brushed against the part of you that needed him the most. “You wear these just for me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, arching your back even more to give him a better view.

“Turn over, baby.” He instructed, gently prodding at your hips. You flipped over, splaying yourself out beneath his standing form, panting. “You’re good when you want something, aren’t you?”

“Who says I want something?”

Jesus. Christ. You really couldn’t help yourself. You sighed in disbelief at your own attitude. At this rate, he’d never let you come.

“Watch it.” He brought his hand down, slapping your clothed cunt in warning. You felt yourself clench around nothing, dying to be touched by him again. “You look delicious like this, kitten. I’m dying for a taste.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in question. Even after everything, he still wanted your consent before he crossed the next line. You nodded, and then winced as his eyebrows shot into his hairline and he brought his hand down in a harsh slap, connecting with your pussy again. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, please, sir. Please taste me.” You corrected yourself, widening your legs.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” He sank to his knees, grinning. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, which surely would’ve gotten you another punishment, and tried to relax against the mattress.

“Look how pretty you are when you’re behaving.” He hummed, breath fanning over the soaked fabric. You whined as your pussy fluttered at his praise. He pressed a soft kiss to your mound, still refusing to remove the fabric simply because he knew it was driving you crazy. “You like it when I compliment you, kitten? Look at how wet you are, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, swallowing hard. You were so turned on it was starting to hurt, but you knew if you complained he would stretch the process out even further. Instead, you leaned into the praise and hoped he’d give in soon. “I’m being good, right, sir?” You asked, legs trembling with anticipation. He kissed your mound again, eliciting a groan from deep within you.

“Yes, kitten.” He smiled against your pussy. “And good girls get rewarded. Right, baby? Hmm?”

You moaned loudly as he hummed against your wet core. “Yes! Yes, please.” You nearly screamed out.

And finally, finally, he pulled your panties down your legs, discarding them in his back pocket. He briefly sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, taking in the sight before him. You were glistening with wetness - so turned on from his words alone that you could quench his thirst for a year with the amount of arousal leaking from your cunt. He grunted, slowly remembering the game he was supposed to be playing with you.

And you tensed, noticing all of this. You may not know a lot about a lot of things, but you knew Frank Castle, and you knew how to read him. You knew exactly what he’d been thinking. For a second, you had forgotten that this was all one giant game to him. He didn’t miss the way your demeanor changed. His eyes slid to yours in question.

“What is it, honey?” He asked, voice still dripping with lust but also with genuine concern.

“I just-” You struggled to find the words, and then tried to sweep the entire interaction under the rug. You wanted his tongue on you, now.  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Lying ain’t something good girls do.” He arched an eyebrow at you. You whined, pressing your head into the mattress.

“Is this a one time thing for you?” You asked, refusing to meet his eyes as you did so. It would be pretty embarrassing to be sent home in your current state - needy and wet - but not the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. You would not torture yourself by watching his eyes go from lusty to their usual cold demeanor.

“What do you mean?” He asked, running his thumbs over your hip bones.

“I mean,” you huffed, sitting up on your elbows and forcing yourself to look at him, “Will you call me after this?”

Frank’s face morphed into an understanding smirk. “Are you asking me to?”

You glared at him. He pinched your sides again. You rolled your eyes. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll call.” He said, and then his tongue was swiping through your folds, and you couldn’t do anything but flop back onto the mattress again and groan.

He lapped up the arousal that had been leaking out of you since he’d arrived earlier before focusing his efforts on your clit. His tongue drew figure-eights around your clit, sending shocking waves of pleasure through your body, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you were sure you’d died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so pretty.” Frank mumbled against your clit, sending a new spark of pleasure through you. “It pisses me off how pretty you are.”

“Please don’t stop.” You begged, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his head. His hand, which had been trailing closer and closer to your entrance, finally found its home, buried deep in your pussy. He pumped two fingers in and out of you, all the while sucking on your clit and going back and forth between praising and degrading you. You weren’t sure which direction was up.

“You just show up looking like a fucking goddess,” he punctuated the word with a harsh suck to your clit, “and expect me not to fuck you, princess? You’re begging to be fucked in those tight pants.”

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, sucking at your clit with more ferocity than you thought he was capable of. You were sobbing now, so close to the edge that you couldn’t stop the tears flowing down your temples and onto the comforter beneath you.

“You’re such a fucking brat sometimes, fuck.” He grunted. “But you’re so god damn pretty when you misbehave. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Frankie.” You sobbed, moaning as he sucked on your clit again.

“You wanna come, baby, hmm?” He cooed. “Only good girls get to come, kitten. You think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You practically screamed it, your entire body shaking with anticipation of your release. “Please let me come, sir.”

“Well, when you ask so nicely, honey.” He shrugged before attacking your clit with his tongue again.

You erupted beneath him, coming so hard your vision blacked out. You could vaguely feel Frank holding your hips in place, but your body was mostly one spark of pleasure after another. Your heart thundered in your chest, mimicking the pounding in your core. Frank squeezed your thighs hard enough to bruise, lapping up every drop of your release, but you were so far gone you barely registered it.

You eventually returned to your body - sweaty, panting, and thoroughly taken care of. Frank was smirking, pressing soft kisses into your skin.

“See what happens when you’re not a brat?” He teased, kissing the valley between your breasts. “Good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been so good for me, kitten.”

“What’s my reward?” You gasped, still a bit hazy from your orgasm.

“What do you want it to be?” He nipped at your jaw, trading between soft kisses and little bites that were sure to leave marks.

“I want to-”

His phone began ringing in his pocket, a sharp and alarming ring that startled both of you out of your hazes. He reached into his pocket and cringed when he saw who it was.

“Who is it?” You asked, curious.

He flipped the phone around for you to see, and you immediately tensed up. Motherfucking Karen Page was calling Frank, and he looked like he wanted to answer it. Your haze was gone now - long gone - and you suddenly felt like crying.

“Answer it.” You taunted, though you thought you might really start to cry if he did.

“I don’t think I’m going to.” He responded, watching you carefully.

“No, really,” you said, attempting to sit up, “She might need saving, again.”

It was a low blow, and you both knew it. It wasn’t Karen’s fault that she wasn’t skilled in hand-t0-hand combat. There was a pattern, though, and no matter how many times she got herself into trouble, Frank and/or Matt were always there to save her.

“Watch your mouth.” He blocked your attempt to sit up, shifting his weight so that he was fully hovering over you. He silenced his phone and slid it into his pocket. “You’re being a brat again.”

Hot, shameful tears welled in your eyes.

“I’m not trying to be one. This is my personality.”

“Crying after the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever had?”

“No.” You mumbled, though you couldn’t stop the sneaking smile from forming on your face.

“You’re pretty when you smile.” He said, peppering kisses along your jaw.

“Careful, Frank.” You murmured. “It almost sounds like you care.”

He nipped at your neck, an already sensitive area, and you groaned against him.

“I do.” He said genuinely, pulling back to make eye contact with you. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that right now, princess. You’re about to be so cockdrunk that you won’t be able to see straight for a week.” Your pussy clenched as he grinded against you, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your sensitive clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your stomach for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“What about my reward?” You hummed, wiping stray tears away. “I still get that, right?”

“How could I forget?” He mumbled, nipping at the marked skin around your breasts. “Princess wants her reward. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want to suck your cock.” You said, straight-faced and innocent, blinking up at him with such softness that he looked on the verge of tears. “Sorry.” You mumbled, correcting yourself before he could, “I want to suck your cock, sir.”

“You’re a fucking angel.” He grunted, pushing himself off the bed and into a standing position again. You followed, reaching for his jeans. He grabbed your hands, briefly stopping them from tearing his jeans off.

“Are you sure you want this, princess? A reward is supposed to be about you.”

You sort of liked the way he called you princess now. Before, when it had been fist fights and anger, it sounded like an insult. But now, the gentle cadence he said it with made your heart clench in your chest.

“I want to.” You nodded, and smiled up at him. “Can I, please?”

He undid his belt with one hand, bringing the other up to cradle your jaw. His hand was massive on your face and neck, a reminder of how insanely large the man standing in front of you was.

“When you look at me like that,” he started, biting his lower lip and slightly shaking his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “I forget how fucking bratty you are. I just want to corrupt the innocent little smile of yours.”

“I come pre-corrupted.” You grinned, the feline smile returning to your face as you looked up at him. “But you’re more than welcome to try.”

