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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

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ʟᴏᴠᴇʙᴜɢ - ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ, "ᴡᴇʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ"

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ - 18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ, ᴅʙꜰ!ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ x ᴀꜰᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ, ꜰʀᴀɴᴋ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ), ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ᴏʀᴀʟ (ᴍ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇx, ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʙᴀᴛɪᴏɴ??), ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ :(

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ - 2.3ᴋ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

a/n - beginning of the end for lovebug :’( we only have a couple chapters left and they’re kinda rough to get through so buckle up. the last chapter flopped so if you haven’t read it catch up here, and add yourself to my taglist here.

Frank was a good lover. He made you squirm just from a look. It wasn’t super noticeable to the untrained eye, but you had picked up on it by now.

The first time you noticed was when your dad had a few people over for a barbeque. The night was coming to an end, your dad and Lena were both hammered and stumbling their way around the house. Frank watched them for a bit, sitting on the couch flipping through tv channels. He heard your footsteps upstairs and, against his better judgment, crept up to find you. Fresh out of the shower, you jumped when you heard a knock on the door. You let him in, your body still wet and wrapped in a towel. He stared at you, head tilted down a bit and a smirk wide across his face. Before you knew it you were in between Frank’s legs, his cock in your mouth. His hands were on your head, gently guiding it back and forth as he cursed under his breath. “Fuck, s’like your mouth was made for me, sweetheart.”. Your hand was rubbing over your clit, he could feel you hum as you took him further down your throat. “I’ll touch you in a minute, baby, don’t even worry about it-shit.”. When Frank came you swallowed it up, he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, mumbling something about how good you were.

The next time was when you had made your way into Frank’s garage. Admittedly you had only one thing on your mind but he was preoccupied. His truck’s hood was open, music was blaring from a speaker. You were plopped on his desk, uncomfortable however you sat due to the dripping problem between your thighs. You groaned, finally catching Frank’s attention. He sauntered over, placing his fists on either side of you and giving you the same look as before.

“Need something?” He questioned, making your cheeks heat up. Your arms went to wrap around his neck while you nodded. “What would that be?” He asked again, your eyes rolled dramatically before you answered. “Can you fuck me, please, Frankie?”

And then, in the blink of an eye, there you were, riding him. You were wrapped tightly around his torso, his hands were digging into your hips and bruising them in the process. You could hear Frank’s little groans just barely through your own loud whines. “Take your time, no need to rush anything.” You listened to him, slowly rolling your hips back and forth and really feeling every inch of him.

You were sitting at the dinner table when it happened again. Everyone was laughing about some story your dad had brought home from work when Frank met your eyes. Your thighs were pressed together, lip in between your teeth. He had you pavloved. You tried to make it through the rest of dinner, waving Lena and Frank off when the night came to a close. As soon as you made it up the stairs and closed your door, your hand was in your pants. Your breath was hitching, even by yourself you were embarrassed at how wet you got from Frank’s glare. Sloppily you rubbed on your clit, trying to supress the moans you were producing. Your phone buzzed beside you, and when you turned it over and saw Frank’s name across the screen you picked it up immediately.

“H-Hi.” You stuttered, sighing as you reluctantly removed your hand from your underwear. He chuckled, voice a little graveled over the phone. “Little worked up at dinner, weren’t ya?” You hummed, leaning back onto the bed. “Bet you went right up to your room and touched yourself, didn't you sweet thing?” He could practically hear the lump get swallowed down your throat. You denied it, fidgeting with the ends of your shirt. “Really? That’s good, because it looks like you forgot to close your window. Wouldn’t want anyone creeping.” You froze, looking up to see that your window was indeed open, and at closer inspection you could see a backlit figure sitting in a small window in Frank’s house. He had a perfect view to your bed, something you only thought about a handful of times when you were rearranging your room the other week. He waved at you, and you fell back down onto your mattress.

“Perv.” You scoffed, only earning another laugh from Frank. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.” You both went quiet, slowly you placed your hand back where it had been moments before. You let out a light sigh. “There you go.” He replied, you could hear him shift in his seat.

