#Sarah Lieberman
Text
lavender haze (dark mode)
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.
warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst
word count: 8.6k
a/n: your eyes do not deceive you, this is a repost! the first time I posted this, there was some kind of glitch that changed the color of the text which made it impossible to read on dark mode. I was unable to fix it, and i've been waiting for that glitch to be fixed. it hasn't happened with any of my, or anyone else's posts lately, so it seemed like the right time to repost this for anyone that wasn't able to read it the first time because of the dark mode issue. I truly appreciate everyone being so patient, and even reaching out to me about reposting because you wanted to be able to read it. that makes my lil heart so happy, you have no idea. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
tags: @hellskitchens-whore
Staring at the ceiling with you
Oh, you don’t ever say too much
And you don’t really read into
My melancholia
Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.
He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.
Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.
Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.
You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver.
To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.
I’ve been under scrutiny
You handle it beautifully
All this shit is new to me
When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.
Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.
This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you.
Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.
“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”
Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.
“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”
The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging.
“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”
“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”
“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”
Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair.
“Hey, look at me.”
Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.
“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”
Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.
Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way.
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids.
All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.
God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.
“Hey, big guy.”
“Hi darlin’.”
“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”
“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”
Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.
“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”
“That right?”
Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.
“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”
There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.
He was just Frank, and he was just yours.
All they keep asking me
Is if I’m gonna be your bride
The only kind of girl they see
Is a one night or a wife
Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”
“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”
“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”
“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”
Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.
“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”
Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.
Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.
It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him.
You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day.
I find it dizzying
They’re bringing up my history
But you aren’t even listening
Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.
She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with.
“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”
“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”
“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”
“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”
Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.
Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.
“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”
“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”
“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”
Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding.
“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”
“Patience, for starters.”
“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”
Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.
“For the record, I like her better than you.”
“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”
After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.
“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”
“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”
The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees.
“Can I take ya to breakfast?”
“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”
Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.
“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”
“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”
A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.
“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”
“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”
“You’re wrong.”
Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.
“What?”
“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”
“When?”
“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”
Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.
“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”
“Why not both?”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.
Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“You got me a cabin?”
Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.
“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”
Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.
For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.
After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.
“What’s goin’ on up there?”
“I don’t wanna go home.”
Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too.
“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”
You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.
“That it?”
Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.
“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”
“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”
“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”
“My birthday was three days ago.”
“So?”
The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.
“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”
“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”
“My what?”
Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it.
“Your…main priority.”
Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know. I love you, Frank.”
“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”
Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”
“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”
“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”
Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification.
Talk your talk and go viral
I just need this love spiral
Get it off your chest
Get it off my desk
Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it.
There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.
But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.
He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?
Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.
“Frank? What are you-”
“What’s goin’ on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”
“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”
“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”
The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.
“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”
Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”
Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.
“What?”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”
Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was.
“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”
“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”
“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”
“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”
Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.
“What do you want?”
“Frank-”
“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”
Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.
“Talk to me.”
“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”
“You don’t think I want that?”
“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”
It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask.
You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say.
Your wife. Your partner. Your future.
“A family?”
“Yes, Frank. A family.”
The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.
“Frank, what are you doing?”
“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”
“Frank-”
“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”
“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”
Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.
“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”
“Really?”
“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time.
Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.
Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration.
There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count.
A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.
Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.
#frank castle#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x you#frank castle x reader#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x f!reader#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle fic#frank castle smut#the punisher fic#the punisher smut#curtis hoyle#david lieberman#sarah lieberman#karen page#dinah madani#brett mahoney
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😆
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Latest chapter is a day late (in my mind anyways) but finally up!! First lines under the cut
There was something different about New York City at Christmas time. Maybe it was just the decorations, the lights, the snow. But the city itself felt a little friendlier, a little less ready to punch your lights out than it usually was.
That, or Frank was just in an abnormally good mood.
It was good to be back here, the closest place to something like home that he had, for the second time in the past four years. The first time had been a brief trip to check in with Curtis about a few things, only staying long enough to get the information he needed and crash at his place for the night.
This time would be a longer trip. He was even planning to stop by and visit the Liebermans— which was where he was currently headed. When David had caught wind of the fact he was heading for New York City, he’d immediately insisted Frank stop and visit with them.
It had seemed like a bad idea at first. There was still a target on his back, especially in NYC, and the last thing Frank wanted was to bring trouble to the Lieberman’s door.
However, he wasn’t traveling alone. So he couldn’t really crash on Curtis’s couch this time around.
#kastle#karen page#frank castle#amy bendix#curtis hoyle#david lieberman#sarah lieberman#leo lieberman#zach lieberman#the punisher#christmas#christmas fan fic#writing stories is a kind of magic too
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I'm only a few episodes into The Punisher S2, and while I don't TOTALLY hate it or anything, I feel like it'd be better for Frank's story if it was like. Frank works at a coffee shop that Karen frequents and they flirt talk all the time and Frank has dinner with the Liebermans every week and probably pseudo adopts some punk kid he works with, and stops murdering people, and yes I'm aware this is basically fanfic aren't I a genius
#the punisher#the punisher season two#frank castle#karen page#kastle#yeah i hardcore ship that now btw#david lieberman#sarah lieberman#madani can come too if she promises to be nice. or at least less mean
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Rewatching The Punisher and I'm dying at the thought that Frank's excuses to see Sarah go from "let's jump in front of your goddamn car" to "hey I've got you flowers, now let me flex my parenting skills"
#like bestie youre a fucking idiot#but youre also pretty cute#what do you mean he committed manslaughter?#hes my little meow meow#frank castle#the punisher#punisher season 1#sarah lieberman#marvel#mcu#nmcu#agata varano
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An Unkindness of Ravens
Chapter 7, “Would You Rather?,” on Ao3
Karen had taken the joke with good humor, but on the scheduled day, she and Frank’s friend’s wife had arrived early and without the daughter. “Leo’s in a rebellious stage,” explained Sarah, an easygoing woman with a reluctant smile. “You probably heard about how she met your detective friend?”
“I did.” Trish had heard about it first from an amused Jessica and then a frustrated Karen, and the story had been part of her inspiration for arranging this group. “Sounds like she needs some guidance on how to channel all that ambition.”
Sarah nodded and shrugged. “Maybe I can talk her into coming next week.” She hesitated slightly and then asked, “So, I understand you’re <i>the</i> Trish Walker? With that song? ‘I want your cray-cray…’”
#kastle#kastle fanfiction#the punisher fanfiction#daredevil fanfiction#karen page#trish walker#sarah lieberman#claire temple#leo lieberman#frank castle#crisscrossing romances of the defenders#new chapter soon
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Whether you take it as metaphorical or literal, Frank definitely makes up the middle of this Lieberman sandwich
#frank castle#the punisher#david lieberman#sarah lieberman#frank castle x david lieberman x sarah lieberman#frank castle x david lieberman#bandit’s art
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April 2, 2024
Happy 46 Birthday to Jaime Ray Newman.
#Jaime Ray Newman#Happy Birthday#Sarah Lieberman#The Punisher#Marvel Cinematic Universe#MCU#Marvel#Aimee Martin#Leverage#Amanda Walker#Supernatural#Spn#April#2024
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Habeas for Superheroes, Part 12: Saving the Liebermans(Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)
Read full work on AO3
It was late in the evening when Foggy headed out to Queens for the second time that day. Sarah, as she'd told Foggy to call her, was waiting outside. "I managed to get my father to look after the kids," she said, "but they're all three of them wondering what's going on. My son got aggressive about it." She sighed at that. "I don't know what we're going to tell them."
"We'll figure it out," said Foggy. "Situations like this, you always have to figure out things like that as you go along. You can try preparing things beforehand, but whatever you're planning, it won't work out. Trust me."
She, for instance, didn't yet know exactly what she was going to say to Matt when he met them in Manhattan to lead them to where David Lieberman was hiding. They had only communicated by email since her first visit to Queens that morning. She was determined not to apologize, because she wasn't sorry. But she was aware that just telling him why she'd done it would probably lead to the kind of argument they did not want to have in front of a stranger.
Maybe Matt himself realized, that, though. When Foggy and Sarah emerged onto the street to find him waiting there, as soon as Foggy had called out his name he was stepping forward and offering his hand, saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman. My name is Matt Murdock. I'm Ms. Nelson's husband. Your husband is staying near the river. This way." Then he just turned and walked off, making a show of using the cane, but not taking Foggy's arm. Or getting anywhere near her, even though she'd worn shoes more than loud enough to avert any suspicions.
Sarah threw Foggy a concerned look at this. Foggy looked away, just saying, "Come on, let's get this over with."
They kept close to him as they reached the river, walking through the dark corners of New York that they'd both avoided before now, even as those they loved had plunged into them. It wasn't a cold night, but Sarah was shivering anyway, and at least looked distracted enough she might have not noticed the ease with which Matt made his way, even though there wasn't much to mark the route for a blind man. Not much for even a seeing one, honestly. The buildings all looked the same in the dark, at least until they saw the one with a light in its entrance.
David Lieberman was waiting for them there. He was a fairly tall man with dirty blonde hair and beard, extremely disheveled at the moment, and his clothes were in worse shape. The minute his wife laid eyes on him, she strode up to him and shoved him into the door. Which wasn't very stable; it gave way behind him and sent him stumbling further back. Sarah didn't even seem to notice. She just moved forward into the broken doorframe and shoved him again, and again.
Foggy couldn't make out all of her words. There was "What did you do?" and "We saw you die!" (that one was loud and she yelled it multiple times) and something about months.
As Matt moved forward to intervene, Foggy quietly said, "I think you should let her have it out with him, Matt. In fact, I think we should move out of earshot. Or at least far enough away. Unless you think there's anyone dangerous around."
"We're the only people in the immediate area," said Matt. "Back to the river and I won't even catch their voices without concentrating." They didn't have to worry about being overheard by the Liebermans; they could hear enough from inside the building to know that.
They walked back to the river in silence. Foggy could feel the tension rising, but she also felt their surroundings, despite Matt's belief they were safe for the moment. She might refrain from yelling at him just for that, lucky him.
When they got there, and Foggy was staring out at water barely visibly in the darkness, Matt spoke first, his voice very cool as he asked, "You are aware you may have just gotten all four of them killed?"
A harsh cut, but one Foggy had anticipated. "I admit I didn't anticipate her taking matters into her own hands like that. I made it pretty clear I wasn't planning for anyone to do anything in response to my telling her."
"I think her husband did. I think he had a pretty damn good reason for keeping her in the dark, that being he knew her and he knew she might react like this."
Probably neither of them anticipated the nerve that one touched. "So you're just assuming men like you two know what's best for your wives? I thought I told you what I thought of that nonsense back in college!" It was very hard not to yell. "We wives are not just pets to be protected from our own foolish impulses."