You tugged at his boxers, revealing his achingly hard cock. Sucking in a breath, you tried to imagine all of it fitting inside you as he stepped out of the boxers. Your mouth watered when he stroked himself a few times, smearing the precum across the tip of his dick.

“You realize I can’t let another man touch you after this, right?” He asked, eyeing the way your tongue slid across your bottom lip. He shrugged. “You’ll never want another man, anyways.”

“You sound so sure of that.” You murmured, not fully comprehending the words coming out of your mouth. You flicked your eyes up, briefly meeting his gaze before returning to the matter at hand.

“That sort of sounds like that attitude that keeps getting you in trouble, princess.” He raised his eyebrows at you. You quickly rewound the conversation, blinking out of your cock-drunk haze.

“No. No, sir.” You shook your head, desperate to get your mouth on him. “Can I? Please?”

“That’s what I thought, baby.” He murmured, tucking your hair behind your ears. His hands traveled around your head, pulling your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. You slid off the end of the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Go ahead, sweet girl.”

You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and kissed the tip. He let out a slow breath as you grew bolder with your mouth. His salty pre-cum smeared across your lips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue through it. He groaned, tightening his hold on your hair.

“I want you to fuck my throat, sir.” You murmured, looking up at him.

“You keep looking at me like that, I ain’t fuckin’ anything. Those fuckin’ eyes of yours are gonna be the death of me.”

“Didn’t realize you were so quick to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” He warned, arching an eyebrow at you. You grinned, stifling a giggle before wrapping your lips around him again. You pushed your head further and further down his cock, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you went. When your nose brushed against his pubic bone, he let out a stunted moan, slightly thrusting into your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bobbed your head up and down with more fervor, begging him to fuck your mouth harder and faster.

“You look, fuck-” He couldn’t stop himself from groaning, which spurred your movements on even more. “You look fucking amazing like this, princess.”

You hummed with acknowledgment, hoping it was enough for him to keep thrusting into your throat. Tears freely streamed down your cheeks, surely smudging the eye makeup you’d put on before you left your apartment earlier that night, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Frank Castle was sliding his dick down your throat, and you were so turned on you could probably come just thinking about it.

Frank suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a trail of spit connecting your lips to him as he panted. “‘m gonna come if you keep doing that.” He explained when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows.

“Want it.” You breathed, reaching for him again. He instead pulled you to your feet in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Another time, princess. The first time you make me come, I want it to be in your sweet little pussy.” He winked. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed how good you’re being.”

He pulled you into a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You groaned at both the praise and the intensity in which he kissed you. Both set your insides on fire. He led you backwards until your legs hit the bed, and you couldn't help but nip at his bottom lip when he tried to pull his head back.

“Good girls don’t do that.” He smirked, pushing you lightly so that you’d flop onto the bed again. He ran a hand over your cheek, smudging your makeup even more before running two fingers along your bottom lip. You caught on, slowly wrapping your lips around his fingers and lightly sucking. “You’re not good, though, are you, princess?”

You shook your head. His eyes had darkened again, sending a familiar pounding to your core. Your legs trembled as he began to inch his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“You can be.” His voice had lowered considerably, barely above a raspy whisper. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, princess. I won’t tell anyone.”

You whimpered, sliding your tongue around his fingers. Your skin was on fire, and the longer he stood there staring at you with those lusty eyes, the wetter you became.

“Can I fuck you now, princess?” He asked, transfixed on the fingers he was sliding in and out of your mouth. “You gonna be a good girl and let me ruin you?”

He pulled his fingers from between your lips, gripping your jaw tightly. He watched you, waiting for a response. You almost nodded, making the same mistake you’d made countless times already, but caught yourself at the last second.

“Yes.” You said, swallowing. “Yes, sir.”

“Lay back, princess. I’ll take good care of you.”

You laid back and widened your legs for him, noticing the twinkle in his eyes as you complied with his demand. If you were in your right mind, you might’ve said something witty or bratty to him about it, but he was towering over you, cock hard and ready to fuck you into oblivion, and you wanted him so badly. You groaned when he began running his fingers through your slick folds, already trembling.

“This all for me?” He asked, circling your clit once, twice.

You nodded, forgetting yourself for a moment, and yelped when his hand smacked your bare pussy. It didn’t hurt. In fact, you felt your pussy spasm in response, but you’d been so lost in how great his touch felt that you hadn’t realized you’d broken a rule.

“This all for me?” He asked again, rubbing your clit roughly with the heel of his hand.

“Yes! Yes, sir!” You whimpered, legs trembling when you felt the heavy weight of his cock resting on your pussy. He used it to slap the slickness a few times, eliciting a whine from deep in your chest. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you might actually die.

“Who does this belong to, baby? Whose sweet pussy is this?” He asked, smacking your pussy with his cock again.

You froze, knowing the answer he was looking for, but wondering if you wanted to lower yourself to that level. It was vulnerable to give yourself over to Frank this way, but it also wasn’t as terrifying as you thought it would be.

“Say it.” He encouraged, sliding his cock through your slick folds. “Submit, princess. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Is that a promise?” You taunted, trying not to groan at the friction against your clit.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” He grunted, lining himself up with your entrance. “Say it.”

“Yours. It’s yours, sir.” You whispered, and he buried himself deep inside you.

All the gentleness you’d experienced leading up to that moment was gone, and you couldn’t do anything but cling to Frank’s shoulders as he obliterated you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, sweetheart.” He hovered over you, kissing, sucking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He was marking you everywhere - you didn’t miss the implications of that - and barreling into you over and over again.

“Say it again, baby.” He whimpered in your ear, the closest you’d ever come to hearing Frank beg. “Who does this sweet pussy belong to?”

“You, sir. It’s all yours.” You replied instantly, whining as he angled himself and pistoned deeper into you. You could barely think straight, only aware of where your skin ended and Frank’s began. “Fuck, Frank. Sir. I’m fu-” You panted, whimpering, “I’m close. ‘m gonna-”

“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured, ghosting his lips over your jaw as he pressed kisses to and nipped at your throat. “Cock drunk and needy. You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Sir, can I-” You shuttered when you felt his hand on your clit again, teasing it with rough, slow circles. “Oh, fuck.”

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth, baby.” He grinned, skimming his teeth along your jawline. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He punctuated the word ‘crazy’ with a deep thrust, pressing against the spongy spot deep inside you that would send you reeling. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you trembled around him. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

“You wanna come, princess?” He cooed, biting the sensitive skin on your throat and kissing the sting away.

“Please.” You gasped. It was the only thing you were capable of saying. You barely registered that you’d forgotten to call him sir, but he was so transfixed with the sounds you were making that he didn’t mention it.

“Princess gets what princess wants.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you steady as he pistoned into you at an indescribable pace. You fell apart beneath him for the second time that night, arching and panting and whining as you fluttered around him. He attacked your throat, jaw, and lips with kisses, licking and nipping at your skin.

“That’s it, baby.” He talked you through the overwhelming pleasure, holding you tightly against his chest as he continued to thrust into you. “You were such a good girl, honey. You did so good.”

You whined, fluttering around him at the praise. “I want another reward.”

In any other circumstance, your demand would’ve pissed Frank off, but you just looked so pretty underneath him. “Oh, is that so?” He asked, eyebrows raising. Amusement rang in his tone, and it emboldened you to keep speaking.

“Yeah.” You gulped, still shaking from your orgasm. “I already know what I want.”

“You’re sounding more and more like the brat I just fucked silly.” He said, gently thrusting into you. “Spit it out, baby. What do you want?”

You swallowed, smiling a little. “I want you to fill me up, sir.”

He paused, pressing his forehead to your shoulder and huffing a laugh. His warm breath sent goosebumps skittering across your skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” He mumbled, kissing you sweetly.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” You feigned innocence, knowing it would send him closer to his relief. “And good girls get rewarded?”

“Yeah, baby.” He nodded, picking up the pace of his thrusts again. “Good girls get rewarded, and you were the best girl, baby.” He leaned into your hold, lips ghosting over the crest of your ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna fill you up, baby, and you’re going to walk around dripping into your pretty little panties all day tomorrow.”

You eagerly nodded, agreeing with him, and whimpered when he began thrusting into you at a relentless pace. You arched into him, nipping at his throat hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re perfect, baby.” He breathed. “Even when you’re being a brat. Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

His thrusts grew sloppier, his breaths coming in short, stunted grunts as he finally let himself go. His heart thundered in his chest, and you clung to him, kissing across the broad expanse of his body until he nearly fell on top of you in trembles.

