#frank castle series

[chvoswxtch]

personal

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: lately frank has been acting suspicious, and you've decided to finally confront him about it.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i hope y'all have been enjoying things being nice & light & sexy & fun bc these last few chapters aren't holding back any punches. shit is about to get real. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [series masterlist]

Not even five minutes after Frank walked through the threshold of his apartment, the rumble of an incessant banging sounded on his front door. His dark brows instantly furrowed with irritation at the sound. Slipping his right hand behind his back to grab the handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he turned the knob and swung the door open with just as much ferocity as the person knocking on the other side. 

The creases of annoyance on his sharp features suddenly smoothed into recognition at the sight of you standing in front of him, but not long after, his warm brown eyes widened in complete bewilderment seeing the raw fury that was burning in your eyes. 

“Hey-”

Before he could utter another word, you forced your way inside his apartment, causing him to quickly retreat backwards, wincing when you swiftly slammed the front door shut behind yourself.

“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, right now.”

Frank was utterly caught off guard by your aggressive behavior. The last time he had seen you this angry with him was when he showed up at your place after Cavella and Walker had attacked you. He was so distracted by your incensed entrance, he almost missed what you said. But when his brain finally caught up with his ears, your words only fueled his convoluted confusion.

“There nothin’ goin’ on-”

“Bullshit! Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Frank.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not lyin’-”

“You’ve lied to me three times in the past month.”

Creases of puzzlement settled between Frank’s thick brows hearing that. Had he really lied to you three times? He couldn’t even remember what he’d lied about, or how you caught onto the fact that he was. Frank admittedly had been a bit out of it when it came to you lately, but he wasn’t doing it on purpose to hurt you. He just happened to be caught in the middle of something he was trying to keep you as far away from as possible.

Taking his silence as evidence of guilt, you stared up into his eyes, wanting him to see the proof of grief in your reflection that his actions had caused. You wanted him to hear the severity in the words that lacerated your tongue as they slipped past your lips that had been bitten raw from your tortured anxiety.

“You never once lied to me before Frank, ever. I don’t know why you’re choosing to start now, but if I hear one more lie come out of your mouth, I am done. I will walk out that door and I will have nothing to do with you ever again, that's it. Do you hear me?”

That caught Frank’s attention. There was no waver in your voice, no threat in your tone, just raw emotion and sincerity. 

For the past month, Frank had been acting strange. You’d caught him in three white lies, and while they may have seemed small and trivial to someone else, they were anything but that to you. Because you’d been stuck with a pathological liar before, and there was no such thing as harmless lies. A lie was a lie, and it was a crack in the foundation of trust and integrity that you’d built with Frank, and a crack could turn into a rift, and a rift could divide you and make it all come crumbling down.

Since yours and Frank’s schedules didn’t always line up, you’d both done everything you could to make every moment count since your first date. But lately, it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort. Frank was chronically distracted these last few weeks. He was late to meet you for dates, he didn’t call when he said he was going to, and sometimes you didn’t hear from him at all until the day was practically over. And when he was with you, Frank was physically present, but mentally he seemed to be somewhere you couldn’t follow. Even sitting right beside one another, it felt like there were oceans of distance separating you subconsciously. 

At first, you’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one little white lie. One missed call after a long day. Just fifteen minutes of waiting at the restaurant. This was Frank, the man who had saved your life more times than you could count. He was different. This was real. You had nothing to be concerned about.

But then one white lie turned to three, and one missed call turned into not hearing from him until an excuse appeared across your screen at half past midnight, and fifteen minutes late turned into not showing up at all. His behavior planted a seed of suspicion in your mind that grew like wild ivy, coveting the sense of security you had in him with leaves of doubt, sprouting spirals of diabolical hypotheticals that canvassed your brain with catastrophe. 

Every knot of faith Frank had woven into your heart with his actions over the last nine months were steadily being unraveled by his own hand in a matter of weeks. The confidence you had in him was now frayed in shreds and left you in a fit of mania, scrutinizing his every intent under a microscope. 

You had been here before. You’d been lied to, manipulated, cheated on, pushed to the brink of insanity, and eventually left behind. You recognized all the signs of duplicity and betrayal, but you’d covered your own eyes so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge them, because it was Frank. 

Blunt-and-brutally-honest, jump-in-front-of-a-bullet, remembers-every-little-detail, got-his-knuckles-bloody-for-you, killed-for-you, Frank.

And that’s why this hurt so much. That’s why this dagger of deceit tore clean right through your chest, leaving you standing in the middle of Frank’s living room, hysterical and furious for an elixir of truth that could make this pain go away and heal your belief in him once again. He’d been so MIA lately that you had spent hours camped out in front of his apartment building tonight, waiting to see his truck pull up just so you could follow him inside and finally have this conversation face to face.

Frank could hear in your voice that he’d hurt you, and even worse, he could see the evidence of it shining in your eyes. The pieces of yourself you’d lent him to patch up his own heart were suddenly bleeding at the seams seeing how his unintentionally selfish preoccupation had left you marooned. Shame didn’t begin to cover the way he felt. He knew he needed to be honest, but he couldn’t tell you everything.

Not yet.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But it ain’t what you think, sweetheart.”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”

Frank took a seat on the couch and gently patted the space next to him, looking up at you with diligent patience while you internally debated between standing stubbornly or giving into his request to sit with him. After a moment you finally sat down, but you intentionally put space between the two of you and folded your arms across your chest in a silent gesture of defensiveness. Resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs, Frank clasped his right hand over his left wrist, staring down at his worn boots while deciding his next words carefully.

“I got a new assignment.”

The quiet tone of Frank’s voice and the lack of eye contact while he spoke immediately caused a spark in your nervous system. 

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Frank let a moment of silence pass before turning his head to look at you with an apologetic gleam in his warm brown eyes.

“I’ve been helpin’ Madani with somethin’.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you let out a slow exhale of irritation. Frank had already strained your patience with his behavior this past month, and his obscure responses were only making it worse.

“Why are you being so secretive about this?”

“It’s complicated-”

“Complicated how? You didn’t have to hide the last job from me-”

“This one is different-”

“Different how? That doesn’t make any sense-”

“You gonna let me talk? Or you gonna keep yellin’ at me?”

The way you clenched your jaw and narrowed your gaze at his quip made Frank regret letting his own frustration get the best of him. You were already pissed off, now was not the time for him to snap back at you like he normally did when the two of you argued about something. A wave of annoyance quickly crested within you. The second you stood up from the couch, Frank’s large hand reached out to grab your wrist.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Walk away from this conversation-”

“What conversation, Frank? You’re not doing anything but giving me vague excuses. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Frank gave your wrist a gentle tug to get you to sit back down next to him on the couch. He once again waited calmly as you stood defiantly for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down. He let his large hand glide across your wrist to take your hand into his own, holding it firmly in his lap while cocking his head to the side to try and catch your gaze.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

When he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the prolonged pause of silence caused you to eventually shift your attention back to Frank, and you could see that his brown eyes were a deep shade of contrition.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, and I haven’t been ‘round like I shoulda been. And you’re right, I did lie to ya, and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’m not tryin’ to keep things from ya, sweetheart. It’s just…this one is…it’s different.” 

“Why? What makes this one so different that you have to lie to me about it?”

“It’s personal.”

Now it was your turn to be perplexed. You thought Frank was long past holding you at arms length and keeping up a fortified impenetrable steel wall around his heart and mind. He’d opened up to you before, talked about his life in the Marines, told you about the family he’d loved and lost, even spoke about them more comfortably and freely now without the shadow of grief looming over his words. Why was he back to shielding his vulnerability?

“Personal?”

Frank knew you wanted more of an explanation. You needed more. And he hated that he couldn’t give it to you right now. He hated that there was still so much that he was holding back from you, and that it was his own fault you were even doubting him in the first place.

“Listen, I can’t explain it right now, alright? But I will. When it’s all said and done, I’m…I’m gonna…I’ll have to tell ya some things first, some things you may not wanna hear and probably won’t like hearin’. But I promise, I’m gonna tell you everythin’, alright? I just need you to trust me right now.”

Every word Frank spoke hid another piece of the puzzle he was crafting, and you were left with misshapen gaps of confusion. You didn’t know what he meant by saying there were things he had to explain that you might not want to hear, or how that factored into the job he was currently working. Nothing he was saying made any sense to you, and it only left you with more crucial questions than justifiable answers. Pulling your hand away from his, you got up from the couch and started to stressfully pace back and forth.

“So the reason you’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately is because of this new assignment, that you can’t tell me anything about, other than it’s personal, but you can’t explain why that is. And it’s going to take you somewhere eventually, but you can’t tell me where, because you don’t even know yet, and even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you have no idea how long this is going to last, but you expect me to sit here and act like everything is fine between us and trust you even though I have no fucking idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. Did I miss anything?”

Frank could hear the barely concealed hostility in your tone. He couldn’t combat a single thing you said. When you finally stopped pacing and turned to face him, staring at him expectantly, a ring of treachery was blazing around your irises. He could see it right then in your eyes. If he didn’t fix this, he would lose you.

Slowly rising from the couch, Frank stood there with a dispirited weight resting on his shoulders, a look of pleading softening his warm brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna handle this as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I can’t do another month of this, Frank.”

“Then it won’t be another month. I’ll figure it out before then.”

“How?”

The resentment you felt towards Frank was rapidly fading into pure desperation. All you wanted was an answer, a real answer. Something of substance that you could understand, something tangible to hold onto during this period of uncertainty. Frank could feel the despair radiating off of you in thick sorrowful waves, and the fact that you were close to forfeiting this argument had him instantly tensing as the chill of dread straightened his spine. He had to give you something.

“Listen, Madani gave me some intel, alright? I’ve been followin’ it, tryin’ to find proof she’s right, or if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see.”

“But why did she give it to you? What can you do that Homeland Security can’t?”

Frank stared at you silently for a moment, and you could see a look of hesitation flash in his eyes. There was something there, something you couldn’t figure out. But you could tell by the expression on his face that there was a lot more to this than it being a top secret assignment from Homeland. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Frank. You just couldn’t figure out why. After a terse minute of silence, Frank stood up a little straighter while subtly clenching his jaw, and there was a hardened look in his eyes.

“Cause it’s connected to someone I know.”

The way he spoke that sentence with an ominous undertone sent an icy torrent down your spine. Sensing your trepidation, Frank let out a deep sigh and glanced around his apartment for a moment while lost in thought before eventually looking at you again, this time with a softer gaze.

“Look, I can’t explain it all right now, sweetheart. All I can tell ya is that Madani needed someone she could trust on this, and I owe her a debt.”

Letting those words sink in, you tried to put your biased emotions aside for a moment and think logically about what Frank was saying. Dinah had asked him for a favor. Part of you found it  surprising that she came to Frank and Billy, considering the way she acted towards Billy the day Steven was arrested. But maybe that look of distrust and disdain had everything to do with the complicated relationship they’d had that Billy mentioned. 

If Frank was working for Dinah, then he was working for Homeland, which meant he probably didn’t have a choice but to keep everything from you. And yet, here he was still trying to give you crumbs of explanations, and promising to tell you everything once this new assignment was over. At least you could lay the fear to rest that he was seeing someone else. Standing here now, you felt ridiculous that you’d restlessly jumped to the conclusion of an illicit affair. But in your own defense, it had been difficult to think clearly when Frank’s covert behavior mirrored that of past boyfriends' unfaithful performances.

As your shoulders physically deflated from your own conspiracies unraveling just to get tangled in a new set of ambiguities, you let out a deep exhale and rubbed both of your palms tiredly down your face, grasping onto the back of your neck for a moment. When you first showed up at Frank’s apartment, you had felt completely warranted in your anger. Now, you weren’t sure if you had overreacted in your manic state, or if you still had a right to be upset with Frank. At this point, you just felt drained from trying to balance on that tightrope of your own conflicting emotions.

Frank had saved your life several times over, and Dinah personally made sure that Steven would spend the rest of his life in prison. You owed them both everything. The least you could do was show them a little patience. 

“Alright. Fine.”

In the nine months that Frank had known you, never once had you conceded in an argument. Even when you were in the wrong, you struggled with admitting that you had been erroneous. Frank’s blood ran cold with the thought that he might have pushed you too far healing the casual defeat in your voice. He didn’t want you to give up on him like this. Frank quickly took a step towards you the second you took a step towards the door, reaching out to gently grab your arm.

“Hey, hey c’mon. Don’t go.”

“Frank, I’m tired-”

“Then stay. Just stay here, c’mon. It’s late, yeah? Stay.”

Frank wasn’t giving you any room to decline the offer disguised as a command. One of his strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest while his large hand gently cradled the back of your head. He pressed his lips in a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, hugging onto you tightly while resting his cheek against the side of your head. The rigid tension in your body lethargically began to melt, and Frank’s deep gravelly voice whispering into your ear dismantled the last of your defensiveness.

“Just stay with me, baby. Please stay.”

Frank knew that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t feel that he’d earned this second chance at life he was getting. But he would be damned if he’d let anything ruin this now that he had you. He would’ve told Madani to go to hell if he’d known the favor was going to cause such a big disruption to the peace he’d found within you.

But not only did he owe his second shot to her, he desperately needed to know the truth himself.

“When will you leave?”

Frank hugged onto you even tighter, rubbing his hand along your lower back in soothing slow circles.

“M’not sure yet. But I’ll tell ya as soon as I know, I promise. And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be back before ya know it, baby.”

Hearing the soft sigh that sounded from you, Frank nuzzled his nose into your hair and whispered gently to you.

“Listen, I won’t take no more jobs like this, alright? I’m gonna handle this for Madani, and that’s it. I won’t do anythin’ else that’ll take me too far from you, yeah? I’m not gonna leave ya, sweetheart. I told ya I’m always gonna be here. I meant that then, and I mean it now. You ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout that.”

You tried to find comfort in those words, but you weren’t in the mental state to accept any vows. You couldn’t get past the glaring truth that Frank was hiding something from you, and until you knew what it was, that crack of dishonesty would continue to slowly spread. You had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of your stomach that whatever verity Frank was concealing had the potential to shatter everything; unveiling the illusion that your relationship hadn’t been formed out of the impervious stone that you’d believed in, but rather of futile glass.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #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 #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the wood

lilac, chapter twelve

a/n: *the author's note equivalent of just ✨moaning✨*

summary: the sight that beheld you once you stepped out onto the porch had all of the air slip out of your lungs all at once.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, chopping wood, kissing, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, belly bulge, outdoor sex, oral, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, squirting, mirror sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I’m just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 5200

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

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Stirring awake with a gentle groan, your arm extended in search of the body beside you. Finding nothing but linens, your eyes groggily blinked open to discover that no one else was in the bed but yourself.

Tugging your arm back under your frame, you sighed and let your front sink further into the mattress, your cheek buried itself deeper into the pillow just a moment longer before you pushed yourself up to a sitting position.

Swinging your legs over the side, you reached for the grey woollen socks you’d kicked off in the middle of the night. As you slipped them back onto your feet, your gaze caught your reflection in the round rattan-framed mirror hanging on the opposing wall.

Letting your eyes linger, turning your head from side to side, you made sure that the recently faded bruises hadn’t somehow returned to haunt you of what had occurred. But thankfully, all you saw was skin. No marks, no scrapes, no bruises, nothing physical to remind you of Preston. 

Getting up, you caught the muted dark brown flannel that hung by the collar from one of the dresser’s knobs, and shrugged it on, doing up the buttons so the borrowed shirt covered you further. 

Pitter-pattering out into the small kitchen, you turned on the tap and reached for a glass, swiftly filling it up for a refreshing sip. 

As you lowered the drink from your lips, a satisfying cracking noise from somewhere outside found your ears and your gaze flickered to the cabin’s front door. 

The sight that beheld you once you stepped out onto the porch had all of the air slip out of your lungs all at once.

Just a little ways off from the hut stood Frank by a wide and sturdy stump, split wood littering around his feet as he repeatedly let the long axe in his grasp come down upon the piece balanced on the reliable base. 

Utterly hypnotised, your feet hazily carried you across the porch till your fingers were gripping onto the railing. Clad in a simple grey undershirt, the sight of the prominent veins in his arms bulging, straining at every violent hack till the thick log split, caused your brain to melt, and the fact that the hem slightly rose every time as well didn’t help matters either. 

Each one of his precise swings conjured a laboured huff that sounded way too close to how he had been panting in your ear just last night. Occasionally, small curses too slipped through his puffs whenever the wood he worked on got particularly stubborn, and every time, without a doubt, you felt your cunt clench.

As one log split, forcefully crashing to either side, he picked up a new one, but before he could crack it open, he rested the axe a second against his leg while he let a dollop of spit fall from his panting lips to his calloused palms, rubbing it in for better traction before he picked up the axe once more. 

Tingles pricked and tickled every nerve in your body as his sinful display eventually came to a close. The soft sunlight that streamed through the treetops caught a glint of the sweat gleaming on the part of his rapidly rising and falling chest that peaked out of the neckline of his tank, dabbling his skin like diamonds. 

Wedging his axe into the base stump, you continued to stare as Frank caught his breath and bent over to gather up the wood into the wide woven basket that too was at his feet, his gaze swiftly spotting your dazed form, nearly drooling at this point. 

“Oh, hey,” he smiled, offering you a small wave as he tossed a few pieces of firewood into the crate. 

“Huh?” still in a trance, you blinked, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as your thighs squeezed together in an attempt at soothing the persistent pulse that now throbbed between them. 

“You’re up.”

“Yep, I–, uhm, I am,” you shook your head, trying and failing to clear it, “morning.”

“I’m sorry,” he picked up the heavy basket, “did I wake you?”

“Nope, no, you didn’t,” you let a sinful exhale as he climbed the steps of the porch. Redirecting your gaze elsewhere as he set the firewood down, you stared out at the forest and coughed, “there, uh, sure are a lot of birds out today.”

“Hm,” the porch creaked beneath his boots as he neared where you stood, “is that what you were staring at?”

“Yeah, why, did you not think I was? Was there something else going on here in the forest that could possibly capture my attention other than mother nature herself?” you joked, knowing full well how obvious the truth was, “I am Dunbrook’s resident birdwatcher after all.”

“Sure, you are,” a shiver ran down your spine as his deep voice rumbled in your ear. Wrapping his burly arms around your waist, you leaned back into his warmth as he gently checked, “how are you feeling today?”

“I’m alright, pretty good actually,” you answered the question he had formed a habit of asking you every morning you’d stayed here, “I slept quite well, so that always helps things,” turning in his embrace to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and wondered, “how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” his gaze traced yours, following as it yearningly flickered down to his mouth.

“You hungry?” 

Drawing you in closer, you heard him utter, “fucking starving…” before he captured your lips in a kiss. 

A little dazed from how rapidly the simple peck escalated, you pulled back to politely pant, “oh, yeah? What are you in the mood for?”

Flashing you a smirk, he cocked his head and said, “what do you think I wanna eat?” and if his tone didn’t manage to squash any ounce of doubt you had that he wasn’t in fact talking about food, the sensation of his hands sinking down to palm your bottom though the flannel made it crystal clear.

“Frank,” you giggled as his fingertips discovered your lack of underwear. 

“What?” you watched as he slowly sank down onto his knees before you, “is what a no?” his eyes stayed glued to yours as his beard tickled your thigh. 

“No,” your legs gently wiggled further apart, letting him spot the glint of your want that had dripped down your inner thighs.

“No, it’s not a no, or no, you’re in the mood for something else?” you sucked in a sharp breath as his ghosting touch teased your goosebump-ridden legs, “because I think we still have a bit of bread left or there might be some leftovers in the fridge.” 

Losing track of all of the metaphors through the fuzzy haze his teasing touch set you in, you mumbled, “I–, what?” and a small whine then fell from your lips, “fuck… Frank, I–… can you just–, please?”

“I can do a lot of things, sweetheart,” he pressed a peck to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, “what do you want me to do?”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, an airy chuckle flowing from your lips as you threw you head back and gazed up at the fluffy clouds visible above the rusty roof, “you’re such an ass.”

“Ah, I can be a lot worse, don’t you worry,” his devilish hands slithered up to your bottom and lightly raked his short fingernails over each cheek.

You sounded downright pathetic as you pleaded, “can you please–,“ but his playful tone cut you off before it flourished into a full sentence.

“Yeah?”

Blinking down at him, you desperately hiked the oversized shirt further up and asked, “…eat me out?”

Grin growing wider, he didn’t hesitate before diving in. Cracking you further open for him, he hoisted your left thigh up onto his broad shoulder and buried his face in your want. Holding you steady with one hand digging into your ass and the other firm at your hip, he zealously parted your petals and felt your pulse pound against his eager tongue.

As he then brazenly sucked down on your clit, your fingers sought out his dark hair, gripping it tight as your eyes fluttered, “oh my god, tha-that feels so good!”

With your brows tightly knitted together, as your eyes blinked down to meet his ever-unwavering gaze, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting go at a record-breaking time, the show you had imbibed in earlier not aiding in drawing your conclusion out. Trembling above, your legs tried to close around him, but the sensation of your thighs pressing against his thick skull didn’t face him one bit as he only held you tighter and kept up his keen kisses. 

Back arched against the railing, your chest rose and fell rapidly as Frank twisted his head to place pecks along your inner thigh, the soft flutter only issued a stubborn clench to your cunt in desire for more. 

Hooking your grip in the fabric of his shirt, you pulled him back up and desperately crashed your lips against his, feeling your desire sodden in his beard and tasting your adoration on his tongue. 

“Alright,” he dreamily disconnected from your needy kiss, “but seriously now,” he drew in a methodical breath through his nose as if in an attempt to calm his own desires down enough before he asked, “what do you want for breakfast?” clearly assuming that the morrow coitus wouldn’t go any further. 

Puffing out a hazy grin, you simply let your palm drop to the tent in his trousers and leaned back in to utter against his lips, “I don’t care what’s for breakfast,” your touch tightened insistently over the clear imprint of his desire, “just shut up and fuck me.”

A silent and amazed laugh slipped out past his lips as you tugged at his waistband, “yes, ma’am,” stealing one last kiss before he spun you back around. Grasping onto the railing, your hazy gaze washed over the idyllic scenery as you felt Frank free his length and sweep it through your dripping folds, nudging persistently against your pearl before gliding down to catch your entrance with his tip. 

The morning sunlight dazzled in the lake beyond, glittering and flickering just like the sparks that buzzed inside of you. 

Giving you just an inch, you felt your forms sigh in unison, your breaths harmoniously synced in satisfaction.

“Did I tell you how good you look in my shirt?” his low timbre crackled in your ear like a warm fire as he slowly rolled his hips, deliberately taking his time, letting you worship every maddening detail of his cock, “because you do,” you felt his palms snake up to squeeze your tits through the flannel, “feel free to steal them any time you want.”

Mouth agape, your head fell back against his chest as shaky moans slipped out at every unhurried rock to his hips. 

“You sure it’s not the lack of anything underneath that you like so much?” you grinned, your hips rolling back against his deliberate efforts.

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining about that part,” he chuckled and pressed his lips to your neck, “I think you might be able to get me to do anything you wish dressed exactly like this.” 

“Oh yeah?” your giggle broke up your moans, “anything I wish?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed gravelly, his fingers nimbly undoing a few of the buttons and granting his grasp access to slip in and seep across your tingly flesh, “fucking anything…”

Sinking in deeper with every gentle thrust, your left hand lowered and began to draw tight circles over your clit as the other’s grip tightened around the railing, your nails leaving crescent-shaped imprints in the raw wood. 

But when his lips began to wander across the side of your neck in a way that made you feel as if he was kissing every millimetre of your body, that’s when you felt your legs begin to tremble once more. The intensity of his slow pace began to grow within you, nearly being too much for you to take, so when his fingers sought out your pebbly nipples in a dizzying pinch, that’s when your frame jerked, Frank’s throbbing girth sliding out of you from just how hard you were squeezing down on him, and as your front collided with the fence, your fingertips furiously kept up their pace and kept your orgasm going, convulsing for all of the flora and fauna to see. 

Leaning with your folded-up arms against the top of the banister, Frank’s burly arms, which were still enveloped around you, tightened as you felt the warmth of his front melt against your curved spine. Letting one of your hands drop, it swiftly found his and weaved itself with it as you drew it up higher to press it against your thumping heart. Though when your pulse began to calm, you raised your tangled fingers further, all the way up so that your lips could press against the back of his palm. 

As you slowly unfurled your form, your fluttery kisses gently danced up his arm till you found yourself facing him once more with your lips attached to his collarbone. 

His bulbous tip leaked against the few buttons that were still fastened on the shirt you wore and his wide palms slid down past your waist to knead your bottom and draw you that much closer. 

Shuffling your feet, you gently pushed against his brick house of a frame for him to shift as well. Backing up, you crossed the short width of the porch till the back of Frank’s knees bumped into the solid bench that sat flush against the exterior wall. As he buckled and planted himself on it, it only took half a second for you to curl into his lap.  

Grabbing the sides of your face and bringing you into a sloppy kiss, you snaked a hand down between your frames and seized his dick. A low moan vibrated against your tongue as you raised up your hips and rubbed his hardness against your slick a moment before slowly sinking down, his lips falling from yours as you did so. Gazing back at him through your lashes, you saw as his eyes stayed shut, his mouth hung agape and his head gently fell back against the wall, the sensation of your warmth enveloping him evidently rocking him to his very core. 