Matt looked a little hangdog and like he wanted to protest that whole thing, but a moment later he instead said, "But you're not like Mrs. Lieberman. You're not incapable of taking care of yourself, and you actually have some idea of what you're up against, and anyway, the people who would go after you can't so long as they don't know I'm Daredevil, so we've never quite been in their current situation."
"And if we were?" Foggy asked, because that was an important question, and this might be her best chance to get it answered.
Matt fell silent. After half a minute or so, Foggy gave up on an immediate answer, and continued, "While you're chewing on that, let me also point out that if David had slipped up-and do remember he had no experience with anything even remotely like this-Sarah would've had no way to know they were coming for her or their children."
"I'm pretty sure he could've called her very fast, if it came to that. The kids, too, even if they'd been at school or otherwise out of the house. I couldn't tell everything about the set-up he's got in there-and I don't think anyone who wasn't an IT professional could've either-but I know enough about his activities that it would shock me if he couldn't."
Maybe that was true. But Foggy still went on, "She's told me a bit more about what the past months have been like for her, too. She's been very alone, you know. Most of the friends she and her husband had snubbed her after he was condemned as a traitor. And the kids have suffered similar in school, and the son, Zach, has basically become a problem kid in response. And she truly was devastated to lose him. I don't usually believe traditional claptrap about women and men, but I am becoming convinced that a woman absolutely can get herself so invested in her husband that losing him can break her."
"Foggy," Matt's stricken response to this wasn't a surprise. She was a little more caught off guard by just how hard seeing him that way still got to her. It took her time to pull her thoughts or feelings together enough to say anything more.
Too much time. First, Matt said, "Everything he did in there was for them, you know. What he did to get them in this predicament might not have been, but he's no noble crusader wanting to dedicate even half of his life to this. His main goal now is finding a way home he can live with."
There was a romanticism to that, Foggy acknowledged. But if there was one thing she had learned over the past year and a half, it was that romance didn't really get you anything in the end, not even emotional comfort.
But the pause in the argument had made her realize she was tired, and didn't want to get off onto that tangent with Matt. She seemed to get tired more easily than she had even a year ago.
She found herself asking, "So, what are we doing anyway? Do we want to get the Avengers involved in this?"
"Perhaps," said Matt. "They could even conceivably get the entire Lieberman family out of the country if they're willing to go, and even if we shouldn't involve Stark right now, they could get the incriminating documents leaked probably within days. And that's if they even bother trying to not be connected to it. It would probably be a stronger case if they weren't, but I'm not sure Rogers has ever cared about such things."
"Either way, that probably would solve the current dilemma, if Lieberman didn't know anything the world hadn't heard about, too, and his getting killed again would only make them look worse." As Foggy said this, she observed her husband's reaction. She would've liked him to be a lot more pleased by this.
He only said, "We don't know how much he knows, not really, especially when he's had half a year to do nothing but hack into all the government's systems. It would be safer for him and his family if we handled this more quietly. Romanov could probably think of some way to do it."
"I can guess the real reason you don't want to go public, you know," Foggy snapped, because she already had. "You just don't want to feel responsible when Frank finds out and of course he's probably going to want to kill everyone involved, and ultimately, he's only likely to hold back for the sake of our cases for so long. But I don't know if he'd even succeed, Matt. He's never gone after anyone truly powerful."
"That's not my only reason," Matt sighed, which probably was true enough. "But I think he probably would succeed, at least for one of them. Possibly get himself killed in the process, which of course he doesn't care about, but Karen would."
"And she wouldn't be the only one, would she?" Foggy asked, because Karen was the one more obviously emotionally entangled with Frank, but she had already thought Matt was, too, in a weird way. Though really, if she was being extremely honest, she wasn't indifferent to his fate herself.
Matt might have even looked embarrassed for a second. Then he said, "Either way, we still need to get the Liebermans out. Do you think they'll refuse to be evacuated?"
"I hope not," said Foggy. "Though maybe we'd better go check in on them, make sure Sarah hasn't stormed off alone in the dark part of town in the middle of the night."
She hadn't; when Matt and Foggy returned to the building, they found both Liebermans standing together in front of the entrance. "So," Foggy asked them, "do you two have any idea what you want to do now?"
"Only that we want to be fully reunited as a family," said Sarah, "in any way that's relatively safe for us."
"So you would be willing to leave the country?" Matt asked.
The two of them looked at each other. "Is the situation really that hopeless?" David Lieberman asked.
Foggy saw Matt consider it, as she did the same. "Anything we attempt to do that's legal will inevitably take time," she said, "and we'd definitely have to hide you somewhere to keep you from getting killed, I'm afraid."
"And probably you and your children as well," said Matt, "because as soon as the people responsible for this realize you're still working against them, well, if they can't get to you, they'll get to anyone you care about that they can reach. In fact, do you two have anyone else who might need protecting?"
"My father," said Sarah. Looking at her husband, she added, "Maybe your sister, too? Even if I'm not sure anyone's heard from her since the sit shiva. I sure haven't."
"It might not have to be forever, though," Foggy offered. "You might be able to come back when everything is resolved."
"I think we both know enough to know that's going to take a long time," said David. "Thanks for offering the hope of us returning eventually, though."
"Very well, then," said Matt. "There are people who can help you, and I expect to be in contact with them next week. Until then, Mrs. Lieberman, we have to decide where you and your children will stay. We have other friends who can take you in, or can even watch over them if you choose to stay in your own house, though I would advise against that."
"We'll have to go back there, though," said Sarah. "The kids and my father are there." Foggy heard the terror when it first came into her voice, when it at last hit her just how much danger her entire family was now in.
"I've seen no signs of them paying any more attention to the three of you at the moment," said David. "Even if we did anything today that might change that, surely there'll be at least a few hours' lag."
"Probably," Matt agreed. "Foggy and I should both take you home. I'll call one of my friends to try to meet us there."
The friend he had in mind turned out to be Danny Rand. That made sense; Luke Cage was far too high profile to work for this, and Jessica Jones might refuse to help. Foggy was happy to leave Matt to deal with him and keep nearer to Sarah.
She spent a few minutes debating with herself whether to ask it, but when they were almost out of the deserted area, she did: "Should I not have told you?"
"Absolutely you should have," said Sarah. "I mean, I suppose you really should ask me that in a few more days...but I think my answer will be the same. Whatever happens to the four of us now...at least provided we all survive it, we'll probably all four be better off."
"Wow," said Foggy, because while Sarah had told her about her various woes, she hadn't realized it was *that* bad.
Matt finished his phone call with the news that Danny hoped to reach Queens in one or two hours. "Maybe longer, if what he's dealing with right now takes more time than he's expecting."
They couldn't talk as much on the train, but when they emerged into the Liebermans' neighborhood, Matt said, "I think you'll like Danny. He'd a good guy, very nice."
She, Foggy thought, probably would. On the other hand, she wasn't looking forward to how her son was likely to deal with him.
Very early the next morning
After it was decided they should stagger their departures from the Liebermans' house, Foggy left first. Not caring to travel too far alone in the dark, she called a cab to pick up her from a few blocks away, arriving back in Hell's Kitchen as the sun was just starting to peek out from between the buildings.
She headed up the stairs, trying to figure out, in her exhausted state, exactly how late to work she could get away with being that day. When she took as glance at her email as she walked into the apartment, she did so with the thought that hopefully there wouldn't be anything important.
Instead, she found herself reading an email from Jessica, asking her to call as soon as she could, regardless of the late/early hour. Foggy spent a good two minutes trying to mentally stretch the definition of the word "could," before sighing and calling.
The third ring had come and gone, and Foggy was a split second from sighing in relief and disconnecting, when she heard Jessica's, "Oh, now you're answering, Ms. Nelson?"
"I only saw your email now. It's been a very busy night. What have you got?"
"Some real dirt on our friend Carson Wolf. Turns out along with everything else, he's been dealing in heroin. Not only that, he's been smuggling it out of Afghanistan with the bodies of military personnel killed in action. I haven't found how he's been selling it yet, or what he's then doing with the money, since it doesn't look like he's been keeping most of it-which in itself probably means more dirt, and I can think of one possibility."
Foggy, too, had a pretty good idea of just what that money had been spent on, and a guess on who'd sold the heroin as well. Her first impulse was to tell Jessica that, but not only was it way too dangerous to do that over the phone, but Matt had mentioned he'd left out Lieberman's still being alive in what he told her, and she thought perhaps it would be better if they moved him and his family to safety first.
Still, if the government had tried to murder at least two people who had both only known part of what was going on, she couldn't keep silent completely. "Listen," she said, after thinking over her words for a few moments. "I'd like you to actually sit on this information for possibly a few days, and just leave everything be; suspend the investigation. I hope I'll be able to explain why eventually, but I don't think I can yet."
"Really?" Jessica did not sound at all impressed. "If Wolf or any of his friends determines for sure that they've been snooped on-and they are almost certainly prepared for that possibility already-it's going to get way harder to find out anything else."
"I trust you to handle all that," said Foggy. "I'll get back to you later, I promise."
"Have it you way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't. Good..." she glanced at the clock, and just sighed, "Goodbye, then."
There was nothing else important in her emails. Foggy stayed awake just long enough to send a few of her own, notifying everyone she would probably be in late that day. Then she crawled between the sheets with her blouse still on and was asleep within seconds.
She didn't think it was long after that when she was woken by a second body collapsing onto the bed. She might have made some vague, bleary noises in response to this, before she felt a familiar hand stroke her head, and her husband's voice murmur, "Go back to sleep, Foggy."
When she woke again, late in the morning, she found Matt asleep on top of the bed, still in most of his clothes, though he had at least taken his shoes off. She pulled his socks off as well; the smell was already going to linger on his feet and pester him for probably a day or so as it was.
He stirred slightly when Foggy was in the shower; she came out to find he'd spread himself out, his head moved to where hers had been, before falling back asleep. He'd probably been drawn to her scent. Even now, she couldn't help but smile.
It was late enough she was definitely taking a cab to the office. For most of the walk down the stairs, she contemplated exactly what she was going to tell Karen and when, but, she then realized, there were probably only reasons not to tell her at the moment. She could cite them to her friend if she ever had to defend herself to her over it. And she absolutely, positively, should not feel like she was letting her down, not telling her.
She would, on the other hand, have to tell Marci and Jennifer everything that both Jessica and David had found out about Wolf. Although she couldn't tell Jennifer until she came back to New York again, and Foggy wasn't even sure when she was going to do so. Hell, even when she did, it might be Matt who ended up talking with her.
Marci, on the other hand, she could tell today. And then she would have to tell her, too, to sit on it without explaining why. She wasn't looking forward to that. Especially since she would also want to leave Frank's still being alive out of it, too, and that might be a little tricky.
It filled her with enough dread that when her phone rang just after she got into the cab, she nearly jumped. But it wasn't Marci, or Karen. It was Cheryl. Foggy would probably have to tell her a few things, too, but at the moment she had no idea how much.