You cradled his head against your chest, breathing in unison with him. At some point, his arms had wound around you, which meant you were now wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs tangled together as both of you came down from your highs.

“Holy shit.” Frank said, chuckling. “That is not what I was expecting when you called.”

“You gonna kick me out now?” You asked, half-joking. He tensed against you, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Don’t be a brat.” He nipped at your skin. “I’m not kicking you out, unless you want to leave.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, sighing deeply. “Of course I want you to stay. I’m a fuckin’ gentleman, kitten.”

You scoffed, though you could feel yourself hiding a smile. “Whoever told you that clearly hasn’t heard you in the bedroom.”

He scoffed in mock-offense. “Are you saying you didn’t have a perfectly nice time just now?”

“I did.” You grinned. “I’m…sorry I said you weren’t good in the sack.”

He looked up, stunned. “Did the Black Cat just apologize? To me?”

You rolled your eyes, huffing. “Yeah, but no one would believe you if you told them.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough, princess.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you need to admit to me that I’m incredible in bed and that you were wrong.” He was grinning so wide you had to resist the urge to punch him in his stupid, handsome mouth.

“I’m not doing that.” You shook your head, stifling a laugh.

“Do it.” He murmured, nodding.

“I refuse.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

You were both grinning at each other now.

“You’re such a brat.” He said.

“That’s what got us into this mess.” You countered.

“Just say it, princess. For me?” He pleaded. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Fine.” You gave in, rolling your eyes. “Frank Castle, you’re a sex God!”

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into his chest.

“Good girl.” He praised, kissing you softly.

“Do I get a reward?” You arched an eyebrow at him, smirking.

He smirked back, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh yeah, princess. Good girls get rewarded, remember?”

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @stray-kaz @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @fxlsealarm @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787-blog @ginnysculture @ryebreadsworld @laaundromat @coacaiyne @niki-is-a-thing @megmastersgf @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle angst #the punisher #the punisher fluff #the punisher angst #the punisher smut #the punisher imagine #marvel #jon bernthal #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle oneshot #frank castle fic #nmcu #amhrosina

[frankcastlescumslut]

A House in Nebraska

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut

summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!

next chapter

comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3

“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.

“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”

Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.

It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.

He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.

Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.

You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.

“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.

“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”

The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.

Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.

“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.

Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.

High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!

You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.

It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”

It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.

“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.

Stupid, stupid girl.

The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.

The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“

Point. Shoot. Kill.

Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.

You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”

She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.

You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.

There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.

Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..

The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.

His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.

You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.

He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.

Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.

“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.

His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.

The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.

Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.

“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”

You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.

“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”

The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.

The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.

He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.

It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”

This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.

There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.

Point. Shoot. Kill.

He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.

It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.

“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.

“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.

“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”

“Leave? What about Frank?”

You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.

You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.

The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.

“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”

She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.

“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”

Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.

You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.

It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.

Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.

Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”

God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.

He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.

“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.

“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.

“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.

He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.

Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.

His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.

“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.

It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”

“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.

She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.

You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.

A caravan of fucking liars.

“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.

New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.

There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.

next chapter

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle angst #frank castle series #frank castle hurt/comfort #the punisher #the punisher x female reader #the punisher series #the punisher angst #amy bendix

[bellaxgiornata]

Your Body is Not a Graveyard

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been over a year since Frank and you decided to expand your family, but all you've managed to give him is more loss. Struggling with grief and depression, you've tried your best to hide your pain from him, but one afternoon, Frank stumbles on you mid-panic attack.

Warnings: 18+; miscarriage, pregnancy struggles, panic attacks, depression, grief, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, but I promise there's hope at the end

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: So I have written a lot of Matthew Murdock content, but this is my first ever Frank Castle fic and my first ever one shot (but I could be persuaded for a possible sequel). Honestly, I wrote this for the Frank comfort because I've been struggling through some things and needed it myself so expect soft Frank. I am also working on a Frank series that will be coming soon. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tagging @danzer8705 since you asked!

For a long while you stood there, the faucet running as the warm water gradually grew hotter over your hands. You barely felt the temperature difference, though. Nor had you noticed that the soap had long since been rinsed from them. You were too focused on your eyes and the blank way they were staring back at you through the bathroom mirror.

Because at first you’d felt numb.

That bit of bright red noticeable on the toilet paper before you'd flushed had caught your eye. Part of you had expected it. It was, after all, about that time of the month. Again. At the very least, your body was nothing if not predictable. Which was why you hadn’t exactly been surprised to see the telltale crimson of your period beginning.

You’d gone through the motions after. Grabbed a tampon out from under the bathroom sink and finished your business before you'd washed your hands, yet all the while it felt like you’d somehow disconnected from your body. As if the hands inserting your tampon and flushing the toilet, the same ones pulling your underwear and jeans back up before turning on the bathroom faucet and lathering the soap along them, were suddenly not yours. You didn’t recognize them. 

And that face in the mirror, the one staring unblinkingly and so sullenly back at you, was unfamiliar, too. When had the bags under your eyes become so prominent? When had your eyes themselves grown so dull? 

But the longer you stared, the blurrier that face in the mirror became. 

And that’s when you felt it.

At first it was small–just the stinging of tears in your eyes. The all too familiar prickle began to build before you felt the first few large, wet drops spill forth from them. They left a trail of heat as they slid their way down your cheeks, catching in the frown lines around your trembling lips. 

Next came the sharp, burning pain that hit you right in the stomach. Gradually it crept its way up towards your chest like a growing fire right before you felt your ribcage abruptly compress around your heart and your lungs in a single, abrupt seize. A shuddering gasp tumbled out of your lips, your eyes snapping shut. Breath coming in shallower, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip as you tried to fight back the muffled sobs slipping out of you. You knew Frank had just returned home from the store and you didn’t need him to overhear one of the panic attacks you always hid from him.

The ringing in your ears soon became louder than the sound of the running water from the faucet, tears continuing to slip past your lashes as your own racing pulse pounded rapidly in your throat. But above all of that your mind was becoming the loudest thing in this bathroom, quickly drowning out everything else around you.

Because another month had gone by and you still hadn’t conceived. It had been over a year since you and Frank had stopped trying to not get pregnant and let things happen. Yet here you were. Enduring another monthly menstrual cycle. 

You still remembered that late night conversation with him curled up in bed together, the one that changed the trajectory of your past year. Both of you had been wrapped limb around naked limb in bed, your finger tracing mindless patterns along his bare chest as you both laid there together, panting and flushed from the exertion of your previous intimate activities. Frank had been rather sweet with you that night, too. Sweeter than usual. He’d taken his time with you, appreciating your body and touching you only with the most delicate of touches. Something about the way his hands had even just lingered on you that night had felt different. And then afterwards, he’d been the one to break the peaceful silence in the bedroom. You could still hear his voice perfectly in your head even now.

“I want that with you.”

Those five words had sent your heart into a frenzied flutter. Granted, you’d been uncertain if he’d meant them in the context of the conversation the pair of you had the night before when you’d curiously asked him if he had ever given more thought to wanting a family. It had been a question you’d assured him had come with no pressure. You knew about Frank’s past–the life that was not Peter Castiglione’s–and you’d always made it clear that you respected his boundaries either way. All you wanted was him. But before he’d ever proposed to you, he had on multiple occasions told you that maybe someday he could see that again–having a family–but only with you. 

So you’d been curious that night before, almost six months after you had eloped with him and legally become Mrs. Castiglione–though in private Frank called you Mrs. Castle. You had wondered if he would ever want something more. Something more than just the little family the two of you had created together in your cozy house. Because for a while now it had been just Frank, you, and Bear–the pitbull you’d seen on the local animal shelter’s social media page shortly after you’d both moved in together. You’d shown that picture to Frank and the very next day you had come home from work to find Bear wagging his tail and greeting you excitedly beside Frank in the living room. The three of you had quickly become a family.

But sometimes you still wondered about more than that.

So you looked back on that night fondly with Frank once he’d clarified what he’d meant. When he’d opened the door to something more for the both of you. Because you knew what that meant for him. You knew what a big step that was after what he’d lost.