“Don’t be shy, tell me how good it feels.” You tried to bite back another moan, instead letting it out, just not loud enough to get your dad’s attention. You picked up the pace, now using full force to rub at your clit. You wanted to call him over, let him continue this assault on your pussy, he was the one that started it after all. Instead you dipped a finger into yourself, hearing Frank’s belt unbuckle over their call. “Not the only one worked up, I see.” You grinned, eyes rolling back into your head. “You can’t see anything-fuck.” You sat up at his word, and he was right, you could only see his outline. He was leaned back a little further, and you could see a little bit of motion right where his dick would be.

“Frankie,” He almost purred at the nickname, “do you know how wet I am for you right now?” You had stopped your work on yourself, instead looking at what little you could see of him. He tilted his head back, you could see his arm movements as he jerked himself off. “Hm, tell me about it.” You cracked your knuckles, trying to think of someway to show the desire you had seeping out from inside of you. “Why don’t I come over and show you.” He paused, gathering himself and resting his hands on his knees. He sighed, taking his time to respond. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Your dad might see you-” You cut him off. “Please, Frankie. No one will even see me, and I’ll be so good for you once I get over there.” He coughed, and part of you knew that he couldn’t really say no to you. “Alright.” He hung up the phone with that, not waiting for any response.

You quickly gathered yourself, practically running down the stairs and over to his front door. Before you could even knock he opened it and pulled you in, connecting your lips in a rough kiss. He held your biceps, gripping them with what felt like his full force. The two of you dragged yourselves up to his room, you were still standing when he ripped your pants down your legs, taking your panties along with you. His tongue was in between his teeth, eyes darting from your bare pussy to your blown out pupils. “You weren’t kidding, I’ve never seen you this wet.” Before you could even think about responding he pushed you onto his mattress. “Do I even gotta warm you up, sweetheart?” He wasn’t really looking for an answer, latching himself to your neck.

You fumbled with his clothes, managing his shirt over his head while only breaking your kiss for a millisecond. Frank manhandled you into a new position, you on your side, upper body twisted enough to see him, your thigh in his hands. He leaned over you to grab a condom on his bedside table, pulling it onto his cock quickly and giving it a couple pumps. “Ready?” He asked, you nodded and before your head stopped moving the tip of his cock was teasing your entrance. “Frank!” You cried out, body jolting at the pressure. He shoved himself in, and though it was still agonizingly slow it was more rushed than any other time. He shushed you, kissing your jawline before he got himself all the way inside of you. He paused, only for a moment, before rocking his hips into you somehow deeper. “Fuck me, god!” You were loud tonight, maybe it was because only seconds in this was already shaping up to be the best sex you’ve had in your life, or maybe because you were so needy. “God ain’t here, baby, just you and me.” He moved both of his hands to the headboard, though yours clawed at his back. He liked when you scratched him up, he told you one night when you apologized for it. “No need,” he reassured, “like seeing it in the mirror, makes me think of you.”

“Squeezing me like that already? You really did need it bad, didn’t you?” His taunts were drawn out, his words slowed down due to him being a little out of breath. “Yeah, Frank, need you so bad.” Your back was arching, Frank took your leg in his hand and twisted you into missionary, leaning down close to your naked body. Your mouths hovered over each others, hardly even kissing each other while you both drowned out the sounds of his fan with your moans. Your orgasm came fast, you clung to his body like a koala while he fucked you through it, his own climax coming quickly after your own.

The aftercare that ensued was minimal, Frank held you for a moment while he was still inside of you, before pulling himself out and encouraging you to pee. When you returned from the bathroom you found Frank pulling a shirt over his head. You followed his lead, finding your own shirt but not even bothering to grab your pants and underwear.