When she answered the phone, Cheryl said to her, "Hey, Foggy, I think you picked the wrong morning to sleep in. Stark announced something like twenty minutes ago he's holding a press conference, in which, the announcement says, 'he will address general recent unfortunate events related to the Avengers,' although he also said he's going to talk about Colonel Rhodes' condition."
Rhodes still hadn't been seen publicly since he'd been shot down during the fight in Germany. All else aside, she was genuinely very curious to see how he was doing. The way things were going, it might just prove relevant to their activities.
She wanted to believe the rest at least wouldn't prove too bad for them. Were he a sensible person, he might have realized by now he couldn't just trust Ross's latest claims that they'd be doing everything legally and properly from there in. But of course, it was well known he was not, and Foggy did not quite trust him to not hide behind the government's current front.
"So how long do I have to get there?" Foggy asked, trying to gauge the current traffic. She was late enough the worst of it might have passed, at least.
"Officially it starts in about half an hour. You can always hope he'll be late."
Foggy wasn't going to rely on that. She went through the news websites after ending the call. Several had already started up their liveblogs, none of which yet had much to tell. There were also a lot of reports of people claiming they'd spotted Rogers or another one of his rogue Avengers near where they lived, none of which Foggy believed, but too many newly published news articles were reiterating them all.
Perhaps a little more interesting were a couple of them also listing a couple of reports of Hank Pym possibly being spotted in a bus station in Oakland. Ross and the government's other representatives hadn't ever mentioned their names when talking to the press. Even Lang's indictment hadn't mentioned them too much, and none of the other indictments had. Presumably they'd been worried about the populace's reaction to noticing that someone who had reportedly denounced the Avengers was getting charged just because they'd used his technology. That was a dangerous step to take, after all.
If the mainstream media was, at last, noticing the existence of these two people, that was probably good for their cause. Even if none of them were yet asking if they should've been charged, instead treating them as more normal fugitives from actual justice who needed to be found.
They were maybe about ten minutes away from the office, with the press conference scheduled to start in five, when she got the text from Karen. I'd say sorry in advance, but... She actually didn't groan. She was too resigned for that.
#marvel cinematic universe#daredevil#matt x foggy#the punisher#matt murdock#foggy nelson#david lieberman#sarah lieberman
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lavender haze
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.
warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors please dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst
word count: 8.6k
a/n: the first time I heard lavender haze by taylor swift, I immediately thought of frankie. I just really want him to be happy & have a happy ending so this is me selfishly giving him that. also just a psa, if you're on dark mode this might be difficult to read unless you switch your settings as i've been informed. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
Staring at the ceiling with you
Oh, you don’t ever say too much
And you don’t really read into
My melancholia
Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.
He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.
Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.
Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.
You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver.
To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.
I’ve been under scrutiny
You handle it beautifully
All this shit is new to me
When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.
Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.
This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you.
Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.
“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”
Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.
“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”
The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging.
“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”
“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”
“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”
Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair.
“Hey, look at me.”
Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.
“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”
Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.
Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way.
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids.
All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.
God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.
“Hey, big guy.”
“Hi darlin’.”
“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”
“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”
Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.
“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”
“That right?”
Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.
“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”
There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.
He was just Frank, and he was just yours.
All they keep asking me
Is if I’m gonna be your bride
The only kind of girl they see
Is a one night or a wife
Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”
“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”
“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”
“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”
Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.
“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”
Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.
Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.
It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him.
You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day.
I find it dizzying
They’re bringing up my history
But you aren’t even listening
Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.
She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with.
“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”
“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”
“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”
“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”
Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.
Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.
“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”
“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”
“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”
Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding.
“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”
“Patience, for starters.”
“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”
Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.
“For the record, I like her better than you.”
“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”
After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.
“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”
“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”
The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees.
“Can I take ya to breakfast?”
“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”
Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.
“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”
“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”
A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.
“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”
“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”
“You’re wrong.”
Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.
“What?”
“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”
“When?”
“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”
Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.
“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”
“Why not both?”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.
Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“You got me a cabin?”
Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.
“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”
Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.
For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.
After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.
“What’s goin’ on up there?”
“I don’t wanna go home.”
Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too.
“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”
You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.
“That it?”
Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.
“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”
“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”
“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”
“My birthday was three days ago.”
“So?”
The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.
“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”
“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”
“My what?”
Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it.
“Your…main priority.”
Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know. I love you, Frank.”
“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”
Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.
“I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”
“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”
“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”
Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification.
Talk your talk and go viral
I just need this love spiral
Get it off your chest
Get it off my desk
Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it.
There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.
But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.
He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?
Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.
“Frank? What are you-”
“What’s goin’ on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”
“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”
“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”
The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.
“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”
Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”
Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.
“What?”
Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”
Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was.
“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”
“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”
“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”
“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”
Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.
“What do you want?”
“Frank-”
“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”
Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.
“Talk to me.”
“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”
“You don’t think I want that?”
“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”
It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask.
You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say.
Your wife. Your partner. Your future.
“A family?”
“Yes, Frank. A family.”
The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.
“Frank, what are you doing?”
“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”
“Frank-”
“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”
“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”
Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.
“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”
“Really?”
“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”
I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me
So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say
No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me
I just wanna stay in that lavender haze
You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time.
Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.
Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration.
There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count.
A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.
Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.
#frank castle#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x you#frank castle x reader#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle fic#frank castle smut#the punisher#the punisher fic#the punisher smut#curtis hoyle#david lieberman#sarah lieberman#karen page#dinah madani#brett mahoney
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💯 please bestie 🙏💕
okay it's been a hot second since i've written any new kastle buuut [dusts off the punisher cobwebs] I GOT YOU BB:
Where does that end, Frank?
He knew that night by the water, when she asked him. He’s always known.
Still, it doesn’t happen overnight. Part of him is scared to live without the war, scared that maybe he can’t. Down in the muck, he knows who he is. He’s not sure he’ll like what he finds when he scrubs the filth away.
It ends the same way it did when he last came back from the dead. Down at the docks, he tosses the vest into the closest industrial barrel and douses it with gasoline. Lights a match—
(—feels heat at his back. Flames roaring like thunder. His home, his past, gone up in smoke—)
He doesn’t stay to watch it burn.
#frank is being his peak edgelord self here wow#also the working title of this doc is 'lieberman matchmaking' so i think the plan was to have this be a post tps1 fic??#who knows#certainly not me#WAIT YES I REMEMBER#sarah and david and the kids were going to invite frank to dinner and UNBEKNOWNST TO HIM karen would be there too#hence the matchmaking#and i think i had planned for some shenanigans with the kids too#ANYWAYS lol#ty emily i love youuuuuu <3
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Drunk on You
pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader
summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")
warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate
a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!
w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)
Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident.
He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you.
From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again.
Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out.
Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out.
It all started when David scolded him.
“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.
The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.
Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”
Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.
“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”
Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“
Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”
Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”
Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.
Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”
Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”
The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”
Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.
Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.
Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”
Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”
David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”
You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”
David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”
Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.
You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”
The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”
Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”
You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”
The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”
David was glowing. “So you accept?”
“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”
Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”
Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”
What had he gotten himself into?
Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.
With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.
“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”
Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”
“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.
“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.
As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”
Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.
“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”
“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.
“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.
While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.
“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.
Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.
David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”
Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive.
“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table.
Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”
“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.
“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.
“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.
You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.
“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.
Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”
“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.
“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.
“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.
“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”
Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.
As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.
“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.
“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.
“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.
“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.
“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.
“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.
Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.
“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.
“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.
Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.
Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.
“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.
”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.
Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.
A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”
Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”
“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.
The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.
It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.
Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.
Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”
“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.
“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."
"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.
"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."
"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.
Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.
"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."
As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"
Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."
The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word.
Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”
Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face.
“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.”
Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.”
“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple.
“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.
After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?”
“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.
Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.
Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."
Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.
Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”
“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.
Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”
Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."
You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.
Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.
Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.
Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.
"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.
"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"
Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."
Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.
“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”
Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.
Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.
“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”
Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”
It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”
As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.
The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.
Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.
“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”
Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“
”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.
”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“
Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“
Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.
Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.
”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.
Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”
”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?
Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.
“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.
“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.
“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“
Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“
As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.
“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”
The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.
God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.
“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.
“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.
“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.
“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.
“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.
“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced.
“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”
Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications.
“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–
“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”
“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”
“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”
“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.
“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.
Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.
“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.
“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.
“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.
Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.
“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”
Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.
After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.
It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all.
Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.
Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.
“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.
“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment.
Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”
Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about.
Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him.
“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch.
“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.
Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”
“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him.
“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.
“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.
“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.
“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording.
Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”
“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.
Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”
“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more.
“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”
“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!”
“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.
“You make everything seem so easy–”
“Aw, Frank–”
“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”
By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”
“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.
“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.
“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”
His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space.
“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”
You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did.
“I hope you made it home safe–”
You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening.
“You shoulda stayed here with me–”
His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.
“I'll always keep you safe–”
Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button–
“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”
His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.
Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face.
“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.
His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.
“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.
“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.
“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.
“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.
“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came.
Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.
“I love you too.”
“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you.
“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground.
Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced.
Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”
Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem.
Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache.
“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it.
“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”
Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”
“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”
“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.”
Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move.
Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.
Thanks for reading!!
#frank castle#my writing#frank castle x reader#the punisher#marvel#nmcu#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle imagine#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x you#the punisher x reader#the punisher imagine#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#fc
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for all you give (give it back to you)
Summary: The story of how you worm your way into Frank's heart and mind, making him believe he might be worth a second chance.
Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her, no y/n)
Words: 3,300 (hurt/comfort, fluff, some canon-typical descriptions of violence, allusions to sexual intimacy, romance, trauma healing)
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It starts slowly, which Frank can attest is uncharacteristic of all events unfolding in his life. Even more puzzling, there's no grand design — it's soft and simple, the way she carves out a spot inside his heart. He runs into her every day on his evening run, and every day he gets more unsettled by the thought of danger lurking in the shadows of alleys and bridges, just waiting to swallow her up. It's not because of any budding affection that he feels, at least not at this point. He doesn't even know her name. What he knows is how he was raised, and if anyone condemns him for being old-fashioned in his views, then so be it. He can't bear knowing she's out there past ten at night, wandering the streets of a shitty New York neighborhood in the name of cardio.
It's a progression of these thoughts that leads him to do the unthinkable and introduce himself one day, and the way he goes about it would make for good nightmare fuel, were he not already stocked up on that.
He pretends to trip and falls on his face. He's tried a version of this before with Sarah Lieberman, and back then just as well as now, he knew there was no other way. You don't just approach a woman who's outside at this time of night, especially if she wants to triple the danger for herself and wear those stupid noise-cancelling headphones. He'd expect someone his own age to have more sense than that, and sometimes he wonders if she's not just looking for trouble on purpose.