Gliding your grasp into place over his broad shoulders, you slowly drew your hips up before easing back down, all the while taking in every little micro-reaction you stirred on your partner's face. 

“Christ, you feel so good,” he groaned, hazily peeling his eyelids open to blink back at you with a stary gaze, “so fucking warm,” he leaned back in a murmured against your lips, “and wet...”

One of your elbows bent and curled the remainder of the limb over his head, your fingers weaving into his short waves as you slowly nuzzled your nose against his, gently sweeping from side to side and sharing his hot breath as you leisurely bounced in his lap. 

Keeping one of his palms glued to your hot cheek, the other one drifted down to undo the last remaining buttons, freeing your tits completely. His gaze lowered to watch them sway with your slow movements, the open flannel now akin to a curtain flowing next to the soft peaks. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, holding you close as his dark brows knitted together, “if you keep going like that, you’ll make me cum.”

“Good,” you panted as you too felt the end near once more. With your forehead pressed to his, you shakily rode him, keeping up the same leisurely pace, feeling every single part of him intoxicatingly stretch you out, till his groans grew louder and his eyes screwed shut, digging his fingers into your hair as his length twitched inside of you and you creamed all over his cock, your amalgamation mingling and becoming indistinguishable from one another’s euphoric juices. 

Burying your features in the crook of his neck, your breaths came in ragged as you felt how tightly your cunt was clenching around him. But nevertheless, you simply stayed there, frozen atop of him and with his softening girth still embedded deep within you.

“Oh my god,” you groaned light-heartedly into his skin, “you fucking dick.”

“What?” he chuckled warmly in your ear. 

“No, it’s just,” you huffed out laboured breaths as you hazily explained, “you made me cum so hard and now I feel like a fucking virgin…” but when his reaction was to try and pluck you off of him, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, “no, no!” your arms tightened around his neck, “stay, stay,” your alarming tone was softened by a shuttering whimper.

Seizing your cheek, he gingerly drew you back for him to take in your fuzzy expression, “oh, you want me to stay?” he smiled at the pout that had formed on your lips, and a sluggish nod tipped your head at his playful tone, “alright,” he tilted his chin and pressed a kiss to the edge of your hairline, “I can stay.” 

“It’s dumb,” you murmured as you felt his pecks flutter down your face, “but I’m just kinda scared that if you pull out I’ll just somehow close up completely.”

“You won’t,” a soft chuckle rumbled within his chest as he neared your lips, “don’t worry, I’ll help you if it ever comes to that.”

Tilting your chin, you pressed your lips to his, your tongue swiftly swooping in to dance lazily against his own. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you felt his touch lightly ghost all along your spine, caressing up and down the length of you as your kiss grew sloppy. 

As you noticed your sensitive pussy begin to relax, so too did you sense when Frank’s cock, which previously hadn’t gone completely soft yet, began to swell within you, the sensation making your hips instinctively grind down against him as the sensation consumed you. 

And with his lips never leaving yours, a light squeak escaped your lungs as Frank suddenly rose to his feet, scooping you with him, his fat cock all the while still staying warm within you. 

As his slow stride carried you back inside, your gaze was hazy as his kisses migrated down your neck, but when you passed the kitchen, your eyes snapped back open, “wait,” you stopped him and his lips detached from your pounding pulse, a string of saliva still keeping him connected to where a lavender love mark had begun to bloom, “I’m thirsty! I still–,” keeping one arm hooked around his neck, you carefully pointed to the half-full glass still on the counter, “my water is right over there.”

With one hand under your bottom and the other clasped at your waist, he redirected his steps and walked over to the small open kitchen. Once he reached the counters, a sly smirk seeped across his features as he commanded, “hold on tighter,” and as you did, his grip then shifted and let go of your side to grasp the glass of water.

“You know, you could just put me down,” you chuckled as he lifted the drink up to your lips, carefully tilting it and granting you a sip.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” his coffee gaze stayed fast on your lips as you drank. When you tipped your head back to halt the flow, a little droplet escaped the corner of your mouth, rolled down your chin and all the way to your exposed chest. Setting the glass back down, he swiftly dragged the back of his index finger along the glistening stripe and wiped it up, “making a fucking mess,” briefly leaning in to clean up the rest with his tongue.

Giggling fleetingly at his comment, you asked, “do you want a sip?” but he only gazed back at you and gently shook his head, other desires more prevalent in his mind.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you felt his girth throb inside of you.

As his stride slowly began to return towards the bedroom, it only took you letting your arms hang at your sides a moment for the flannel to cascade off of you and drop to the floorboards.

Craning his neck, he buried his face in your boobs, nipping and nuzzling gently against the soft flesh as you insistently tugged at his grey tank, one of your socked feet also shifted and nudged at his waistband in an attempt at getting him to the same level of undress as you were at. But unfortunately, none of your efforts yielded much success as his grip on you halted the fabric from exposing too much of his warm flesh. 

You hadn’t truly comprehended that you’d reached your destination before your spine pressed against the doorframe, Frank momentarily using it as leverage as he carefully lifted you off him, shifting his hold on you as you felt his previous load begin to drip out.

Gingerly plopping you down onto the bed, you expected him to melt down atop of you and bury himself so deep inside of you that you wouldn’t be able to walk for a whole week, instead his warmth disappeared as he took a few steps back, his dark eyes glued to you and the mess between your lazily fallen open thighs, as he stripped off the clothes that clung to his bulky physique.

Raising yourself up onto your elbows, your teeth snatched up your bottom lip as you spotted the lewd stain on the front of his pants, completely sodden with your essence. 

He was surely taking his time with it, putting on a show and letting you drool over every sliver of skin he revealed, but perhaps it was just your impatience getting the best of you, because when the last bit of fabric finally dropped to the floor and he stood there a second in all of his jaw-dropping glory, you heard your whine resonate within the cabin, “Frank, my legs feel like jello,” a breathy laugh slipped out past your pout as you feared he’d ask you to come crawling to him, “please get back over here.”

Choking down a laugh of his own, he painfully slowly stepped closer to you, your thighs splitting wider as he neared. 

“You sure?” he playfully cocked his brow as his fist closed in around his fat base, stroking himself agonisingly close to your puffy pussy, “I thought you said I made you come so hard that now you can’t take it anymore,” smiling as you attempted to wiggle closer without any success, “you sure you can handle more?”

“Yes,” flowed from your lips as you stared at the way his grip slid up and down his intimidating length, the lingering gloss making his movements go molten, “yes, I can take it, please, I want more.”

Finally granting you a tad of contact, he tapped the hefty weight against your swollen pearl, “yeah?” gliding his free palm down your inner thigh to fight it as it jerked in response, “this what you want?” he repeated the action, the lewd soppy smack resonating within the room, “or was it more something like this,” you gasped as he suddenly slid the entirety of his length inside of you.

“H-holy shit!” you felt all of the air get pushed out of your lungs as his tip nudged against the deepest part of you, a sensation that caused your limbs to tremble at his sides. 

“What?” he smirked, pulling back out completely, and gliding his weight through your soppy folds, parting them with his girth as he rubbed against your clit, “I didn’t quite catch that,” your hazy gaze fluttered down to see how far up your stomach his length rested, the staggering image efficiently causing your brain to melt out of your ear. 

“Yo-you, you, yes!” you blubbered incoherently, “that–, yes!”

“What? This?” he bullied your clit further. 

“Ah!” you moaned sharply, “no, no–”

“Oh, you mean this?” he slammed back inside of you so fiercely that tears formed in the corners of your eyes, “is this what you want? Would this make you happy?” he slowly eased back out, just halfway, before burying himself once more, “because you know that’s all I want, is just to make my girl happy.” 

Mouth agape, you watched as he fucked you, still standing tall next to where to laid melted against the mattress, but when you noticed the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in the lower part of your stomach, your eyes grew wide, and the tangible proof made your pussy threaten to flutter around his girth. 

“F-Frank!” you whimpered as he gazed down at you, admiring the way you took his entirety, “I think I'm gonna–”

“What?” he offered you one last thrust before retracting completely, leaving you squirming as he dropped down to his knees before you, “you’re gonna what?”

Both of his thumbs briefly came up to spread your puff apart for him, granting him a great view of your collected mess that still oozed out of you. redirecting his gaze to stare up at you, he placed a few teasing pecks along your glistening petals, his prominent nose nudging against your puffy clit as he teased you, making his way up to lap a cruelly light lick to your sensitive pearl. 

“I am waiting patiently here,” two of his fingers came to fill you up, hooking inside of you and swiftly initiating a rocking rhythm against that spot that conjured the lewdest of squelching melodies, “what are you gonna do, huh?” and as he sucked down on your clit, he only did so for what felt like a second before it all became too intense and your pussy gushed around his determined digits, a display he had obviously hoped for as he bellowed gravelly, “there it is,” a feral look glazing over his intense gaze as he tickled out as much of your nectar as you’d grant him, “fuck!”

As you laid there quivering and shaking on the crumbled sheets, the last thing you’d expected after a high so paralysing was for you to crave more, and you did. In a deep and primal way that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. In a way that caused you to sluggishly yank him up onto the bed and feel his weight on top of you, a sensation you didn’t get to savour long before he rolled around, taking you with him as he planted his head upon the pillows still at the top of the bed and manhandling you on top of him. 

Body melted and plastered atop of his, you uttered into his skin, “you’re being so mean.”

Digging his grip into your hips, he grinded you down against him and checked, “too mean?”

“I–…” you thought about it a second before the corners of your lips began to tip upwards, “no… I like it, but you’re just still mean.”

Manoeuvring your molten frame, he lifted your pelvis up far enough for him to slip back inside.

“Yeah, well, what else is new,” you felt his low chuckle rumble in his burly chest beneath your cheek, “we can’t all be a ray of sunshine like you.”

Keeping his grasp glued to your hips, you swiftly discovered that your exhausted limbs weren’t up to the task of doing all of the work independently and became ever so grateful when you didn’t even have to ask for help as Frank began to rock your frame for you, moving you like a toy on top of him. 

Arms curling up and retracting in against your form, you smooshed your cheek further down against his chest as you drooled on his pecks, the rocking motion nearly lulling you off into a dream, but before you could fade away completely, Frank’s voice washed over you once more.

“Hey, sweetheart?” 

“Mhm?” you mewled as he fucked you down upon him.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

And when you did, it took your fuzzy gaze a moment before you spotted the mirror on the far side wall and the reflection in it, but when you did notice it, the shuttering moan you let out left no doubt in Frank’s mind if you had or not. 

“Look at how fucking pretty you are when you’re all fucked out,” you felt him shift his hold so that he kept your hips stagnant and bucked his own up into you in such a way that caused your head to levitate just a centimetre off his pecks as his balls slapped against you from the force of his efforts, “can you keep your beautiful eyes right there on the mirror? I want you to see how cute you look when you cum…”

You weren’t sure that cute was the specific word you would have used to describe how it looked when he once again made you squirt all over his cock. But sure, you could see how in Frank’s eyes you must have looked utterly adorable gushing around him from just how good he made you feel. 

Rolling over, you both now laid on your sides with your limp leg flung over his hip and his flush face clutched in your palms as you held him close in the silky embrace. 

“Frank,” your woollen-socked foot caressed his lower back as it methodically moved beneath it with every lavish thrust, “I don’t think I can cum again.”

“Is that a challenge?” his warm palm slid down your frame and he pressed his middlemost fingers down upon your overly sensitive clit, “because I think you can. I even think you can squirt some more for me,” and as he angled his molten motions, he didn’t quit till your face screwed up and squelching noises echoed at every zealous plunge, “such a fucking good girl, you can do it, just let go, I’ve got you,” he talked you through your high as it crashed into you, nearly knocking you out completely as your body fulfilled his wish and his own peak swiftly followed suit as your clambering pussy milked him dry.

With sweet sweat glistening up your skin, you felt utterly boneless as you laid there in Frank’s arms. Placing a few slow pecks all along the length of his nose, he hummed contentedly and a soft smile warmth up his features. 

After nearly falling back asleep in the safe cocoon that was the post-coital bliss, you heard yourself ask after you both landed on not slumbering the day away. 

“You wanna take a shower before we actually figure something real out for breakfast?”

“Wow, okay,” he jokingly scoffed as he began to drag himself out of the bed, “but don’t think this is gonna work a third time.”

“What?” you chuckled as he got up to his feet and pulled open the top dresser drawer for a few fresh towels, “no, I seriously just mean cleaning up before we eat!”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #jon bernthal smut #marvel smut #marvel x reader smut #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #lumberjack au

[stargirldee05]

Imma throw hands if we don't get a shirtless scene of him!!! 👊👊

#john bernthal #frank castle #shane walsh #daredevil #daredevil born again #frank castle series

[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

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire masterlist

summary: you have spent your entire life following someone else’s orders. the bullet in someone else’s gun. frank castle was no knight in shining armour, and he certainly didn’t come to save you, but when your interests start to align, the line between enemy and ally get blurred. will you choose to run and leave everything you fought for behind, or will frank’s magnetic pull suck you in to a world far more complicated than you imagined?

contents: slow burn, sort of enemies to lovers, heavy plot action and characters pulled from the comics (i don’t own any of the characters) but all plot is my own!

status: COMPLETE

warnings: this series contains explicit content, canon typical violence and graphic violent imagery, so 18+ only minors dni. this story features elements of sa, in cases of unwanted advances and slight connotations. it is not my intention to, nor will i include explicit sa in any of my stories, however some situations could be read as triggering, so please stay safe!!

chapter one - a glimpse of the sun

chapter two - man in the mirror

chapter three - crossing the finish line

chapter four - a better man than me

chapter five - stitches on ice

chapter six - this is what they pay me for

chapter seven - some kind of human

chapter eight - learning the basics

chapter nine - sink or swim

chapter ten - perfect timing

chapter eleven - eye for an eye

chapter twelve - ray of sunshine

chapter thirteen - threes a crowd

chapter fourteen - body clock

chapter fifteen - domestic affairs

chapter sixteen - talk is cheap

chapter seventeen - back together again

chapter eighteen - your fathers eyes

chapter nineteen - proper representation

chapter twenty - house training

chapter twenty one - push and pull

chapter twenty two - teamwork makes the dreamwork

chapter twenty three - selfish

chapter twenty four - tied down

chapter twenty five - witness statement

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #the punisher #the punisher x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #the punisher x oc #frank castle x oc #marvel tv #marvel #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle angst #frank castle series

[kasdan]

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝐹𝑢𝑟𝑦 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

join the taglist | marvel masterlist | story spotify playlist

a/n: this story has been just living in my mind rent free for idk how long but i decided to finally just write about it and put it all out there! this is the first time i’m posting publicly on tumblr please don’t be mean to me and i decided to share my thoughts on the story.

Summary: you are born in a lab and have been experimented on for all your life working to be the perfect weapon. you soon finally have enough of it all and when you get the chance you break out, learning about the incredible power you have. after you’re free from the lab you run into frank castle who’s searching for his own answers (set in s1 of the punisher). you two soon believe that the answers you’re seeking are very closely linked to one another’s.

Warnings: blood, gore, violence, torture, language, slow burn, ptsd, i suck at writing

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Chapter 1 ❥ Chapter 2 ❥ Chapter 3 ❥ Chapter 4 Chapter 5 ❥ Chapter 6 ❥ Chapter 7 ❥ Chapter 8 Chapter 9 ❥ Chapter 10 ❥ Chapter 11 ❥ Chapter 12 Chapter 13

buy me a coffee ♡

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x y/n #slow burn #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fanfiction #masterlist #frank castle series #frank castle angst #the punisher x reader #punisher #jon bernthal #embers fury #punisher x reader #i hope this doesn’t suck #it takes me 50 years to write chapters im sorry #idk but im done

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

one - deja vu

tags: n/a two // masterlist // MAD AT GOD (DD CANON)

welcome back to the MAG universe! this time around we are rolling through the Punisher series. i’m so excited to develop her friendship with Frank and see what happens between her and Billy!

Pairing: Billy x Reader (casual), Frank x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5, 728

Summary: Being back in the Kitchen almost immediately pulls her back into a fight. But without Matt, what has she become?

You moved over quickly, using Luke as footing to jump from after he knocked her into a short spin so she faced away from you. You moved in a fluid motion to connect the wires between your wrists as you hooked one leg over her shoulders and jammed the other against her spine. You leaned forward enough to get the wire across her throat before you dropped to land on your feet.

She was quick to flip her sai in her grip and slam it through your thigh. Your leg buckled and she used the chance to free herself, spinning to slam her foot against the side of your head. You fell to your back with a wet thump and you pushed to your elbows, craning your neck to see her weapon skewering your thigh. The red stained tip poked through and any movement sent a sharp pain through your body, eminating deep within your bone. She dared to move closer and you kicked the opposing foot against her chest.

Once that foot landed back on the ground, the pain on the other side made you cry out. You managed to drag yourself to your feet and stood unsteadily, hopping on your good leg to try and maintain balance. You reached awkwardly behind yourself for your staffs, having to connect them quickly and use them as a cane for the moment.

“You’ll die down here with us.” Elektra’s voice taunted you, though she was no where to be seen. “As you should.”

You hobbled in a small circle while you tried to find where the voice was coming from. But there was no one, not even the ghost of footsteps or shuffles to give her away. The rest of your group was gone, as if they never came down with you. Not even the elevator.

Hadn’t they just been there?

The tunnels around you stretched as far as you could see, dripping and collecting small puddles. Your labored breathing filled the silence between drips and you felt something eerily out of place about the whole thing.

“Come on then.” You challenged weakly. A deep breathe before you screamed into the wet darkness. “Come out and kill me!”

“Y/N.” He said calmly and you spun so fast you nearly slipped in the water. But when you glanced down to find your footing, you were in a puddle of blood. All of the water had turned to blood. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head, assuming it was your own mania creeping in, but when you opened them the sight hadn’t changed.

“This is what you wanted.” He used the same eerily calm tone, even as the ground shook beneath your feet.

“You should’ve left.” You said angrily as the drips began to land on your forehead. “You shouldn’t be here, Matt.”

“Then why didn’t you keep him safe?” Elektra appeared at his side, walking around him like a predator taunting her prey. Her fingers trailed along the back of his shoulders.

But even in the dim light, neither of them looked like themselves. They were soaking wet and it looked it was water on their bodies, but it reflected red once it hit the ground. Their skins were tinted blue, cyanotic to match their puffy lips and swollen bodies. Their eyes were hollow, sunken in and hardly even there. Everytime their mouths open, blood spilled. They looked like corpses that had been left at the bottom of the river for months to decay in silence.

“I tried.” You answered but the sound barely registered.

Your eye suddenly stung and when you reached to wipe it, your hand came back with fresh red blood. The scar above your eye, the deep gash your mask left from your fight with Fisk, was now fresh and seeping into your eye. The scar on your cheekbone stained the lower half of your face. Your chest snapped and the cartilage fell loose and the old cracks in your ribs fell open. One by one, old injuries became fresh again and each one felt like a hit to your stamina, to your strength, until you fell back to your knees.

Elektra appeared in front of you now, reaching with a sadistic smile for her sai that still dripped with your blood. You tried to back away but landed against Matt, who moved quickly to pin you to the ground. You struggled against him, but he leaned more of his weight against you and left you flailing and kicking.

“Matt? Matt, what are you doing?” You said in a panic but your own blood filled your mouth.

Elektra twisted the weapon in your leg and you screamed out, a gurggled sound that nearly choked you. You kicked your other foot at her but it moved through her, as if she was never really there.

“You’ll die. Painfully.” She threatened before a second sai appeared in her hands.

She climbed over your body, knees on either side of your ribs as she lined her weapon with the center of your chest. By then you were crying, hair sticking to your face and thrashing your body under her weight. But she didn’t move. Matt didn’t move. Instead, they offered each other wicked smiles before both looking down at you.

“You could’ve saved me, Y/N/N… Why didn’t you?” Matt asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but before your voice could find you, Elektra’s weapon began to press into your chest.

Breaking the skin earned a whine.

Her jamming the heel of her hand against it to break through your sternum drew a groan.

Her slow, intentional pressure against your heart earned a plead.

“I can fix this.” You tried, barely a whisper above the shattering thuds of collapsing rock.

“If you could’ve…” She said lowly, leaning forward to meet your panicked eyes, dripping blood from her lips. “You would’ve already.”

Your eyes went wide at the wet sound of the sai piercing your heart.

———————————————————————————————————————

You shot up in your bed and a hand instantly moved to your cheek. The skin was clear of blood but covered in a layer of sweat. You felt above your brow and found the same. With a small noise of stress, you threw your comforter back and shuffled to the bathroom. A hand was rubbing the center of your chest, haunted by the tip of Elektra’s weapon.

You flipped the light, squinting through it for a minute until your eyes adjusted. You planted both hands against the countertop and leaned in to see the faint lines of scars around your eye. The subtle discolorations that followed the shape of your mask, permanent memories of your time as a vigilante, of that hole deep inside you that you couldn’t quite fill. Quantico had done very little towards that gaping feeling, that hole somewhere too deep for you reach that felt like it would swallow you everyday.

You thought that FBI training, getting away from the Kitchen, would maybe be good for you. It’d be time to breathe, maybe even grieve. But those words didn’t seem to mean anything to you anymore. It just felt like they were adding to that depth, sucking out any remnants of progress you had made.

Maybe coming home wasn’t going to be any better.

You blew out a sigh and splashed your face with cold water, a contrast to the heat that seemed to live in your blood now. You felt warm, everywhere you went. No matter the temperature outside, you were boiling inside. But if someone were to touch your skin, they’d never know.

That was who you were now. Not Y/N. Not even Exodus. You were someone else. Someone with Y/N’s memories and tendencies, with Exodus’ mania and skills, but other things were left unaccounted for. Who’s morals did you maintain? Who’s relationships were important?

Who’s heart beat in your chest? Who’s blood was in your veins?

But if you thought about it too long, Matt’s voice would creep into your thoughts. Random things he had told you throughout the time you knew him. Empty promises he made to Exodus. Honest sentiment he gave to Y/N. The last words you heard him say.

You shoved those thoughts to a deep corner of your mind as you headed back to the living room. The chest in the closet seemed to call out to you. The chest full of boxing memorabilia pertaining to Matt’s father, some of his own collection and some you were able to add for him, one of his bibles, and the false bottom that allowed him to hide his suit.

The suit that would never be there again.

You sighed and shook your head before heading to your bedroom to find clothes for the day. You might as well get ready since you knew your mind wasn’t going to let you sleep again anytime soon.

Wasting as much time as you could, you got ready and headed out into the city. You had been back from Quantico for about a week and you were trying to settle back into the Kitchen, but the nightmare of Midland haunted you every night. It was a little different everytime, sometimes the words they spoke to you changed and once it was Matt that killed you with your own blade, but it always the same premise. The three of you, everything coated in blood, and you died.

It was either your conscious gnawing at you and refusing to let you escape, even in sleep, or it was the universe telling you that death would find you. Either way, it never left your mind.

As you were out, you saw Matt in every face. Everywhere you went, you saw him. You almost called his name a few times until you got a better look and remembered he was dead. It felt like you were losing yourself in the grief, in the hopes that it was all a bad dream. Maybe you were still dreaming?

But then someone bumped your shoulder walking by and you knew you weren’t. Weeks had passed and you still couldn’t fully stomach the fact that he was gone. In your mind, you just wanted him there and he was everywhere but nowhere all at once.

You were wandering your usual streets, fighting through the relentless deja vu, stopping at one of the few lunch spots you missed, and ended up at the only building you thought could help. It was one of the few places you didn’t avoid prior to your time away, and now, maybe it was the only chance to cool the blaze under your skin. To fill the hole.

You walked in with a shaky breath and found Father Lantom outside the confessional, talking to one of the nuns with hushed urgency. But as you approached, he sent the nun away and turned to you with a small but welcoming smile. He gestured to the small, private conversation box and you simply nodded. He stepped inside first and you followed suit into your side about a minute later.

“Good to have you back.” Father Lantom said after a short silence. “How was your training?”

“Good, yeah, it was good.” You answered simply. “Dex said everything went really well so now it’s just waiting for approval or something, I don’t really remember…”

“It was quick.”

“Yeah, it was a specialty.. Accelerated… Accelerated program.” Your eyes fell and you noticed you were wringing your fingers. Since when did you do that? “Look, Father, I don’t know if there’s something I’m supposed to say to start this but…”

“Whatever you need to say, Y/N.” He offered genuinely. “Whenever you’re ready to say it.”

“I keep having this nightmare, Elektra and Matt and me. Under Midland and we all die together… Usually El does it but Matt’s done it too, killed me. And I thought being away would make it easier. But it feels worse… I can’t sleep. I hardly eat. I just feel empty.”

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?”

“When I was younger, when I realized what I was going to have to do in the Red Room. I didn’t feel like a person…”

“Hmm..”

“But then I got out and out of nowhere I meet Matt and suddenly… It was like my heart was beating in my chest for the first time.” You couldn’t fight the sad smile that stretched your lips. “Now, it’s like anytime I think about him, my heart can’t beat. It’s just there, weighing down my chest like a rock.”

“When Matt would first tell me about his night activities, he was so twisted up about some of the things he found.” He spoke carefully, treading a fine line between breaking the seal of confession and finding the details that he hoped would offer you comfort. “Some of the things he had seen, what some people in this town were capable of…”

“People like me?”

“No. He never spoke unkindly about you, even before he knew.”

That seemed to fill the hole a little but the blaze remained.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the type…” You sniffled. “Were you able to help him?”