You vividly remembered the excited squeal you’d let out when he gripped your chin so gently between his fingers and said he wanted a family with you and that he knew you’d make an amazing mother. You’d flung yourself on top of him and excitedly kissed his laughing mouth over and over while he’d joked about getting a head start on making a baby and trying a second time that night. And of course you did have sex again that evening, though you hadn’t removed your birth control implant until almost three weeks after that night, wanting to wait to make sure Frank was entirely certain before you did. And when you had, you’d both been ecstatic about what the future would bring.

But now, a year later, you found yourself growing further and further disheartened and depressed. You’d eventually begun to silently take the blame upon yourself that you hadn’t managed to get a pregnancy to full term yet. That you couldn't seem to give Frank a child. Because maybe you were broken. Maybe your body was broken. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten pregnant at all–you had. Twice now. But you’d lost both pregnancies. And the second loss only hit you harder than the first because your second pregnancy had gotten farther along. You had been almost eleven weeks pregnant and starting to feel like things were going to be alright. You knew that the rate of miscarriage significantly dropped after the first twelve weeks. 

You had cautiously let yourself begin to get excited. To discuss nursery plans with Frank when it came to the extra, unused bedroom in the house. Teasing him about how many times you'd be likely to change your mind about the paint color, joking about how often he'd be repainting it for you. But he always just wrapped you in those big, strong arms of his, a broad smile on his face as he promised you the same thing every time. 

"Don't matter to me," his deep voice would rumble out with a soft chuckle. "I'll paint it every goddamn shade of the rainbow for the next nine months if that's what you want, sweetheart."

Frank had even finally let himself get excited, too, and it had warmed your heart to see. 

Oftentimes you'd wake up, rolling out of bed to hear him down the hall and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. He was usually awake before you in the mornings and talking to Bear, but you had begun to overhear him telling Bear that he was going to need to be a good boy and look out for you and this baby whenever he wasn't home. Or you would overhear him telling Bear about how much he'd love playing fetch when the baby was a little older, and how this child would become Bear's best friend. It had always put a smile on your face when you overheard those one-sided conversations as you made your way into the kitchen in the mornings, greeted with the sight of a grinning Frank and Bear sitting beside him, wagging his tail so hard you could hear it thumping against the wood floor repeatedly.

You remembered how excited Frank had gotten about that first appointment with your obstetrician, too. He had insisted he took off early from work to be there to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see that very first ultrasound. And you would never forget the way Frank looked at you when you’d both first heard that rapid, fluttering heartbeat. His eyes had welled up with tears, his face a mixture of awe and sheer joy as his large hand tightened around yours. You had always thought Frank was an attractive man, but in that moment, with the way his face had lit up with so much happiness as he gazed back at you, you’d never seen him look more handsome.

Though you hadn’t seen that look on his face since. A few weeks after that appointment you’d woken up from a dead sleep, your abdomen aching and in pain. Getting up out of bed, you remembered stopping in your tracks when you felt that warm gush between your thighs and your throat had instantly closed up. You’d nearly sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, a groggy Frank calling out after you as Bear sat whining outside the bathroom door. 

You were bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop. 

Frank had known exactly what was happening the moment you'd begun openly weeping in the bathroom. With a focused calm he managed to get both of you dressed and ready before he brought you to the hospital. He kept uttering words of comfort in your ear, holding your hand as you sobbed into his shoulder in the ER’s waiting room. Eventually a nurse wheeled you back to a room in a wheelchair where Frank continued to hold your hand and hover at your side as the nurses drew blood and set up an IV. 

That whole time you were at the hospital Frank never let go of your hand, not until they needed to take you away to conduct an emergency ultrasound. You’d been terrified to go without him, not wanting to be alone if they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but the staff had refused, claiming it was hospital policy that he needed to stay back and wait for you. You swore you almost saw the Punisher firsthand in that hospital room with the sheer rage present on Frank’s face as his nostrils flared at the nurses. Inevitably you had to be the one to tell him it was alright, that you’d be fine with him waiting for you.

And then you’d broken down in the darkened little room by yourself as the doctor conducting the ultrasound offered you stiff and practiced words of condolences when that rapid, fluttering heartbeat couldn’t be found again.

You’d spent the next few days afterwards unable to leave your bed. Bear stayed cuddled up beside you, resting his head on your legs as you cried into your pillow on and off. Whenever Frank had gotten home from his shift at the local factory, he’d grab a quick shower before he lay with you, soothingly rubbing your back and not saying a word. Because there wasn’t anything to say. 

It was a few days later that you’d felt guilty for wallowing in your own grief. Despite that calm, comforting exterior Frank always approached you with, you knew he was hiding his own grief from you. That underneath all those sweet words and meals he had cooked for you, he was struggling with his own pain. And you’d stumbled on the truth of that one day when you’d woken up from a nap on the couch, heading to the bedroom and catching Frank sitting on the edge of the mattress bent in half with his face in his hands, the ultrasound photos laying on the nightstand beside him. 

You’d never felt like you’d let him down more in the time you’d known him than in that very moment and it had broken you. Because instead of adding joy to Frank’s life–like you wanted to do after everything he’d been through–you just kept adding more loss. So you’d stopped openly wallowing and crying after that, shoving your emotions all the way down until moments like this–like right now–where you were alone and could feel them. Just a little bit. Because you didn’t need to add anymore to Frank’s pain. You didn’t need to be another burden on his shoulders–he carried enough weight on them.

A couple of quick raps came from the bathroom door, the noise abruptly breaking through your thoughts.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Frank’s gruff voice called out from the otherside of it. “You good in there? Sink has been running for awhile now, just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

Biting down harder on your lip, a choked sob slipped out between your teeth before it broke on a hiccup. Immediately you heard the bathroom door handle twist open, your damp lashes flying open to reveal Frank’s panicked expression reflected back at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. 

Swiftly stepping beside you, he reached a hand out and turned off the faucet that had still been running. He muttered another curse when he realized how hot the water had been, reaching across you to grab the hand towel from the nearby towel rack. 

"Hey, c'mere," he whispered.

He wrapped the soft towel gently around your trembling hands, drying them off carefully as he turned you towards him. Your hands ached just from the light touch; you'd certainly left them under the hot water for far too long.

Sniffling, you turned your face into the sleeve of your shirt, trying to dry the tears still flowing on the fabric along your shoulder. Gritting your teeth together, you fought to even out your sharp, shallow breaths and get them under control. You didn't need Frank to see you like this.

"Somethin' happen?" he asked softly, removing the towel from your hands. "You hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to trust your voice. 

He lowered his face to yours, trying to catch your gaze. Sniffling again, your eyes gradually slid up towards his, guilt flooding you at the sight of concern in his warm, brown eyes. Immediately the tears began pouring out of you even faster, your face scrunching up as you tried to bury it back into your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, c'mere," he murmured, tossing the towel onto the bathroom counter.

Frank's hands encircled your shoulders before he firmly pulled you into himself, burying his face into the top of your hair. Your hands were trapped between both of your bodies, sliding their way up to Frank’s chest before you desperately grasped onto the fabric of his black shirt and balled it into your fists. Pressing your face into his solid chest, you struggled to fight down the rasping breaths that kept leaving your mouth as you cried.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Frank whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you. It's alright. You're alright."

One of his large hands began smoothing your hair soothingly as he continued gently shushing you and muttering words of comfort. Closing your eyes, you inhaled a deep, rattling breath and tried to focus on his calming voice. The familiar scent of him filled your nose, something warm like pine mixed with cinnamon. It was a smell you'd come to associate with him and it always brought you comfort–just like Frank’s entire presence always did. When you felt his lips leave a lingering kiss along your temple, the apology slipped out of your mouth before you even knew it had.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, you pressed your lips firmly together as you tried to bury your face further against his chest. You hadn’t meant to let that slip. The guilt and shame welling inside of you for months was something you much preferred to keep to yourself. You didn’t want Frank to carry the weight of that, too.

But you felt the way Frank had swiftly withdrawn his face from your hair, his large hand sliding around from where it had been stroking your hair to instead gingerly cradle your cheek. Slowly he drew your face from where you’d tried to hide against his chest, his hand gradually turning it up towards his. 

His brows were slightly drawn together, a few creases visible between them. The corners of his lips were downturned, his eyes narrowing as they searched your face for answers. You could feel the tremble of your own lips as you studied his face in return, seeing exactly what you hadn’t wanted to see in it. Frank Castle was not going to let this go without an answer. 

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he repeated.