His assumption is rather quickly disproven, because nobody who speaks in the manner she does could ever be brazen enough to start a fight. No — she's all softness and kind eyes, and the gravel in his palms stops stinging the moment she pins him down with a concerned look and a soft hand around his wrist. It's a minute or two before she's got him following her to her private practice just a block away, because apparently he's a little too good at faking accidents. The nasty cut she stitches up for him with quiet precision and a rambling mouth doesn't even hurt, not when he's so focused on whatever's in her voice that he finds so familiar. She speaks in a way he can't seem to shake, like there's something there that his own mind knows intimately yet remains secretive about.
He should've said no to grabbing coffee the next day. He really should've refused, because now that he knows what her laugh sounds like, he's in real trouble. And he fights it, at first. He gives it his goddamn best. But a man like him knows when he's done for, despite all the bravado and all the willpower. He knew it the moment she looked away from him and stared into her black coffee, quietly telling him she was glad he let her help him, that he was going to say yes to the next coffee they'd grab together. And the next. And the next.
And eventually, his own rambling mouth — a novelty exclusive to her presence — reveals things it really shouldn't, like a first and last name he's supposed to have buried and forgotten, along with an identity he's sure will ruin dinner. The information falls on deaf ears. Not because she isn't paying attention; she seems to look at and see only him as he moves between the stove and the counter inside her kitchen, prepping his mother's old pasta recipe. No, Frank has a feeling she isn't just listening. Her gaze is as soft as always, yet this time there's a spark that finds him trapped, frozen in place in the middle of the kitchen while she raises one delicate eyebrow and says two baffling words: I know. Then, even more perplexing: I was waiting for you to be comfortable.
Comfortable. What does it mean for him to be comfortable? Is that what he was when he opened his mouth and revealed the truth? Or was he just compelled by attentive eyes and an openness that hurt to be in the presence of while he was still hiding his true self? He doesn't deserve her acceptance. He's not even sure he wants it. He's been past wanting things for years, just waiting for life to happen as he crawls along, fragments of what could've been fighting to quell his breath on each new day bestowed upon him. He's got nothing to want. Nothing to hope for.
So why doesn't he move when she approaches him, slowly, fearlessly, in the way one might a startled creature? Why does his chest tighten and expand all at once when she greets him tenderly, a whisper of his real name falling from her lips? Most importantly of all, why does she keep worming her way further inside his gut, and why doesn't it burn like he knows it should?
Maybe it's because she does it at a glacial pace, which a famously impatient man can't help but respect her for, at the same time that he fears the place from which that tenacity springs forth. A restoration project of his magnitude isn't just daunting — it's straight up dreadful, rotten floorboards and black mold eating away at every inch of a once proudly robust construction. It's not smooth sailing as the months dissolve away, but she perseveres. He has bad days and worse nights, and every time they bid each other farewell once the clock strikes eleven and their run ends, Frank's mind is left to stew in words and gestures that make no goddamn sense — his and hers both.
For one, he's smiling what feels like all the fucking time. What he's so happy about when his life is what it is, only God may know. What he knows is that there's no possible way to keep his lips flat and his chest empty when she tells him stories of long nights in the emergency room spent removing dubious objects from places they really shouldn't be. One too many phallic contraptions was what it took for her to finally quit hospital work and open a private practice. Frank tries and fails to keep a straight face while asking her to describe the experience. She, on the other hand, meets his challenge head-on, attempting to draw a diagram of the witty invention on the napkin resting by her coffee — thus, a weird game of pictionary unfolds between them, and they have to stuff their pockets with no less than eight scandalous napkins each before leaving a generous tip for giggling like lunatics the entire time.
Next, and maybe this one's all in his head, but she's on a frequency his stubbornness can't find fault with. She gives him space when he needs it. Sometimes they don't see each other for days, despite living less than five blocks apart, and never does she push for contact. She doesn't ask him what he does during that time away, maybe because she knows or maybe for the same reason she didn't tell him she knew who he was. Maybe she's waiting for him to confess how he still spends a good deal of his nights, despite not needing the confirmation. She lets him come to her and he does it without fail each time, though his little I'm sorry for my radio silence apology tokens don't hold a lot of variety. She likes flowers, coffee and whatever baked goods he can get his hands on, so now Frank is a regular at the neighborhood florist and a fancy bakery on 51st knows his order.
Most of all, he's baffled by how little needs to be said between them for a world of knowledge to be exchanged. She gently coaxes one or two sentences from him that leave a lot to be desired in the way of details, but then she meets his eyes as they sit next to each other on her couch. And finally, he tells her — not with words, but with his own eyes, blinking rapidly or not at all, dry as the desert one moment and the next suddenly flooding. He tells her about a little girl he had, one whose body would have only been identified by prints or dentals. He weeps over his baby boy without so much as a cry, because he too left the world a worse place for his departure. And where he used to mutter it to himself repeatedly, Frank says his wife's name only once— he says it with the same reverence as always, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the comfort he receives from another woman.
He knows Maria wouldn't blame him, but he's not so sure he isn't blaming himself. Whatever he's doing here, it needs to stop. Whatever he tells himself her soft touches mean, or those looks, or that smile — he can't be right. This isn't meant for him. He shouldn't have this. There should be no one he looks forward to seeing, no one he thinks about before the thundering fall of hammer on concrete and after the laying of his body down to rest. There shouldn't be anyone to stay his hand and extinguish his anger. Only rage should exist, because rage is the only thing he really has. He doesn't know what he is if not this, and he makes the mistake of telling her as much while she stitches up the first real wound he's gotten in a long time. Neither of them pretends not to know what the result of a knife fight looks like, and he doesn't tell her how it went down because she doesn't ask. It's a good thing, because every time he closes his eyes and sees that woman's face as she was held at knifepoint, his mind superimposes different features onto it and his blood boils over. All he saw in that moment was her. All the cops are going to see at the scene will be scattered fingers and a leaking skull.
Frank himself doesn't feel very put together as he fights sleep under her caress, a hug he didn't ask for suddenly enveloping him whole and quieting the one-track mind winding him up repeatedly. He was late for their run tonight. That could've been her. His fault, his fault, his fault. The words disappear when she finds the nape of his neck with a gentle touch, drawing him into her chest and resting her cheek atop his head when he finally relaxes. His own hands grasp at the plush edges of her exam table, mimicking her gestures almost subconsciously but not daring to reciprocate on actual flesh. Seconds pass, and then minutes.
My sister died because of me.
The words startle him like a shot went off right by his ear, when in fact they were barely whispered. Frank, however, doesn't move when frightened. He's learned this about himself: he can never twitch a muscle in any of his nightmares, can never stop what he knows is coming. He can't stall the tragedy any more than he can avoid feeling its effects.
I used to run with her. That was our thing. I got mad about something… something petty, I'm sure. And I didn't go one night. Just one time. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous. Should've told her not to go, but I didn't. Cops were at my door the next morning. She was stabbed four times. The thing is, she would've survived, if she'd had someone to help her. Someone who knows their way around first aid.
He can feel her shaking from their closeness, can infer what she's thinking by the slight change in her voice. She's all blame, that's what it is. That's what it was when she first spoke to him all those months ago, and he latched onto it without even knowing, pulled in by soft eyes that glimmered in understanding. He thought it was unending kindness that he glimpsed in there, and in part, that was still true. But there was something else that lingered, something that seemed to inform her approach with him over the better part of a year. That frequency he stupidly thought she was on didn't happen by magic, or by fate. They didn't click because of some grand plan. It was simply life in all of its unfairness, dealing out blows to whoever it found with their guard down, deserving or not.
She doesn't deserve this. Frank knows it, and his chest puffs up in defiance of the pain in her voice as she tells him about the night they met from her perspective. It was a few short weeks after her sister's death. That evening run had become a ritual of a different nature, and he realizes with some horror what it was she'd been trying to do. The headphones made sense now, not as a tool of the careless, but of a person who cared too much. Cared enough to try to invite danger inside, scope it out and lure it back from the shadows in the hopes that she might look upon it herself. Confront it herself.
She confirms as much when she tells him they still haven't found the killer.
She made herself an easy target so she could look a murderer in the eye, and with that thought, he does finally recoil. He wants to argue. Wants to refute the notion. He can't. He can't, because to take that truth away from her would be to take it away from himself. She did what she thought she had to do. The difference is, she still has all her humanity left, yet the blame can't seem to leave. It eats away at the light inside her eyes, and despite that she's not bitter. She doesn't recoil from company or people in general, and she doesn't abandon everything she knows in favor of oblivion and a corner to waste away in. It's unfair. It's not right to live with it and still have to function. It's not right to have to get up and be a good person in a world of shit. It's not right… and she does it anyway. For a man who sees only one kind of injustice, the realization is almost enough to demolish him. That's life — you can be riddled with guilt and still unflinchingly gracious.
It's just never that simple, Frank muses quietly, until it is. It's never this quiet in his mind, unless she's somewhere near.
For the first time ever, he wishes she wouldn't wait for him to move or speak. He can see it in her face, what she needs, but much like him, she won't ask for it. He wishes she knew that there's nothing she can't ask of him, but since she doesn't, he's gonna have to make that clear. And if he has to move at a glacial pace too, then so be it. He'll worm his way in just like she did, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the same tenacity she showed. By the way she leans her cheek into his palm, he doesn't think she will.
It's a little easier after that, as more months melt away, to stop questioning everything they do together and its meaning. When they laugh together, it doesn't feel foreign or undeserved. When he has bad days, he doesn't hide any place beyond her apartment, doesn't stray much farther than her sheets and doesn't utter many words besides praise for how she moves and feels around him. When she has bad days, which he's come to learn the look of, he unearths the meaning of devotion to something other than rage. He's not known desperation like this for longer than he can remember, because it takes a while to figure out what she needs and how to help. He thought he could see it clearly, but all he'd really been looking at was another one of those injustices. Frank turned his grief into anger. She's unfairly burying hers inside and watching it lay waste with a careful eye, never cowardly enough to admit to what she really wants. She's so brave, this woman. His.
He almost can't believe he's thinking it. Frank's role as protector ended with the last breath his family took. He didn't think it could ever be born again, but with the first tears to fall from her eyes, a brief moment sees him meeting a different type of rage. It scalds, but doesn't leave him empty. That's how it used to feel when he was all consumed with it just a few years ago. Instead, it's just a means to an end now. So he starts going out again, looking for the shadows that haunt her, because the only thing that will help her is the thing only he can provide. Kisses help. Hushed promises soothe. True healing, and he knows this in his bones, can only come after an end, and that's what she never got. She graciously gifted him a fledgling second life, but he won't start living it until she meets him halfway.
You did it for me. Let me do it for you.
He doesn't try to lie to her — it doesn't even occur to him. He tells her the truth and his plan in full as she sits on the couch and he paces her living room restlessly, now and then chancing a look at her. At first, there's silence. It stretches unbearably, and when she speaks, the tide breaks.