You sat on Frank’s bed beside him, he leaned forward to kiss your forehead and rub your arms. “Can I stay the night?” You were ashamed to be asking, your house was so close but selfishly you just wanted to be in his sheets. Frank shook his head, resting it against your own with a sigh. You pleaded, but he persisted, sitting up and stepping towards his dresser. “C’mon no one will know.” Your voice trailed off at the end, Frank’s stern one following with another excuse to shut you down. You pushed at him again. “Please, Frank, we’re in the clear-” Suddenly Frank’s fist came down onto the furniture. It wasn’t enough to concern you, it was just jarring. “Dammit, y/n, I’m not risking you sleeping here.” He didn’t look at you at this point, staring into some bland painting that hung on the wall.

You wanted to say something, interject your thoughts but Frank spoke again. “We’re getting too sloppy, if we keep doing this your dad’s gonna find out eventually. Do you have any idea what he’d do?” The truth was you didn’t. It wasn’t something you thought about a whole lot, when you were with Frank he wasn’t Frank, your dad’s best, and maybe only, friend in the whole world, he was just Frank.

“No one’s gonna suspect anything if I spend the night at your house, Frank.” You had to laugh at yourself, hoping to avoid any fight you were teetering on starting. Frank wasn’t looking to joke, his gaze on you was cold for maybe the first time. “What happens when your dad sees you sneaking back in tomorrow morning? What do you tell him? How am I supposed to look him in the eyes? Knowing that I fuck his daughter whenever I get the chance? It’s just not worth it.”

That last part made your blood boil under your skin, you stood at his words. “What do you mean it’s not worth it? Are you not invested in this like I am?” Your words shocked even you, he ran a hand over his face, looking up at the ceiling while you rambled. “What do you mean this, there isn’t a this.”

You felt your heart speed up, practically jumping out of your chest. You wanted to scream at him, yell in his face if you had to. You paced around the room, trying to muster up something to say to him when you just came up empty, confused. “Frank, we’ve been doing this thing for weeks now, you mean to tell me that you don’t feel anything?” He was biting his cheeks, trying to choke down words he couldn’t take back. “Y/n, we’re not in a relationship, I’m not your boyfriend. This is just-” You took your chance to cut him off this time. “So what? You mean to tell me that this whole time you didn’t gain any sort of feelings towards me? Do you even care about me at all?”

You didn’t even notice that you had stormed up to him at this point, he wasn’t taken aback but instead stared you down with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “I didn’t say that, you know that’s not what I meant.” He tried to reach out and touch you but you turned away from him, searching for your pants on his rug. “I don’t know what you mean, then, Frank.” He let out a long breath, spinning himself around to look at you again. “God, you are such a child. I don’t even know what I expected getting involved with you like this.”

You froze, pants half way up your ass, back towards him though his words still stuck you like he had whispered them in your ear. You didn’t want to admit that tears were pricking your eyes, you didn’t even know where your words had come from. You had never confronted having feelings for Frank, feelings beyond finding him attractive, you didn’t think that there were even feelings to confront. His words triggered something in you, like a threat. You knew him in the most vulnerable way, yet he wanted to claim that this vulnerability was a facade, that what you two had done meant next to nothing to him. You finished dressing yourself in a hurry, without another word storming out of his room, through his hallway, down his stairs, past his living room and kitchen and slamming his front door on the way out. You half expect Frank to be following you, stumbling his way through apologies, but when you turned around, his porch was empty.

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blue-boy-67 · 2 years

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something i realized while rewatching daredevil season 2. im on episode 7, where Frank is in court and like the jury or whatever you call them are giving their opinions about Frank (in my opinion he’s doing Hell’s Kitchen a favor) but what i realized was, all the people that said he was making their life better were women and the ones that said he was making it worse for them were men. basically just showing how their ego is probably bruised from how much good Frank is doing and how i bet you those men in the jury probably have some dirt on them.😃

#daredevil #the punisher #matt murderdock #foggy nelson #karen page #frank castle #daredevil season 2 #francis castiglione #devil of hell’s kitchen #hell’s kitchen

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marvelheroperil · 2 years

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Punisher was supposed to have a dental appointment with the dentist. Unfortunately, the dental clinic was under siege by gangsters who are taking revenge on Punisher so they ambush him. Punisher was knocked out with gas and then, tied up by the gangsters who are ready to torture him.