Licking your lips nervously, you knew you were going to have to tell him this time. Though having this particular conversation didn’t remotely calm the racing of your heart. And you knew you were going to break down again in front of him; that thought alone brought the burn of tears back to your eyes.

“I–I got my period,” you stammered quietly.

Frank’s eyes only narrowed further at you, confusion briefly slipping onto his face as his frown deepened. But then understanding washed over his features mere seconds later and you saw his expression soften. He immediately began to shake his head at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

"Frank, I–"

"No," he stated, shaking his head again. "No. You did nothing wrong."

Throat tightening, you struggled to get your next words out, your fingers still curled around his shirt.

"I lost them both," you choked out. 

Frank's other hand came up, both of his hands now carefully cradling your face between his palms. His lips twitched at the corners as his hardened eyes stared fiercely back at yours.

"That wasn't on you," he stated. "None of it was your fault, sweetheart. You hear me? It was out of your control. I don't blame you for a damn thing. How could you even think you need to apologize?"

The calloused pads of Frank’s thumbs began tenderly wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. Despite how dangerous you knew Frank could be–despite knowing the things he’d done–he’d only ever been gentle with you.

You inhaled a shuddering breath, another truth slipping out of your mouth. "Because I let you down, Frank," you whispered. 

Frank's head tilted to the side, confusion once again drawing over his face as his brows furrowed further together. "You–you what?" he asked.

Eyelids lowering, you tried to control your breathing, taking a deep breath in and holding it. You couldn't properly explain what you needed to if you were going to start hyperventilating on him. And you sure as shit felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either. Not with that look on his face, the one full of earnest desire to understand you. To help you.

"I know what it–it means that you wanted this, Frank," you began in a whisper. "Wanted a family with me. I saw how happy you were both times I told you I was pregnant. I saw the way your face lit up at the ultrasound. And I–" you winced, your grip tightening so hard on Frank's shirt that your nails were digging into your own palms, "–I saw you. After. Crying in the bedroom over that ultrasound. Because I can't–can't seem to just get pregnant. To keep a pregnancy." 

A humorless, strangled laugh fell out of you, your eyes still closed because you couldn’t bear to see his face. But you felt Frank’s hands holding your face a bit tighter between them in response to the harsh, bitter noise you’d just made.

"It seems so fucking easy for everyone else," you continued, everything suddenly tumbling out of you after months of repeatedly shoving it down. "Everyone but me. And I'm–I'm so tired of being asked by my family and friends every couple of months if I'm finally pregnant. So tired of them brushing off my pain like it's nothing, like the two pregnancies I lost were nothing . Telling me things will happen in time or–or there's no rush to get pregnant. That everything will work out like some empty fucking platitude is going to fix this. Because none of them have gone through any of this. And I'm happy they haven't. I am. But they don't know what it's like. How–" your eyelids flew open, your focus on your hands still wrapped around his shirt, "–how upsetting it is to be repeatedly asked if I've gotten pregnant yet, especially when it feels like my body is…" your voice trailed off, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to finish your sentence. 

Frank's large hands carefully tried to turn your face up towards his, his eyes once again attempting to catch your own. Nervously you met his gaze and the hurt and pain clear in them only had your lips quivering yet again. 

"When it feels like your body is what, sweetheart?" Frank asked softly. 

Swallowing hard, your sad eyes held his as you spoke. "It feels broken," you whispered. "Like there's something wrong with me. Like it's–it's a graveyard."

The moment the words left your mouth, you entirely lost your composure. A sob barreled its way up out of your throat, your eyes snapping shut. Frank didn't stop you when your hands released his shirt and wrapped around his neck instead, your body collapsing forward into his. He only held you tight to himself, his hands rubbing calming patterns along your back as you wept. Your fingers dug into Frank through his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.  

“You’re not broken,” he whispered after a few minutes, his mouth beside your ear. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not broken.” 

You felt him shifting beneath you, his hands making their way up to your shoulders before he gently pulled you away from himself. Reluctantly you loosened your grip around his neck, your own hands holding onto his broad shoulders as you drew back from him, spotting the damp spot on his shirt from where your tears had soaked through the fabric. One of his hands slid along the length of your shoulder, continuing upwards until he was lightly grasping underneath your jaw, his thumb affectionately brushing back and forth along the line of it.

“Look at me,” he said, the command so gentle it was more of a plea. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly your watery gaze left that damp spot on his shirt and returned to Frank’s face, taking in that tender look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given you when he’d dropped down onto one knee and asked you to be his wife. It was a look he’d given you so often since that night. And right now that look was breaking down all the walls you’d been building to keep Frank out of your pain.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he assured you. “ Nothing . And there is absolutely nothing you need to be sorry about.”

His eyes quickly clamped shut, hurt briefly screwing up the features of his face as you silently watched him. When his eyes opened again, they held yours firmly with an intensity you didn’t see often in Frank. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, but it didn’t waver on a single word.

“Your body is not a graveyard,” he stated. “You hear me? What happened does not define you. It doesn’t make you a–a disappointment or a failure. You had no control over any of that. And you don’t owe me a single goddamn apology, sweetheart. Not a single fuckin’ one.”

“But you’re hurting, too,” you whispered.

Frank shrugged, your hands rising and falling with the movement as they still rested along his shoulders. He gave you a single, resolute nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It hurt me to lose both of them, too. But it hurts me more to see how much you’re hurting. And I’m sittin’ here feeling like there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You’ve already been doing so much for me,” you countered, shaking your head at him. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through any of this without you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. Always ,” he assured you. “But do you still want this?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly nodded back at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I want this with you, Frank. More than anything.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you wanna keep trying? Or do you wanna look into other options?” he asked next. “Because I’m with you, whatever you want.”

Your arms slowly wrapped back around his shoulders, drawing him down towards you until his forehead was resting against yours. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the back of his cropped hair. Frank immediately leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. A small smile slipped onto your mouth when he pulled away.

“I want to keep trying,” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a playful coyness in his voice.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you in response as he wrapped his arms around you in another embrace. Turning to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes fell closed and you felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’m on my period, Frank,” you reminded him.

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t stop us those times before.”

Laughing lightly, you shook your head against him. “Probably not likely to result in a pregnancy,” you pointed out.

“Who says that’s the only reason I need to make love to my wife?” he countered.

Slowly you shifted in his arms, your chin coming to rest along Frank’s chest as you looked up at him. He drew a bit back from you, glancing down at you with a cheeky grin on his mouth. When you quirked a brow at him, he sent you a wink.

“Make love, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replied with a smug smile. “Which reminds me, I got somethin’ for you.”

Brows curiously drawing together when Frank’s arms released you from their hold, your arms dropped to your sides as you watched him turn and head out of the bathroom. You followed out of the room behind him, Bear greeting you in the hallway with a wagging tail. You smiled down at him, giving him a quick pet on the head before you continued on your way towards the kitchen after Frank, wiping the backs of your hands against your damp cheeks. 

When you rounded the hallway corner, you spotted Frank in the kitchen holding a vase filled with a beautiful floral arrangement. Your jaw dropped as you came to an abrupt halt. The bouquet was a mixture of white, deep red, and pink flowers and you couldn’t take your eyes from it. It certainly looked like he’d stopped at a florist after he’d picked up the groceries because the arrangement was far nicer than what you’d find at the store. 

Eyes making their way up to Frank’s smiling face, you felt the tears beginning to well up in them again. Though this time it wasn’t because you were upset and hurting, it was because you were full of so much love for the man you’d been fortunate enough to marry.

“You brought me flowers?” you asked in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Seemed like you could use some cheering up. I also picked up one of those coffees you always order,” he continued, turning and gesturing at the cup on the kitchen counter behind him. “I know how much you love your coffee.”

Rapidly crossing the distance between you and Frank, you quickly reached up and grabbed his face in both of your hands before roughly pulling him down towards you. Your mouth was on his, kissing him like it was the first time you ever had all over again. His own lips were moving just as earnestly against yours, matching the same intensity as one of his hands landed on your hip, pulling you into him.

After a moment you broke away, trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Frank. He stood there, one hand holding your hip while the other continued to hold the vase of flowers, a bright smile spread wide over his mouth.

"I love you," you told him.

Leaning forward, Frank placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile grew along your mouth when his warm lips lingered against you. 

"I love you, too," Frank murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. 