I don't know what hurts more. The fact that she's gone, or that it's my fault.
Hey—
No matter what, that won't change. I've thought about it. Killing the man who did it won't make it any less my fault or her any less dead. Frank, I—
Sweetheart—
It's you. You're… the only part of this equation I didn't see coming. You're the only thing that makes a difference. When I have bad days, I don't think about the man I want to see dead. I think about the one that makes me feel alive.
She says things like this sometimes — things that yank his heart straight from his chest and stomp on it until it comes apart at the seams. He's practically vibrating with it, this need to say something in return, but nothing rises to the magnitude of her confession. At least, nothing that he thinks he's earned the right to say to another person again. But his girl… She knows. He can see it in her eyes that she knows, because he's on her knees in front of her, holding her face in both his hands. Frank has done so much with them throughout his life. He's taken more than he's given. He's hurt more than he's comforted, ripped apart more than he's put together. What he now uses them for is as sacred as a thing can be, because if he won't speak it with his lips, he'll press it into her skin with his fingers. If the words won't form in his mouth, he'll use it to adorn her body with the reverence of a man who has found and lost and found again.
In the end, as his hands rewire themselves for holding and forget all else, he stops questioning it entirely. Whether by accident or by design, what's been given to them both is not something to make sense of. It's something to cherish, a devotion to each other that consumes not, but instead nurtures. He knows now the answer to that most important question: if she wormed his way inside his heart and the path she trailed doesn't burn, it's because she belonged there all along.
.
.
.
-fin-
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I fell in love with it in just one afternoon. Please let me know what you thought of it, and if you liked it, kindly allow others to reach it through a reblog or comment. Thank you for reading.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle imagine#frank castle#the punisher x reader#frank castle smut#frank castle fanfic
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WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE
two - if he had been with me
tags: n/a // one // three // masterlist
Pairing: Billy x Reader (Casual) , Frank x Reader (Platonic)
Word Count: 7,195
Summary: 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.
The next morning, you woke in a start with the same dream. A hand flying to your chest while the other rubbed the nonexistent blood out of your eye. Glancing around while the room spun for moments, you recognized you weren’t in the rubble but in your bed. Although the weight against your chest would’ve argued otherwise. When you got back from washing your face, Billy was awake and sitting at the edge of the bed.
“You still dream about him?” He asked simply.
“Hmm?” Your brows raised innocently. “Dream about who?”
“C’mon, Y/N. I hear you talkin’ in your sleep. Mumblin’ about your precious Matt. It was like that before you left too.”
You shrugged and leaned on the doorframe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And you took down some of the pictures. And the painting.”
“You’re starting to sound like my friends, Billy.” You said with a slight edge to your tone.
“That’s a bad thing now?”
“It’s an annoying thing right now.” You countered. “There’s a reason I’m avoiding them.”
“Y/N.. If you need more time-” He tried and you groaned as you pushed yourself up. “Don’t do that!”
“You know where the door is once your pants are on!” You called over your shoulder, waving a hand goodbye while you headed to your kitchen. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of Miss Fran across the hall. She’ll stop being nice to me.”
There was a quiet commotion while he shuffled around your bedroom, finding the sporadic trail of clothes before he made his way over to you. He leaned against the countertop while you busied your hands and attention on the stove.
“Y/N, I’m not trynna make you talk about somethin’ you don’t want to, alright? Bringing up your guy crossed a line. I’m sorry…” He offered gently. Honestly. And the sentiment made you roll your eyes to yourself. “I just wanna make sure you’re good.”
You sighed heavily and turned towards him. “I’m fine.” You offered a tight, meaningless smile. “Happy?”
He shook his head and sighed inwardly while you turned away.
“So.. How long do I still have you for?” He asked instead.
“What?” Your brows furrowed at the odd question.
“Your words. You can’t work Anvil and your hotshot FBI gig at the same time. When is it official?”
“Oh.. I don’t know. I got my badge before I left so Dex tells me we’re just waiting on the SAC to get the go-ahead. I can work as a freelancer if you need me in the meantime.”
“I always need you.”
“Yeah, okay.” You scoffed. “When’s your next recruitment?”
“I gotta check, b... I’ll let you know.. You wanna come with me later? I gotta go see Curtis.”
“No, I gotta take care of some other stuff.” You brushed him off, knowing you had to devote some time today to finding Frank and Micro. “But I’m going to Curtis’ meeting today so we should cross paths.”
“Then I will see you later.” He nodded before pushing off to get ready to leave.
Once he was gone, you got yourself ready. You took a quick shower and wore an outfit fitting for an FBI agent, given that was the guise you would use to get into her house, and clipped your badge to your belt. You dug through your collection to find one of the pocket devices that came in handy when it came to cameras and signals, for nothing more than your own hunch for an NSA agent’s house. You added your gun to the back of your belt - more to pull the persona together than any sort of threat - and headed out to Sarah Lieberman’s.
As you drove over to the house, Dex called. He asked if you wanted in on a potential investigation, something about Carson Wolf being murdered in his own home the night before. It was an interesting coincidence given the fact that Frank had returned and a separate agent was asking questions about him. You had no doubts that Frank was involved but it did leave a nice chance to find out just how dirty Wolf was to get himself killed. You agreed to throw your name into the pot.
“Hi, are you Sarah Lieberman?” You asked politely and she shifted uncomfortably in her doorway.
“Yes. Can I help you?” She asked tightly and you saw the blur of a child running around behind her.
“I’m Special Agent Y/L/N. May I come in?”
“What is this about?”
“Have you had any sort of odd interactions recently? A man who seemed to have appeared out of the blue.”
“This is about Pete.” She sighed with a nervous chuckle. “I just filed the insurance claim yesterday. I didn’t think it would… Wait, special agent?”
“Yes.” You nodded simply, shifting your jacket to show your badge. “May I come in?”
She nodded quietly and stepped aside, welcoming you in. Once you crossed the threshold, the sharp tone pinged in your ear. You winced inwardly and rubbed the area near your implant, glancing around to find something that would’ve interfered with the signal. There was a camera somewhere, the watchful eye of the ghost of a spouse, and it wasn’t likely to be alone. Your eyes were darting quickly, between corners and other wall decor for the small lens but you couldn’t find anything. Nothing obvious at least.
“Are you alright, Agent?” She asked from your side, offering you the worried eyes that often became the default for mothers.
“Yes, just a migraine.” You gestured vaguely to your head.
“Oh! I have Tylenol. Give me just a second.”
“No, I’d hate to put you out.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled kindly and disappeared into her kitchen.
You made a small noise to yourself before pulling that pocket tech. You booted it up and wandered the living room, changing the height and angle as the screen flashed to track down the nearest camera. As you were searching, you noticed a small body on the stairs watching you.
“Who are you?” He asked with lips pursed in disgust as if to say how dare someone be in his home.
“FBI. Who are you?” You answered simply as your device pointed you to a family portrait. You smirked slightly and tapped some buttons, beginning to track the signal. Before you would leave, you would know exactly where to go.
“I live here.” He stated as if it was obvious.
“It’s a nice house.” You nodded, finally turning to face the disgruntled young boy. “Can I ask you about the man from yesterday?”
“I didn’t see him.”
“Okay..”
“I didn’t!” He insisted.
“I believe you, kiddo.” You chuckled slightly.
“Can I hold your gun?” He asked suddenly.
“Absolutely not.” You shook your head and he frowned. “You get a little older and I can teach you how to use it.”
His eyes lit up before he scampered back up the stairs, and you wondered if that was something Sarah should be concerned about. She came back soon after and she profusely apologized, just in case her son said anything uncalled for. You brushed it off and accepted her offer of painkillers and water. You two spoke about the interaction from the day before between her and “Pete”.
“Mrs. Lieberman, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.” You confessed, intending to build some sense of trust in case you needed her for information later on. “I’m not just looking for Pete out of coincidence. He’s family… I haven’t heard from him in a long time and the FBI gave me more resources to try and track him down. He’s refused to answer any of my messages across any platform but now I have a chance to reconnect with him.”
“Oh.” She smiled slightly. “Pete didn’t mention a sister.”
“Cousin, actually. All the family I have are just cousins..”
“We exchanged numbers and I can give that.”
“I doubt he’d answer.” You shook your head. “He always seems to know when I’m calling.”
“Okay... Well, my insurance is sending some paperwork that’ll need his signature so I’ll see him again. I can let him know you stopped by.” She offered honestly.
“That’d be great, thank you.” You nodded with a faux sentimental smile. Your tech buzzed in your pocket and you knew you had the source of the signal. “I’d better be going.”
She offered you something to eat, saying you’d be more than welcome to stay for lunch but you brushed off her invitation. You couldn’t waste any more time with socializing and pleasantries. The only thing that stopped you from heading straight over was your prior commitment to stop by Curtis’. The commitment was only made to get Billy out of your apartment without being completely blunt about it, given the fact that you two would still be interacting at Anvil and likely throughout the course of whatever crusade you were riding into. And despite your mild stalling, you ended up walking into Billy and Curtis’ conversation. So you hung back in the hall for a minute to allow yourself to be nosy.
“Mover and a shaker. A man of wealth and taste.” Curtis said and you could hear the smile in his words. “You always knew you were destined to do great things, I’ll give you that.”
The guys both chuckled slightly.
“I can’t tell if you think that’s a good thing or not.” Billy said with a small laugh.
“No, I’m proud of you man.”
“Y’know there’s always a job for you at Anvil... An instructor’s job.”
“Y/N finally make it official then and leave your ass?” Curtis asked and you could imagine the expression he wore. “She ever call you back?”
“No but…” Billy sighed and your brows furrowed. “When it comes to Y/N, I just…”
“Lose all sense in your head.” Curtis teased.
“I do not!” Billy laughed.
“Man, I have never seen you fawn over any woman like that! You’re like a lost little puppy whenever she comes around.”
“Kiss my ass.” He laughed and you waited a beat before walking in. “It’s not about Y/N, alright?”
“Topic of conversation even when I’m not in the room, huh?” You joked with a wide grin. “Nice to see you, Curtis.”
“I was wondering when you’d finally walk through that door.” Curtis grinned and stood to hug you. “How was training?”
“Boring.” You shrugged. “Knew it all.”
“Show off.”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Y/N, don’t you think Curtis would be great as an instructor at Anvil?” Billy tried, coming to your side to use you in their prior conversation.
“Hell of a corpsman from what I heard.” You agreed. “I bet you would’ve sewn your own leg back on if you had the chance.”
“Hell yeah, you wanna go find it?” Curtis laughed. “You gonna stay? I know some of the guys have just been waiting to try and rile you up again.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some time to kill.” You said with a small nod. “Don’t expect me to come in later this week then.”
“Sounds good.. Wanna help get some of the snacks from the kitchen? Keep you outta trouble.” Curtis pointed a stern finger at you.