“What I offered wasn’t the help he needed. I could offer bible verses and quotes to him every day, but he knew them all. He knew the stories and the psalms as easy as he knew his way here.”

“So what’d you say?”

“I told him to listen to his heart, because his had always been good. Angry and hurt, yes, but also good.”

“I’ve never felt this alone.” You spoke, a distance in your voice as you stared at the wood door in front of you. “I’ve been left before, by others and by my own choice. I’ve sabotaged my life to a point where I had to be alone and I’ve sacrificed my lifestyle to protect people around… I don’t want to feel this again.”

“Feeling these kinds of things is what makes us human.”

“Yeah..” You nodded, finding the familiar mental ledge that could take it all away. That could turn it all off so it didn’t matter, that would let Y/N rest. All you had to do… Was give her… A little push. “Maybe that humanity is the issue.”

“Guilt is a good thing.. It’s a soul’s call to action, the innate feeling that something is wrong. The only way to rid yourself of it is to correct your mistakes.”

“Correct my mistakes…” You repeated slowly. “I can’t correct this one… Not the way I’d need to. But I know how to get rid of these feelings.”

“Y/N?” He asked quickly and the concern was palpable in his voice.

“Thanks, Father… It’s been nice catching up.”

And with that, you left the church. You took a deep breathe when you stepped out, the crisp New York air hitting you as soon as you stepped out. There was something freeing in that breath. The heat still blazed with every beat of your stoned heart, leaving a trail of warmth through your veins. The hole still lived in your soul but now you fed it, all the sorrow and despair and loneliness was shoved into the hole. It didn’t fill it by any means, but it satisfied it enough that it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It allowed you to live, and for now that was enough.

The rest of your day was relatively uneventful. You went home for a while and did some reorganzing. You cleaned up some of Matt’s leftover belongings that you were unable to touch before. You even started a pile of things that you figured you should donate. Someone else in the Kitchen could probably use some of those suits.

You took down some photos and put them in the closet with his chest. You even took down that painting from the art gallery you bought. It was the red one Vanessa had showed you. You bought it because you had liked it. It made you think of the Man in the Mask and how turbulent your relationship was but now that he was gone, it was just another token of a dead life. So you shoved it away as well.

You cleaned some of the things you had been neglecting and began to feel like you were actually getting some sort of normalcy back. It wasn’t the normalcy that Matt would’ve wanted for you. You could recognize that, but you never expected to have that anyway. You never had the normalcy he wanted for you when he wasn’t around, so you felt no requirement to find it now that he was gone. And maybe you owed it to his memory to live a real life, live a life of peace, but that was never part of you.

It was later that night when you realized what day it was.

Curtis’ support group for veterans.

You were always welcomed there, ever since you started with Anvil. He never made you talk but the option was always there. And you did, occasionally, if only to shut down one of the other guys. There was a certain respect from Curtis that you didn’t find in other people. He knew you were from an ‘elite covert kill squad’ since childhood but he didn’t ask other questions. He didn’t need to know everything to know that you were lost. It was refreshing and you liked to stay after official sessions to talk about whatever you were thinking or feeling.

But glancing at the time, it was too late for that. So you shrugged it off and decided you’d go next time. At least to say hello to an old friend, the least judgemental one you had left. Instead, you decided you’d go to the bookstore and add to your to-be-read collection while continuing to ignore texts from everyone that knew you.

It wasn’t long until alleged vigilantism found it’s way to you. That next morning, stories of an assault at a construction zone hit your ears. Bodies found under fresh concrete with more blunt force injuries than they should’ve had. Then, estimated to be a few hours later, a hit against a prominent crime family.

It had a familiarity to it that you couldn’t quite place, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. There was the haunt of concern in your bones, as if you worried that there was something left unanswered within you, but Matt took that part with him. When he died, so did that part of you that wanted to do something good. That wanted to help the neighborhood you loved. You liked the fact that someone else was handling it for you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t vaguely set off an old itch that liked to be scratched. An old manic, sadistic, worrisome itch that could easily spiral to a full blown bloodbath.

So instead, you carried on with your day. You went to the grocery store to refill your fridge and your pantry. You bought some new clothes, more fitting for an FBI agent, and got some plastic totes to put away some of Matt’s things. The things you didn’t want to look at but couldn’t quite bring yourself to get rid of.

While you were out, you decided to stop by an old warehouse. You weren’t even sure if he would be there, but it was the only starting point you had. You knocked lightly on the door before heading inside, watching the corners and dark shadows carefully.

“Melvin.” You called out when you saw the vague shape of a man sweeping in the corner. “I just wanna talk.”

“Whoever you are, I don’t talk.” He said sharply, coming into full view with a wrench gripped tightly in his hands. “Just go on back the way you came and this never happened.”

“We had a mutual friend.” You said simply, lifting your head a little. “Our Man in the Mask.”

“Shit.” He breathed, slowly dropping the wrench. “I uh, heard he’s gone… That true?”

“Yeah. Your suit protected him from a lot but couldn’t withstand a falling building.”

“Shit.” He said again.

“Mmm.” You agreed. “I came to ask you for something. A vest. Clean lines, simple build. Something I can wear daily, under my normal clothes.”

“Guess that makes you Exodus, huh?” He broke into a small smile that didn’t last. “Sorry but I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured… Neither do I, not really. Ever since Red went down, I…” You took a deep breath. “I got a good job lined up, just need a little something.”

He sighed heavily and turned to the ceiling before facing you again.

“I’ll do you a favor, just this once cause your friend always kept his word. But don’t expect anything else.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at you.

“One and done.” You nodded.

“Alright.. Ah jeez, okay. Your measurements the same? Red and black still?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You looked at your arms and chest. “And uh, no. No red.”

“C’mon.” He guffawed. “You and Daredevil were partners. You don’t want anything to remember him?”

“Just do whatever.” You shrugged. “How much?”

“It’s on me. I never charged your buddy so… Just gimme a day or two. I’ll get you something nice.”

“I appreciate it.” You offered a smile, though you didn’t quite mean it. “Thanks, Melvin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off. “Don’t ask me for nothing. Alright? I mean it.”

“I get it.” You insisted as you backed towards the door. “Looking forward to it.”

Later that day, not long after you had unloaded all of your groceries, a hard knock sounded at your door. You ignored it, assuming it was just your friends coming to see if you were home yet. Either that, some kids screwing around, or it was just someone from your past coming to kill you. Who exactly was out to get you at that point, you weren’t sure, but there were enough skeletons in your closet that hadn’t fallen out yet. So you went about your business until the door flew open and someone rushed in.

Calmly, you grabbed the gun you tucked between the fridge and wall and turned to face whoever was in your apartment. You gripped it comfortably and cleared your throat, seeing them turn with a sharp gasp. Your brows raised expectantly and Karen’s hands shot up instantly.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.” She breathed before covering a hand to her chest. “How long have you been back?”

“How often do you come into my apartment?” You asked instead, lowering the gun but not putting it down.

“I just-” She tried to explain but her eyes kept falling to the gun. “Can you put that down, please?”

“Don’t trust me anymore?” You raised your brows before tucking the gun into the back of your waistband. “Answer my question.”

“Has he reached out to you?” She asked instead.

“I’m not playing games, Karen. If you have something to tell me, then spit it out and get out of my apartment. If you only came here to fuck around…”

“Frank.” She said quickly. “Frank’s back.”

“Explains the news.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. “What’d he come to you for?”

“Something about some Micro, a guy that came after him recently. Knows who he is, that he’s alive.”

“Micro… This guy have a real name?”

“David Lieberman, NSA analyst that is officially shot dead by Homeland Security a year ago.”

“Only he’s not.” You nodded. “Okay. Where’s Frank now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he going after Lieberman?” You closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead, weighing the pros and cons of you getting involved.

“Probably… But Frank said he’s a- He’s a spook. How would he find him?”

“Well, he wouldn’t go for him directly, but someone that knows him or is relevant to him just might work to draw him out. What other names did you work out?”

“Carson Wolf got the whole story cut, could be something there.”

“Probably.. Name sounds familiar.” You felt the scales tilting back and forth in your brain. “Why did you come and tell me about this?”

“Because I-” She hesitated, as if she had just noticed your reaction. “He doesn’t really seem like he wants me involved.”

“So you want me to go run into a fight I know nothing about?” You dropped your hand against your leg with a smack and opened your eyes. “Don’t you think if Frank wanted my help, he would’ve came to me himself?”

“Maybe he didn’t know where to find you.” She offered, clearly searching for anything to convince you.

“Or maybe he didn’t care enough to find me.” You countered with a shrug. But seeing the desperation in her eyes, feeling the plead in her bones, you sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it… I’ll look into Lieberman, maybe there’s a wife or siblings or something. And this Wolf guy, I think I heard his name around Quantico so I guess I can pull some strings in that direction.”

“Thank you.” She let out a sharp exhale, as if she had been holding her breath for your response. “Have you told Foggy you’re back?”

“No.” You turned away to busy yourself in your kitchen. “Haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you.” She tried gently. You noticed the hesitation in her words and realized she was walking on eggshells, completely unsure of how stable you were. “Or at least hear from you.”

“The last conversation we had was an argument.” You admitted, though your voice lacked the remorse it should’ve had and it was too late to add it in now. “And he flinched away from me… He told me that if I wanted to get myself killed, I was more than welcome to as long as I didn’t try to blame anyone other than myself for it.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence, like she was chomping at the air while she tried to find a response. Finally, her voice found her and it was the same response you expected.

“He had to have still been in shock.”

“He had more than enough time to get over it.”

“I know he wouldn’t say that to you and mean it.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, just like Matt never would’ve said half of what he said to me during the Castle trial, right?” Your brows raised in accusation and you saw her expression drop. “Yeah, sometimes pain or shock bring out what people really mean.”

“Y/N-”

“Doesn’t matter.” You cut in firmly. “Next time you see Frank, ask him if he wants my help. In the meantime, I’ll poke around and start building some intel.”

“Thanks.” She forced a tight smile. “And I’ll talk to Foggy, if you want me to.”

You simply shrugged.

“He’s one of your best friends, isn’t he?” She asked gently, scared for what your answer would be.

“Most of the people I’ve called friends have grown to hate me for one reason or another… I guess I always knew I’d add Foggy to that list one of these days.” You answered flatly.

“C’mon, Y/N.” She tried again.

“Better that than dead… You can go now.”

With a small gesture of defeat, she left. And you wondered if you were going to regret getting involved.

Some quick research into Lieberman showed he did leave a family behind, a wife and two kids. You had no intentions of hurting them but should there be a need, you had blackmail material. He was allegedly shot dead by Homeland after resisting arrest. There was nothing about why he was wanted by Homeland, nor was there anything about his career. But he was NSA, so there should’ve been something other than a passing mention.

That all just meant someone wanted it to go away, and that someone was likely this Carson Wolf character.

You thought about going over to the address you could find for Sarah Lieberman but you assumed Frank would’ve been there already. And two unfamiliar visitors in one day would’ve triggered some sort of concern in the wife, who you had to assume was helping hide her undead husband until you knew otherwise. Instead, you wrote down the address and looked into Carson Wolf. You found that he was one of the higher ups at Homeland Security. It was an interesting connection that you’d have to poke at later.

With a little digging, you also found some information on the construction site incident. There was a feature on the company’s webpage about a new employee, which was asterisked as inactive the day after the bodies were found. There was no picture on the page but you could only assume that Pete Castiglione was the one and only, Frank Castle.

You decided to get out of the house and headed out to get something to drink. You passed by Josie’s and thought about going in. But when you reached the door, you were hit with one of many memories of you and Matt in that place so you had to pass. You passed other bars as you wandered and none really seemed inviting. Eventually, your feet grew tired of aimlessly moving so you settled on a bar you had been to with Billy a few times. Low and behold, Billy was already there.

You felt his eyes following you as you passed by, taking a seat at the bar a few seats down. You ordered your drink and when it came out, you spun the liquid around the glass, listening vaguely to Billy talking about his service and Frank.

The woman kept asking questions pertaining to Frank and their conversation held your interest. Without making it obvious, you noted what she was asking.

Did he get dirty? Could he have been involved in drugs over there?

But why ask questions about a dead man? Who was she?

The gears in your brain were turning when you heard Billy’s question.

“So you’re single?” He asked, clear flirting in his tone. Your head cocked slightly and your brow raised, noticing he was already looking at you for a reaction. He laughed and tilted his bottle towards you but you simply smiled and shook your head.

He went back to his flirting and you rolled your eyes slightly at his next remark. But you did hear a name.

Special Agent Madani.

You could tell she was either going to be one hell of an obstacle or one hell of an ally.

You watched her leave and then decided to slide into her seat.

“Billy Russo, always the player.” You teased with a sly smile and he grinned. “How’ve you been? Lonely?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” He said happily. “And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, Quantico was fun but I got bored.” You shrugged playfully. “Knew everything they wanted to teach me.”

“Yeah, I bet you did..” He nodded, never dropping that sly smile. “Bet you made one hell of an impression too.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do… Y’know, I missed you.”

“You did not.” You scoffed lightly, gesturing to the bartender for a second drink. “Judging by your latest visitor.”

“Ah, I see what this is.” He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“In your dreams, Russo.” You rolled your eyes with an amused smile. “Who was that anyways? She was asking a lot of questions…”

“Dinah Madani.” He answered simply. “Homeland agent that brought a team through Anvil earlier.”

“Homeland, huh?” You turned towards the door even though she was long gone. “Interesting…”

“Why?”

When you didn’t answer, he reached for your chin and turned your face towards him.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” His eyes darted between yours as he tried to figure you out, but you knew he never would. Not in any way that would mean anything.

“Just curious why a Homeland agent is asking about a dead man is all…” You shrugged. “And it’s a pattern.”

“Oh, it’s a pattern.” He said with a nod, acting as if it explained everything. “What does the pattern tell you?”

“That you like women in power.” You answered plainly. “Me, now in the FBI and everything else I’ve done. Madani, in Homeland with what I would assume is solid standing. Next thing you know, you’re gonna bed a senator.”

“I’ll still come back to my best girl.” He smiled, tapping under your chin with a click of his tongue.

“Yeah, like there was any competition.” You chuckled.

“When’d you get back?” He nodded towards you, decidingly dropping your previous conversation topic.

“Week ago. I thought about coming by, decided not to.” A slight shrug of your shoulder.

“Why not?” He almost sounded hurt.

“Just tired. Needed sound time to settle in.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly and raised his brows. “How about we spend some quality time tonight then, hmm? You got any other plans?”

“Hmm.” The corner of your mouth lifted to a small smile. “I’ll have to check my schedule, Mr. Russo.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back, wagging his finger at you with an amused smirk of his own. “I missed hearing you say that, pretty lady.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded and sipped your drink.

You spent a little while longer drinking with Billy, catching up and teasing each other playfully. It was almost enough for you to forget what you had been asked earlier that night, to involve yourself in Frank’s latest crusade that he likely expected to cover on his own. Finding Frank would’ve been easy enough if you had a general direction to go in, but where could be? Would he be going after Micro or would he be taunting Micro to go after him again?

If this guy was as much a spook as Karen’s been led to believe, it wouldn’t be easy to draw him out. But knowing Frank, he would find a way to pull him out of his hidey-hole. Which meant you could follow your own leads tonight and potentially meet him, or you could worry about it tomorrow and waste a night with an old fling.

Billy was tempting… And Frank would be fine for one more night, wherever he was.

#ptyy mag #ptyy wcs #punisher fic #billy russo #frank castle #frank castle x reader #vigilante!reader #frank x vigilante!reader #billy russo x reader #platonic frank castle x reader #netflix frank castle #netflix punisher #netflix billy russo #punisher fanfic #punisher series #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #frank castle series #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic #billy russo series

[amhrosina]

Two Ghosts Series Masterlist

Pairing: Frank Castle x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

AO3 Wattpad Instagram

Premise: Lucia has never been the violent type. Gentle, kind, and caring, she's always been the kind of person people flock towards. This can certainly be said about Frank Castle, who is drawn to Lucia's gentle nature as he falls in love with her. But when tragedy strikes and Frank meets his end in the violent world of the Punisher, Lucia must come to terms with her anger and grief over the man that she loves and misses dearly. Told between two alternating storylines, one past and one present, Lucia must choose between being haunted by the ghosts of Frank's past, or avenging Frank and being haunted by the ghost of her former self.

Series Warnings (to be updated as series progresses): descriptive violence, torture, references to death, references to past child abuse (not explicitly described), description of panic attack, themes of loss/grief/rage, it's rough for OC in Storyline A

Prologue - When You're Lost in the Darkness

Ch. 1A - Chemtrails

Ch. 1B - Always an Angel

Ch. 2A - Coming Soon

Ch. 2B - Coming Soon

Ch. 3A - Coming Soon

Ch. 3B - Coming Soon

Ch. 4A - Coming Soon

Ch. 4B - Coming Soon

Ch. 5A - Coming Soon

Ch. 5B - Coming Soon

Ch. 6A - Coming Soon

Ch. 6B - Coming Soon

Epilogue - Coming Soon

A/N: Click here if you want to be added to the series tag list.

Book Covers (if anyone's interested lol):

#frank castle #the punisher #jon bernthal #frank castle x oc #frank castle fanfiction #marvel #daredevil #matt murdock #frank castle series #frank castle fic #two ghosts masterlist #two ghosts #two ghosts amhrosina #masterlist #marvel masterlist #amhrosina

[libraryofloveletters]

Love’s Gonna Get You Killed

Chapter Nine: All Relationships Have Their Secrets

Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Series Summery: A life long crush on the boy next door leaves you with unrequited love and regret. You wish you could take back the things that happened, to have him be yours. When you reconnect, is it far too late to fix what’s said and done?

Warnings: domestic fluff, emotional turmoil, a sex scene and bodily descriptions of such, internal cheating (take it as you will), micro being a cockblock, a few swear words, a few little arguments and bringing back my fav guy that we didn’t get enough of (his return is so random just go with it), mentions of the death of a sibling and spouse, some harsh words between reader and Frankie 

Word Count: 5,216 words

Author’s Note: this is a long one with a lot happening so have fun! one more chapter and then the epilogue. 

LGGYK taglist // series masterlist

---- 

It’s humid outside, the kind of heat that made your legs stick to the leather seats in the car. The windows rolled down all the way and the stifling heat smothering you as he pulled into the driveway. 

Frank puts the car in park, getting out and jogging around to open your door. 

His hand in yours as you get out, smiling at you and the gold band sitting snuggly on your ring finger next to the engagement ring.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Castle.” 

Wedding Day - 3 Months After The Proposal

Frank scoops you up in his arms, making you laugh and you wrap your arms around his neck. “Frank!” you giggled as he carried you up the steps of the front porch.

“What are you doing ?” You ask him, his hand shifting to reach for his keys in his pocket. He unlocked the door, pushing it open with his foot. 

“I’m carrying my bride over the threshold. What do you think I’m doing?” He smiles, carrying you through the front door. 

“This is very domestic of you.” You smile, holding onto him as he carries you up the stairs to the bedroom. He sets you down when he walks into the room. 

“We’re making up for lost time.” He hums, sitting on the edge of the bed as you walk over to the dresser. 

Frank was taking off his shoes but his eyes were on you. 

You were leaning on the dresser, elbows propping you up as you unhooked your necklace, setting it in your jewellery tray. You were taking off your earrings when Frank stood up, and you pulled the hair clip out of your hair when he wraps his arms around you. 

“Hi baby,” you smile, resting your hand atop his. Frank’s chin was on your shoulder, smiling at you in the mirror. 

It wasn't often that you got to see him smile; it truly was one of your favourite sights. 

“Hi beautiful.” Frank’s hand slides down your torso to your thigh and the hem of your white dress barely covering to your mid-thigh. 

You watch his movements in the mirror, his fingers brushing against your bare thigh. 

He moves his other hand, reaching for the zipper on the back of your dress. He gives it a tug, pulling it down in one swift pull.  His fingers grazing your shoulder, pushing the fabric off and letting the dress fall, pooling by your feet. 

“Frank,” you breathe, turning to face the man. 

The lack of dress left you bare other than your panties. Frank pulls you back to him, the two of you shifting towards the bed. He turns you so you’re now on the bed and he’s standing. You watch as the man rids his clothing piece by piece. 

Teasing him, you fan yourself with your hand. “Is it hot in here?” You ask, a wicked smile on your face. 

Frank chuckles, pulling you by your legs back to the edge of the bed. “Jesus, you could have asked me to move,” your hand cups his cheek as he leans down to kiss you. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He mumbles against your lips, now moving to kiss down your neck to your shoulder. You lean your head to the side, Frank’s fingers brushing along your torso down to between your legs. 

Without even thinking, your hips lift to meet his teasing fingers. He tsks, “patience.” He tells you as he kisses down your stomach, biting along the soft skin. 

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at your husband. “Are you gonna deny me what I want ? On our fucking wedding night?” you laughed, flopping back on the mattress. 

“Frankie, c’mon.” You whine. 

“You need me, baby?” Frank’s hovering over you, his eyes raking over your body. “Tell me how much you need me.”

“Babe,” You roll your eyes but your cheeks flushed red; you needed him but you’d never admit that to him. Frank’s hand grips your chin, pulling your focus to him. 

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t give it to you.” 

“You.” you whisper and Frank smiles to himself. “What was that?” 

You roll your eyes once again, “fuck off.”

Frank pulls away from you, moving to his side of the bed. You roll over onto your stomach, looking over at the man. “What?”

“What, what?” His brows furrow at you. “You told me to fuck off, didn’t you?”

You sit up on your knees, hands resting your thighs. “Seriously ?”

Frank’s mouth is saying no but his eyes are saying something else; running along every inch of your body, thinking about how it would feel to touch every part of you, to have you all to himself.

His body betrays him before his mind does, grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap. Frank’s hands are on your ass, squeezing it and lifting you up just enough for you to sink onto him.

The tiniest whimper slipping past your lips and your eyes flutter closed. Your head tilts back and you take a moment before you move.

Frank admired you; his wife.

You were all his.

His hands on your hips, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin - there’s no dip there. You always had a dip in your hip, didn’t you ?

Yes, you- no, you didn’t.

Maria did.

Frank scolded himself internally; don’t think about her.

Not now.

It takes you a minute before you start moving, slowly getting into a rhythm as Frank lifts his hips to meet you half way.

“Like that, doll - fuck.” Frank mutters, hands sliding up to your lower back.

You’re too focused on how full you feel to even answer him.

Your hand mindlessly reaches for his shoulder, holding yourself up. Squeezing on his shoulder, you lean into him slightly. Your lips pressed to the spot between his shoulder and collarbone.

A habit you always had because he had a scar there from when his rotator cuff was torn- fuck. That wasn’t Frank.

That was Billy.

Stop that.

Don’t think of him.

Frank’s hand on your neck pulls you back to him. “You okay baby?” He says between breaths, eyes fixed on you.

You hum and lean in to kiss him, barely meeting his lips when he flips the two of you over.

Your hand moves to his chest, resting there when Frank pulls your leg up over his shoulder. He readjusts for a moment before pushing into you again. Your back arched just enough for him to slide his arm under you, holding you up. 

Your nails digging into his chest, head tossed back when you let out an oh when he hits the spot he was looking for.

He smiles to himself, about to pull your other leg up to his shoulder when his phone starts ringing on the night stand.

“Frank,” your chest heaving, looking up at your husband.

“Ignore it.” He mumbles, pulling your leg up before leaning down to kiss you. When he leans down to kiss you, he bends your legs back, pushing into you further.

The sweetest sound slipping past your lips. 

And the phone stops buzzing but starts again.

Frank groans, his focus on you but it was clear that whoever was calling him was trying to get ahold of him.

One of your hands is pressed to Frank’s chest and the other is stretched out to grab the phone.

Micro’s name flashing big and bold across the screen.

“Hello?” You answer the call, Frank stops for a moment and looks down at you like you were insane.

Micro was rattling on about how he was so happy you two were married now- neither of you told him you were getting married today.

You look at your husband and you catch the glint of wickedness in his eyes.

Micro tells you how he needs to talk to Frank about something important.

“Mhm hm,” you hum, barely listening to the man on the phone, pushing against Frank’s chest when he thrusts into you. He doesn’t stop, just keeps going while you’re on the phone.

“He can’t come to the ph- fuck- phone.” You manage to get out and you hear a groan on the phone.

“Gross.” The man mumbles, ending the call. You toss Frank’s phone down, your hands reaching for his hair and pulling him down to you.

“You’re so fucked up,” you mutter through moans.

Frank’s forehead is pressed to yours. “You love it.”

No more phone calls and orgasms after orgasm. By the time the two of you were done, you were pretty sure your legs were jello.

Your head rests on Frank’s chest, his finger tracing little patterns on the back of your shoulder. The room was quiet, the only noise was the wind coming from the window Frank opened.

You could stay like this forever.

“I’ve gotta head out for a day or two.”

So much for forever.

You look up at the man, “what for ?” 

“Curt needs me to help him with something.” 

“An illegal something ? Actually, don’t answer that.” You pull the blanket up over the two of you, fingers tracing patterns against his chest. Frank chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. 

He tilts your chin so you're looking at him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

--- 

It’s been two days since Frank left. He and Curtis were off who knows where doing who knows what. You had spent the last two days going through the numerous boxes and bags that had been filling your guest room. 

You and Frank started over brand new; new clothes, new dishes, new furniture. 

The current project was the kitchen, unpacking the dishes from the boxes and into the cupboards. 