- Punisher Summer Special #4, 1994

#Punisher #the punisher #Frank Castle #francis castiglione #random villains #ambush #gassed #tied up.#torture.#blades.#defiance #Dude in Distress

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ask-cloverfield · 1 year

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In having a fairly sexually charged dynamic with Spider-Man Frank Castle has managed to live out one of his wife’s fantasies

#For context Maria Castle’s celebrity crush was Spider-Man #Spider-man #peter parker #Frank Castle #Francis Castiglione #Punisher #punisher the #The punisher

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in-the-moodboard · 2 years

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[ID: In the top left-hand corner is Frank Castle (The Punisher). In the top right-hand corner is a gun on a red background. The picture under it is a wine glass filled with water and a red substance. The picture in the bottom left-hand corner is an angle statue, with closed eyes looking down. Next to it is a red background with highlighted bubbles. The picture in the bottom right-hand corner is of a police squad. End ID]

#cw gun #cw police #cw blood #frank castle #francis castiglione #the punisher #moodboard #image id #character #spotify playlist #wizard ramblings #spotify

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full-moon-ships · 5 months

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Francis hmu

#THIS POST IS ABOUT CLINTON (FRANCIS) BARTON #but also about. francis g castiglione #rowan rambles #🏹The arrow through my heart🏹 [Clint]

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babyjujubee · 8 months

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Alden Ehrenreich, Sofía Gala Castiglione and Leticia Brédice. Tetro (2009) directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

#alden ehrenreich #sofia gala castiglione #leticia bredice #francis ford coppola #tetro #babyjujubee #adoring alden ehrenreich #tumblr #gif #google

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

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what are your husband!frank headcanons because I love that grumpy man? 🤍

oh my darling sweet nonnie

I think about husband!frankie a lot and I have so many thots about this lets get into it

being married to frank castle

i've said this before and i'll say it again: frank is a hopeless romantic and no one can change my mind

he is a SUCKER for his spouse like literally would do anything they wanted

you wanna paint the kitchen barbie pink? sure baby, let me pick up some some paint

your bookshelf is full? hang on honey, i'll build you another

you had a bad day? where does your boss live *cocks gun*

frank is obsessed with his spouse like literally thinks they hung the moon and all the stars in the goddamn sky

I feel like after losing maria and the kids, when he gets another chance to be a husband, he's all in

he helps cook dinner, or even tells you he'll handle it for the night so that you can relax

he'll run you a nice hot bubble bath and light some candles if you had a stressful day

anything you pick up in the store and put back, he secretly sneaks into the cart

he listens to you vent, bc frank is a very good listener, and offers advice when he can

he surprises you with lunch dates, sends flowers to your job just to let you know he was thinking about you, calls you even if he's only going to be 5 minutes late coming home

he's very protective of you when you're out in public and doesn't let you out of his sight or let anyone get too close for comfort

frank doesn't talk a whole lot, but when he speaks, it's from the heart

he doesn't do grand outrageous gestures to show you he loves you but it is obvious in all the little things he does bc I genuinely believe his love language is acts of service and physical touch

he's SO proud to be your husband like anytime you introduce him to anyone or mention "my husband this" or "my husband that" he's got the biggest grin on his face

to say he would die for you is such a huge understatement, francis david castiglione would wage war on god herself for you

bottom line is husband!frank is a huge sap and even if he acts grumpy that you want to paint the kitchen pink or your car broke down bc you forgot to tell him you needed your oil changed (it happens to the best of us) he is so madly in love with you that you could do no wrong in his eyes

#frank castle #frank castle request #frank castle headcanon #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher request #the punisher headcannon

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sunflowersandsapphires · 6 months

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Fall Drabbles, Day 10

Happy Halloween everyone!

prompt: halloween candy

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

summary: Frank has a frustrating habit of eating all of the candy meant for trick or treaters.

warnings: swearing, fluff

a/n: AHHHH I hope this is a good enough apology for my lack of writing. I updated my posting schedule and posted that, but everything has been postponed for 2 weeks so I can catch up. Thank you everyone, I hope you enjoy.

w/c: <1k

Honestly, this whole issue boiled down to you being an enabler, even if your enabling was unintentional. A couple of weeks ago, you’d started stockpiling Halloween candy. It made sense at the time; your local store was having a sale and there was no way that you’d eat through 6 bags of fun size candy in three weeks.