“C’mon.” You laughed. “When have I ever gotten into trouble?”
“I’ve gotta take off but we still good for tomorrow night?” Billy asked Curtis and you had the itch to be nosy again.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Curtis nodded.
“You know making plans when someone else in the room isn’t invited makes people uncomfortable, right?” You said plainly, though it made the boys laugh.
“Tomorrow’s Frank’s birthday.” Curtis explained. “You were his lawyer, right?”
“Yeah, till he blew his top and kamikaze’d my case.” You rolled your eyes slightly as you thought about his outburst on the stand that day. “I do feel bad about the way it all went down though…”
“You wanna come?” Billy tapped your arm. “Just a little memorial thing, y’know, personal.”
“Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.” You gave a tight, hopefully grateful smile. “I’ll be back with the snacks.”
“Thanks, Y/N.” Curtis nodded and when he thought you were out of earshot, you heard him ask Billy. “Let me guess. You still haven’t told her how you feel.”
That was going to make things awkward.
You stayed for the meeting but didn’t say much. Some of the members welcomed you back and hung around to catch up afterwards. Others hardly noticed but one man, some old white man who’s name you never cared to learn, continued to disregard you and say that you didn’t deserve the seat. You offered to go outside and show him exactly what you thought he deserved, but Curtis was quick to shut that down. Even though the man was practically cowering away from you by that point. Other than the cranky old man, it was nice to be back in that sort of routine.
The next day, you swung by Melvin’s workshop and hung around while he finished the vest. Despite your hesitations, he had utilized a dark red base fabric that was seen between the edges of the plates. There were devil horns that sat level with your collarbones at the center of the chest, matching the horn tattoo near your spine that you got your first night at Quantico as an alleged initiation ritual. There was white stitching along the hem of the collar and a faint stitched outline of an hourglass. When you asked about it, he said that it was a tribute to where you came from but it was white to show that you were better. You scolded him for sounding like Matt, left some money on his bench, and chucked it in your trunk before you decided it was time to find Frank.
You hopped back in your car and followed the route you were recommended. As you drew closer to the location, the scenery didn’t surprise you at all. It was remote, well out of the way of any city traffic. Everything around it seemed abandoned, or damn near it. There wasn’t another soul for blocks, maybe even miles.
Perfect spot for a ghost.
You ditched your car a few alleys over and kept your pocket device in hand, though you took a second to tuck your badge under your seat. As you got closer, you were able to track cameras and their field of view. You had to circle the building a couple times before you caught sight of a blind spot that led right up to an old, rusted out chain link gate. Behind the gate sat an old maintenance door that was practically falling off its hinges. Beside that, a ladder to the roof, where you assumed another point of access would be. If not a door, then the vents.
You hurried across the gap and squeezed between the fence. When you shifted the door, it creaked loudly and the sound echoed through the empty alleys. You cursed slightly and moved it out of the way enough for you to sneak in sideways. It fell back into place with a loud thud and you winced slightly as it echoed in your hollow chest, dense enough to mimic the Midland explosion. In a swift motion, you tucked away your tech and pulled your gun, keeping it aimed downwards but your muscles remained tense. You crept the dark halls, hearing vague voices from a distance.
You kept going, following the voices and the small glow of light, until you were a few feet from where the guys were. Low and behold, Frank Castle. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to curse him out and make him feel bad for never reaching out. You wanted to shame him for ignoring you, for not being there when your entire life fell apart and Matt’s life was taken. But you willed yourself to stay still, to stay quiet.
Screaming about it wouldn’t change the past, so why bring it up at all?
The heat that lived inside of you now made a friend in the Midland echoes and they both danced through your veins. They teetered around the edges of that hole, leaning and pulling away as if to tempt the darkness to swallow them too. But nothing would get rid of those. Nothing would rid your body of their influence. Instead, you kicked those feelings into the gaping chasm in your soul and kept your eyes forward.
There was another man in the room, sitting in a desk chair. Even though his body was angled away from you, you could tell the man was completely naked. Your brows furrowed as to why that would be what Frank chose to do but you shrugged it off as some form of power play, a means of embarrassment and belittlement maybe. Either way, it didn’t change what you came for.
You tucked your gun away and snuck deeper into the room, listening in on their conversation while you thought about when to announce yourself.
“Hey.” He spoke desperately from the chair, dripping water - or maybe sweat - while Frank was unamused. “I’m the only friend you have, Frank.”
At that you laughed and the entire room fell silent.
“What the hell was that?” Frank muttered, turning towards the direction of your sound.
You cursed quietly and crept back into the dark hall. You looked around for somewhere to hide and saw that there was a series of open rafters on the ceiling. With a satisfied smirk, you hauled yourself up and tucked your feet just as Frank had come into the hall.
“I’m the only friend you have, Frank!” Micro tried again and you turned to face him, though you also tracked Frank’s steps. “Hey!”
“Where are you?” Frank said to himself as he stood beneath you.
You focused on the man in the chair and found he wasn’t necessarily afraid, not at that moment at least. He was concerned that Frank wouldn’t believe him, that Frank would kill him. You wondered what he really expected when he chose to instigate the Punisher but you shrugged it off to the male ego. He also felt desperate, that he needed his help more than anything. And while you knew deep down that you shouldn’t get involved, that you needed to keep some distance from vigilantism and fights so you could heal, you felt no necessity to stay away. Plus it was interesting.
“What are you looking for?” Micro shouted, drawing Frank back into the main room. “If someone was coming, Frank, who would it be?”
“You’d be surprised the shit she can get into.” Frank answered vaguely and you tilted your head in agreement.
“She? Who’s she?”
“You know all this shit about me but you don’t know her?” Frank chuckled. “C’mon man.”
“Like her her? Like Exodus her?”
“No, the Queen of England.”
“Holy shit..” Micro breathed and panicked in his chair. He jerked roughly to try and free himself from the restraints. “You’re joking, right? There’s- She can’t find you, right?”
“I’m thinking she already did.”
The sudden blaring of an alarm drew your attention. You looked over and saw a timer ticking down on the computer screen. You pulled your tech and tried to access it, to override it, but it was too complex for you to do within that time frame. You groaned inwardly while the boys went back and forth as to whether or not the threat that loomed after the timer was real or not. Frank finally turned the chair and Lieberman admitted - and showed - that it wasn’t explosives, but a video feed. If he didn’t enter the code, then that video would be broadcasted to various media outlets.
But that, you could block. You watched the man type in the code and utilize a retina scanner but then quickly got to work blocking any streaming opportunity from the cameras. They would still work and record, but the second someone tried to send that video out of the building, it would crash the whole system. You thought about sending something of your own, something just to toy with Lieberman and show him that he isn’t as smart or as sneaky as he thought, but their next argument caught your interest.
“How many times was Ahmad Zubair beaten?” Lieberman practically yelled.
“Shut your mouth.” Frank warned and the anger radiating off of him rivaled the heat in your own bones.
Could that have been what Madani was so interested in? What was her stake in Zubair’s life?
“How many times was this innocent man tortured? He was a good man! He was an honorable father. He was a cop.”
Frank’s hand wrapped around Lieberman’s throat and that’s when you decided to make yourself known.
“What are you gonna do, kill him?” You called with your familiar accent, stretching your legs to let your feet dangle over the edge. Your voice caught both of their attention and you offered a small smile and wave in return. “You owe me some answers.”
“How did you find me?” Lieberman asked in a panic, shifting in the chair.
“Your wife.” You shrugged. “Once I got inside, the cameras were easy enough to trace.”
“You were in my house?”
“Don’t kill him yet, Frank.” You tried, slipping out from your hiding place and moving to stand beside your friend. “He may prove useful.”
Frank turned to you without letting him go and his eyes darted back and forth between yours. The hard anger seemed to soften when he caught glimpse of whatever he was looking for and he slowly let him go. He backed away and you heard Lieberman muttering quiet thanks. You rolled your eyes slightly and patted Frank’s back before moving around the room.
“I knew you weren’t gonna kill me.” Lieberman announced, as if to provoke Frank some more.
“Does he ever stop talking?” You asked Frank.
“Not yet.” He muttered.
“I know people, alright? I’m an analyst. It’s my job.” Lieberman continued. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me because you’re a good man, Frank.”
“Knowing he’s a good man doesn’t mean you know him so I wouldn’t flaunt that as if it matters.” You commented simply. “And you definitely don’t know me.”
“No… No, I don’t.” He admitted. “But I will.”
“Ha! Daredevil didn’t even really know me so I wouldn’t get any hopes up…” You turned to Frank. “We should catch up.”
“Yeah, a lot goin’ on right now.” He gestured to the room around you. “She tell you?”
Without saying her name, you knew he meant Karen.
“Told me you were around.” You shrugged. “The rest was me.”
“Course it was.” He offered half a smile. “It’s good to see you, Princess.”
“Yeah, you too.” You returned the expression.
“How’s Red?”
You pressed your lips together and gave a small shake of your head, which only seemed to confirm whatever he saw in your face just a few moments before. You waved it off and ignored the pulse of heat at the back of your neck, tracing the outline of your tattoo. The memories of Midland began to flash, that deep opening threatening to swallow you alive, so you cleared your throat to try and clear the memories. You knew it would be obvious that something was wrong and it was directly related to Matt and Daredevil, but you’d never speak a word of it in front of David Lieberman.
“What does Homeland know about Zubair? Where did it happen?” You turned away from Frank, feeling that pound of emotions in your chest. It was bubbling from that hole, sending vibrations through your bones as it begged for release.
“Kandahar.” Frank answered instead. “Why?”
“Does Homeland have the video?” You asked.
“Yeah..”
“Son of a bitch…” You sighed and ran a hand down your face. “Explains that.”
“Explains what? What does Homeland have to do with anything?” Lieberman asked quickly.
“Frank.” You said instead. “Things are a lot bigger than you think. A lot of connecting pieces are falling in my lap… Let me help.”
Frank faced you for a moment and scanned your face again. He was looking for something, maybe the same thing and maybe something else. You didn’t care to ask. You let him look, let him find whatever it was he would find. He sighed and gestured you over. You moved across the room and he took your arm to pull you out of Lieberman’s eyesight.
“I see it in your eyes, Princess.. You’re not alright, are you?” Frank asked quietly.
“He’s dead.” You answered simply, but your voice felt drowned out by the explosions in your heart. “And I did nothing.”
He frowned slightly and pulled you in for a tight embrace.
That seemed to dull the heat as your eyes closed tightly and the tears threatened. You wrapped your arms around him and balled his shirt into your fists. You buried your face against him and he offered quiet, gentle consolations. All the running, the burying your pain and pretending it didn’t exist, all of it swelled into a pressure in your head that escaped as hot tears.
“I don’t wanna do this here.” You pulled away and wiped your sleeve across your eyes. “Not now.”