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze before he released it, turning and setting the vase of flowers back onto the counter behind him. He picked up the cup of coffee before he turned back towards you, holding it out. You accepted it from him with a soft thanks before drawing the cup to your lips for a deep drink. Eyelids fluttering closed, you reveled in the comforting liquid as it ran over your tongue. 

"Somethin' you want to do this afternoon?" Frank asked. "'Cause I'm all yours the rest of the day."

Chewing your lip, you turned at the waist and looked over at Bear sitting in the space between the kitchen and living room. The moment your eyes fell on him he perked up, his head tilting to the side as his tail began to thump against the wood floor. Focusing back on Frank, you sent him a smile. 

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I get to spend the afternoon with my two favorites," you told him. 

Frank’s attention shifted to Bear before he jutted his chin at the dog. "Hey boy, how's a long walk on that trail sound? You think a little family outing will cheer our girl up?" he asked. 

Bear let out two deep barks, rising up onto his feet. His front paws happily danced back and forth, his nails lightly clicking along the wood floor. You laughed at how excited he was, your gaze eventually drawn back to Frank standing just before you. 

"What do you say, sweetheart?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You up for a little family outing?" He gestured his chin at the coffee in your hands. "You can bring the coffee."

"I say that sounds like a good afternoon," you replied. 

Taking a step towards him, you tilted your face upwards. Frank immediately leaned down towards you, knowing exactly what you wanted and allowing you to press your lips to his in a light kiss. Your heart stuttered when you felt the way his mouth drew into a smile against yours before he broke away.

"And what about afterwards?" he asked, tone light and teasing as his face hovered just an inch from yours. "You up for a little love making in the shower?"

An amused snort fell out of you, Frank's smile only growing at the sound of it. Grinning back at him, you felt like some of the weight of your grief had lessened after finally opening up to Frank today. Not that the pain you felt had miraculously disappeared and the emotional wounds had suddenly healed over, but you didn't feel like you were drowning in it anymore. For the first time in months you felt like you could breathe a little easier. 

And you owed it to the man standing in front of you. 

But you also knew there was pain hiding behind those brown eyes gazing so fondly back at you. That Frank had his own hurt that needed to be addressed because he seemed to be doing the same thing you were–shoving it all down and pretending it wasn't there. You'd have to talk to him about it, ease him into opening up next. Maybe he'd be receptive on this walk since you'd both finally begun to talk.

Shrugging a shoulder lightly, you held the cup of coffee tighter between your hands. "I think that sounds like a great way to get cleaned up afterwards," you answered. 

Frank shot you a wink that had your cheeks heating, even after all this time together.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a note of pride in his voice. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, whistling over at Bear. "C'mon boy, we got a beautiful woman to cheer up."

Bear let out a happy bark before you saw him race across the kitchen past the pair of you, heading straight for his leash beside the door. Frank’s deep chuckle at Bear’s ever-present enthusiasm for walks filled your ears, and when he looked back down at you beside him with those soft brown eyes of his, all you saw reflected back at you was love and acceptance. 

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle x you #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle

[dameronology]

couples therapy (frank castle)

summary: you go to couple's therapy with frank castle. it's just as terrible as you can imagine.

warnings: so much language. at least 10 f-bombs.

enjoy xx

Couples therapy felt like a stupid fucking idea, to be honest.

There was only three feet between you and Frank; you wanted to be closer but at the same time, you wanted to drop kick his loud-talking, argumentative, defensive ass to the other side of the city. No, scratch that. The country, or maybe even world. Somewhere far enough so that you didn't have to look at his stupid face but somewhere close enough that you could still reach out for him in the night. Somewhere far enough so that you couldn't hear that gravelly voice that made your skin crawl, but somewhere close enough so that he could still whisper horny sweet nothings in your ear.

And it was thoughts like that that made you realise why you were here.

There had been a few weeks of tension; that had grown into two months of shit bubbling under the surface. You were mad at him. He was mad at you. You couldn't bring it up because he'd accuse you of overreacting and he couldn't bring it up because even before all the PTSD-causing-crap he'd lived through, Frank was shit at coming to terms with how he felt about things. Vocalising his emotions wasn't his strongpoint. Revenge and killing was. So, safe to say that this was his personal form of hell. Anyways. That shit had hit the fan eventually and now it was splattered all over the room and it was covering you both and no matter how many metaphorical showers you took, nothing would fix this except the clean slate that emotional catharsis would bring you.

Maybe you'd break up. Maybe you'd stay together. Maybe it was all up to the gaunt, old man in the chair opposite you who reminded you a little too much of John Kramer and was draining $50 an hour from your bank right now. Did they do Groupons for couples therapy?

"So," he began. His name was Doctor Richards. He was a little too quiet for your liking. "Tell me...why are you here?"

Frank let out a gruff laugh. "Isn't that what you're here to tell us, Doc?"

"No, actually," he shook his head. "You explain your problems to me and I'll give you reasonable solutions to try and fix those problems."

There was a moment of silence, and Doctor Richards glanced at you.

"Is he always this defensive?"

It was your turn to laugh now.

"Uhhh, not always," you replied. "Not with me, at least. More so with other people."

"So he's more open with you?" the doctor raised his eyebrows, but then glanced between you. "Emotional vulnerability is a good sign. A sign of life - of course, unless, this has changed over the course of your relationship."

"It hasn't," Frank firmly said. "I laid myself bare the day we met. That hasn't changed."

"He's right," you nodded. "I just...I think you have a hard time articulating your feelings, Frank. Sometimes when you do open up to me, it turns into an argument."

"That's bullshit," Frank muttered.

You cleared your throat and turned to look back at your relationship saviour. "We're here because we argue too fucking much, doc. If I say nothing, he gets mad. If I respond, I'm overreacting-"

"- because you do overreact!" he interrupted you.

"Maybe because you never let me fucking talking talk!" you snapped.

"Guys!" Richards cut you both off. "This is a safe space and I'm going to give you both a chance to talk. That's how you get to the bottom of things."

You glanced at Frank. "Can I go first?"

"Yes."

Shuffling uncomfortably in your seat, you glanced down at your hands and cleared your throat. There was so much on your mind but a complete disconnect between your brain and your mouth; translating your thoughts into feelings was hard at the best of times, but even harder under pressure. You didn't want to say something to upset Frank, even less to hurt him.

"I..." you trailed off. "I've always been someone who likes to talk about things, you know? I like to communicate, especially with the people I love, so I'm always open when something upsets me or doesn't feel right. Conversation is important to me but I think you're different, Frank. You like to think and not feel and when you refuse to talk to me about shit, it hurts. It's like you can open up to me about all your feelings except the ones about me and in my mind,. those are the most important ones."

Frank didn't respond; he just looked at you.

"For someone that chats so much shit, you sure seem to keep quiet on a lot of things," you continued, voice dropping to a murmur now. "I'm not overreacting when I respond the way I do. It's just fucking frustrating."

He looked away, brown eyes staring blankly at the wall behind Richards for a moment. That was the first time in the better part of three years that you's actually seen Frank quiet.

(Save for when he was sleeping, and the time he almost died in the middle of your living room).

"I like to keep certain things quiet," Frank finally spoke. His eyes flickered from the wall, down to your new therapist. "I work a night job, doc. It gets stressful. I deal with some heavy shit."

"It's an overused saying, but a problem halved is a problem shared," Richards replied. "You have a partner who is willing to listen. One who I assume knows their threshold, and would tell you if sharing it was too much."

"He's right," you said. "When you shut me out and bottle it up, it builds up, and then you get shitty with me and it manifests itself in every part of your life. Of our lives. Because we're intertwined as shit, Frank, and you can't pick and choose what parts you share with me."

Frank sniffed. "Well, hell. Look at us breaking ground."

"A lot of people come into couple therapy assuming it means their relationship is over," Richards said. "That's almost never the case. It shows you're both willing to work on it."

Your eyes fell to the floor for a moment. Frank had been strangely willing to come here; it wasn't something you'd thought about too much before now, but his willingness felt like hope to you. This time a few years ago, he would have walked away at the first sign of trouble. Now he wanted to take your hand and walk towards it.

"I can't tell you about all your problems based entirely on this conversation, but I can...I can share some introspection from a third party perspective," Richards said. "Frank, you have a partner whose willing to listen, but...maybe they go about saying it in the wrong way. Maybe it feels forced, or like they're not letting you do it on their own terms."

"I guess," Frank murmured. "What if I don't want to share? What if...what if I just want to protect them from all this dark shit?"