When you first saw the house, you were so excited about the amount of cupboard space you had and now that you had to pack stuff into it, you realize you don’t have enough stuff to fill the cupboards. 

The counters were covered in dishes; plates, cups, mugs, bowls, and anything you could ever possibly need in every colour manageable - maybe you went a little overboard at the kitchen store but whatever, you only live once. 

You’ve got all the cupboard doors open, holding up a stack of red plates and trying to figure out where to put them. The light from the window caused the rings on your finger to glisten in the sun. 

The gold bands fit snuggly next to each other, the diamond standing out between them. 

You smile to yourself, the memory of Frank proposing to you in the kitchen flooding your mind. 

The plates have found their perfect spot and you tiptoe to put them on the shelf, leaning forward to push them in. The chain around your neck swings and the ring attached to it hits you when it settles back in its place. 

You need to take this thing off. 

You need to let go; no more physical reminders. 

Unhooking the chain, you were about to head out the kitchen and up the stairs when the doorbell rings. Instead, you rest the chain on the counter and go to open the door. 

“Good afternoon, y/n!” Luke smiled at you. 

Luke was the mailman and the only person you saw other than Frank on a regular basis. He had grown close to you in the few months you two had been living there and because you were the last stop on the route, the two of you spent a lot of afternoons on the porch, chatting away about your love life and his husband, James and their kids. 

“Hi Luke, how are you ?” You lean on the door, the man smiles. “I’m good, how are you and Frank?” 

“We’re good, how’s James ?” 

“James is good, he’s with the kids today. They’re have a daddy and me day without me.” He laughs, reaching into the bag to pull out a few envelopes. 

“These are for you,” he hands them over to you. 

There's a big thick envelope at the bottom of the pile. “You and James should bring the kids over one day. We could have a barbecue and I’m sure the kids would love the space to play; Frank and I never use the yard.” You smile. 

James nods, “They’d love that! I’ll give you a call for sure.” 

“Of course. I won’t hold you up, go home to your kiddos.” 

“Have a good weekend, y/n!” Luke calls out to you as he heads down the steps. “You too!” 

The stack of smaller envelopes were bills, marketers and advertisements but it was the big one that you were interested in. You drop the other envelopes on the coffee table, looking over the big white envelope. 

There’s nothing on it other than your address and the word sweetheart scribbled on it. 

Who the hell sends mail with no name ? 

The handwriting seems familiar. 

A chill runs down your spine and suddenly you feel like you’re not alone in the house. You drop the envelope on the coffee table and peep out the windows-  they’re locked so was the front door. 

The backdoor leading into the yard was locked as well, you know you didn’t open any of the windows upstairs so why do you feel like you're not alone? 

Quietly, you walk towards the table and pick up the envelope. You’re sitting on the couch, ripping it open. You pour the contents of the envelope out onto the table; a stack of papers and some keys. 

The keys were yours. The letter keychain that matched your name and a little heart that Billy had brought for you at the fair hanging on the bunch. 

Billy was out of the hospital and he knew you had gone to the apartment. 

You pick up the papers and as you look them over, you realize that it’s the same ones that you saw on Billy’s dining room table; contracts for the sale of Anvil and your name was on it. 

He gave you his company. 

Billy left Anvil to you. 

You aren't really sure what to do or how to react. You just sit there, staring at the papers in disbelief. Flipping through the pages, you can’t find a single phone number to contact Billy or the lawyers he had signed the documents. 

The contracts say that he’s left you 100% of Anvil, everything is yours. 

You do the first thing that comes to mind, grabbing the papers and running up the stairs to the bedroom. You had a box stored away in the back of the clothes, buried under all the shoe boxes that contained all the leftover remnants of your past life with Billy. 

You stuff the papers in the box, shutting it and putting it back in its spot. You shut the closet door and sit on the bed. 

Do you call Billy ? Do you call Frank? 

What the fuck do you do in this situation ? 

The phone sat in your hand with the contacts opened. 

Billy. 

Frank. 

Micro. 

Micheal.

Matt. 

You clicked the name and the phone rang, you sat cross legged, chipping at the green nail polish on your fingers as you waited for someone to pick up. 

“Nelson and Murdock, Matt Murdock speaking.” He answers.

“Matt, hey. It’s y/n, can we talk?”

“Of course, is everything okay?” You can hear some shuffling on his side before you speak. 

“So I know you practice criminal law and I’m a corporate lawyer so I can answer my own questions but you’re well versed in the laws of New York, no?” 

“I am,” Matt hums, “Are you okay? Did he do something ?” 

He being Frank.

“No, um..” You pause. “So if you found out your ex fiancé is basically a war criminal and then you left him, and then he kidnaps you but then lets you go and leaves you his company; I could sell it, right? Hypothetically, of course.” 

Matt’s silent on his side of the line, but it was like you could hear him thinking.

“Well, hypothetically speaking, selling the company and investing the money into something that isn’t tied to him would be your best option, in my opinion.” 

“That's what I thought.” 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, the concern genuine in his voice. 

“I’m fine. Thank you, Matt.” 

“Of course, call me anytime, okay?”

“Take care.” you hang up. 

You scroll aimlessly on through your contacts, the list full of people you haven’t spoken to in years. You come across a number you haven’t dialled in a long time. 

Not since you first returned to New York, before the trial, before Billy. 

Guilt was sinking in for not calling but it’s not like he'd be able to answer anyways. 

You hit the name, the line trills; ringing, ringing, ringing, rings out. 

Hi, this is Micheal. Sorry I'm unavailable to take your call. Leave a message and I'll try to get back to you soon!  

You kept his number in service all these years. You couldn’t bear to forget the sound of his voice. It wasn't often that you called the number but you did when you needed to get something off your chest or if something major happened. 

You can count all of the times you called him. 

When you left for North Western. When you became a lawyer. When you moved back to New York. 

When you saw Frank again after all those years. 

When Billy proposed to you. 

When Frank proposed to you. 

and now you’re calling again. 

The line beeps and you leave your message; “Mikey, I don’t know what to do.” 

“Billy left Anvil to me and now Frank and I are married; it’s so complicated.” You groan, falling back onto the pillows. 

“I don’t know what to do or where to turn. I miss you. I wish you were here.” You whisper into the phone, wiping your wet cheek; you hadn't even realized you were crying. 

“I love you, Michael.” 

The line beeps - “mailbox full.” 

You sit up, setting your phone on the nightstand. You walk to the bathroom, wiping away the tears and drying your face. The sound of the door opening startles you and you step out of the bathroom.

“I’m home!” Frank shouts from downstairs and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You jog down the stairs, finding the man in the kitchen. 

“Hi honey, how was your thing?” you ask, Frank turns to face you and his face has a few scratches and a little bruise by his chin. “What happened?” your hand on his chin, tilting his face to check the marks. 

Frank smiles, “I should be asking you what happened here.” He glances around the kitchen, the rest of the dishes all over the counter. 

“Oh,” you chuckle, “I was packing up.”

You lean on the counter, the necklace resting beside a stack of plates. Frank joins you, his hand resting on the counter, pushing a stack of plates a little too close to the edge causing it to fall and break. 

He takes a step back, his hands grabbing your arms to pull you back from the broken ceramics on the floor. “Fuck, I’m sorry baby.” He bends down, picking up the pieces and chucking them into the trash. 

Something sparkly catches his eye - your necklace. 

Frank picks up the chain, holding it up to you. “I believe this is yours.” The diamond ring swung slightly in the middle of the silver chain. 

He watches how your eyes widen at the sight of him holding it. You reach for the chain and he pulls it back, standing up. “Isn’t this your engagement ring from Billy ?” 

“It is.” Your eyes fixed on Frank, he swings the chain around so the ring is in the palm of his hand. “Big rock.” he comments at the size of the diamond, handing the chain over to you. 

You hum, “it’s just a piece of jewellery.” 

“Okay.” Frank turns, picking up the pieces of the broken plates. “I’ll finish cleaning up. Why don't you head up to bed?” He suggests, reaching for the broom from beside the fridge. 

“I can help you,” you go to take the broom from him but Frank pulls away. “It’s fine.” He says sternly.

Sighing, you walk the other way, stopping as you reach the stairs. “It's the same as you wearing your wedding band.” you look back at Frank. 

He doesn’t say anything but he knows you aren’t referring to the band on his finger. He had opted for a silver band this time, different from the gold one that hung around his neck.

Maria had picked it out. A plain gold band with a little XO engraved on the inside.

Frank watches as you head up the stairs and waits until you’re out of sight to finish cleaning up.

——

It’s half past one in the afternoon when the smell of paint wakes you. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and slide your hand over to the other side of the bed only to find it empty.

Frank must be up.

He did this often; anytime you two couldn’t agree on something or if you fought, he’d make himself busy so he didn’t have to deal with it.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging from your warm bed into the hallway but not before picking up your robe. The smell only grew stronger from there and you followed it into the guest bedroom.

Frank has his back to you, standing on a small ladder as he painted the top of the wall in the bright shade of sunflower yellow you had ever seen.

You’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes when he turns when he hears your voice. “Why are you up so early?”

He studies you for a moment, taking you in like you were the only thing on the planet; leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across your chest in your silk robe. Your hair was messy and your face puffy as if you had just woken up which he’s sure you did.

Even like this, Frank still looked like you were the only woman on the planet, like you held the stars and the moon in your hands.

Frank dips the paintbrush in the can before swiping it on the wall. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

You hum, walking over to the window and opening it. “The smell is giving me a headache.” You say, glancing between the man and the window.

There’s a big oak tree in the yard, you hadn’t noticed it before. The leaves shaded the room in a way that gave it enough light without making it overbearing. This specific room had a feeling that you couldn’t shake.

This was real.

You were standing in the guest bedroom of your house with your husband, watching him paint the walls.

This was some domestic fairytale you were stuck in, wasn’t it? And we all know fairytales don’t exist.

“Do you like the colour?” Frank asks you, breaking the silence. 

“I do,” you smile to yourself, leaning on the window ledge, watching the wind blow the leaves through the yard. “Do you?”

Frank steps off the ladder, looking over his paint job.“It’s… bright.”

“I think it brings some life into the room.”

“Nice for a nursery.” He says, the words causing you to turn to face him.

You’re smiling now, the words pulling on your heart strings. “What?”

“You know, one day if we have kids. I mean it’s not like they care what colour the room is, they’re babies.” He smiles to himself.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Frank walks over, his hands on your waist and he’s pulling you into him. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

You slide your hands down Frank’s chest, smiling. “I love you too.”

“Why don’t you go on and order something for lunch or we can make something.” Frank gives your ass a smack as you go to walk out the room.

“I’ll cook!” You call back to the man, walking out of the room.

It’s been a while since you decided to make breakfast and you’ve got a pan on the stove, turning it on low when the door bell rings. 

It’s Sunday, who the hell could be at the door? 

Luke doesn’t deliver today, did Micro stop by for some reason? 

There’s a knock on the door this time, “coming!” you shout while walking to the door. 

When you open it, there's no one there. 

You peek out the door, the porch was empty too. You step out, walking around the porch but there’s no one out there. As you go to step back inside, there's an envelope on the welcome mat. 

‘Mr. & Mrs. Castle.’ 

“Frank!” You shout for your husband as you walk in, “Frankie! Come down here!” 

“Hold on woman!” He was wiping his hands on his pants as he jogged down the steps. The expression on your face was enough to let him know that something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” 

You grab his hand, pulling him to the door. The envelope was left on the doormat still sitting there. Frank grabs the envelope and looks outside before shutting the door and bringing it in. He rips the envelope, pouring the contents onto the counter; photos of you and Frank, ranging from the moment you left Billy to up to three days ago when Frank carried you through the front door. 

He moves the photos around and you pick up the piece of paper that was in the mix of photographs. There's a receipt for the diner you and Frank used to go to for an order of blueberry pancakes and hot chocolate with whipped cream on the bill. 

There's a shadow printing through the paper and when you turn it, there’s two words scribbled onto the back. 

Always watching. 

Frank peeps over your shoulder, looking down at the receipt in your hand. “Frank..” 

“Go pack. We’re getting out of here for a few days.” He gathers the photos, throwing them in the trash can. 

“Frank, listen to me.” The man was walking around the house and you walked after him, grabbing his arm. “Frank, stop!” 

He turns, facing you finally. “What don’t you understand? Go pack.” 

Holding up the receipt, you point to the words on the back. “That same handwriting was on an envelope I got in the mail before you go home yesterday.” 

Frank’s brows furrowed, face hardening when you mention you got something yesterday. “What was it?” 

“Contracts.” You inhale, “From Billy.” And exhale. 

Frank stayed quiet, waiting for you to expand on that. “Billy.. he left Anvil to me. It’s mine.” You failed to mention the fact that Billy knew you went by the apartment and sent back your keys as if you were coming back. 

“Are you keeping it?” He asks as if it was a child. 

You pause, you hadn’t given much thought into it but the gut answer was yes. 

“I am.” 

The man hums, the two of you standing in the middle of the living room staring at the other. Tension building by the second and there’s so many unspoken words that you both know are gonna come out at some point or the other. 

He finally speaks up, “get rid of it.” 

“What?” you ask, arms folding across your chest. “Anvil is his entire heart. He put everything into that place and he left it to me, not you. I won’t get rid of it and it's not your place to tell me to do so.” 

“He’s lost his fucking mind, y/n. Are you so blinded by the memories of the man you thought you knew that you forgot that he kidnapped you? Held a gun to your head? He tried to fucking kill you!” Frank shouts, scoffing as he takes a few steps back. 

“You need to get rid of whatever shit you’re holding on too.” 

This time, you’re the one to scoff, rolling your eyes at his comment. “Me? I need to let go ? You’re still holding onto your dead wife.” 

Frank pauses, his heart breaking at your words. 

“Just because he killed Maria doesn’t mean he'd kill me.” The harsh words roll off your tongue like butter on toast.

You were pissed but you didn’t mean it. You knew how much Maria meant to Frank and there is never a doubt in your mind that he loved her more than he loved you. 

She is the mother of his children but you, you were his great love, his first love; forever and always.

Your words ripped Frank's heart out of his chest. 

How could you say that? Out of all of the things you could've ever said to him, that was the worst. 

Frank wasn't sure if he should yell or cry or scream so he just stood there, looking at you, frozen.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife and Frank, he couldn't take it. He walks out, leaving you alone in the living room. It wasn't until a few seconds later that you registered Frank was gone. You hear the door open, some shuffling and then it slams shut.

Your feet are moving before your brain registers that you’re running, from the living room to the front door. 

“Frank!” You shout, running out the door, leaving the door wide open. 

“Frank!” You shout again, you loop around the porch and down the steps into the yard.  

You’re running as far as your feet can carry you, screaming for him. Eventually, you stop; your feet ache and there's only so many places in the yard he could have been.

Making your way to the porch again, you sit on the swing in the back. You take a few moments to catch your breath before something pulls your attention. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

The fire alarm blares, the fucking pan was on the stove and you didn’t shut it off. You get up, pulling on the backdoor but it’s locked. You run around to the front door, pushing it open as you head to the kitchen. 

There was no fire but the pan was smoking, the butter in the pan now burnt and black. You take the pan off the burner, setting to the side and turning off the stove. You grab the hand towel, fanning the smoke alarm to shut it off. 

When it stops blaring, you crack the kitchen window open and begin fanning the smoke out the room. 

With all the commotion, you hadn't noticed the person laying on the couch. From the kitchen, you could only see their feet hanging over the edge of the arm rest. 

Frank was back. 

“Frankie,” you sigh, walking over to him. “Baby, I'm so sorry.” You apologize, not seeing his face yet. 

The man on the couch stared at you: arms folded behind his head, deep brown eyes, scars littered across his pale cheeks and a sinister smile on his face. 

“I always told you that mouth of yours would get you in trouble, didn’t I ?” 

---- 

taglist: @halsteadssneakylink  @murdockcastleslut @valntyne94 @bernthalbabe43 @gwyn-hader @lselnerys  @aestheticpisces @untoldshortsofthefandoms @inspiterisingwaters @pumpkin-stars @fruityfucker @thatpinkb1tchesworld @elisaa-shelby @pussyf4iry @andrewgarfieldmybeloved @hayley-the-comet  @mewothbry @trinkets01 @Its-fandom-darling @nats-whore @softieekayy @mclting @badasseddy @capbrie @bxxbxy @juneonhoth @mr-robot-x @siezethenights @tossacoin2yourwitcher @strawb3rrydr3ss @lorosette @sarcasm-n-insomnia @bxxbxy @quackson03 @anti-herosprettybby @ungratefultroll @xxcastleloverxx @kaqua @bellastellaluna @margoo0 @ack3rlevi  @merleisapartygod @inpraizeof @maddiewinchester101 @monkeysandmacaroni @monkeyluver4546​ @calaveramangonada​

#love’s gonna get you killed series #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo #billy russo x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #david lieberman

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Stitches // BONUS

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Summary: It's mother's day!

Warnings: mention of smut at the end

This is very short and sweet <3 Happy Mother's Day to all mothers, aunts and caregivers out there today!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 BONUS

MASTERLIST

---

"Happy mother's day Mariah." 

Frank placed a bouquet of her favourite flowers on her grave, kissed the tips of his fingers and touched her headstone. Although he now had a lovely lady waiting back at home for him and a new family of his own, he'd never forget the three that were no longer there with him.

"Dada..dada.." Rowan babbled away in his father's arms, pinching Frank’s cheeks with his chubby hands.

"Alright buddy, let's go." 

Leaving the cemetery behind, Frank headed for his truck to strap Rowan into his seat and got in before pulling away from the curb. He left Y/N in bed this morning to get her some flowers and a few other things to surprise her with during the course of the day. Frank wanted her to sleep in today without any disturbances hence he brought Rowan along with him.

The drive home wasn't a long one, Frank pulled up to the curb and killed the engine before getting out to get to his son as well as the stuff he bought.  Rowan had spent the entire drive back babbling and squealing in delight while he played with his toy that played music with each button he pressed. Frank swore he was going to shove that toy down Foggy's throat whenever he saw him again.

Once the front door was shut behind them, he placed the toddler on the ground and handed him the bouquet of white lilies.

"Take this to mummy, Row." Frank whispered to the child who eagerly walked off to the dining table where Y/N was having her cup of coffee.

"Mum..mum." 

"Oh my goodness, thank you baby." Y/N took the bouquet from his tiny hands and kissed his cheeks before he could run off to play with his toys in the living room. Frank walked over to her and tipped her head back using his thumb and index finger.

"Happy mother's day sweetheart." 

"Thank you." He leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Get a room you two." Amy joined the pair at the table causing them to break apart as she wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck from behind, kissing her cheek in the process.

"Happy mother's day, thank you for being such a great mom to Rowan and I, love you Y/N." 

"I love you too Amy." 

"I got you a few other things." Frank placed the bag in front of her and she dug through the contents. He'd gotten her the chocolates she loved as well as some other things she'd been craving for lately. 

"I appreciate it. Now, who's hungry?" Amy took that as her cue to get started on breakfast, brushing off Y/N’s offer to help.

"Just know that this was the savory gift I could've given you around those two. Tonight you're all mine." Frank lightly nibbled on her ear, teasing her. 

Y/N bit down on her bottom lip just thinking about the sex that they were going to have once they went to bed for that night.

"You're such a tease Mr. Castle." 

---

MARVEL Taglist:

@dorks2022 @sophiaedits @peakascum @anonymoustip217 @iiddaaa @panaitbeatrice @n3ssm0nique @mintphoenix @inas-thing @sketch-and-write-lover @friskae @bernthalbabe43 @trinkets01 @blackcat420 @justreadingficsdontmindme @bakingpotatoes21 @hardcoppizzasludge @tanyaherondale @creatingjana @calimoi @rootcrop @louisianalady @chrisfucksblog @thummbelina @vicmc624 @leyannrae @janaev4ns @queenofkings1212 @believinghurts @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @stumbleonmywords @youarethereasonimsmiling @juxtaposition-exe @wanda-1 @katzenwahnsinn @v0idl1nq @winksasleeplesseye

#frank castle x you #frank castle imagines #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle series #frank castle smut #the punisher smut #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher imagine #marvel imagine #jon bernthal x you #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader

[chvoswxtch]

teach me

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you want frank to teach you self defense, but it doesn't quite go the way you expected.

warnings: swearing, some angst, mentions of guns, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.3k

a/n: what better way to end this year and start the new one than with our favorite hot bodyguard. don't ask me how many times I watched that scene with him and amy. it was for science. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

“You’re being a dick.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to learn.”

“You’re still being a dick.”

“Yeah yeah, you ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me, sweetheart. Now c’mon, try again.”

It was a good thing the cabin was isolated in the middle of the woods, because if anyone had been looking in the living room window at that very moment, they would’ve definitely called the police in horror. Frank had a gun in his right hand that was trained on you, and while he wore a neutral expression on his face, your brows were furrowed in pure annoyance and there was a faint scowl on your lips.

Letting out a huff of irritation, you kept your eyes focused on the gun in Frank’s hand, getting back into somewhat of a fighting stance again. Clenching your hands open and closed a few times, your teeth sank down into your bottom lip before you suddenly rushed forward in an endeavor to take the gun out of his hand. 

But just like he had done the past seven times you tried this, Frank easily managed to block your attempt. He grabbed your wrist in his free hand and spun you around swiftly, pulling you back firmly against his chest while a deep chuckle sounded right next to your ear.

“That was real cute.”

Letting go of you, Frank took a step back and lightly pressed at the back of your knee with the heel of his boot, sending you down to your knees below him. He decided to take it a step further and used the toe of his boot to gently shove at your ass, causing your hands to fly out to catch yourself, rendering you on all fours in front of him. Turning to narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth let you know that was very intentional.

“You know, if you wanted me on my knees, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Grumbling a string of curses under your breath, you pushed yourself back up onto your feet and turned around to shoot a death glare in Frank’s direction. His plush lips instantly parted into a crooked grin while he looked at you, cocking his head to the side slightly while his eyes twinkled in amusement.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, hm?”

“I already told you, you’re being a dick. You’re supposed to be teaching me-”

“Then why don’t you quit actin’ like you know everythin’ and start askin’ questions, yeah?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what questions to ask? I asked you to teach me. Teach me means tell me what to do.”

“And when have you ever done what I told ya to?”

As you opened your mouth to protest, Frank arched one of his thick brows and shot you a pointed look, and your rebuttal quickly died on your tongue. You did have a history of ignoring his instructions completely and doing whatever you wanted anyway. With that in mind, you let out a deep exhale through your nose and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, that’s…fair. But this is completely out of my area of expertise. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a gun until four days ago. And for the record, when it comes to something serious, I do listen to you. This is serious, and I’m listening.”

Originally when you asked Frank to teach you self defense with a gun, he was completely against it. He made the argument that with him around, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, to which you reminded him of the incident where two people tried to kill you in your own home where you had nothing to protect yourself with and no knowledge of how to in the first place. 

The two of you went back and forth about it for at least an hour. He made the case that it was a one time incident that would never happen again, and argued that nothing was ever going to happen to you in the first place anyway because he showed up to take care of it. You argued back that Frank wouldn’t be by your side twenty-four seven anymore and would eventually be assigned to someone else, possibly taking him far away for extended periods of time.

In the end, you wore him down like you usually did until he gave in and you got your way.

Frank took in the impatient and stubborn expression covering your features, the one he had become all too familiar with and grown to adore. You were a force to be reckoned with when you wanted something, just as much as he was. Even though he didn’t want you to ever have a reason to use a gun, he would rather know you were safe and could handle yourself in his absence if it came down to it. 

“Alright, alright. Wipe that pout off your face and c’mere.”

Doing your best to conceal your tiny smile of victory, you went to stand in front of Frank, but he held his large hand out to stop you and motioned for you to move back a little.

“Keep your distance, okay? You don’t wanna be too close. Now, step one.”

Frank reached out to grab your wrist and brought your hand up towards the barrel of the gun, placing his large hand on top of your own and squeezing gently to signal for you to grab onto it. Once he felt your tight grip on the barrel, he slid his hand over to grab onto your forearm and pushed against it, which caused the gun in his right hand to shift directions. It was no longer aimed at you, but pointed at the wall to your left.

“You wanna take the gun offline, yeah? Look.”

Glancing up at him briefly, you nodded to show him that you were paying attention. When he pulled your arm back in the position it was before, aiming the gun at you once again, you quickly redirected your focus back to his large hands. To reiterate what he was trying to explain to you, Frank repeated his demonstration two more times to make sure you understood.

“Offline, right? Offline, right? And push hard, as hard as you can.”

While Frank’s eyes were locked on you as he demonstrated the first step, you were studying his movements, committing every detail to memory. It seemed simple enough in theory so far. Keep your distance, grab the barrel of the gun, and push it away from yourself hard. When he let go of your arm, you let go of the gun, and you looked up to see that Frank was already watching you.

“Show me.”

Without hesitating, you swiftly reached out to grab the barrel of the gun and forcefully pushed it to the left. Frank let you redirect it to a certain point, and then pushed back to hold the gun in place. His strength was something you couldn’t combat, and as you kept pushing at the barrel, his resistance  made the gun almost wobble in your hands. 

“Attagirl. Easy, easy. Relax.”

Frank reached out with his left hand and grabbed onto your wrist, gently squeezing it to steady your hand.

“Alright, now step two, you go for that wrist, yeah? You get control. Go.”