“Y/N..” He tried but you backed away slowly and he didn’t stop you.
“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” You shook your head. “I’ve gotta go, alright? I’ll come back tomorrow.”
You had Billy pick you up from your apartment and you two drove to the cemetery together. You followed his lead to the headstone and you hadn’t expected to feel your heart sink. Knowing Frank was alive and in New York with a fake tombstone while Matt was dead under New York and no one was ever going to know, there was no tangible way to remember him other than whatever was left in your apartment, it felt like it could kick your heart down that bottomless pit.
The thought made you shiver and you felt Billy put an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side.
“Happy birthday, Frank.” Curtis toasted.
“You alright?” He leaned down to ask and you simply nodded, your voice having been swallowed up. “It’s a good thing, getting a stone.”
“Yeah, figured he deserved a marker of some kind, right?” Curtis agreed, passing you the bottle of liquor.
You nodded in thanks and took a drink before passing it on to Billy.
“Frank would’ve hated this, this maudlin shit.” Billy said with a sad laugh. You stepped out from under his arm and took his hand instead, hooking the other one around his arm and leaning on his shoulder. “I wish he’d…”
Curtis leaned around you to see his friend’s face better but you couldn't take your eyes off the stone.
“Why didn’t he… Why didn’t he come to us, man?” Billy continued and you felt genuine regret through your conjoined hands. You wondered, if only for a moment, what would’ve been different had Billy been involved. Maybe it doesn’t go to trial, or maybe Billy’s the character witness rather than Schoonover. Maybe Nelson and Murdock doesn’t fall apart. Maybe you and Matt end up too busy with cases to investigate Midland. Or maybe you meet Billy at a time that you could’ve allowed yourself to feel something. You had to swallow the thoughts down, feeding them to the nagging emptiness.
“He didn’t have to be alone. We could’ve helped him.” Billy continued.
“He didn’t want any help.” Curtis shrugged. “He wanted to kill every bastard who had a hand in it.”
“I miss him..”
“Me too.” You finally spoke.
“I could see it, before everything. He was finding it harder and harder to come back.”
“He said Kandahar was like nothing else.” Curtis agreed and your ears perked up, picking up your head from Billy’s shoulder. “He said the lines were blurred.”
“When did he say that?” Billy asked and his body language almost felt defensive.
Maybe he was there too.
“When he was over there.” Curtis answered after a short pause and you could tell he was lying. Frank had to have reached out to Curtis after the Kandahar incident, after Ahmad Zubair. “He called me, y’know, to shoot the shit. Said I was lucky not to be there.”
“Yeah..” Billy breathed but it was clear that he didn’t fully believe Curtis. At the same time, he had nothing to accuse his friend of. “You were.”
You all hung out at the gravesite a little while longer, sharing stories and memories of Frank. You told them about in the interrogation room, when you needed a witness and he alluded to Billy. The comment of “you’d like him too much” made Billy laugh. You even admitted that in the short time you knew him, Frank was one of your few real friends and you felt some guilt over his death. Both men assured you it wasn’t on you but that didn’t change anything in your own head.
On the ride back to your place, you decided to try and pry some information out of Billy.
“Can I ask you something?” You asked quietly, making it seem as if you were hesitant to ask.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” He answered simply. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.. Yeah, I just wanted to ask about Kandahar.”
“Why you bringin’ it up?” He asked tightly, offering a sideways glance that practically screamed suspicion.
You gave half of a shrug and dropped your eyes to your lap, hoping to come off as nervous and uncertain.
“Hey.” He said gently, putting a hand on your leg as a silent apology.
“It’s just.. If Frank didn’t like it and you obviously didn’t like it all that much either, I feel like it was something bad.” You explained carefully, watching the inflections in your voice as you spoke. “Is there anything you can tell me about it?”
“We had orders.” Billy said simply, though his voice was gentle. Definitely one of the more gentler tones you’d heard from him, but he always spoke to you with a certain tenderness. Sometimes it made your stomach lurch, other times it felt safe. This time is was somewhere dangerously inbetween. “You know how that goes.. You don’t always like them or even agree with them but you can’t say shit in the moment.”
“Yeah, I get that.” You nodded, because you did. You knew that all too well. “It was that bad, huh?”
“I’d tell you more if I could but…”
“Classified.” You finished with a sigh. “I figured as much. I appreciate you telling me something though.”
“I think the later parts were the worst for Frankie.” Billy explained carefully, phrasing it as if it was his own assumption but you could tell there was something more knowing about it. “Some intel that didn’t exactly pan out, got us caught in an ambush, and it changed him. Changed the way he saw our unit. He ever mention that to you?”
You shook your head but you had to assume he was talking about the Zubair incident, maybe even the story his CO told on the stand. “All he told me was that it was usually off the books, or that was his impression at least, with all the secrets… But during the trial, Schoonover talked about a mission near the Hindu Kush. Frank didn’t agree, said it was an ambush, but he went anyway because orders are orders… Frank did what he did best and got every man out. I never got a chance to ask him about it but he wasn’t exactly all that talkative anyway.”
Billy gave a small chuckle and it broke up some of the tension in the car.
“He never was much of a chatter-box.” Billy smiled slightly.
“I guess that was your job, huh?” You teased and his smile grew a little wider. “Thank you, for being honest with me.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you if I don’t have to.”
“I appreciate that.” You nodded as he pulled up to your building. “It’d be nice if you could tell me a little more but I get it.”
“You are relentless.” He laughed, turning to face you with a soft expression. “With all your own secrets.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your brows furrowed slightly and you felt the heat under your skin dampening and your stomach started to find its way into a small knot.
You hadn’t realized it until then but you had missed having someone look at you with admiration like that. Of course Matt had his own way of seeing you and he never hesitated to express just how much he loved you or wanted you, but something about seeing it in someone’s eyes felt different.
Maybe you were healing after all… The thought made you want to gag.
“Stop looking at me like that!” You laughed slightly and smacked his chest, which earned you nothing but a smile.
“How about this?” He offered, patting your leg before keeping his hand there. “There’s someone I may be able to introduce you to and if he likes you…”
“He’ll tell me anything I wanna know?” Your brows raised.
“I’ll tell you anything you wanna know.” He chuckled. “Deal?”
“Hmm… I’ll break you yet, Mr. Russo.”
“Looking forward to it.” He smirked before you got out.
You rolled your eyes in amusement as you entered the building. You headed up to your place, checking your phone to see a text from Dex saying Homeland was going to keep the investigation of Wolf’s murder. It didn’t surprise you that they’d want to be the ones to figure out what happened to their own man, but it did leave interesting possibilities. Was the ranking agent only doing it to keep something quiet or were they a good agent? Were they doing it out of loyalty to their bureau and to Wolf or were they doing it for their own interest? But what would knowing Wolf’s attacker serve anyone? It was a lot to consider, but unfortunately not enough to keep your usual nightmare at bay.
The next day, you wore the vest under your shirt - one of Matt’s old Columbia shirts because it fit better over the protection than your own. You had a gun at your back and a knife at the side of your waistband. You thought about just taking the retractable that Billy gave you a while ago but it was shoved in the closet, wrapped up in your suit and still coated in blood. You didn’t think you could take seeing it, expecting a red-tinted mania to accompany it. So instead, with your weapons of choice, you hopped in your car and headed back over to Lieberman’s hidey-hole.
The tension in the room made your skin tingle and sent a shiver down your spine. You rubbed your hands on your arms to disperse the feeling and walked in to find the boys in one of the side rooms, Lieberman untied and dressed and Frank tense.
“I don’t do partners.” Frank said angrily and you made a face to yourself.
You sat beside him and propped an elbow on his shoulder, which earned you a small scowl.
“How do you keep sneaking in here?” Lieberman asked in annoyance.
“There’s a blind spot in your cameras.” You explained simply. “Leads right up to an old service entrance that isn’t locked and you two are too busy bickering to hear me coming.”
“Blind spot.” He scoffed. “Really?”
“Mhmm.” You nodded. “Anyway, did you turn off your little cameras?” You gestured vaguely to the ceiling.
“Yeah.. How did you know about them?”
You shrugged a shoulder and turned back to Frank.
“If you don’t do partners, what am I?” You asked with raised brows and he squinted his eyes as he looked at your face. “What?”
“You’re different today..” He said simply as he tried to piece together what changed.
“Okay?”
“What changed?”
“Nothing…”
“No, something’s different.”
“Nothing important.” You urged.
“Y/N.”
“Leave it alone, Frank.” You warned. “Now’s not the time.”
“Can we just-” Lieberman cut in and you looked at him with a slight glare. “Can we get back to what’s important?”
“And what exactly is that?” You humored him.
“We’ve all done things we would like to take back, but we can’t. We’re not the bad guys here, they are. Right?”
“Do we know who they are to begin with? Is that why Carson Wolf from Homeland is dead? Someone’s looking into Frank’s unit and I’m guessing it’s about the Kandahar incident. Wolf was part of the coverup for your death-” You pointed to Lieberman, who conceded with a small nod. “-and had to know about their off the books work. If you’re making Homeland your enemy, they’re not gonna back down. Not from a trio of ghost stories.”
“He means the guy who gave us the targets… Called him Agent Orange.” Frank explained carefully.
“That guy still around?” Your brows furrowed and Frank offered a shrug. Could that have been the person whose approval Billy needed before he told you anything?
“That night that my CO told you about during the case, that was the last one I ran with them. I should’ve killed Orange that night but.. Some of my guys pulled me off, said it was to protect me.”
“Who?”
Frank shook his head as if to say it wasn’t important.
“You could’ve ended it all that night.” Lieberman added. “You didn’t, and then they killed your family. You have to live with that.”
“Hey.” You said sharply and pointed a stern finger. “Watch your mouth or the next thing out of it is your tongue.”
He put his hands up in surrender. “This war you’re waging, Frank, it’s the U.S. government. It’s the CIA, and you just got rolled over by one spook zip-tied to an office chair.”
“Yeah, that’s a little embarrassing.” You muttered and Frank elbowed you in the ribs.
“I thought I needed you but you need me just as much.” Lieberman continued. “And now I’m starting to think we’ll need her too.”
“I think I have some connections that could be useful here.” You admitted. “I’ve made a few new friends since I last saw you, Frank. I already got in here twice without you guys knowing. You know I can hold my own.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Frank waved you off. “This isn’t gonna be like anything you’ve done before.”
“You don’t know any of the missions I ran before.” You shook your head. “You give me a team of three or four of my best, and we can take down an entire country’s government in twenty-four hours. I’m not afraid of this and I’m not afraid to die.”
“You’re only saying that cause Red di-”
“And you’re only doing this because your family.” You cut in firmly. “How is it different?”
“Just let her stay.” Lieberman offered. “She’s gonna do it anyway.”
“What about your friends?” Frank asked instead.