"You can choose what you share," he replied. "But if you choose not to share, you have to communicate that."

--

The apartment was tense when you and Frank got back. It had been a tense two hours; talks of communication and honesty, of sharing your lives and being partners. It had been okay for the first hour, but as soon as you hit the second you felt like you'd kind of gotten the point. You and Frank weren't the worst couple in the world, and couple therapy was fucking boring. That had been your main take away.

You threw your keys on the side, dumping your jacket as you entered the flat. Everything was as you left it; washing up from breakfast in the sink, pile of boots by the door, a letter pinned on your notice board about an increase in rent. All things that were headaches in themselves, but simply just contributing factors to a bigger, ongoing migraine. Frank was behind you, dragging his feet and huffing.

"Something you want to share, Frankie?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

"That felt like bullshit."

You snorted. "I felt like I was being listened to for the first time in months. Maybe that speaks volumes."

"Oh, come on," he rolled his eyes. "How are we leavin' couples therapy and you're already having a go at me?"

"Sorry," you murmured. "Honestly, Frank, I'm just fucking frustrated. I've said all I need to say but...whether or not you wanna listen and actually work on it is what counts."

"Are you dumb?" Frank asked, but quickly regretted his choice of words. "Shit. Baby, I'm sorry - I didn't mean it like that-"

"- how the fuck did you mean it then, Franklin?"

He paused, holding his hands out for a moment. "I just sat in a cramped room with some Jigsaw lookin' motherfucker for the better part of two hours, listening to you complain - rightfully so, don't get me wrong - and tryna take notes on how I can be a better partner to you. Maybe it's not obvious, and maybe it won't be for hot a fuckin' minute, not until I've got my ducks in a line, or just shot em all, but just...I will try, okay? I need you to be patient with me but..."

Frank took your hand, placing your palm on his chest. He covered it with his own large one, tangling your fingers together and pausing for a moment.

"I need patience...please?"

You nodded, letting him squeeze your hand. "Yeah. Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry. I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"We'll be okay, won't we?"

"Of course we will."

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle imagines #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle reader insert #punisher x reader #punisher imagine #punisher imagines #punisher x you #marvel imagines #marvel x reader

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Now I Know ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: kidnapping/rescue verrry angry Frank, violence, blood, trust, LOVE.

A/n: been listening to Work Song by Hozier a lot.

His muscles scream from the work, the kind of work you might call good and honest. The kind where at the end of the day his body is tired and drenched in sweat rather than tense with rage and spattered with blood.

He still does that work. You're watching as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink. If it's blood or dirt from the earth that is swirling down the drain you don't notice, only that those are the hands that could elicit a cry of mercy from death, or cries of pleasure from your lips. The gentle and sure squeeze of a trigger, whichever kind it is, he's in control. The movement and pressure of his fingers during either task is frighteningly similar, and yet there's something deep within you that welcomes and craves that similarity. The comfort you find in the tender way he has with you overrides all else, he may have the darkest of sins but he's all of his sweetness with you.

He's drying his hands on the dishtowel, concern and confusion plain on his face as he sees you looking through rather than at him.

"What's wrong?" He's asking you, and your focus snaps back to the depths of those dark eyes. "Nothing." you smile, but you're not all there and he knows it.

"You'll tell me if it's somethin', right?"

"Yeah baby," you nod, "I will."

He reaches for your face, fingers trailing softly along your jaw and you lean into him, relaxing as he cups your chin in his hand, bending down so he can kiss you slow and easy. He finds you there, he'll always find you.

On your lunch break your phone pings. Some days Frank would text you a sweet little thing, and today was one of them.

Love you princess xx

You're headed to the same place for the third day in a row. They must have been watching you. It was probably a stupid thing for you to do but you really liked the coffee they served there. You're looking down at your phone typing out a reply to Frank's text when it happens.

You don't even have time to fight them off, the last thing you remember is seeing your cup falling to the ground, coffee spilling into the cracks in the pavement before you are bundled into a vehicle, the strong chemical smell of the rag covering your mouth and nose.

.

Frank meets Curtis for a drink at lunch most weeks, it's something they've kept up since Billy. A mini therapy session for them both.

"You alright man? Been checking that damn phone almost non stop since you got here."

It wasn't unusual for you to not reply to him, you had been pretty busy at work recently. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry man."

Curtis isn't dumb, he knows when Frank's got something eating away at him. "C'mon, what is it? Woman trouble?"

Frank scrubs his hand across his face with a heavy sigh. "I dunno. Feels like she maybe still doesn't feel safe with me. Been trying everything, talkin' to her, tellin' her she can ask me anythin' about the past and all of that…"

"But it ain't about the past is it? It's what you're doin' out there now, Frank. It's a big ask to deal with that. But she's strong y'know? Just give her some time and if you're gonna keep on doing what you're doing, give her the truth if she wants it."

Pick you up from work later? Really miss you today.

Frank is nodding, but he's staring off into space. He sends another text.

.

Your head feels like a lump of lead as you wake up, slumped forward in a chair with your ankles tied to the legs and your wrists bound behind your back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into your skin. Your eyelids feel like boulders are sitting on them as you chance a look at your surroundings. The upper floor of an unfinished building, sheets of polythene hanging from the walls and ceiling and scattered over the floor. You hear echoing sounds from the open doorway, local accents. Fear starts to replace the drowsiness as you become aware of a tripod with a mobile phone set up in front of you. The scuff of dust and gravel behind you makes your head whip round as a thick set bearded man with a scar under his eye walks towards you, turning over his shoulder to yell through the doorway as he sees you're conscious.

"Bitch is awake."

"Then it's time to play, boys." comes another voice, all sleazy and drawling. The owner of it steps into view and there's a twinge of recognition. You briefly met some of Frank's work colleagues from the construction company a while back when you brought him lunch as a surprise.

This was the blonde one, ruddy with a slight squint. Another man appears, he looks similar to the guy with the scar, but younger and nervous.

Your mouth is dry as you go to speak, rasping, the words sounding weaker than you wanted them to. "What's going on? Is this some sort of a joke?"

The dark scarred man laughs. "Sure honey, tying up pretty little broads like you is a whole lot of fun for us. But nah, it ain't no joke."

The blonde one draws closer, leaning down, his grimy calloused fingers running over your cheek. You flinch away as his stale stinking breath washes over your face.

"Your dumbass boyfriend's been making us look bad, takin' all of the damn work and getting paid fuckin' bonuses for it, making us look lazy. So we're gonna give him a lil incentive to quit."

"Ever think that's because you are lazy?' you snark back at him.

He gives you a lecherous grin then spits in your face. You spit right back at him but all it earns you is a swift backhand that splits your lower lip open.

The beardy scarred asshole cackles again. "Fuck she's a feisty lil thing. Kinda see why he's into it."

You pull at the ties holding you as blondie draws his fingers down your neck and yanks at the front of your shirt, sending buttons scattering across the concrete floor as he leers down at your tits.

"Yeah…" he muses, his eyes rove over you making you feel itchy and unclean. He flicks his fingers towards the phone, shouting at the young guy. "Hit record..."

You were scared but you also couldn't believe these fucking dunces seemed to have the grand plan of WhatsApping videos of them messing with you to Frank? They really had no idea who they were dealing with.

You strain and tug at the zip ties pointlessly, you know there's no way you'll be able to break through them but it makes you feel better. As you move you realise your phone isn't in your pocket. You just hoped the idiots didn't have enough sense to turn off the gps. Frank would find out you weren't at work at the end of the day, that you hadn't replied to any of his messages, he'd know something was up, that you were in trouble, right? He'd know something was wrong. He had to.

You try to calm your breathing as you see the blonde asshole slip a handgun from the back of his pants, it wouldn't be wise to talk back now.

The young one gave the thumbs up from behind the mobile and blondie started his spiel.

"Alright Pete, figured you might not be able to understand the situation if we just talked man to man… so just to make it completely clear, you're gonna watch this lil show we're making for you."

He walks over to you, grabbing the top of your head and turning you to face the camera. "See, if you don't quit the job and give us the fucking money you've stolen from us, I'll make your pretty little whore all mine. I'll tell you where to leave the cash, but first I'm gonna give you a taste of what I'm gonna do if you don't pony up… just so you know I ain't playin'"

Frank would find you, he had to find you.

.