Immediately you reached out with your right hand to wrap your fingers around Frank’s wrist to grab onto it tightly. Giving a slight shake of his head, Frank pulled your hand off of his wrist and guided it underneath his wrist instead.

“Look, underneath, yeah? Underneath. Go for the joint. Joints are weakest.”

Everything Frank was showing you seemed so simple that it filled you with a false sense of confidence. With your right hand under his right wrist, you gripped onto the barrel tightly with your left hand and took a step back as you tried to tug it away, thinking it would spring loose. Frank let out a grunt of disapproval and pulled his right arm back, easily slipping the gun out of your grasp completely and causing you to stumble forward a bit. He had a somewhat stern look on his face as he wagged the gun in your direction twice.

“Easy, bang bang. Don’t ever pull a gun towards you. You push it away.”

Letting out a huff of annoyance as your previous overzealous confidence fizzled out, you looked up at Frank as he held his left hand out towards you to signal for you to stay in place. He wasn’t teasing you anymore like he had been earlier. This wasn't Frank that had made you strawberry pancakes and caressed your legs while they sat in his lap as the two of you shared breakfast this morning. This was Frank that nearly sent your ex to the morgue instead of prison. He was back in full protective bodyguard mode.

“Listen to me. Use your legs, get underneath, and twist. Don’t pull, twist. Yeah? C’mon, show me.”

Taking a deep breath, you gave a slight nod and went over the steps in your head. Grab the barrel of the gun, shove it away from yourself, slip your other hand under the wrist joint, and twist the gun away. Your lips faintly twitched as you silently recited the steps to yourself three times for good measure. Frank didn’t make a move to rush you. He kept his eyes on you and waited patiently until you were ready to give it a try. 

Sucking in one more deep breath, your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you sprung into action. Taking a quick step forward, you reached out to tightly grab the barrel of the gun with your left hand, and while you pushed it away to the left, you simultaneously slipped your right hand under Frank’s wrist. Twisting the barrel of the gun forcefully to the right caused Frank’s wrist to twist with it until he was forced to let go, and in that short window of weakness you were able to pull the gun out of his hand with a hard step backwards.

Glancing down at the gun in your hands, your eyes went wide with surprise and your mouth hung open as you let out an incredulous laugh. 

“Holy shit, that actually worked!”

Frank held his hands up like you had just made a touchdown, and he started to clap as a proud tooth bearing grin stretched over his lips.

“Look at that, huh? Who got a gun, huh?”

Looking up at Frank, your lips parted into a huge grin of your own while you held it up like a trophy and spoke in a proud voice.

“I have a gun.”

“Attagirl. You’re goddamn right you do. You did good, sweetheart. Real good. Feels good, yeah?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let out a soft laugh while admiring the gun in your hands. Well, more so admiring the fact that you were able to actually take it from Frank. The only reason you felt comfortable holding the gun right now was because Frank had shown you the clip was empty before he started demonstrating the basics earlier. 

Pointing a loaded gun at Steven had been different. You were blinded in a fit of rage, not thinking clearly, but deep down you knew there was no way you would have actually pulled the trigger. However if you had been level headed, you probably wouldn’t have taken it from Billy, even if he offered. 

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

And it did feel good. It made you feel strong…less helpless. Frank was giving you back a sense of safety and security that had been stolen from you when you were first threatened by the Defenders of Freedom. Even if you never used this lesson, and you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t have to, you felt a surge of confidence knowing that you were at least capable of protecting yourself in some capacity. 

“Okay, step three.”

A pinch of confusion settled between your brows as you looked up at Frank when he mentioned a third step, and you noticed that he wasn’t smiling anymore. A grim look had settled over his features that sent a chill of unease down your spine.

“You just took a gun off someone that wanted to use it on you. What d’you do.”

The delight of pride had disappeared from his face and was swiftly replaced by a shadow of severity that was now coveting his sharp features, and the elated grin that was on your own lips had slowly fallen from grace. It was a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to, but you hadn’t factored in a third step. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, and Frank could see that in your eyes.

“You use it on them. Don’t matter who they are, you do not hesitate. You got that?”

Looking down at the gun in your hands, the weight of it was suddenly too heavy in your palms. Step three was a reminder that step one and two weren’t just to boost your confidence in protecting yourself; they were steps to defend yourself. Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head in silent understanding.

“Good. Show me.”

Frank’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. Placing both of your hands on the gun the way he had shown you to properly hold it, you took a deep breath, slowly raising it to aim in Frank’s direction. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he knew the clip was empty, or that this most likely wasn’t the first time he had stared down the barrel of a gun, but he looked completely unphased. The canvas of his face was expressionless, but his eyes were what you had learned to read. Only right now, you couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell you. 

The gun trembled slightly in your grasp, as if every cell in your body knew exactly how wrong it felt to point a gun at Frank, loaded or not. The self defense lesson you wanted for a possible yet highly improbable scenario had quickly become too heavy and realistic, and you were quickly regretting even asking for it.

“Show me.”

“I’m not doing that-”

“It ain’t loaded-”

“Frank, I don’t want to-”

“What’d I say, huh? I don’t care who it is, you do not hesitate. Ever. Now, show me you understand.”

Frank’s tone was a little more forceful, but the volume of it was still even and somewhat soft. You knew there were no repercussions if you didn’t pull the trigger. He had learned early on that he couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to, and you trusted him enough to know that he would never try to force you. Frank never demanded anything of you, he always asked.

But you had asked for this, and he wanted you to follow through with it.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a shaky exhale through your nose, and you slowly squeezed the trigger like he had taught you to yesterday when you were out in the woods using cans as target practice. The click that sounded caused you to flinch, and it seemed to echo loudly in the living room. Frank on the other hand didn’t visibly react to it at all.

Without another word, you placed the gun down onto the coffee table a little too forcefully and headed towards the back door, wanting to put as much distance between it and yourself as possible. Frank caught your wrist before you could get too far and gently tugged you back towards himself.

“Hey-”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“No, you ain’t. You ain’t runnin’ away, you’re gonna stay here and talk to me. We ain’t doin’ that not communicatin’ shit. Why are you upset?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that-”

“You asked me to teach you. I said no, but you kept on beggin’. What did you think this was gonna be, huh? You think you get a gun off someone, and it ends there? No. As soon as you get control and take it, you use it. No negotiatin’, no questionin’ it, you do it-”

“And what if I can’t, Frank?”

The distress in your voice made him pause and clench his jaw. He could see that you were visibly upset, and for a moment he wondered if he was being too hard on you. You said it yourself, this was not your area of expertise. It was his. Frank had years of professional training under his belt. Pulling a trigger was something he didn’t even have to think twice about. It was an automatic response. The aftermath of what followed didn’t even make him bat an eye. There were always casualties in war. 

But you weren’t a soldier, and having to actually pull the trigger on someone would be something that haunted you for the rest of your life if it came down to it.

Letting out a deep exhale through his large nose, Frank stepped forward and wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you into his embrace while using his other hand to slip his fingers gently into your hair to brush it back before cradling your face in his right hand.

“Listen to me. If it comes down to you, or someone else, you do whatever you gotta do to save yourself, you got that?”

The rational part of your brain knew that Frank was right. If you had taken a gun from Cavella or Walker, you would’ve had to shoot them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill you if they had it. But the emotional part of your brain was struggling to figure out if you could handle the consequences of taking someone’s life, justified or not. Frank could see the internal conflict in your eyes, and he lightly brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone as the rough timbre of his voice broke the tense silence.

“Hey, no one’s sayin’ you gotta shoot ‘em point blank, alright? I’ve seen your aim, and it ain’t all that great anyway. You’d be lucky to scare ‘em off with firin’ a terrible shot just so you could get away.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you let out a dry laugh. As much as you wanted to be annoyed, he was right. You were terrible. You didn’t hit a single can yesterday, even at close range. You did manage to scare the shit out of some crows in a tree though.

“You are such an ass.”

The edge of Frank’s mouth twitched up into a light smirk while giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“And you’re cute thinkin’ you could actually do some damage. I know a blind guy that can hit targets better than you. Look, you gotta stop gettin’ upset ‘bout things that might not even happen, alright? If it ever comes down to it, remember that you’re the one controllin’ the gun, yeah? It ain’t controllin’ you. Wherever you aim, the bullet’s gonna go. You can shoot ‘em in the leg, foot, shoulder, hell shoot ‘em in the dick for all I care. That’ll keep ‘em down for a while. You just promise me you’ll pull that trigger. You get ‘em down however you want, and then you get the hell outta there. That’s all you gotta do, yeah?”

Frank dipped his head to catch your eyes, staring intently into them. Letting out a deep breath, you bit down on your bottom lip and nodded while placing your hands on Frank’s biceps. You could do that. Injuring someone just to get away was a lot more manageable for your conscience. Frank lightly grasped your jaw in his large hand, his bottom three fingers wrapping around your throat while his index finger and thumb held your jaw. He tipped your head back so that you had no choice but to look up at him.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

Staring up into his warm brown eyes, you gazed up at him silently for a moment before speaking.

“No hesitating. I promise.”

“Attagirl. C’mere.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a soft and sweet kiss. Sometimes it amazed you how easily he was able to talk you down from the ledge. Frank was a man of few words, but he somehow always knew exactly which ones to say to ease whatever anxieties were weighing on your mind. And the distraction of his plush lips against yours also certainly helped.

Ever since the other night by the fireplace, every kiss between the two of you that started out soft and sweet had a way of evolving into something more passionate and insatiable. Maybe it was the months of denying your feelings for one another, or maybe there was just some magnetic pull between your souls, but whatever it was, neither of you could get enough.

Before you could even register that you were moving, Frank was lifting you up by your hips and setting you down on the dining table, his hungry kisses leaving a searing path along your jawline and down the column of your neck.

“Did good today, sweetheart. Did real goddamn good, made me so proud.”

Frank’s gravely songs of praise in your ear only further ignited the flame of desire that was burning in your lower belly. Despite the warmth of his large palm touching your bare skin as he slipped it underneath your shirt to caress your lower back, a shiver teasingly tumbled down your spine from the contact.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Nah, I think you’re just a natural, baby.”

“I thought I had terrible aim?”

“Didn’t say you were perfect. Everybody’s got their strengths and weaknesses.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you could feel the rumble of Frank’s deep chuckle vibrating in his chest that was pressed against yours.

“Wow, you really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Castle.”

Frank pulled back slightly to look down at you, his eyes traveling over your figure to drink in the sight of you sitting on the edge of the dining table before they slowly wandered back up to meet your gaze. He arched one of his thick brows as a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yours are currently danglin’, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort with a smartass comment of your own, Frank’s mouth was back on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. Feeling his tongue gliding along your collarbone and giving it a delectable love bite, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, granting Frank all the access he wanted to your skin.

The feeling of his lips on your neck was so heavenly you almost didn’t notice that he had popped the button on your jeans and tugged down your zipper until he was lifting you up slightly with one arm around your waist and pulling the denim down your hips with his free hand. As soon as your jeans were completely off, your own hands were reaching for Frank’s belt buckle, but he grasped your wrists and halted your attempt. A soft noise of protest quickly slipped past your lips.

“Frank-”

“Shh shh shh. Spread your legs for me, baby.”

A rush of heat pooled in your cheeks at his request, but you obliged immediately. Frank leaned in to kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip and nipping at it softly while his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties and slipped them off too slowly for your liking. The sudden contact of the crisp autumn air coming in through the open windows hitting your slicked folds had you gasping, and Frank used that to his advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth to caress your own sensually. 

“Spread ‘em wider for me, sweetheart. C’mon.”

Frank’s deep voice was quiet, but it nestled in your ears as comfortably as it did between your thighs. He pulled you a little more towards the edge of the dining table, and when you spread your legs further for him, he sank down to his knees in front of you and let out a low groan of appreciation at the sight waiting for him. 

“Attagirl, that’s it. God, look at you. You should see how fuckin’ pretty you look right now, baby.”

His large hands gripped onto your soft thighs, kneading and squeezing your flesh with his thick fingers. Frank didn’t waste a second before diving into your cunt face first. As soon as his warm and wet tongue began to strum your clit like chords to his favorite song, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. He brought your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his face so deep into your core, you weren’t sure how he was breathing.

Your hand quickly found a fistful of his slightly grown out hair that you gripped onto to steady yourself, and when you gave it an experimental tug, the vibration of his groan against your clit had your thighs trembling more than any toy you had ever gotten for yourself before.

“Fuck…Frank…”

Frank let out a loud grunt as he pulled back for just a moment to stare at your glistening pussy almost in awe, his hooded eyes briefly meeting your own for a second before focusing back on the display of your desire for him.

“Taste so good sweetheart, so fuckin’ good. You got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He dove right back in, this time slipping his tongue inside of you to explore while using his large nose to bump against your clit repeatedly. The stimulation had your back arching off the dining table and a loud moan echoed throughout the cabin. Tugging harder at his dark roots, you pushed your hips up against his face, desperately and greedily searching for more. None of your exes had ever eaten you out like this before. Most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were doing, and the rest gave up after a few minutes because it “took too long”, but still expected you to suck them off until your jaw ached.

But Frank…God, Frank knew what he was doing. His thick fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, following your hips wherever they went. The groans that continued to vibrate against your clit not only turned you on because of their stimulation, but because you could tell that Frank was genuinely enjoying eating your pussy. The fact that he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were had you on the brink of an orgasm alone. Frank had a way of making every experience feel brand new, and it made you realize just how much you had been missing out on in your previous relationships.

That familiar bubbly feeling was building up inside of you, cresting slowly like a tidal wave ready to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting beach. Your breaths were coming out in short staccato variations, and at this point you were roughy tugging at Frank’s hair with both hands while essentially fucking his face. Not that he seemed to mind at all. If anything, it just seemed to make him more feral.

“Yesyesyesyes…please-fuck, Frank…I…I…”

Frank pulled you even closer towards the edge of the dining table to where your ass was basically hanging off of it, and the jolt of his large palm smacking against your ass was the only indication you got that he understood what you were trying to tell him.

You thought you had more time, but your climax suddenly crashed into you without further warning, and your hips were stuttering as Frank continued his incessant assault on your pussy with his tongue. It seemed like he didn’t want to let a drop of your essence go to waste, and while you appreciated his enthusiasm, the way he was flicking his tongue rapidly against your overstimulated clit was riding that very thin line between pain and pleasure, and you were weakly shoving at his broad shoulders.

“Okay okay okay…Frank…fuck, please! Just…give me a second, God-”

Frank dragged his tongue up your entire pussy from your entrance to your clit one last time before granting you mercy with a low growl. While you panted heavily laying back against the dining room table, he was pressing featherlight kisses to each of your inner thighs, but due to your body feeling like a live wire, they felt like faint shocks that had your body jolting every time his wet lips met your heated skin. He chuckled deeply watching you respond to his touch.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Lifting your hand, you gave him a weak thumbs up, and Frank just laughed even louder in amusement at that. The sound of his laughter combined with your own blissed out post orgasm state had a lazy grin stretching over your lips. You felt his large and rough hands slipping underneath your shirt, gently caressing your bare skin and grabbing your waist while he leaned over you, kissing your lips deeply. The taste of your own sweet tang on Frank’s tongue had your head spinning, and a soft hum sounded in the back of your throat.  Even though you were still recovering from your first ever oral orgasm, the feeling of Frank’s hard cock straining against his jeans and rubbing against your inner thigh reignited your greed.

Brushing your hand slowly down his chest, you palmed him firmly through his jeans, and Frank let out a grunt while pushing himself further against your hand. He broke the kiss momentarily to nuzzle his large nose against your throat.

“If ya need a minute-”

“No. Now.”

While you unfastened his belt in record time, Frank placed his hands on the table on either side of your head and pulled back to look down at you with a soft chuckle at your impatience. He lightly cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over you shamelessly. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and a crooked smirk caressed his mouth.

“Anybody ever tell you what an impatient lil thing you are?”

A smirk of your own tugged across your lips while you slipped your hand into his jeans, stroking his thick cock through his briefs, earning a quiet grunt from Frank.

“Apart from you every day since we met? Maybe a few other people. Is my lack of patience really what you wanna talk about right now, big guy?”

The sultry tone of your voice did not go unnoticed by Frank, and in fact, it only made his cock swell even more in your welcoming hand. He slowly moved his hips back and forth as you teasingly stroked him and leaned down closer towards you, nuzzling his nose along your throat before whispering huskily into your ear.

“Got somethin’ better in mind.”

By the time Frank had carried you down the hall to the master bedroom, the two of you had left a trail of forgotten items of clothing strewn like breadcrumbs along the path from the kitchen. He let you push him back against the mattress and grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, his lips moving in sync with your own, but when you felt the swollen head of his cock bump against your clit, you suddenly pressed your palms firmly against his chest and pulled back while breaking the kiss.

“Wait.”

Frank immediately paused, loosening his grip on your hips, his lust clouded eyes clearing a bit while searching your own and wandering over your figure for the source of the problem.

“What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The concern in his rough timbre combined with the worry in his soft brown eyes made your heart melt. A gentle smile covered your lips while you reached out to delicately hold his strong jaw in your hands, and you leaned in to kiss his lips softly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have all the fun.”

Frank’s apprehension morphed into confusion, and a few creases nestled between his thick brows. 

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft laugh at how adorable he looked when he was confused, you decided to explain with actions instead of words. When you moved backwards off his lap to settle between his legs, Frank raised himself up on his elbows, following you with his eyes as he watched you intently. 

“What are you-holy shit.”

Frank’s jaw went slack the second you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it once before beginning to take a few inches into your mouth. Placing one of your hands on his left hip, you teasingly moved your lips up his length until he was out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Pursing your lips, you let a string of glistening saliva slowly drop onto his tip and used your free hand to spread it down the rest of his thick cock for lubrication, and after wrapping your fingers around his girth, you began to twist your wrist up and down slowly. 

You could feel how tense he was through your hold on his hip. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you noticed that he was staring directly at you, completely mesmerized, and was gripping onto the sheets so tightly you thought he might rip them. Moving your hand from his hip, you reached out to caress his hand, and he slowly loosened his grip, his knuckles no longer stark white. His plush lips were parted, and he was breathing hard, his thick brows knit in complete focus. You allowed him to slip out of your mouth for just a moment to smile softly up at Frank.

“Just relax.”

The sweet sound of your voice seemed to reach his ears, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Frank finally laid back against the mattress and let his head rest on the pillows. He moved the hand that was underneath yours to grab your wrist, turning your hand over so he could slot his fingers between yours to hold it. His other hand slowly came over to card his fingers through your hair before cradling the back of your head. Giving his hand that you were holding a light squeeze, you continued to hold eye contact with Frank while slowly sucking him off, using your hand that was around his base to work over what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

The sound of his quiet grunts and low moans sent a thrill through you, and you wanted to know just how vocal he could get. Letting go of his hand, you placed both of your palms firmly on his hips and relaxed your jaw completely, taking his entire cock into your mouth until his tip hit the back of your throat. A guttural groan ripped from the depth of his chest and his lower abdomen instantly tensed up as he gripped onto your hair.

“Goddamn-fuck…fuck, sweetheart. Do…do that again. Please…please baby, do it again.”

Taking in a deep inhale through your nose, you prepared yourself to deepthroat Frank’s thick cock again, and this time you held him there until your eyes started to water. He let out a louder moan of your name, and that caused the throbbing between your thighs to evolve from dull to downright unbearable. You thought about sneaking your hand downwards to get a little relief, but Frank had been so unselfish when he ate you out, only focused on your pleasure, and he deserved that same treatment. 

All of a sudden, Frank roughly tugged at your hair, and that made you moan around his cock. You heard him let out a quiet fuck under his breath in response. He gave your hair another tug to get your attention, and his cock slipped from your lips as you licked them and tried to catch your breath while staring at him, noticing that he had sat up.

“C’mere.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest before he grabbed your throat and pulled you in close to kiss you fervently. Frank’s large and rough hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap again, and you let out a soft whine against his lips when the head of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit. 

“Frank, I didn’t get to finish-”

“As much as I’d love to come down that pretty throat, I need ya baby. Need ya now.”

Grabbing the base of his cock, Frank positioned himself perfectly with your entrance and pulled you down slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, and your body instantly tensed up. You thought Frank had been deep the other night, but he was reaching an even greater depth inside of you right now if that was possible. There was a slight burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size, but your brain barely even registered it, because Frank was slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you sensually as if he wanted to steal the very essence of life from your lungs. 

Once he was fully nestled deep inside of you, a high pitched cry left your mouth, and he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly.

“Shh…s’alright. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clung to Frank as he wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist and held you tightly against his chest. Both of you sat there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together as you panted. He rubbed his large calloused hand up and down your spine soothingly, his teeth grazing along your ear lobe and biting down gently to distract you from any discomfort. Slowly, the tension in your body melted, and you gave an experimental roll of your hips that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“That’s it…attagirl. Take your time, sweetheart. M’right here. I got you.”

This felt right. It felt…perfect. Those three little words almost slipped out right there. Grabbing onto the back of his neck, you pulled Frank in for a passionate kiss, trying to pour every ounce of emotion you felt into it. He groaned quietly against your lips when your nails lightly scratched at the back of his head where his hair was shaved closely to his scalp. Moving your hips in slow circles, you grinded down onto Frank’s cock, and he flexed his hips upwards to match your rhythm. The other night by the fireplace had been the best experience of your life, but this…this was something you couldn’t put into words.

Placing your palms against Frank’s firm chest, you pressed lightly and he followed your silent instructions, allowing you to push him onto his back. His large hands gripped firmly onto your hips as he gazed up at you, and you kept your palms flat on his chest while slowly riding his cock. Neither of you could tear your eyes away from each other. The feeling of his warm hands leisurely moving up your bare skin made you shiver, and a soft gasp left your lips when he groped your breasts and squeezed gently. The calloused pad of his thumb gingerly brushing over your peaked nipple had you arching your back, pressing your chest further into his eager hands.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerable whisper nearly brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t saying it because he thought it was what you wanted to hear, he was saying it because he felt it, and he was making you feel it too. The way he was staring up at you like you were the only thing that mattered had your heart swelling inside your ribcage like a balloon about to burst. It had been a long time since you mattered to someone, and you felt lucky it was Frank. The look in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes for a moment as you writhed on top of Frank, getting completely lost in how good it felt to be connected to him in such a raw and intimate way. One of his hands traveled up from your breast towards your throat, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it almost entirely, forcing you to face him again. He pulled you down over him so that your forehead was pressed to his, and the two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes. 

“Frank-”

“I wanna see you. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come for me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Being this close to him, you noticed for the first time that there were scattered flecks of honey in his deep brown eyes. They looked so warm and inviting, like two melted pools of chocolate you wanted to drown in. The eyes that could say so much with a single look. You thought you could see it…that flicker that he felt it too. You wanted to tell him so fucking badly, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment, and the way he was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that could cause supernovas to appear behind your eyelids was making it hard for you to speak at all.

Holding his face in your hand, your eyes drifted back and forth between his own as you stared down at him in complete devotion, your lips parted as you nodded your head frantically while short and breathy moans escaped you. Frank’s eyes were focused solely on you, one of his hands holding the back of your head while his other remained around your throat. It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes open, but you didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

It was also getting harder and harder to not voice the sentiment that was overflowing from your ribcage.

“Frank…I…I-”

Frank cut off your words by capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The softness of his lips against yours, the heat of his bare skin pressed to your own, his thick fingers wrapped around your neck and tangled in your hair, his pubic bone rubbing just right against your clit…it was all too much. Breaking the kiss, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and let out a sharp cry of his name. Your nails raked harshly down his chest when your climax finally peaked, and a white hot cloud of hedonistic desire blinded your vision. 

Your entire body seized up, and you could faintly hear Frank whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he gripped your hips and repeatedly thrust up into you, fucking you through your orgasm while barreling towards his own. The sensation of that alone was enough to nearly send you free falling into another. The intensity of your orgasm had rendered you an incoherent and moaning mess. Frank dug his fingers roughly into the flesh of your hips and came with a deep grunt that nearly sounded like a growl, letting out a loud groan of your name.

The room felt like a sauna. Your face felt overheated, and your hair was stuck to your cheeks and the back of your neck with sweat. Frank had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, hugging you against his chest. The feeling of his strong heartbeat thundering against your own chest kept you anchored to the moment while your body trembled with aftershocks. You couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to.

As soon as Frank made a move to sit up and pull out of you, a desperate and high pitched whine of protest fell from your lips while you gripped onto his shoulder and dug your nails into the muscle.

“No no no no no, please…don’t move.”

Frank instantly stilled, bringing one of his hands up to brush the sweaty hair stuck to your forehead and neck away. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and gave your body a gentle squeeze in his strong arms.

“Okay, we don’t gotta move yet.”

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, you buried your face further into Frank’s neck, letting the comforting scent of his cologne calm you. He gently carded his thick fingers through your hair and kept holding you tightly to his chest while resting his head against your own.

“I just wanna stay like this for a while.”

“We can stay like this as long as you want, sweetheart.”

When you started to regain your senses, you started to wonder just how true that statement was. 

How long could you and Frank stay like this before reality came knocking?

Your home wouldn’t always be a crime scene. Eventually the two of you would have to go back to work. Now that everything had changed between the two of you, what would a new normal look like? Frank’s job required him to be with someone constantly. What happens when he gets assigned to someone else? What if it’s another woman? Even though Frank was broody and unapproachable initially, you had still found him attractive, and all the time you spent together over the past few months led you right here to this moment.