Unfortunately for you and the prospective trick or treaters in your building, you had not factored in your husband nor his endless stomach. It was the 26th and you only had 3 bags left—one of which was currently opened and positioned between Frank’s legs for easy access.

Sighing as you watched him add another metallic shred of plastic to the growing candy wrapper pile, you moved to stand in front of him and crossed your arms. Pointedly ignoring you, Frank peeked around your ass to continue watching the game on the tv. The barely visible smirk at the edge of his lips threatened to send you into a rampage.

“Frank.” You said tersely, glaring at him. He refused to look at you, smirk no longer hidden as he tore open yet another mini Milky Way and popped it into his mouth.

“Frank!” You growled, hands unfolding to land on your hips. Your husband, ever the asshole, opened two pieces of candy this time.

“Francis David Castiglione!” You snapped, whipping the remote off the table and shutting the tv off. After the day you’d had, you were in no mood for his games.

Seemingly realizing that you were serious when you pulled the full-name card, Frank turned to you with wide eyes, smirk vanishing.

“I told you to stop eating the candy. Want to tell me why I came home to you eating from a new bag on the couch?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sweetheart, I—“ He started, but you held up a hand.

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Castle. I’m upset with you! I bought this candy so that we could give it out on Halloween! At the rate you’re consuming it, we won’t have a single piece this weekend,” You pouted, arms folding across your chest again as you waited for his apology.

“My darlin’, beautiful wife,” Frank began, clearly not worried about pushing more of your buttons. “I am sorry I ate more of the candy, I didn’t realize how much it meant to ya, honey. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll go replenish our stock right now.”

Striding over to you, he held his hands out in a gesture of good will before pulling you into an embrace. Or, rather, trying to pull you into an embrace. You dodged his outstretched hands, throwing him a wicked look. “It’s the 26th, Frank. The 26th! All of the good candy will be sold out!! We’ll have to give out sixlets, or carrots or some other crap and the kids will hate us and then the word will spread and then we’ll be egged or something! And then—“

Interrupting you with a bellowing laugh, Frank beamed at you, unphased by your murderous stare. “Sweetheart, tell me you’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, Frank! I want the kids to like me and you’re going to ruin it!!” You groused, the small cloud of fear that you’d been carrying around this month seeping into your tone. Frank noticed the genuine emotion, eyes softening as he tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours? Talk to me, sweets.”

Sighing, you collapsed against his sturdy chest, letting the confession bubble out of you as he stroked his large palm over your back. “It’s our first Halloween as a married couple, Frank. We just moved into this building and we’re one of the only apartments without kids. I just…I want them to like me, to like us. I want us to fit in, to be normal for a day.”

Frank hummed in response, processing your words before speaking. “I didn’t know it meant that much to you, honey, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I can’t give ya the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids—“

“Shit, no, Frank!” Pulling back to cup his cheek, you traced a finger over his jaw. “I didn’t mean it like that, handsome. I don’t want those things from you, I love you as you are! I just want us to have a good Halloween, is all. And I’d really really prefer not to be egged. That would be great.”

Huffing a laugh, your gorgeous spouse pressed a few scratchy kisses against your palm before tugging you back against his torso, guiding your hands around his waist. “I’ll buy my own candy and replace the stuff I ate. And if any of those fuckin’ kids so much as think about egging our door, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

Chuckling fondly, you stood on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #the punisher x reader #the punisher netflix #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #my writing #fc #fall prompts 2023

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thepunisherfrankcastle · 2 months

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where is jon????? jon????? jon????? FRANK????? FRANCIS CASTIGLIONE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????