His heart dropped into his guts the moment he learned you hadn't returned to your office after lunch break. The guy at reception thought you might have gone home sick or something and not had the chance to tell anyone.

He called you multiple times with no answer, no texts, no nothing. He was about to call Curtis when his phone buzzed with a video attachment from an unknown number.

Confusion rapidly gave way to a white hot rage that consumed his entire being as he saw Corey from work on the screen, and then you. As soon as he realised what the fuck was happening he was in the truck with the pedal grinding hard against the metal. He recognised where you were being held, one of the previous client's sites they had worked on downtown about a month ago.

.

The muzzle of the gun presses in and bruises against your temple. You close your eyes trying not to shake. All you can hear is Beardy's dumb laugh and the slow grating sound of a zipper right by your face. Bile rises in your throat.

Your heart soars as you hear your salvation bellowing from the stairwell.

"You want your money asshole?!"

"Frank! In here!" You shout and scream, desperate to see these fucking animals get what they deserve.

As soon as he hears your voice he's charging like a bull, the fire of hell itself blazing in his eyes as he grabs the gun and forces the blonde creep's hand backwards breaking his wrist with a sick crunch as if it was nothing. The asshole falls to the ground along with a faceful of Frank's boot as Beardy and the younger one pull out knives and start advancing in futility, because you know how this ends.

You see the beauty in the punishing raw anger that manifests itself through Frank's body, a slick, efficient killing machine. A fist, an elbow, a knee. He connects the dots so easily on his way to get to you, eyes scanning you frantically as he tugs the knife through the ties on the chair.

You're safe.

"I'm here baby, I'm here. You okay? You hurt?" His hands are light on your limbs, his thumb gently smoothing over the red marks on your wrists as he checks you over.

"I- I'm okay…" He's here. You're safe, you remind yourself.

"Any of those motherfuckers touch you?!" He growls, and you're only able to nod, too stunned to form words as you watch as Frank goes to haul up the sleazy blonde by the neck, his huge hand almost closing all the way around and crushing his windpipe.

"This one?" He asks, his voice is sharp gravel, you've never heard his tone like this before and it vibrates through you.

"Y-yes… he-"

You don't get to say any more as Frank slams him against the wall making him gag and choke, before punching his already bruised face into a pulp, breaking his nose and teeth within seconds. He wheezes pathetically as Frank's knee smashes repeatedly into his groin, and you find yourself unable to wrench your eyes away as he slides slowly down the wall when Frank is done, leaving a red smear on the plastic sheeting, a puddle of blood pooling around him as he reaches the floor and stills.

Frank doesn't miss the other one trying to crawl his way out of the room while he's distracted, swiftly picking up the tripod stand and launching toward him swinging it like a bat. You wince as it knocks the guy out cold with a splatter of blood painting the wall and he crumples to the floor.

Through the veil of your tears you see him, really see him. Frank came for you, he found you, he protected you. You're safe.

He holds you to his side all the way till you both get to his truck where he calls the cops and anonymously tipping them off to the location of three known abusers.

Back home you have to try so hard to satisfy him that except for a couple of bruises and a burst lip, you're fine. They never got to do what they were planning to. The anger and fear in you melts away with your tears as they flow, they're tears of shock and relief but he's still sorry. Sorry for letting this happen as if it was his fault, sorry for not knowing something was wrong much sooner, sorry that he can't keep you safe.

"I am safe, Frank." you assure, as you strip off your clothes and lead him to the bathroom, encouraging him to do the same. "I'm safe with you." His face is still pained and you know you need to show him, knew it from the moment you heard him coming to your rescue.

Under the hot spray of the shower you wash away all the filth that had tainted you. You run your hands over his body but he doesn't dare touch you, he doesn't see it yet, even as your lips brush over his bloodied knuckles he doesn't understand. He's still angry and afraid for you, and you feel it in his body as you press yourself flush against him, wrap your arm around his neck, your other hand going to his jaw to guide his mouth to yours. You have to show him that you need to feel him, on you, inside you. He needs to know the love you have for him isn't fragile. You know now that it isn't, it won't be beaten by this. Never.

He pulls away gently, he still believes you're scared of him and the things he's done. The things he does. "Baby, you don't have to, after what hap-"

But you're firm, pulling him back to you, pushing him up against the tiles and he's stunned. You're getting frustrated because he still doesn't get it.

"Frank, you're mine." He lets you guide his hands around your waist where you want them. "And I'm yours," you say pointedly, "now show me I'm yours, make me feel it."

This time when you reach for him you feel the difference. His fingers tighten against the softness of your skin like he can never let go. When you kiss him he kisses you back, he's still holding himself, letting you dictate the pace but a gentle nip with your teeth to his lower lip communicates your need more clearly. His thigh slots between yours, and you feel him getting hard against the front of your hip as you mould your body to his. His hands drop down to the curve of your ass as you rock yourself on his muscular thigh, your fingers twining in the longer hair at the top of his head as you stand up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear over the rush of the water…

Take me to bed.

He nods and you dry quickly and carelessly, desperate to be with him and feel his skin on your own. Your lips are still wet and slide so slick against Frank's as you move him towards the bed, climbing onto his lap as the backs of his knees hit the edge of it and he sits.

"You wanna stop, you just tell m-"

He's cut off as you push him back, a soft huff of breath leaving him as you're fierce in your demand for him to meet your energy. He's too good, being too sweet for what you need right now but he's catching up. Those hands, the ones that so surely dealt bloody justice for you, slide up your spine, one of them grasping the back of your neck as he surges up and kisses his way over your bare chest while you're grinding against him.

"Please, Frank," you whine into his mouth, tug on his lip with your teeth, and he thrusts upwards gripping your hip and meeting your desperate movements.

"Hey, I gotcha baby, I've got you…" he murmurs before carefully rolling you underneath him.

Your kisses are frantic, littering the line of his strong stubbled jaw but he soon captures your lips with his own, slowing you down, keeping that fire burning but calming you as he deepens the kiss. You open, and he permeates your senses, knowing exactly what you need, grounding you with his tenderness.

Limbs entangle until you're moving as one, body arching when his soft lips brush the skin of your neck, your ear, and you feel more than hear his words.

I'll always find you.

.

Tags:

@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @munsonownsmyass @marvelswh0re

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle smut

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

can u do like a fluffy frank imagine where he just comforts reader(you can pick why) xx

a/n: okay, this maybe didn't turn out super duper wildly fluffy, more like some good old hurt/comfort... for my body to lock up/freeze is a pretty normal way for it to react in certain serious situations, so that was just what was on my mind the day that i wrote this. being paralysed and having frank be wonderful.

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Tears were still streaming down your face as the car came to a stop. 

Hearing Frank turn off the engine, take out the key and click off his seatbelt, he then turned to look at you as shaky and deliberate breaths seeped from your lips. 

“We’re home,” his deep timbre found your ears, “told you it wouldn’t take too long,” but when you didn’t twist to face him or even unfasten your own seatbelt, Frank’s frame dipped slightly to get closer to yours, “Y/n?”

Your wild eyes briefly flickered over his face before they darted over the dash once more, “I can’t–…” you trembly choked out, “…move…” red hot frustration began to ignite within your petrified form as you couldn’t get your neck to twist, nor as much as bend your stiff fingers into a fist, “I… I c-can’t move.”

Sucking in a sharp intake of air, Frank sprung into action, “alright, okay, that’s alright, sweetheart,” and leaned in to click the seatbelt free around you, the straps swiftly slithered across your shaking torso as it snapped back to its home.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… this hasn’t happened–, I don’t know, in such a long time,” you felt as if your head might split open from the ponding headache that throbbed within your skull. 

Snatching up your frozen hand in his, he simply nodded, “I know it hasn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was okay today, I really thought I was fine enough to go with you and see your friends–, fuck, you haven’t seen them in such a long time and I ruined it because I didn’t pay close enough attention to all of the blatantly clear warning signs my body was screaming at me before everything came crumbling down over coffee and I forced you to drive me home.”

Leaning in even closer, his fingers tightened around yours as he found your erratic eyes, “Y/n, hey, listen to me. You did not ruin anything by having a meltdown.”

“But I begged you to drive me all the way home and now I can’t even get out of the car,” sobs billowed out of you as you blinked back into his reassuring gaze.

“So, then we’ll just stay right here till you can,” he brought his free hand around the other side of the palm he was already clutching, “we’re not in any rush. We can stay here for as long as it takes.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle angst