What if that happened with someone else? What if the next woman he was assigned to found him just as attractive? What if she wanted him? You and Frank hadn’t really established what this was between the two of you. Were you together? Did he want to be together? Would he still want to be together if the next woman was prettier and less stubborn and actually-

“Quit it.”

The sound of his deep voice breaking through the silence interrupted your spiraling. 

“What?”

“Whatever you’re overthinkin’ right now, let it go.”

Removing your face from the crook of Frank’s neck, you pulled back slightly to peer down at him in pure curiosity.

“How do you even-”

“I can practically hear the gears turnin’ in your head, sweetheart. You keep thinkin’ so hard, smoke’s gonna start comin’ out of your ears.”

Giving him a pointed look expressing you weren’t amused, he let out a quiet chuckle and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

“C’mon, you ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout right now. Just relax, yeah?”

Letting out a soft sigh, you nodded and laid your head back against Frank’s shoulder, nuzzling your nose against his neck as he hugged onto you tightly. For a while, you two laid there wrapped up in one another, and you were able to let some of your anxieties go. The afterglow of your shared euphoria was peaceful, and you could’ve even fallen asleep at that moment, but something Frank said earlier suddenly popped back into your head. 

“Hey Frank?”

“Hm?”

“Do you really know a blind guy that has a good aim with guns?”

Frank let out a quiet snicker at your question.

“He don’t use guns. He’s too…Catholic.”

That did nothing to answer your question and only fueled you with more inquiries.

“But…you said he could hit targets better than I could.”

Frank simply grunted in response. You stayed silent waiting for further explanation, but when one didn’t come, you continued your questions.

“How?”

“Hell if I know.”

Sitting up a little bit again, you stared down at Frank in complete puzzlement.

“But…he’s blind. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it don’t.”

“So…he’s-”

“An asshole. Go to sleep.”

Letting out a soft laugh, your eyes widened slightly as you gently smacked his chest.

“Frank!”

“What? Cause he’s blind he can’t be an asshole?”

“Well…no. But…how does he do it?”

“You’ll have to ask ‘em yourself.”

“I thought Billy was your only friend.”

Frank pulled a look of faux offense at that, his thick brows knit as he let out a puff of air through his lips.

“Ouch. I got other friends, smartass. And I never said he was one. He’s more of a pain in my ass.”

Frank gently pinched your ass which made you squeal before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“Hey!”

A huge grin split across your lips as he suddenly flipped you both over, managing to keep himself nestled inside of you while he pinned you beneath his large body. As he leaned in to kiss your lips, you brought your index finger up and pressed it against his mouth.

“I’m not done. I have more questions.”

“Course you do.”

“I wanna know who this mystery blind man is with good aim, and your other friends that you suddenly have that you’ve kept from me. While you’re at it, is there anything else you’re hiding, Castle?”

While your question was intended to be teasing, a dark look flashed across Frank’s eyes, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He stared down at you silently for a moment, and it made you wonder just how much more there was to Frank that you hadn’t uncovered yet. As soon as you removed your finger from his lips, Frank leaned in closer, caging you in with his large hands on either side of your head. As he loomed over you, he slowly thrust his hips against your own, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. His breath was warm against your lips while he nuzzled his large nose along your own, his rough voice coming out in a husky whisper.

“Think I liked you better when the only thing you could say was my name, sweetheart.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #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 #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the fire

lilac, chapter eight

a/n: hehehhehehehehheheh (but in a smutty way)

summary: “I can light the fire if you’d like.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, only one bed, fireplace sex, kissing, dry humping, size kink, crying during sex, dirty talk, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I'm just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 3076

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Tossing and turning one last time on the couch, you finally gave up with a gentle sigh. At least you’d gotten an hour or two before you stirred from your light slumber, the butterflies still fluttering in your stomach dooming you to lay here on the sofa till the sun came up. 

Getting up, you wrapped the woolly blanket around your frame, the borrowed shirt barely coming down to cover up your bum, and tip-toed over towards the small kitchenette. Careful not to turn on the tap too forcefully, the slow trickle took a while to fill up the glass you’d acquired after peeking through a few of the cupboards. 

With one hand clutching the blanket that swaddled you, the other one that held the glass gently turned the water off before raising the drink up towards your lips to soothe your dry throat. 

Hearing the floorboards behind you suddenly creak, you quickly spun around and discovered the source to naturally be none other than the person who lived here, “Pete! I mean, Frank! H-hi,” he stepped a bit closer, consequently letting the moonlight bathe across his form, the jaw-dropping vision, unfortunately, causing the drink to slip out of your butterfingers, harshly shattering against the floor and sending a tiny wave of water crashing onto your toes. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and that was it, just the relaxed grey fabric clinging dangerously low on his hips. Ripping your now wide eyes away from his bare and burly chest, you forced your vision down to meet the shards at your feet, “oh, shit…” 

Bending down to clean it up, it didn’t take long before another pair of hands also began to carefully pick up the pieces.

“Sorry, I frightened you.”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’m sorry, I’m just a clutz,” you avoided his gaze as you straightened back up, following his lead as he tossed the broken glass into the sink, “and I’m sorry about waking you, I thought I was being quiet, but–”

“You didn’t wake me, don’t worry.”

Wiping your damp hands dry on the blanket still hanging from your shoulders, you finally met his gaze, “well, then I’m sorry about breaking your glass.” 

“It’s just a glass,” he uttered earnestly, faintly shaking his head, “you can’t sleep?” 

“I could, for a little bit at least, but uh, no,” you wrapped the blanket tighter around your form, one of your palms coming to rub your upper arm over it, hoping that the friction might combat the middle of the night chill you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Are you cold?” he noticed, and your hand subsequently froze in its subconscious movements. 

“A bit, but I’m okay.”

“I can light the fire if you’d like,” he gestured back to the hearth located beside your makeshift sleeping arrangement.

“Oh,” your eyebrows gently shot up at his kindness, “uh, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

Your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to his frame as he soon ignited the fire, his broad back turned to you as you slowly sank down onto the rug at the foot of the couch, melting back against the bottom of it as your mind floated away to sinful places. 

“There,” he sat down the box of matches and leaned back a bit to regard the flame taking a hold, “that should do it.”

As he scooted back to join you on the floor, eyes fast on the fire while yours were still fixated on him, you soon heard your voice pipe up, “hey Frank? Can I ask you something?” to which he simply hummed in confirmation, “that thing you told me last night, when you said that you did some stuff…”

A slow nod stirred his head, “yeah…”

“What were they? Was it something bad? Something illegal? Are you some criminal on the run?” you added half-jokingly, “should I be worried about, I don’t know, the FBI or someone bursting through those doors at any time?” 

Staring back into the crackling flame, he simply offered a gentle shake of his head, “no.” 

“No?” you cocked your head, leaning forward a bit to catch his distant gaze. 

Finding your eyes, he then repeated steadily, “no.”

“Is that all?” a nervous chuckle bubbled out past your lips, “no?”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, he said, “for now, yeah.” 

Gazing back at him, a gentle smile eventually warmed your features, “alright.” 

“I wanna tell you,” he stressed, breathing deep as he averted his soulful eyes, “I wanna share everything with you, I just–… not yet…”

Seizing his hand, you gave it a soft squeeze, “it’s okay, I don’t want you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

Blinking back at you again, you then watched as his spine slowly relaxed back against the base of the sofa, eyes eventually flickering back towards the fireplace as his fingers readjusted, weaving in with your own. 

Tilting your head down, you gazed at your conjoined hands, turning them a bit so that his was on top. It was kind of comical how much bigger his was than yours. The back of it almost reminded you of a windowpane on a rainy autumn day with the way his prominent veins popped out and snaked over the callused skin just like streaks of water would dance down the surface of the glass. Reaching out, almost unconsciously, you traced the fine lines stretching across his flesh with your fingertip. 

After you had drawn over every little story the back of his palm had to tell, your interlocked hands then suddenly began to move as your eyes flickered up to see Frank, softly illuminated in the flickering firelight, slowly raising the back of yours up to his lips. 

You had no idea anything could ever feel as soft as his pillowy peck felt against your knuckles. Finding your dazzled gaze, he held it as he gently twisted your hand, gaining enough access to place a trickle of kisses along the inside of your wrist. 

And the next thing you knew, as if he was a magnet drawing you to him, your lips pressed against his in a zealous kiss. 

As you felt his fingers find your jaw on their mission to weave into your hair, you found yourself crawling closer, so close in fact that the blanket wrapped around you fell to the floor, never to be thought of again, especially not when you eagerly slid into his lap, a shaky sigh quivering against his tongue as you did so. 

You didn’t care that you were running out of air, how could you when his pecks were so intoxicating and his warmth so inviting? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you soon sensed his wide palms run down your spine, effectively turning you into goo every time his dreamy touch just shyly peeked under the hem of the oversized shirt you wore or whenever his fingertips just ever so slightly sneaked pasted the elastic of your waistband, never actually getting anywhere, but just the shear cracking of the seal drove you nuts. 

So why wouldn’t you begin to rock down into his lap? Sure, you were already on top of the guy with his tongue down your throat, but you still didn’t feel like you were close enough.

Finally, when you felt as if your heart might actually burst out of your chest, you reeled back, panting as you uttered, “fuck, my pulse is beating so fast…” blinking back into his dark eyes through your heavy lashes, you abruptly grabbed one of his hands and, without truly pondering it, tugged it closer, “here,” placing it right beneath your left peak, “feel.” 

His long fingers sprawled across your ribs, frozen and framing the crest as he sucked in a deep breath, staring back into your eyes you heard his deep timbre shoot straight to your throbbing core, “it is…” he slowly confirmed your rapid pulse, “are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you hazily nodded, his gentle question warming your heart. 

“Do you wanna–…” you saw him concentrate on not letting his yearning touch follow its desire and enclose around your boob among other intimate locations, “do you wanna stop?” 

With the lightest of shakes to your head, you asked, “do you?” which he promptly answered as you felt his palm begin to move, gently gliding up till he cupped your tit, his broad thumb lightly swiping across, grazing over the pebbly nipple that made its excitement more then clear through his dark t-shirt that hung loosely around your frame. 

You couldn’t help but let out a gasp at how good it felt. Toes curling, your hips instinctively rocked down in search of release as you then grabbed onto his bearded cheeks and seized his lips once again. 

With a palm at the small of your back, Frank insistently tugged you closer, sending you further up his strong thighs till the palpable tent in his sweatpants nudged against you. Whimpering longingly into the kiss, it hadn’t been till now that you had truly noticed just how hard he was. 

Fervently grinding down against his desire, your heated kiss briefly paused just long enough for him to scoop your shirt up and over your head, carelessly tossing it to the side before his arms swiftly enclosed around your frame, hands sprawling over your bare skin of your back as if he was starving for it.

Drawing you even closer towards him, pressing your bare chest against his, you felt his kisses begin to wander. Across your jaw, down your neck and all the way down to your tits. Mouth full, surely littering your soft peaks with lavender love marks, he gazed up at you, holding it as he then took over your desperate grinding, grip digging into your hips as he bewitchingly rocked you down against him. 

But that look he sent you should have come with a warning, because pretty much as soon as he flashed it to you, that’s when your hand shot down between your tangled forms, reaching into his pants to truly feel what was driving you mad.

His head tilted back and collided with the plush seat, his mouth agape as he savoured every little pet you offered him as you fished his heavy length out of its restraints. 

It was almost a growl that vibrated deep within his throat as he then buried his fists in the cotton of the underwear that stretched across your ass, retroactively pulling them tight enough against you for the soaked gusset to briefly tug against your folds before one of his hands shot down to touch you properly. 

Though he didn’t pet you through your panties long before you felt him suddenly yank you up to your knees in order to tug the last bit of your clothes off. Raising your shins, one at a time to help him get them off your form completely, your own fingers eagerly mirrored his as you tugged both his sweatpants and the boxers beneath down his thighs, though you didn’t get to finish the job yourself as he impatiently took over and snatched them the rest of the way off. 

You both let out a molten moan the moment you settled back down into his lap, a breathy, “fucking hell,” also flowed from Frank’s lips as your cunt drenched his girth in your want. Palm cupping your flush cheek, he whispered enchantingly, “you’re so fucking beautiful…”

Nuzzling his sturdy nose against your own, you rocked against him so perfectly, so electrically, that if you kept going even just a minute longer, then you’d surely cum right then and there.  

“Frank, please,” you whimpered as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, “I wanna feel you,” his hands raked all across your spine, “I need to feel you, all of you, please, I feel so fucking empty.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his chin back, catching your fluttering gaze. 

“P-please,” you practically trembled at this point. 

Arms already fast around you, he swiftly scooped you up and laid you back down on to the rug, capturing your lips in a brief kiss as he settled on top of you like some carnal deity. 

Reaching down, he only brushed his bulbous tip through your folds twice, tapping the weight lightly against your buzzing clit, before you tangled your legs behind him and drew him in. 

Perhaps the adrenaline had been to blame, but the brief encounter you previously had with Frank’s cock hadn’t been substantial enough as the light touches hadn’t been able to warn you of the daunting girth he was packing. 

As he slowly sank in, a rushed, “shh, shh, shh,” flowed out pasted your lips as you with suddenly wide eyes landed a few trembling taps to his abdomen, pleating him to a halt. 

“What? What?” he asked, eyes scanning your features as you breathed deep, trying to overcome his fierce size.

“Holy fuck,” you whimpered breathlessly, eyes fluttering uncontrollably, “w-why didn’t you tell me you were so–, so–, fuck… so big?” 

A chuckle suddenly rumbled through him, “well I’m sorry, I thought you had already–, uh… do you need me to pull back out? We don’t need to do it like this if you–”

“No, no, no, don’t, don’t,” the words spilled out of you like the water from the glass you had spilled earlier, “just give me a second, I just need a second.”

Brows knitted, your eyes didn’t leave his as you reeled in the overwhelming, yet astoundingly pleasurable sensation, your walls slowly relaxing around his fat tip as you still felt so close to the edge, like just a tiny little feather could tip you over into ecstasy. 

Gentle caresses moving up and down the curve of your form, his soft smile soon brightened as he eventually zeroed in on your puffy pearl, your vibrant reaction being more than enough indication for him to know what was on the brink of occurring. 

His tight circles didn’t quit, even when you pussy clenched so tight that his tip popped straight out, he just kept going till your moans turned into cries, limbs grew chaotic and your hand shot down to tap his out, halting it to a complete standstill. 

“H-holy shit,” you panted, pulling him down to seize him lips, “holy shit…” you felt his glossy fingers trade the firm motions in with a gentle bit of contact, lightly cupping his slick palm against your puffy folds, shielding you in a way and kissing you softly as you took a moment to regain your vigor. 

“You good?” you eventually heard him check in.

“Am I good?” you chuckled, a light furrow crinkling up your brows, “Frank, you just gave me one of the best orgasms I’ve had in I don’t even know how long, but definitely the best one someone else has ever given to me. Yes, I’m good, I’m really good,” you giggled against his lips as you captured them in another kiss, “are you good?”

Echoing your light laughter, he rumbled, “yeah,” as if his painfully hard cock, throbbing against your stomach wasn’t enough of a clue. 

Lips glued to his, you reached down and curled your fingers around his dick, or at least as much as you could with your fingers barely meeting on the other side. Ravenous once again, you dragged him across your sensitive clit, his low groan mixing and mingling with your own before you nudged him against your entrance, welcoming him back inside once more. 

It was slow, oh so very slow with bountiful breaks dispersed throughout, but eventually, with a bit of patience and a tender touch, you worked up to a gentle rhythm. Though to say that it was gentle in no way meant it wasn’t intense, as the tears that promptly began to trickle down your cheeks effectively made that known. 

It only took one sniffle before Frank noticed, reacting quickly though not managing to open his mouth before you did, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, it’s just–, you feel so good,” you blubbered, nails clawing into his back, “having you touch me like this, feeling you inside of me, it just feels so good, please don’t stop,” you begged, your lust streaming through the hot tears, “I’m sorry, I’m not sad, I swear, I don’t know why I’m crying,” a giggle managed to bubble through, “just please don’t stop, please, pleas–”

But the rest of your whimpering words morphed into desperate moans as Frank delivered on exactly what you asked for and then some. Perhaps the palpable power he had on you finally went to his head as he then just let go and lost himself in the pleasure of your warmth.

You’d actually forgotten that he’d, up until now, only fucked you with a fraction of him, but when the air got suddenly punched out of your lungs as his heavy sack tapped feverishly against you, fat girth stretching you out and filling you up to the very brink, the overwhelming sensation wasn’t at all excruciating as you had feared, no, instead it genuinely sent your body straight to cloud nine. 

“I won’t stop,” he croaked as he rocked into you, “I promise, I won’t fucking stop,” timing the last few words with his frantic hips, driving into you with each and every word. 

“F-Frank, oh!” your eyes rolled in your skull as you sensed your thighs begin to tremble once more, the carpet beneath you beginning to burn from the friction his desperate pace was causing.

“Atta girl,” he groaned deliciously, “fucking hell, you’re gripping onto me so good, so fucking good,” just the tip of his nose ghosted against your own as he murmured, “sucking me back in, you feel so incredible, so–, fuck…” 

The lewd and sloppy melody of your connection reverberating throughout the cabin soon concluded with you both in a sweaty and jumbled pile, your thighs still quivering as he reached out for the forgotten blanket, tugging it over the both of you. 

Laying there on the floor, soothingly tangled and listening to the fire crackle, you felt yourself melt further into Frank’s form as his touch softly brushed across your tender skin, drawing soothing patterns as you held him close. 

“About–…” you then heard him hesitantly break the blissed-out silence, “about what you said earlier… last night…” craning your neck, you locked eyes with his as he admitted, “you scare me too.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle series #lumberjack au #marvel smut #the punisher smut #marvel x reader smut #jon bernthal smut

[frankcastlescumslut]

Ch. 2: Hard Times

pairing: frank castle x f!reader / platonic!amy bendix x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, language, hurt/comfort, implied loss of a sister (no details), descriptions of wounds, established relationship yet somehow it’s a slow burn

summary: He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

A/N: I wrote this chapter based off of this song. loosely. sorry this isn’t the happiest of endings, I’m leaving it open ended in case I get the momentum to keep going (there is a potential plot).

[previous chapter]

I love your feedbacks and comments so much, thank you. reblogs help a lot as well <3

The stars looked like pin pricks against a dark sheet, so bright you had to squint to make sense of your surroundings, but there was nothing to make sense of. Just black asphalt laid out like a red carpet.

Your body ached and groaned as you stretched ever so slightly, and Frank pretended not to notice the way you winced when you pulled your shirt from your dried wound. 

He cleared his throat, trying to distract you. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” you yawned, checking the dashboard. 

1:42am. 

The last time you stopped was somewhere in Ohio at a run down 7-Eleven. Amy threatened to jump out of the van if she didn’t get a slurpee, but you couldn’t really blame her, it did sound good, so Frank was outnumbered like he usually was. 

That was hours ago, though, and you found Amy curled against the duffle bags with a ring of blue food dye around her lips.

“How far are we?” You prodded. 

“Few hours.” 

“Oh.”

Frank was a man of few words when he first met you. It took him three days just to ask you for an extra blanket when he met you at that motel in Nebraska, though he chalked it up to his unnatural ability for needing something. Didn’t wanna bother you.

You were patient with him, never pressing him about the occasional bruise or poorly hidden glances, instead choosing to talk about how vending machine chips are basically just bags full of air and how mattress stores are money laundering operations—he laughed at that, fully and with his chest, and it was game over for you both. 

Yet somehow you were sitting within a foot of each other and felt like strangers. 

“Do you want me to drive?” You offered, daring to look at him. He looked worn, his eyes drooping with sleep.

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I’m okay.” 

“Maybe we should stop somewhere?”

He was silent, unwilling to admit defeat. Stoic. Stubborn. A pain in the ass that kept you awake with a fevering bullet shaped gash in your side. 

You would make yourself power through the pain if it meant he would be normal again—if he would even look at you for more than a second and without what you perceived as disdain. You would pretend that each day you had Amy didn’t feel like salt being shoved into your sister-sized wound. You would lie through your teeth and tell him that you were capable of keeping up, that this life was enough for you. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. 

“We’ll stop at the next motel.” He looked over at you, his eyes trailing towards the rust colored stain on your shirt. Your cheeks burned underneath his gaze, and all you could do was nod in reply and watch the constellations blur. 

“Wake up.” A breathy voice tickled your ear, causing you to jolt upright in your seat.

“Damn it!” You cursed before placing a palm against your sternum, ignoring the way the seatbelt burned against your exposed neck.

Amy was pleased by your reaction, carelessly falling back into her designated makeshift seat of a jacket tucked against the back of your chair. Frank didn’t crack a smile. 

“Knock it off,” he warned, his eyes quickly darting towards the backseat. 

“Oh come on,” Amy whined. “It was funny.” 

“I actually disagree,” you chimed in, your heartbeat still racing. 

“You’re no fun.” She pouted, slouching against the hard interior. 

Frank would disagree, though. You were fun. Charismatic. Lighthearted. 

He missed that version; the one where you existed alongside of him with ease, the one where you convinced him that joy existed and was accessible to people like him, to people like the both of you. 

It felt foreign to him, the easiness of it all, but he gave up rejecting his need for self denial when he met you. Because you were fun. 

“We’re stopping soon,” he cleared his throat and those distant memories of you, and you nodded with a “k.” 

“I have to pee,” Amy broke her secret vow of silence, probably just to hear herself speak. 

“Hold it,” you and Frank spoke in unison, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You often wondered what he was like as a dad. If he was the silent and stern parent, always fussing with light fixtures and the underside of a truck. Maybe the kind that cared a lot about grades but even more about after school sports or school projects. Really, you think, he’s the kind of parent that just enjoys his children’s joy, never getting in the way of what was causing it— a winning soccer match, a new video game, a carousel. It didn’t matter anymore, anyways, and you were too scared to ask him about it. 

So you didn’t, and you don’t. You never do, because you’re not really sure what you would say if he ever asked about your sister. Some things are better to be speculatory, you decided, until Amy came along. 

She acted like a secret maneuver that would draw back the curtain on what Frank Castle was like as a father, and you seldom looked away. 

“Sheesh,” she muttered, and you hid a smirk behind the palm of your hand. 

It was silent for the next few miles, save the occasional clanging of weapons every time the van fell victim to a pothole. It was silent even as Frank drove past the first motel. Then the second one… and the third. 

Amy eventually caught on, sitting on her knees and looking out the window like a dog with its ears flapping in the wind. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

Frank was quiet, eyes still straight ahead, even as he pulled into the parking lot of a neon green Holiday Inn. 

“A hotel!” Amy squealed, throwing herself in Frank’s general direction, ignorant to the way the car swerved due to her affections. 

He watched you from above Amy’s head, thankful she was blocking the smirk on his face as your brows furrowed in his direction, silently asking are you sure? 

He was sure. He had made up his mind hundreds of miles ago when he first saw the blood soaked cotton of your shirt, but he wouldn’t dare to tell you. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Amy let out a sigh of relief, loud enough that it was dramatic even for her. 

Frank was silent as he dug around in a back pocket before handing you a thick wad of cash. You failed to meet his eye as you accepted the offering, opting to nod with a tight lipped smile as a thank you. 

“Get the biggest bed you can get!” Amy called out to you before the door swung shut in her face. 

She pulled herself into the passenger seat and sat back with a huff and a genuine smile on her face. Finally, she thought. 

Frank’s eyes were trained on the entrance of the hotel. He watched you pull your jacket across your body, attempting to hide your ghastly appearance, as you leaned against the counter. The woman at the front seemed reasonable, he assumed. You both smiled at one another, so things must be okay. 

“Frank,” Amy attempted to disrupt his attention 

“Not now.” 

She watched the way he studied you, almost disgusted by the way he withheld his care and affection from you. 

“Frank,” she tried again.

“What?” He snapped, finally meeting her gaze. 

“You really need to fix whatever this,” she pointed a finger from his chest to the hotel lobby, “is. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” He straightened ever so slightly.

“Bullshit.” 

He was thankful she dropped the conversation when she did. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to admit there was a palpable tension, he just didn’t know how to fix it. He thought the hotel would be evident enough that he was sorry, but you pulled the door open a little too roughly for that to be the case. 

“Here,” you handed him a rectangular card.

“Two keys?” Amy asked. 

“That’s for your room. I got my own.”

“What?!” She scoffed and Frank clenched his jaw.  “Are you serious?” 

“I’m right next door.” You began to unload the van, carefully slinging a heavy bag around your good side. You tried your best to hide your inconspicuous smile, but it was harder the more you thought about the king sized bed assigned to you. 

Amy and Frank trodden heavily behind you as you made your way through the empty lobby and towards the elevators, not without waving towards the kind faced woman at the front desk. 

“You’re actually leaving me alone with him?“

“You'll be fine, Amy.” You rested your head against the back of the elevator wall, closing your eyes in surrender as the metal doors slid together. 

“That’s not fair,” she whined; you half expected her to start stomping her feet. 

“Life ain’t fair,” Frank finished the argument as the elevator came to a bumpy halt. You barely opened your eyes to glance at him, surprised at the way he nods, as if giving you permission to be alone. 

You aren’t sure why you became shy and why your cheeks warmed. Maybe it was the way his eyes had softened ever so slightly, or maybe it was the gratification of him acknowledging you made a sound decision for once—that you were capable, even after your extreme fuck up just hours earlier. Either way, the softness lingered as you found your rooms. 