#daredevil born again #daredevil #jon bernthal #frank castle

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russosafehaven · 1 year

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We’ll Be Here to The End

Gif is not mine, found on Pinterest

Content: Character Death, Suicide, Murder, Overall Dark Content, OD, There is a sui letter at the end that is based off of one of my own so be wary of that, reader has an established last name

Pairing: Billy Russo x Ghost!Reader

Just a little drabble about Billy’s death!

BR Taglist: @snowkestrel

“Please man.. you gotta believe me I didn’t do it. Curtis please.. help me”

He was lost. You’d always watched Billy after your death, sometimes gaining enough energy to be more than a apparition. Over a decade ago you had overdosed on your anti-depressants. It had all gotten bad again when Billy had left for training. You’d been struggling with a cutting addiction since you were 11 years old, home life got rough and you didn’t know how else to cope. When you turned 14 you’d met Billy at school. He was a transfer, having been expelled from his last school for disruptive behaviour. You were assigned to keep him in line, no matter what he said or did to you.

“Curtis please… I need you to believe me”

You watched with intent as he bled out. Hand clutching his stomach as the blood seeped through. The hang up tone from his phone rang throughout the room. Part of you wished you hadn’t ended it.

“Are you there…? Please… it hurts… fix it please.. Frankie won’t.. neither will Curtis you’re all I have…”

His cries for mercy were pitiful and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault he was like this. If you hadn’t killed yourself would he have worked for Rawlins? No, of course he wouldn’t. The shit Rawlins did was illegal, you turned him into the monster he became.

“Billy…”

You called out, your body lighting up at the glow of the sun. His dark eyes looked at you, framed with soft pink lines. A sign of who he’d become. You had watched the fight, desperate to stop Frank from hurting your Billy in the way he did. Yet you couldn’t do anything but spectate. You hadn’t known Frank before your death, Billy having met him in the Marines. In a way he replaced you, yet Frank could never live up to you. It was a fact you knew well, Billy may have loved the Castles but he worshipped you.

The door opened and there stood Frank. Yet it wasn’t the man you once saw, this Frank was cold and unforgiving. Not the father full of a morbid light that he once was. This was all Punisher, the terroriser of New York City. Pity filled you as you watched the two men. That was until Frank’s eyes landed on you. The outlines of a friend Billy once spoke of. Maria used to called you Billy’s guardian angel. That once you had passed on, you dedicated your afterlife to protecting him. To an extent she was right, but you were no angel. Far from it, the world stripped you of your delicacy. Arthur stripped you of your innocence.

“You. You’re the one Billy always spoke about huh?”

Frank’s voice was deep and husky. Rough and coated with venom. Venom that Billy had produced when he didn’t protect the Castles.

“I am, I’m here to take Billy home”

Billy looked at you. You knelt down in front of him, a transparent hand coming to his face. Pretending to wipe the tears away. Frank walked up behind you, pointing a gun at his former best friend.

“Good, you can keep the son of a bitch”

With that a bullet shot rang out. Piercing Billy’s skull. You watched silently, a grotesque smile crossing your face. Billy will be home soon.

“You’re a sad man Francis Castiglione”

You turned around to face Frank. Studying the man with sad eyes. He had no remorse for his actions, he had no intent to live and yet he did. He was stronger than you could have ever been.

“How… How do you know that? I ain’t been Francis Castiglione for years”

A small giggle escaped your lips. Truth was you had been there at the carousel shooting. Pulling the Castles souls from their bodies, welcoming them to their afterlife. Maria had grown close to you and the two younger ghosts had taken to you as a parental figure.