“Haven’t talked to them much since it happened...” You shrugged. “New job hasn’t put me on anything yet so it’s not like I’ll miss anything from there. Not leaving any kids or any family behind so..”
“Not even a boyfriend?” He tried, clearly trying to find anything to get you to reconsider.
You paused as you thought and Billy was the first thing that came to mind. But at the same time, Frank seemed to have already forgotten how stubborn you could be.
“No… Look, I didn’t leave you on that first rooftop. I didn’t leave you on that boat. I’m not leaving now.”
“I’m gonna regret this.” Frank groaned before nodding.
“Great.” Lieberman clapped his hands and stood. “I’ve spent months and months hacking every agency and their server.”
“How have they not caught you by now?” Your brows furrowed as you stood and followed him out of the room.
“I’m NSA. It’s my job.”
“Well I hacked into your stuff and you didn’t notice so..” You shrugged.
“You did what?”
“Nothing, continue.”
“Well… Okay, look, anything they can throw at us, right? Phone companies, police departments, it doesn’t matter, because I can throw it right back at them! I’ve been getting ready for you, Frank.”
“What does that mean?” Frank asked, though his worry for you was more pressing in his mind. You took a second to force it to the back of his mind and he shot you a glare as his focus suddenly changed, to which you shrugged innocently.
“What does that mean?” Lieberman repeated as if offended Frank would ask that, but it was a fair question. He hadn’t exactly said what he wanted Frank and got you for. “It means that every missile needs a guidance system. Without me, you’re just a blunt object.”
“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” You commented and Lieberman rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, go ahead. Blow me off. Go ahead!” He argued and the clatter drew your attention back.
You saw Frank doubled over, supporting himself against a nearby cabinet, so you hurried over to help him. His body language was tense like he wanted to push you off, but the concern in your eyes made him decide against it. Despite your cruelty, your growing neutrality, and overall lack of empathy in your day-to-day life, Frank Castle had a way of bringing back a more human nature. You scanned his body for injuries but saw nothing so it had to have been something systemic. He nodded slightly to say that he was okay but you didn’t leave his side.
Lieberman brought the desk chair over that he was tied to last you saw him but Frank waved him off. Lieberman tried insisting but you kicked the chair away, unintentionally hitting it against his knees but not apologizing for it. He put his hands up in surrender and gestured for you two to follow him back towards the computers. You sighed to yourself and began to lead Frank out.
“All that heroin was just financing for something else.” He explained when you two got closer. “Your operation Cerberus doesn’t exist. There’s no official record. There’s no congressional approval.”
“Yeah, it was off the books.” You answered simply. “We knew that already. Off the books usually equates to illegal so..”
“They turned you into a hitman, Frank.”
“There are worse things to be.” You shrugged.
“Look, I don’t care if we all trust each other. I don’t care to be blood brothers or any of that kids in a treehouse type shit. But right now, we want the same thing… So work with me.”
“One condition.” Frank said lowly, burning with his own anger. His own betrayal. It sparked something sadistically familiar in your chest.
“Yeah, anything.”
“They die.. Every single one of ‘em.” He turned up to you. “No trials.”
“I’m not the one that insists on the justice system.” You answered plainly.
“No bullshit.. They die.”
“Fine by me.” You shrugged.
After a moment’s thought, Lieberman answered.
“Yeah, I can live with that.”
#ptyy mag#ptyy wcs#frank castle#billy russo#billy russo fic#frank castle fic#punisher fic#mcu punisher#netflix punisher#netflix frank castle#netflix billy russo#frank x reader#billy x reader#billy russo x reader#platonic frank castle x reader#frank castle x reader#frank castle fanfic#punisher fanfic#punisher series#billy russo fanfic#the punisher x vigilante reader#black widow reader
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Kastle prompt: Karen and Frank in the kitchen, an old sheet, and a set of clippers
Thank you for the prompt! @zushigirl also requested: "Frank hates costumes but dresses up for Halloween because Karen asks him to 🎃 Extra points if he scares Foggy in the process!"
There's no Foggy in this one, but I loved the first part. :)
[ao3 link]
--
“Uh uh,” Frank says dryly.
“Please,” Karen begs, eyes wide and glittering, her scissors held aloft.
“No way, Karen.”
“Frank,” she whines.
“I love you,” he says in a way that tells her he’s sorry this conversation even began, but he’s hoping to get out with the least amount of casualties, “but I ain’t wearin’ that.”
She frowns at him, then looks down at the items in her hands. The scissors make a forlorn little snip sound as she thumbs at one of the holes cut into the white sheet in her other hand. “But the party is in an hour and you don’t have a costume.”
The party refers to the Lieberman’s annual Halloween bash, one that Frank threatens to skip every year (and hasn’t once). This is Karen’s second year in attendance and she’s been talking about it all October, planning her outfit to the smallest detail and occasionally checking in about his own costume. Which he’s said, week after week, that he doesn’t have and doesn’t plan to have, mostly to annoy David. But it’s true. He didn’t dress up the previous years and he’s not planning to this year.
But now there’s Karen, and a determined Karen, cutting holes in one of her old sheets to turn it into a ghost costume for him. He caught her too late to stop it, and now she stands there sullenly with one crooked hole in the fabric. And he won’t wear it no matter how much she begs because the only thing worse than the jackass not wearing a costume at the Halloween party he’s known about for a year, is the jackass wearing a clearly last minute costume at the Halloween party he’s known about for a year. And that he simply won’t live down.
“I’m goin’ just like this. Doesn’t mean you can’t dress up, you put a lot of work into yours.”
“Hm.” Karen eyes his flannel and jeans thoughtfully, then sets about cutting the second eyehole into the sheet, despite his aborted and exasperated protest. “I want you to dress up too. And look–with this costume there’s no chance anyone will recognize you.”
That’s the absolute least of his worries. Not only will most of the party-goers in attendance be too hammered to recognize him as Frank Castle, but those who do know of his real identity know that he had a hand in bringing David home. So. Not worried.
He is especially worried, however, about the look in Karen’s eye as she holds up the sheet in front of him as if judging the length.
“Karen,” he pleads. “You can’t make me wear that. I’ll look like an asshole.”
She lowers the ‘costume’ and peers at him, attention piqued. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
He shrugs, realizing that in the face of Karen Page, his planning could have been better. If he’d have just planned his own damn costume she wouldn't be threatening with this one. And he knows–as much as he tells himself otherwise–that she’ll win this argument. Because he loves her more than he cares about his pride, and in the end he’ll wear a damn bed sheet if it makes her happy. “Guess so.”
She smiles, scheming and mischievous. “I have an idea.”
–
The party is in full swing by the time they arrive. This is by design–neither one of them cares for sober small talk, and by showing up later they enter into a cheer from a mildly drunk crowd who gives them an amused once over and then returns to their conversations. They trail into the kitchen in search of their hosts and find them standing at the counter, chatting with another couple. David and Sarah are dressed as the two main characters from that Grease movie, Frank realizes, but can’t remember the names. It’s been years since he’s seen it, and he wasn’t all that interested in it at the time.
“Uh,” David says ineloquently, squinting at them when they set down a plate of chocolate dipped pretzels. “Hello….ghost couple? That we probably know?”
Frank sighs and prays for patience, his breath ruffling the bedsheet in front of his mouth. Karen giggles at his side, her own laughter ruffling her matching bed sheet costume. The moment she realized he was worried about how he would look in a half-assed costume next to her pre-planned one (a pink jumpsuit and glittering jewelry, which she claimed was Saving Barbieland Barbie, and when that comes out online we can watch it together, it was amazing) she had cut holes in a matching sheet and pulled it on. His protests went unheard as she threw the first sheet over his head and adjusted it so that he could see.
(“We’re a couple,” she’d told him with a smile in her voice when he tried to tell her to wear her original costume, “I like the idea of a couples costume. And this is more comfortable, anyways. Come on, we’re going to be late to being late.”)
“It’s us,” Karen says, laughing.
“Oooh.” David grins, leaning closer. “You under there, Frank? Very spooky.”
“Watch it, Lieberman,” he grumbles, grateful for the sheet. He’s sure his ears are burning pink. He knew there would be jokes, but he’s less upset about them considering Karen is wearing the same thing. Regardless…David will go on all night if Frank doesn’t stop it now.
Sarah sends Karen an amused look, one of those secret ones they usually exchange in his presence. He gathers their wordless conversation to mean something along the lines of You got him in a costume? and Just barely.
“Danny and Sandy right?” Karen asks them, pulling two beers from the open cooler and handing one to Frank. He fights the draped sheet off his arm to take it from her, eliciting another round of snickers from David as Sarah nods.
“Yes! We watched it on our first date.” Sarah elbows her husband. “Quit laughing, David. I’m sure he can still punch under a sheet.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He doesn’t seem sorry in the least, but he quits with the laughter at least. “Hey, we’re glad you guys came. You’re always welcome, you know that. Go have a good time. And don’t forget the costume contest at 10pm!”
They wander off with promises to catch up later, taking a few turns around the house. There’s a few people they recognize from previous gatherings that they talk with, and then a disastrous game of flip cup that has Frank seriously questioning his hand-eye coordination, and after about an hour when Frank is uncomfortably warm under the sheet, Karen takes his hand and leads him into the backyard. The weather is beautiful–there’s a full moon shining brightly on the various couples milling around, and the breeze is cool and sweet, bringing along with it that dropping-leaves-smell of fall. There’s an unclaimed porch swing towards the corner of the patio that they commandeer, pulling off their respective sheets in relief.
“Okay,” Karen concedes, shooting her sheet a sour look. Her cheeks are flushed. “Maybe the ghost idea wasn’t my greatest. They’re so hot.”
Her hair is flying about her head, the static from the sheet making it frizzy. He chuckles, reaching over to flatten the wayward strands. “It was a good idea. I’ll buy you new sheets.”
“They were old, don’t worry.” She leans back, her shoulder pressing into his as she looks across the yard. It’s so peaceful out of the warm, humid air in the house. Even the music playing from inside is muted, giving them a little bubble of quiet. They sit without feeling the need to talk, swinging in the breeze, until Karen speaks again. “Thank you for humoring me.”
And–hell. She shouldn’t have to thank him for his lack of planning, for ruining her own costume just so he wouldn’t feel bad. He wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. “Nothin’ to thank me for. Next year we’ll dress up as somethin’ really good, yeah?”
She turns to look at him, her smile curved against the moonlight. “Really?”
“Promise. You pick it, and I’ll wear it.”
“And…it will be a couples costume?” she asks, drawing out the question in a way that makes him realize exactly what she’s asking. She’s asking whether they’ll still be here, doing this, as a couple. Together, a year from now.
“Baby,” he smiles, “ain’t no other kind, with us.”
And then he pulls her into his lap, kissing the pleased laughter out of her mouth, until David opens the backdoor and hollers that the costume contest is about to begin.
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