The cool air hit Frank’s face as a pleasant surprise, though the cleanliness, the luxury, felt burdensome.

“You have to apologize.” Amy claimed her bed, minding the way her sneakers dirtied the white sheets.

“Yeah?” He huffed, remembering he should be offended by your lack of appreciation for the new scenery. “For what exactly?”

“You’re being a dick!” She exclaimed, slapping her hands against her crossed legs. “I’m serious, Frank. It’s my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” he sighed.

“Okay, great, then stop blaming her for it.”

“I’m not.” 

“Sure.” 

The hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Frank stood awkwardly, thrumming his fingers along his thigh while Amy pretended not to notice.

“‘I shouldn’t have left you alone, okay?” He leaned against an empty dresser, still unwilling to find comfort in the queen-sized mattress. 

“She did what you couldn’t do,” Amy mumbled and he grit his jaw in response. “I was the one that called for pizza, okay? I wasn’t thinking. It was on me and I’m still alive, so go say you’re sorry.” 

Being still was a foreign concept for Frank. He was constantly moving, hard wired for productivity and precision, scoffing at the mere idea of rest. His neurons exploded even in his sleep, unable to ignore the zap zap zap that kept him moving, kept him alert, kept him alive. It kept you alive.

He ran through the numerous possibilities and outcomes of apologizing to you in his overtired head, filtering through his own remorse and your indignation. 

Fuck it, he decided, ending his marathon around the room. 

“Don't call anyone. Don’t move from this bed. Don’t answer the phone and don’t answer the goddamn door,” he placed his hands on his hips, emphasizing his seriousness. “Understand?” 

“Roger that.” Amy saluted him as he neared the door, unable to hide her smile. “Use protection!”

Just as his hand reached the handle, he paused. “What did you just say?” She audibly laughed at the mixture of disgust and genuine shock plastered against his face. 

“Go kiss and make up!” She shooed him away, and she swore she saw him smile before he disappeared.  

The bathroom mirror shook in a steady succession following the slams of heavy doors. It was constant, and you almost considered complaining before remembering that this was a luxury compared to your previous hideaways. 

It wasn’t always so bad, though. Before Amy, it was exciting— like a cheap thrill that you hadn’t felt since you were 16, sneaking out of a bedroom window and choking down a stale cloud of smoke. There was a monumental lack of pessimism between you and Frank; he brought life back into you, and for once you didn’t feel guilty for living. 

So you accepted the cheap motels and fried foods, never minding the greasy-lipped kisses. You welcomed the sun beaming on your bare feet when they laid across the dash as you drove nowhere. You loved the way your stomach felt full as you drank a beer, pretending you weren’t hiccuping while Frank sunk an 8 ball in a top right pocket. You loved the nights spent in a dirty dive bar where you didn’t have to think about who the fuck you were for at least a few hours. You loved it, and then he told you to run before bullets started flying. 

The knock on the door was so faint you almost missed it over the sound of your cursing. 

It was him—you knew it was him. He had an aura so thick it bled through walls. 

“Y’gonna open the door?” 

No. 

Maybe.

The door opened with a metallic click, though you didn’t care to hold it open. He shoved himself inside, feeling like an intruder. 

You studied your irritated wound in the mirror, continuing your attempts at cleaning and suturing it. The sting of the alcohol wipes hardly compared to the pair of eyes transfixed on the evidence of your failures. 

“You okay?” What a stupid question. 

“Fine.” What a stupid question. 

Fine. It wasn’t a complete lie, though you avoided meeting his gaze at all costs. He could see right through you, hell, he could feel the resentment radiating off of you. 

You didn’t have to distract yourself from the emotional distance; your attention was spent on unwrapping the much too small steri strip from its packaging to notice the way he awkwardly balanced his weight. 

“Shit,” you cursed as the first suture folded over on itself.

“Do you need—“

“I got it.” 

You really tried, but it was impossible to see the wound over the mound of your breast, and you could hardly twist your waist enough to get a decent angle. You decided to go in blind, completely embarrassed but unwilling to admit defeat. 

The sticky strip landed incorrectly, directly atop of the ragged flesh, and you yelped as it adjusted. 

“Let me get that,” he didn’t wait for your protest before inviting himself into the small bathroom.

“It’s fine, I got it,” your fingers shook as you attempted to pry the suture from your skin, salty tears splashing towards the floor. 

You dropped your hand against your hip and audibly exhaled as he assessed the wound. He was hardly offended that you refused to look at him. Truth be told, he could hardly look at you without having his whole chest be filled with the weight of his own shortcomings. 

He hated when you cried, especially at his own doing. You could blame it on that searing pain of torn flesh instead of the heavy burden of disappointing him, so you did. You pretended that the only pain you felt was the physical kind as you stood in front of him, half naked and bleeding, as he sat on the lip of the bathtub.  

In any other situation you would have taken advantage of this position, cupping the back of his neck before sliding between his legs, waiting for him to pull you into his lap. But it’s different now, and you almost flinch as his calloused fingertips carefully brush your skin.

“You ready?” He asked, waiting for your permission before hurting you all over again. 

You nod while stare at the ceiling, counting the porous tiles, bracing yourself for what is to come. 

He tried to get the stitches and bandages ready as quickly as possible, prepping them on his knee as he gave the countdown. “One, two, three...” 

“God damnit!”

The world became nothing but splotchy stars and radio static as your flesh ripped apart all over again, and you bit down on your knuckle, focusing on that dull ache that took your attention away from the way Frank was piecing you together again. 

“I’m sorry.” He sounded muffled, his silhouette splotchy, but he held you together with nothing but cheap butterfly sutures and a half assed apology. 

“I know,” was all you could muster out, breathing in that last bite of fight you had in you. 

“Y’gonna stop poutin’ then?”

You jerked away from him, your nostrils flaring as you looked over his bent frame before turning on your heel, leaving him in that makeshift emergency room. 

He almost regretted saying it, almost, but there was nothing worse for a man than putting himself out there and being disregarded, so he sat there, counting the bloody wash cloths and discarded bandages until he felt that familiar sense of carnal  responsibility. 

You were changing when he finally came about, his imaginary tail tucked between his legs. It felt wrong to look at you, to see the way your bare back curved and folded before disappearing beneath an oversized shirt—his oversized shirt. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you before, with your body on full display as he appreciated every inch with a soft brush of his lips. He had seen you, tasted you, held you, but this time it was different.

“Look,” he cleared his throat to signal his presence. “I’m sorry.”

“You done?” You ignored him as you pulled the starchy sheets back, but he wrapped a hand around your wrist, forcing you to look at him. 

“Hey,” his eyes softened and voice dropped. “I mean it.” 

There was an invisible argument happening as you both held onto the white sheet. You knew. He knew. Someone had to give in. Someone had to break first. Someone had to bare their soul and damnit were you tired of pretending. 

“Well it don’t feel like it.” You gave in, and for a minute, you sounded as tired as you felt. 

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and you took the opportunity to sit on the first clean mattress you’d seen in months before bracing yourself against the sturdy headboard. 

“Sometimes,” his hand twitched at his side as he contemplated his next sentence, “I look at her and all I see is my Lisa.” Your eyes shot towards his face at the mention of his daughter, and it was hard to ignore the painful knot in your stomach. “It’s like I’m losing her all over again and I—“

“Frank,” you leaned towards him, and the mattress sunk next to your feet. 

“I just can’t do it again, y’know?” He looked at you, tears brimming on the waterline but never daring to spill. “I can’t do it again.”

“You won’t. You won’t do it again.”

You said it as if you were a god, fully capable of aligning the stars and galaxies and writing history. You said it as if you were able to predict the future—a future where Amy was safe in an undisclosed location and you and Frank were, well, somewhere. 

He huffed at that, and rightfully so, though you tried to convince him anyways. 

“I’m sorry,” you attempted to shift the blame, “I didn’t know that she ordered food, I should have paid attention. I should have known better, I should have—” 

“Hey, hey, hey” he placed a hand on your leg. “Quit it.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to mess up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” you could feel the uncomfortable knot lodged in your throat but you couldn’t push it down. “I swear I tried.”

It was embarrassing the way the hot tears left patterns against your white cotton shirt as they fell. You weren’t really sure why you were crying or who you were crying for. Amy was still alive and tucked into a bed just behind another door, but your sister was somewhere else entirely. 

“It’s not your fault,” Frank attempted to intervene, gently scooping you into his side. You let him, though not without feeling so incredibly selfish. He rubbed your arm, in a steady motion, squeezing lightly for his own emotional support. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I shouldn’t have left you guys alone. You shouldn’t have had to clean up my mess, okay?” 

You nod into his chest, wishing his words didn’t feel like a cheaply made sympathy card. 

“None of this is on you, you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He placed a kiss against your temple, and you folded into him even more.

He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

It was quiet for a while save for the muffled lull of the obnoxiously cold air conditioning. You missed this—the feeling that life could go on, that you were enough for him, that the silence didn’t signal an impending doom. 

“Stay,” you whispered. 

“Hm?”

It was silent as you considered your next move—play dumb or give in, going belly up for a few more minutes of playing pretend.

“Can you stay?”

It was silent for another minute, but his breathing shifted and you held your breath.

“Sweetheart,”

“I know. I know she’s next door,” you tried to make his decision easier. “Can you just stay until I fall asleep?” 

“Sure.”

It was less than convincing, but he kissed your neck before sliding himself down the mattress and pulling your body into his stomach. 

You curled into yourself, hugging a pillow against your face before deciding it was too soft. This, you and Frank, felt too soft after a week of sleeping in different beds and communicating through glances and strategies to stay alive—to keep Amy alive. It was different. Too soft and still not enough. 

He felt the emotional shift as your body tensed, snaking an arm beneath the crook of your neck before reaching for your empty hand. You followed directions without a second thought, intertwining fingers and limbs with a relaxed sigh before your world went dark.

He stayed, like he said he would, watching the numbers on the clock face ascend.

It was unfair to you, he thought, that he was splitting his attention between you and a young girl he barely knew. It was unfair that he had to uncurl himself from your body and walk next door to a bed that would be too cold, too empty, too soft and pretend that he didn’t just abandon you. It was unfair that he brought you along to something he wasn’t sure how to finish. 

The bed dipped as he forced himself away from your warmth. He held his breath, silently praying you wouldn’t notice his absence. You looked calm for the first time in a long time, since before you both became honorary foster parents and ran from men that looked like they were on a pilgrimage. You looked so calm, and he tucked his invisible tail between his legs again while pressing a kiss to your shoulder, letting out a final sigh of resignation before disappearing behind a closed door. 

You were too tired to move. Too tired to leave that spot that still smelled like him if you closed your eyes and inhaled. You knew he was leaving, only pretending as a courtesy to his feelings, though you couldn’t help but wish the metallic click of the door was a gun aimed directly at your chest.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst #frank castle slow burn #frank castle series #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x female reader #the punisher angst #the punisher hurt/comfort

[allthatyoulove]

Walk All Over You

Frank Castle/Female Reader (uses she/her pronouns, referred to as woman)

Chapter THREE of my Highway to Hell series!

Previous- one - two

Summary: The Punisher’s brought you to a mysterious, seemingly unused bunker in hopes of laying low after recent thrilling events. Now it’s just you, him, and the unyielding hold of a haunting past.

Includes: cursing, blood, descriptions of injuries, heavy alcohol consumption, mentions of abuse/torture/manipulation, suggestive situations (just a lot of making out), angst

Words: 6.4k

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient for this chapter, and for all the love on this series! Many more exciting things to come ;) Please check out my ~prompt list~ Hope you enjoy the story, feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

~~~

“So… this is it?”

I looked around the dimly lit bunker, trying to hide the underwhelmed reaction. I scanned the large room, seeing a wall of what used to be windows - most of them missing the glass - surrounding a circle platform in the middle of the entirety of the bunker. It looked like a pile of junk sitting within the room. Two mini staircases on either side of the platform, with beds to the right and a vacant area to the left. I dropped Pete’s luggage he had me unload with him, walking deeper into the room. Pete watched me as I looked around.

“What, not fancy enough for ‘ya?” He asked, standing in the spot I had just left. Watching me.

I guess I hadn’t hidden it as well as I thought I did.

I walked up the stairs, running a finger along the handrail. I picked it up, inspecting it before responding to him.

“Sorry for expecting something not covered in dust.” I replied, pointing my finger towards him in significance. I raised my eyebrows, brushing my hands off and continuing up the stairs.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“Hasn’t been used in a while.” He gruffed out, dropping the bag he was holding next to the one already on the floor. I looked toward the back of the room, seeing a huge- but empty- kitchen. I even caught a glimpse of cobwebs in the top corner.

“Yeah, I can tell.” I deadpanned, looking at him with a smirk. He walked over to one of the pillars, leaning against it. A smile pulled ever so lightly at the corners of his mouth. My face heated under his stare. I turned from him, continuing to walk into the circled room.

I passed through the threshold of the broken doorway, finally getting a glimpse at what lay in the room. My mouth dropped, my eyes mirroring the awe that awoke my hibernating heart. I saw Pete move from the corner of my eye, but I ran my hand over the first computer, admiring the priceless setup.

“You know how to work that thing?” Pete asked, now standing in the same threshold I had just passed through.

I blew the dust off the top of the computers, running a hand over the keyboards and analytic station. My heart was beating with excitement as I gently tried to clean it. I needed to see this baby in action.

“Are you kidding?” I asked, crouching down to follow through to where all the cords were gathered, sitting right outside the power strip on the ground. I was half scared the wires had been cut or messed with and would shock me, but any and all excitement for the possibility of it working outweighed my worries. “This is my whole thing.” I finished.

I plugged it in, with nothing but a little spark to fight back. I brushed my hands, standing up and looking around the multiple computers for the power button.

“I thought it was being a sharpshooter?” Pete retorted sarcastically. I gave him an exasperated look before putting my finger at the back of the computer, pressing it in.

“I’m a woman of many talents.” I winked at him, looking at the computers that now lit up white in front of me. Pete chuckled softly, coming to stand right next to me and watch as it came to life. The technology was severely outdated, sure- and I was reminded of this by how long it took to start up- but it looked like it had all the necessary components for hacking, surveillance, analysis of any kind- you name it. Any information you wanted, it could be found through this decades-old piece of hope.

We stood there for a few minutes, staring at the little bar underneath the brand logo, watching it barely move over the span of several minutes. It would be a while, but I was entranced.

After a few more minutes, Pete left from my side and walked into the kitchen, which I could see from behind the computer setup. I had sat down, my legs up on the desk as I inspected each and every piece of equipment within the room. I was messing with the retinal scan device that had been propped on top of the screen when I heard rattling from the kitchen.

I begrudgingly put the device down, sitting up in the chair to peek out over the computers. I saw Pete moving stuff around in the cupboards, taking out a glass to set on the island counter behind him. I watched him, curiously.

He got a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet, inspecting it and the glass before him before shrugging and starting to drink it- straight out of the bottle.

I got up, quickly walking over to the kitchen right in front of him. He looked at me in question, bringing the bottle away from his lips. He swallowed then opened them to ask me something before I took the bottle out of his hands and started chugging it myself. The smoky burning spreading through my throat was welcomed, as was the familiar heat starting at the bottom of my stomach.

“Long day?” He asked, putting his hands on the counter and watching me. I met his eye contact, taking a few more swigs before pulling it away. I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth, holding out the bottle for him to take. He continued to watch me, starting to drink once again. I kept my face still, despite his attempt at playful conversation. I watched his throat bob with every chug, his lips moistening with the alcohol. The familiar feeling of anticipation settled over the room, reminding me that he was talking to me. I had forgotten it all together, pulling my gaze from his lips and looking into his eyes. He pulled the bottle from his mouth, pouring himself a glass and setting it on the counter before returning my stare.

I decided not to answer him, instead walking behind him to get another glass out. I could feel him watching me as I spotted the glasses on the highest shelf. I stood up on my toes to reach for it, immediately paying the price. I instantly crumpled in pain, my hand going to my stomach to wrap around the deep injury I had forgotten about. I winced, my other hand bracing on the counter. Pete instantly walked to my side, silent but searching for the source of the pain.

Shit. I forgot about that.

I looked at the ground, my eyes shut as the stinging pain ran through my body. I breathed out shakily, letting out a breathy, sarcastic laugh. I wasn’t even sure what I was laughing at, and by the look on his face when I opened my eyes and looked up at him, Pete wasn’t sure either.

Maybe the fact that I had just started to think I could forget about this incessant reminder on my stomach.

I bit my lip to momentarily distract from the pain as I searched his eyes, bringing up the courage to talk.

“Gonna need your help.” I said, panting. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath.

He just furrowed his brows, standing still in front of me. I kept my one hand over my injury, pushing myself up and off the counter. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey, trudging past Pete and towards - what I guessed was- a bathroom. I heard his steps follow me after a moment of hesitation.

I pushed open the door, turning the lights on which cast a blueish-green over the peeling cream-colored walls. It looked like a communal bathroom, with urinals against the wall to my left. The sinks lined the wall in front of me, one mirror broken and the others so dirty nothing could be seen in them. The showers were behind me, across from the sinks. I walked in front of the broken mirror, throwing open the door of it to see a first aid kit.

I need to ask him about all these perfectly-placed first aids.

I made that thought a mental note for later, taking out the kit and setting it on the sink. Pete came to my side, watching me mess with the contents.

I finally looked up at him, giving him a weary look before I lifted my shirt up. He averted his gaze at first, which made me softly chuckle. I held my shirt against my chest with my chin, looking at the day-old bandages that loosely lay across my waist. I saw Pete bring his attention back to me as I grimaced. I looked up in the mirror, not wanting to look at the wound up close. I held my shirt up with one hand, the other grabbing the edge of the bandage and slowly starting to unwrap it from my waist.

My heart was pounding in my ears. I couldn’t tell where the anxiousness was coming from- if it was because Pete was standing right next to me, with my shirt halfway off, or from the amount of blood I could feel myself losing, or because I knew what lay underneath the bandages. Maybe all of the above. I didn’t feel like facing this agonizing piece of my past, but I knew I had to face it eventually. Better now before I bleed out.

As I repeated the last sentence in my mind, the last piece of gauze fell from my waist. Anger filled my heart and eyes. Pete stiffened beside me, both of us holding our breath.

The bandages fell to the floor, blood starting to fall from what was carved into the side of my stomach:

L R

I had no more sadness in me, no tears threatening to spill. Either I had gotten all of them out of my system, or any sort of loss I had felt was replaced with a starving desire for revenge. I could swear that my body temperature raised, the anger emitting off of me in waves of heat.

My gaze switched to Pete’s face through the mirror. He stared at the initials, putting the pieces together in his mind. He looked angry as well, but remained silent. I was grateful for him not prying.

I broke the veil of silence between us, taking another long chug from the bottle of whiskey. Another grimace from the burn, but liquid courage was something I would be grateful for in a minute from now. I set the bottle back on the edge of the sink with a little more force than needed.

“Could you…” I trailed off, holding up the clean cloth.

He took the cloth from my hand, staring down at me with an intensity I couldn’t quite place.

I gave him half of a smile, going back to stare at the carving. Pete fumbled with some stuff in the kit on the counter, his back to me. I opened my mouth to ask him what was taking so long, but he had turned around and faced me in that same instant.

I held eye contact with him as he looked down at me, putting his hands on my lower waist and moving me so that my body was facing him. His hold was firm, but soft. He used a piece of gauze to wipe off the blood that started to trail down my hip, his brows furrowed in concentration. I watched his face, how his jaw was set and he breathed much lighter as he scrubbed my stomach. His eyes were determined, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he folded the gauze, throwing it away. I didn’t register any pain, being completely entranced in watching him. My heart had been beating deeply- not particularly hard, or with worry, just… heavily.

He had something else in his hand, but I didn’t try to look at it. I was still watching him when he suddenly got down on his knees in front of me. That’s when my heart started to beat pretty hard in my chest. My feet shifted, his hands going to my waist once again to hold me still as he got comfortable on the floor- on his knees. He looked up at me then, from the floor. His eyes met mine and at first, any emotion behind them had been indiscernible.

I need to know what he’s thinking.

I looked further into his eyes, past the initial layer of coldness.

He looked at me with fondness, with curiosity. With pity.

It’s like he felt it in that moment too- the breaking of the barrier he had put up behind his eyes. His throat bobbed, but his face remained neutral. It became too much then. Too much emotion, too much tension between the positions we were in and the fact I was confident I had mastered the deciphering of this man’s visual emotional cues.

I looked away, once again watching us through the mirror. His eyes stayed on my face for a moment longer before his hands went up to the abrasions on my stomach, when I saw he held a needle and thread.

It seemed that we had done a lot of tending to wounds these past few days, and though I should’ve started to get used to the stitching, it was hard to watch. I grabbed the bottle once again, only taking a small sip- I finally started to feel the effects of my earlier drinks. A little bit to numb the pain, but not enough.

The stinging rang through my stomach and legs, to the bottom of my feet. I grabbed the edge of the sink, my head falling slightly. Pete was silent, concentrating on his stitching as he made quick work of it.

My eyes were squeezed shut for most of it, trying to clear my mind of any thoughts to pass the time quicker. It seemed to work- either that method or the alcohol- as it seemed like only a few minutes had passed before Pete spoke.

“All done.”

My eyes shot open like I had just woken up, and the room blurred into view. I let go of the sink, standing up and wobbling a bit. Pete’s hand went out to my lower back to prevent me from falling back. My cheeks had already been warm since my sudden consciousness a few seconds ago, but I’m sure they got even warmer with his touch. I looked down at my stomach, looking at the stitches. They were clean, and as good as I could hope for, but the obvious initials weren’t any less clear.

The L R was bold and taunting- the clearest voice in my head.

Don’t forget who you belong to.

I cleared my throat, taking what I told myself would be the last drink. I took a long sip, long enough that Pete got impatient and took it from my mouth, taking a couple sips of his own. I smiled, my eyes more closed than they were before as I watched him. He watched me too, the ghost of a smile on his own lips.

We sat in comfortable silence, breathing in and out deeply through the fading pain of my wound, and the lasting effects of a tense situation. One that seemed to affect him more than getting shot at earlier. He pulled the bottle from his lips- with only a tiny bit left.

A beat of silence passed between us, both of us letting the liquor settle before I spoke.

“This place got any music?”

—

I felt the beat of the song vibrating through my skin and into my bones. I had no control over my body as I swayed, occasionally flailing my arms when the bass kicked up. The room spun, and I got dizzy if I moved any faster than extremely slow. I felt so good. I couldn’t think of the last time I had this much fun.

Pete sat on the floor, an empty bottle next to him and another in his hand. He had one leg out in front of him, the other bent as he rested his arm on it. He was watching me, his head swaying to the beat and laughing whenever I stumbled and tried to catch myself. We would laugh, sing, mime the lyrics to the song.

The music was loud, but not too loud as to cover the sounds of his low laughter- which only fueled my beating heart as well as my uncontrollable dancing. I looked back at him, laughing at myself before a slight sting hit me again. I winced a tiny bit but was still laughing, falling to the ground by his feet.

I stared at the ceiling, watching it try to catch up with my eyes and caught my breath.

I suddenly thought of a question I was rather curious about, and I didn’t think twice as I sat up. I turned, laying on my stomach and propping my elbows up so my head was resting atop my knuckles. I looked at him, a smile plastered on my face against my will. I couldn’t get it off my face, even though the atmosphere changed into something a bit more serious.

He turned his face towards mine, putting the bottle down and offering me his attention.

“So…” I began, one of my hands starting to trace shapes aimlessly on the ground. “You’re not gonna ask?”

I could see the understanding in his eyes, and I didn’t offer any more clarification. He looked down at the ground, shrugging.

“Figure you’d tell me if you wanted to.” He said, looking back up at me.

I stared at him.

He wasn’t going to pry, or beg for answers to questions he wasn’t sure I’d wanna answer. He saved me, but didn’t force me to tell him anything about my past, or why I was where I was. He didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to, and brought me to this bunker. This most likely secret bunker, as a refuge from the hands of the people we had both been tortured by. He had gotten me food, and new clothes. A motel. He patched up my wounds, on multiple occasions- sometimes without even needing me to ask.

Maybe it was the alcohol- the sudden boost of confidence and the lack of wariness over any future consequences. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at me, as if we’d known each other for much longer than a few days. As if this was the start of something that would change our lives- for better or worse.

Maybe it was both.

I sat up, slowly crawling over to him. He opened his legs a little wider to accommodate as I crawled between them, placing my hands on his knees. I sat up on the heels of my feet, analyzing his face. The bruises that had once been aggressive and purple were now a muted yellow if not gone without a trace. His eyes were soft and inviting, his chest moving up and down increasingly. He looked at me as well, at my lips. I leaned in slowly, half because I wanted to give him time if he didn’t like where this was going, and half because if I had gone any faster I might’ve fallen to the ground.

His eyes switched from my eyes to my lips, being patient but subtly leaning his face towards mine. I pressed my lips to his softly, the lightest of touches. After only a few seconds I looked to his eyes, which were closed with his brows knitted together and his lips pursed, like he didn’t want or expected the kiss to end so soon. I felt his breath as he let out a faint exhale. I smirked, finally getting impatient and once again closing the distance between us.

I pressed my lips against his firmly, pulling away quickly to go in again. I opened my mouth this time, molding our lips together. He tasted of whiskey. He let me take control, kissing me back but with a gentleness I didn’t think he had in him.

I slowly pulled away after a couple seconds, leaning back on my arms and crossing my legs. I smirked at him, feeling the blush over my face. He smiled at me too, shaking his head and looking down at his hands that sat in his lap. The music played low in the back, seeming even lower than before as we enjoyed each other’s presence.

Something had shifted between us- definitely now, but even before the kiss. I felt closer to him, and I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted him to know everything about me. I wanted him to know me, and I wanted to know him. I heard myself talking before I could even process it.

“LR.” I started, tracing a finger over the shirt and bandages that hid the mark. “Leonardo Ricci. He was my boyfriend.”

I looked everywhere but him, not having the strength to look in his eyes- even at the level of drunk I was. I could see in my peripheral that he was staring at me, listening intently and to every word.

“Actually- no.” I shook my head, closing my eyes for a moment to laugh dryly and sarcastically at my mistake. “My fiancé.”

I could see his jaw clench, his hands that were in his lap folding into fists and him hiding them from my view. I continued, feeling empty so far towards my painful confessions.

“We’ve been- or uh, we were together for…” I trailed off, trying to remember exactly how long we had been together. It seemed I’d been stuck with him my entire life. “I think twelve years, going on thirteen.

“I don’t even really remember when it became official. We were expected to be married since we’d been born- family traditions and all that. We both come from very powerful families. Families that wanted to unify and take over New York. Then the East coast. Then the whole country.” I shook my head, finally lifting it to look at him. He was staring at me in concentration, in sympathy. An intense stare, like he was seeing me in an entirely new light and yet in his eyes, I was still the same, all at once. I continued.

“My whole life, I’ve been raised to marry him- to marry Leo, and continue our fucked up mob business with him and his family. They’ve been training me my whole life for that. Like cattle to be slaughtered. Endless… sitting in on meetings, witnessing the deaths of countless innocents, getting sent to kill anyone who questioned us. Even self defense classes.

“Yet none of it prepared me to have to fight for my life against the one person I’d been raised to love.” I didn’t realize my eyes had been watering until I blinked and a tear fell down my face. I wiped it instantly, shaking my head shamefully. “He’s all I’ve ever known.”

I leaned forward, putting my head down and sitting with my legs crossed only a foot away from him. It brought me physical pain to have to bring this up again. At that moment, I felt as if I would never be able to talk about it without crying. Without digging up every single terrible feeling I’d ever felt regarding them- my family, Leo.

I breathed in and out deeply, sniffling and trying to reign my emotions back in. There was so much more that needed to be said. So much more that I wanted to tell him, but telling everything all at once proved to be difficult.

As this thought went through my head, I felt a hand touch my cheek, bringing my face back up into the light.

He held the side of my face softly, staring into my eyes as if he could transfer his thoughts. I see you, and I understand.

I leaned into his hand, smiling softly at him.

It was him who now leaned forward, connecting our lips quickly. This kiss was even more passionate and intimate, the salty taste of my tears on our lips they molded together. He held me close, getting more firm everytime we pulled away just to reconnect again.

He pulled me in as much as he could, using both his hands to grab my face and communicate all he could into the kiss. I furrowed my brows, placing my hands on top of his own and kissing him back with as much fervor.

We slowly eased up our hold on one another, pulling away reluctantly. He rested his forehead against my own, rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

After a few moments like this, I pulled my head away, running my hands down his arms and putting them back into his lap. I bit at my lip, not knowing where to start.

“Did you love him?” Pete gruffed out, sudden but soft- not knowing if he had crossed a line.

I swallowed, taking a few moments to think before answering.

“At one point.” I responded, nodding as the memories came back to me. “Then the line between true love and manipulation started to fade together.”

The silence came back as we both thought about all that had been said. Pete’s hand came out to rest on my thigh, rubbing comfortingly.

I couldn’t think too hard on the feelings these memories brought back, though I knew where and when they came from. The alcohol still buzzed through my head and stomach, and my body swayed back and forth unwillingly. It was like word vomit, and I couldn’t stop it. Everything I had said was against my will, yet I couldn’t find myself caring too much about it. If anything, I felt a tiny weight had been brought off my chest as I had said the words. I would definitely regret all of this tomorrow.

For now, the butterflies in my stomach from the alcohol and desire for the man I’d kissed- several times now- in front of me was the only thing I could focus on. I wanted to have fun, and I wanted to make out a little bit more. I just wanted more. And my drunk self would get it. I closed my eyes, swaying a little harder to the song playing. The music had just come back to my senses, as if I had blocked it out before. I didn’t recognize it, but I danced in my place on the floor all the same. My closed eyes helped me focus on the music, feeling it everywhere. I sat contently on the floor, Pete’s hand still on my thigh.

The liquor swam through my veins, going straight to my legs.

Maybe I should get up and dance instead.

I opened my eyes, looking at Pete again. He seemed in deep thought, looking off to the floor. His thumb rubbing circles on my thigh never stopped.

Or maybe we should make out some more.

I, too, became entranced in thought as I debated between the two.

“Frank.” He spoke suddenly.

I snapped out of my thoughts, only hearing a grumble out of the man in front of me.

“... What?” I asked, not sure if he even said anything at all.

“Frank. It’s my name- my real name.”

I stared at him.

This fucker gave me a fake name.

I broke out into a huge smile, watching the confusion paint his face before I took his hand that was on my thigh into my own, shaking it. He stared at me, a smile breaking out onto his own face as I climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

I was an inch from his face when I looked into his eyes, still holding his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Frank.” I slurred, kissing him for the however-manyth time that night.

I put my hand on the bottom of his chin, using my thumb to slightly pull his mouth open. I wasted no time in using my tongue to tentatively massage his own, testing what he did and didn’t want to do. He did the same, using his own tongue to explore my mouth as I felt him sit up straighter. I smiled into the kiss.

His arms wrapped around me, one around my waist and the other across my back, holding onto my shoulder. I knew that wasn’t a gun he had in his pocket, and that made me smile even bigger as I continued to explore his mouth. My hand was on his shoulder, the other at his nape, the tips of my fingers in his hair. Our tongues came together again and again, the taste of whiskey- and copper- strong on our tongues. Copper… Did I bite his lip? Whatever.

We breathed heavily, our pace passionate and needing but slow and sensual all at once. I wasn’t physically capable of going too fast due to the alcohol, but I also wanted to enjoy the moment.

I wanted to dance, and I wanted to make out a little more.

Just as I mentally congratulated my drunken self, I heard the strong guitar strings at the start of one of my favorite AC/DC songs.

I pulled away, Pete- or, Frank- following me with his lips initially. His lips had started to swell up a little bit, and his bottom one had a tiny bit of blood on it.

I opened my mouth in excitement.

“I love this song!” I pretended to strum the guitar in time with the intro- or at least, what I felt like was in time. He laughed at me, shaking his head and letting his hands fall to his sides as he watched me in my fake performance.

I began to sing along with the background chorus of the song:

“Walk all over you”

As I ran my hands up his chest, moving back and forth. It felt so good and I was having so much fun. I sang the song, bringing my close half an inch from Frank’s face just to pull it away again when he started to lean in. He just sat there and stared with admiration in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

I finally got up, wanting to move my entire body.

I wanted to dance, and I wanted to make out a little more.

—

I fell to the ground, landing on my butt as the song came to an end. I was panting, Frank clapping from his spot on the floor. I smiled at him, crawling over and sitting right next to him. Another song came on, this one much slower than the last.

I closed my eyes, nodding along to the song and getting lost in the darkness behind my eyes.

Before long a thought popped into my head. One that I couldn’t wrap my head around.

“Hey,” I began, slowly opening my eyes and adjusting to the light before looking over at Frank. He was looking down at his lap before he lifted his own head, looking at me with his usual furrowed-brow expression.

I scooted towards him more, turning my body so I was facing him before continuing.

“How did his guys find us earlier? Did they follow you from Leo’s place?” I asked, fiddling with my hands in worry. I searched his face for an answer.

He stared back at me as he thought, in confusion and concern.

“I wasn’t followed after I left. They had all night to catch up to the motel.” He replied, seeming nonchalant.

I was incredibly confused. If they didn’t follow him when he escaped, how were they able to find where we were the next day? There were hundreds of other places I could’ve gone, that we could’ve gone. Yet somehow, they knew. Knowing what the car looks like, I understand. He used that car to get us out of there I assumed, but the exact route we took? It was suspicious, but my mind started to hurt from how hard I was thinking about it. I also trusted his answer. He seemed certain that no one had followed them, so maybe it was just dumb luck that they found us. I brushed it off and decided to worry more about it later. For now, we were safe and away from them. That’s all that mattered.

I sighed loudly and dramatically, spinning around and laying down so my head was in his lap. I closed my eyes, feeling like I could fall asleep at that moment. Frank softly ran his hand along my arm.

“You think he’ll come after you?” He spoke low, almost in a whisper. I opened my eyes and looked at him. His expression was open, soft. I swallowed. Sitting up and propping myself on my arms, I looked at him over my shoulder.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t already found us.” I whispered, my voice shaking- as if he could hear me. He looked at me with deep concern.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s a man that gets what he wants.”

I looked at him, in his eyes. I wasn’t sure how much time he had spent in there, or even how much time I had spent in there- but I was a little confused on how he hadn’t gotten to learn the extremes Leo would go to. When who he was, or what he owned, was threatened. I was grateful that he didn’t know, and hoped he would never know. He could take care of himself, I knew that. Hell, he’d been my rock these past few days as I adjusted to no longer being a mob boss’ pin doll. He was tough, patient, and smart. Wary. Suspicious. Closed off.

I didn’t mind it though, and I knew there was a reason behind it. One I’d hope to find out about one day, as we learn more about each other. A part of me was surprised at how much had happened between us these past few hours. I could tell neither of us have ever done something like this, ever trusted someone so quickly as to comfortably drink and enjoy ourselves. It hadn’t been that long since we’d known each other, but our circumstances were certainly different from most people. We were similar, but also different. We got along, and started to understand each other. What would happen tomorrow, or the days after that was something for sober, conscious me to worry about. I wanted to live in the moment for now.

After a couple minutes of silent contemplating from both of us, Frank reached his hand up to rub my arm, squeezing near my shoulder in reassurance.

I winced, pain shooting through my arm as he squeezed it. He dropped his hand, sitting up straighter to look at me apologetically. I looked up at him in confusion, opening my mouth to say something before I looked away, trying to remember something that was on the tip of my tongue. I ran a hand over my shoulder, feeling something like a scarred over cut. I looked at it, seeing the tiniest vertical stitches along my arm. I kept my hand over it, trying my hardest to remember something I felt I knew about the injury.

“Do it again.” I spoke suddenly, looking back up at Frank.

He looked at me with confusion, like he had heard me wrong. I nodded, holding out my arm. He looked into my eyes, slowly bringing his hand back up to wrap around my arm in the same place. He looked apprehensive before he squeezed it again. I felt the same pain in my arm, as well as some… thing underneath my skin.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed to myself in frustration, closing my eyes to try and help the memory come to surface.

It came to me in an uncomfortable vividness.

I spit out blood, joining the other dried-up splatters of blood that had been there since my first day down here. My head was heavy as I struggled to keep it upright. My eyes drooped and fought to stay open. I felt so weak. I turned my head back to him as he crouched, looking at me in anger. I met his stare with disgust. He muttered something, grabbing my face with so much force I could taste more blood. My head shook with his hand.

“You are mine.” He yelled, spitting the words at me as if he could say them enough times and they would become true. “You will never get away from me.”

He brought a knife up to my face in promise. I just looked at him, feeling too weak to cry or talk, and much too weak to put up any fight. He laughed before showing a pitiful expression, holding my face with both hands.

“We are meant to be together. Forever.” He said, dropping my head from his hands. My head fell, my chin against my chest as I started to succumb to the fatigue.

He mumbled something, and I tried to pick up my head, but to no avail. I was sinking further and further into unconsciousness.

Until I felt as if my arm had caught on fire. My head shot up as I thrashed against the restraints, screaming and crying in pain. I looked to the side, seeing Leo slicing a line down my arm. I panted and sobbed once, twice, three times-

Before I fell unconscious.

My eyes widened, looking at Frank horrified and with painful recollection.

“He… no.” I shook my head, trying to convince myself that the idea was absurd. “He put the…” I trailed off.

“What? What happened?” Frank asked with increasing worry.

I muttered underneath my breath, repeating the memory out loud slowly to myself. I stood up abruptly, almost falling over but quickly regaining my balance. The alcohol’s effects started to wear off as the alarming sobriety of the situation kicked in. Frank stood up as well, standing in the same spot but watching me.

“What is it?” He asked again, insisting but uneasy.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block on the counter. I walked back over to him, holding the knife in my hand. He looked down at the knife, then at me. He didn’t show any fear or suspicion, just worry.

I looked into his eyes, sobering myself up so I could show on my face that I was serious. I hoped he would trust me and ask me about it afterwards, because I might not have the strength that I have now in a couple minutes. I spoke with as much confidence and assertion as I could muster in the moment.

“Frank... I’m gonna need you to cut open my arm.”

#frank castle #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fluff #frank castle imagine #frank castle drabble #Frank Castle Series #the punisher #punisher mcu #punisher marvel #marvel frank castle #marvel #marvel imagine #frank castle angst #punisher fluff #punisher angst #punisher series

[kasdan]

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟’𝑠 𝐹𝑢𝑟𝑦 {𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 9}

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a/n: so sorry for the delay in this chapter the time has just flown by me and before i knew november was over like damn halloween was just yesterday chill. anyhoo i hope you enjoy the chapter lovelies<33

Summary: frank gets settled into the motel and you wait for him to get better as things start to heat up between the two of you before settling as quickly as it starts

Pairing: frank castle x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, frank needs a hug, was quite literally twirling my hair and kicking my feet writing this

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter song: this side of paradise - coyote theory

The room grows quiet after Curtis leaves. My gaze focuses on Frank’s body on the bed, and I can’t bring myself to look away from him. Curtis said that he would be alright, and I believe him, but there’s still a part of me that’s worried sick, and I can’t understand why I’m panicking this much over someone who I’ve only known for a couple of weeks. 

David leaves a little bit after Curtis, claiming he has to get something back at his place. I try questioning him on if we’d be safe here, not knowing if I was tracked here from the house, but he insists that we’ll be fine as long as I try not to use much of my powers while he’s gone.

I don’t get much more in before he’s leaving, and I’m left alone with the still unconscious man in the bed across from me. I find myself staring at the rise and fall of Frank’s chest again, making sure it’s steady and doesn’t stop.

There’s a slight panic feeling in my chest on what I would do if he stops breathing, but I have to tell myself that he’s going to be fine, and it won’t come to that.

I sigh and fall back on the bed, not being able to bring myself to do much else. I lay on my side, still able to see Frank from my position. It’s not long before I feel my eyes drifting shut, the events of the night finally taking its toll on me.

I try my best to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss if something starts to happen to Frank, but my body says otherwise, soon falling into a world of darkness.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” I look at the green-eyed girl in front of me, who’s currently trying her best to make the piece of plastic she has as sharp as she can.

“We can’t live like this, you’ve never even been outside. Don’t you ever wonder what life outside this building is?” I admit that I’ve wanted to know what the outside was like ever since the girl came in and started raving about it. I just don’t think this plan is the best thing we could do.

The click of the door sounds, and she quickly shoos me away to the other side of the room and hides the sharp object behind her. A guard comes in with food trays and drops one in front of me before going over to the other girl in the room to drop another tray in front of her.

He turns to walk away, however before he can get out of the room, the smaller girl is jumping on his back and reaching her short arms around his neck, jabbing the sharp object into his skin.

The guard jerks his body around, attempting to throw the small person off of him as his neck starts to bleed. I jump up and as quietly as I can, and I walk towards him, reaching for the key badge he wears on his belt.

I get a grasp on it before a hand harshly grips mine. I let out a sharp cry when I feel something in my wrist pop and look up to see the guard sneering down at me.

He manages to get the girl off his back, slamming her into the wall so she falls to the ground at the impact. I have no chance to try and check on her before more guards rush into the room and I’m dragged out into the hallway.

“NO, LET ME GO! ELLIE!” I start screaming as I’m picked up and carried down the hall. I can see three other guards around Ellie, dragging her in the opposite direction of the hallway I was going in. She isn’t moving and I find myself thrashing around in the grip of the guard holding me trying to get to her, but it’s no use and I watch her get dragged out of sight, not knowing it’s the last time I’ll ever get to see her.

I find myself jerking awake, the memory fading away in my brain. It takes me a minute to remember where I am, looking over at Frank’s body and expecting him to still be asleep, but I am surprised when I find his eyes looking back at me.

“You’re awake.” I find myself jumping up off the bed to his side. “How do you feel?” I sit down next to him on the bed, observing him to see if there are any immediate worries.

He doesn’t say anything, instead bringing his hand up to swipe his thumb across my cheek. I’m taken aback, and I realize that there were tears that fell down my face while I was sleeping.

I turn my head down to look down at my knee, his hand sliding off my cheek to fall to his side. I take my hand to rub the other side of my face to get rid of any other tears.

“Don’t.” Frank’s hand comes back to grip my chin, and I turn my head back towards him until I’m looking into his eyes.

“Don’t what?” My voice comes out just above a whisper as Frank lets his hand rest on my cheek again.

“Hide from me.” His voice is gruff, and he goes to talk more but ends up in a coughing fit. I quickly reach for the cup of water Curtis left on the nightstand next to the bed for this situation and hold it up to his mouth so he can take a sip. “Thanks.” I place the cup back down on the nightstand and go to sit down on the bed I was once asleep on before I feel a grip on my wrist, stopping me.

I turn my body around to see Frank’s hand around my wrist, pulling me back towards the bed he’s on. There’s something in me that’s hesitant to sit that close to him again, and I don’t know why. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I make up the first excuse that comes to mind: not wanting to be this close to him when I can feel my hands start to shake and my heart start to beat faster in my chest.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” He insists, and I have no choice but to sit down next to him. My gaze falls to my lap again, and I start messing with my fingers, not knowing what else to do. “Hey,” he says, placing one of his hands in mine to stop their movement, and I raise my head to meet his eyes. “You okay?” I swallow hard and can only nod at him, not trusting my voice in the moment.

Silence takes over the room for a minute before I clear my throat. “I should be asking you that question.” Frank lets out a chuckle at my statement, taking his hand off of mine, and it takes all of my restraint to not reach for him to keep it there.

“‘M fine; don’t worry bout me.” It’s not so convincing when he lets out a grunt, trying to get his body to sit up against the headboard. I go to stop him from moving any further, but he just shakes his head at me and pushes himself all the way up.

He’s out of breath by the time he’s lifted himself up, and I find myself looking at him in worry, causing him to give me a short smile as if telling me not to worry.

“How’d I get here?” He looks around the room as he talks, taking in the unfamiliar scenery.

“I drove you.” His head stops looking around to suddenly look back at me as if I have two heads. And then he starts laughing.

“You,” he pauses between laughs. “You drove me?” He laughs until he suddenly cringes and holds his side, forcing him to calm down. 

“It’s not funny; I thought you were going to die.” Once he’s calmed down, his gaze softens at me.

“‘M sorry, darlin', it just caught me off guard. Wasn’t expectin’ you to be able to drive me outta there. ‘M proud of you.” He grabs my hand while he’s speaking, gripping it softly, and it doesn’t help my pounding heart in the slightest.

My mind isn’t working; I want to say something, but no words come out, and if they do, I feel they wouldn’t make any sense. I open my mouth to try and say something before my eyes glance over Frank’s torso, seeing the shirt he’s wearing start to turn crimson.

“You’re bleeding.” My body reacts on its own, immediately getting closer to him in order to check it. He tries to push me off and wave it off like he’s fine, but I’m not having it.

I lift his shirt to find the wrap Curtis put on him getting soaked through with blood, and I’m immediately reaching for the container that was left behind for this exact reason. Before he left, Curtis showed me what to use to replace his bandage with when he needed it, but I figured that David would be the one to handle it if it got to that point. There’s no sign of David coming back anytime soon, so I’ll just have to do my best to change them myself. This somehow makes my hands shake even more than they were before.

“I can do that—” Frank reaches out to grab the wrap from my hands, but I shake my head and pull it out of his reach before he can get a hold of it.

“I can do it.” I insist, starting to unravel the now-red old wrap from his abdomen, apologizing when I hear him wince slightly at my movement. 

I throw the old cloth into the garbage by the bed and prepare to put the clean one on, but I have to first wipe off the excess blood around the wound. I go to fill up the small bowl left by the sink in the corner of the room, bringing it back by Frank’s side to start cleaning up the wound.

I glance up to find Frank’s gaze on me, looking deep in thought. “What? Are you okay?” I go to pull away from his body before he quickly shakes his head, reaching for my arm to keep me there.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I can tell his mind is somewhere else as he speaks, his gaze drifting away from mine.

"What's wrong?" He swallows and turns his head back up to look at me with the most intensity I've seen in him. His hand finds its way back to my cheek, fingers grazing it gently, and I instinctively feel my head turning to keep his hand pressed there.

"I'm afraid." He just about whispers, and I have to comprehend if he actually said anything, but the way his eyes are piercing into mine, I know he did. I open my mouth to question him, but his thumb runs across the bottom of my lip, causing me to forget what I was about to say. "Of gettin' too close—wantin' to get closer." He lets out a soft chuckle while shaking his head, and I can't help but just sit there, wanting to know what else he's going to say.

"To tell ya the truth, you scare me." I can feel my face drop at his words, and I go to pull away from him, my head going to face the ground again, but before I can do anything, he shakes his head, keeping my head up to face him. "Lemme finish."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again to look back at me. "The feeling I get when I'm with you—it scares the hell outta me." He doesn't say anything else, instead grabbing one of my hands and placing it on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat pounding, my own's rhythm not being far off from his.

His hand lets go of my wrist, but I find myself keeping my hand on him, not wanting to remove it from him just yet. Our eyes lock, and I have no idea how long we're sitting there for. Time seems to move in slow motion, and I can feel him pushing forward towards me, causing my arm to move backwards towards my own body.

Curiosity fills my features when my arm is the only thing separating our bodies—not pressed as harshly against it as it once was, but now just simply staying there. I can see the questioning look in his eyes as if he's debating something, but he ends up shaking his head and leaning his body back on the bed, turning his head to look at the wall.

"Frank-"

"'M sorry." Our voices are barely audible, and I'm not sure what just happened or what's exactly going on in Frank's head, but I figure it's for the best that I leave it be for now. Instead, I work on putting the clean wrap on his wound in silence.

@sleeperthelazy @hathay @lunaticgurly @casa-boiardi @mattmurdocksstarlight @stilldreaming666 @cherry-berry-ollie

buy me a coffee ♡

#embers fury #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #frank castle series #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher #jon bernthal #slow burn #marvel #Spotify

[petertingle-yipyip]

world class sinner - frank castle (masterlist)

season 2

pairings: billy russo x reader , frank castle x reader , punisher x exodus

summary: with daredevil dead, exodus returns from Quantico unsure of who she should be. fighting nightmares and deja vu, small sparks threaten to revive something saved for matt murdock before a shocking betrayal rattles New York’s two most dangerous vigilantes.

(1) - deja vu : Being back in the Kitchen almost immediately pulls her back into a fight. But without Matt, what has she become?

(2) if he had been with me: Further and further her humanity goes as Y/N commits herself to Frank Castle's crusade. Small moments threaten to bring her back, but how can she when there's nothing worth it... Or is there.

(3) haunted: Can’t breathe, can’t turn back. Y/N continues to walk the fragile line of her morality while finding an uneasy comfort in the presence of Billy Russo, despite being haunted by Matt Murdock’s memory. But reuniting with Frank Castle makes it little less miserable.

(4) aftermath: A quick run nearly turns disastrous when a bold move goes wrong. An attempted reconciliation between friends turns nasty, all because the aftermath of Midland Circle still lingers in Y/N’s actions.

(5) build god then we'll talk: Temporary alliances form on one side before fighting off an ambush from the other. All the while, dots are connecting for more than one player as the game grows more and more dangerous.

(6) so what now? : Limits are pushed and more secrets pile up as she continues to pretend on both sides. When they creep closer to one another, can she maintain all of her lies and save face or will she be forced to pick what relationship matters most?

(7) so it goes… : All eyes on her, a skilled illusionist. Playing the field for information gets what she needed but could threaten the relationship keeping her afloat.

(8) beautiful liar : A breaking point, new alliances, and seeds of mutual trust show Y/N who is and who isn’t on her side.

(9) bad omens: Lingering omens finally register and truths are revealed through blood, bullets, and betrayals.

(10) is it over now?: A long time coming, one fight comes to a bloody conclusion. Another lurks in the near future, and the connection between two friends and two lover is severed.

(11) sinner: It all comes down to one final night, where’s it all began. One who thinks he’s a god versus the one who once scared the Devil and the Punisher. The Devil wasn’t wrong after all to fear the evil she delivers.

(epilogue) i know it won’t work: After a couple weeks, Y/N decides to open Frank’s letter.

#ptyy mag #ptyy wcs #frank x oc #frank x reader #frank castle fanfic #frank x yn #platonic frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #netflix frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle #the punisher x vigilante reader #punisher fanfic #punisher fic #punisher x reader #netflix punisher #mcu punisher #punisher series #the punisher #frank castle series #frank castle angst #found family #netflix billy russo #billy russo series #billy russo fic #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo fanfic #bill