“Maria told me, you know I was there that day. I watched Billy’s face full with regret when the bullets pierced Juniors flesh. I watched as Maria screamed and covered her daughters body. I watched as you survived and they all fell to the floor, limp and lifeless. I watched as Billy walked away, tears soaking his face. He cried for months you know? Put a real dent in Anvil. He put himself back together, he’s lost so much. He’s home now though. With me, it was always me Francis. He betrayed your family in hopes you would kill him, this was always his endgame. That day on the carousel I was hoping you’d kill him, give him to me but you were too weak. Instead he just lost his memory, I had to try so hard to get him to trust me. I told him the truth, it’s how he figured it out. Billy wanted you to kill him but he didn’t want the Castle family to die. Maria knows it, Lisa and Junior they both know it. You’re the only one left Francis”

Dark eyes were trained on you. As he came at you, he must have forgotten you were an apparition. His large body landed into the wall, cracking it.

“YOU DON’T TALK ‘BOUT MY FAMILY OKAY?!”

Blood started to seep through his clothes. Hands wrapped around you, Billy’s hand. You could be together again.

“Look in his pockets Francis, you might find something interesting”

As Billy guided you out of the building you both floated peacefully. You were together again, that’s all that mattered.

He stood alone for a few minutes before Frank did as you said. Rummaging through his best friends pockets. All he found was a piece of paper and a small bunny toy. Pink and covered in dirt. Unfolding the paper, Curtis appeared over his shoulder. Frank turned around, acknowledging his friends presence. In silence they read the letter.

Dear Billy,

This will be my last letter to you and for that I am sorry. I know this is a pretty shitty goodbye but by the time you read this I’ll be dead. I love you with all that I am but I cannot keep doing this. You’re gone and you were all I had. My parents are getting worse. I went to my fathers for Christmas, my brother came with me but it was horrible. He touched me, my father he touched me again Billy. They did nothing to stop it. I’ve relapsed, really fucking badly and I wish I didn’t. You’re my world, so with this letter Im leaving you Cottontail. You remember the small bunny I always carry around? I want you to have them. They’ll protect you when you go on tour. So while I know that you will hate me for this, hate me for all I’ve done to you I am sorry. Know that I’ll always watch over you from above. Whenever you need me I will be there, even if you cannot see. William Russo you have protected me ever since we met, I wish that you hadn’t been pained the way you had. Maybe in another life we’ll be together again. I hope you visit my grave, and if you don’t know that I’ll wait for you anyways. I wanted to make it to 18, so I could try and enlist with you and we could be together. I just couldn’t, this is all far too much Billy. I wanted to confess to you, tell you how I’ve been madly in love with you since we were dumb fifteen year olds making out in the the library because you wanted to see what kissing was like. So William Russo, when you pass on whenever that may be. I hope you find me in the after life.

Your bunny, Y/N Walsh

P.S I know one day you wanted to open your own company. Well after you leave the Marines what about security? You’d be perfect for it after your service. I’ve always liked the name Anvil for a company. Stay safe my love, find friends. I may have been a failure but others won’t be. You’ll find you family Billy.

Frank and Curtis looked at one another, all of a sudden it fell into place. Anvil, his outbursts, why he spent drunken nights crying by a grave. They lost their brother because he lost his world.

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saintedcooper · 6 months

Text

It's Complicated (Francis Ch3 | Frank Castle x Reader 1940s AU)

Chapter Summary: After the attack, you awaken with some pain and a lot of questions.

Series Summary: New York, 1949. You’re a waitress trying to find your place in the world and get your footing at your new job. That is, when you’re not being very distracted by the handsome, mysterious writer who frequents the diner.

Previous Chapters: 1 / 2

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Content Warnings: memories of past violence as seen in previous chapter, hot man cooking you healing food (dangerous stuff).

Length: 2,908 words

cross-posted to AO3.

Your dreams are full of dark tunnels and winding paths. Shadowy figures shape-shift into terrifying creatures that you can’t escape. All you hear is the sound of your running feet and your heart pounding like a drum.

You turn down a dark path and stop. There’s a figure in this one but it’s clear, not shadowy like the others. It’s bathed in white light and glowing. It’s a man with his back to you, dressed in slacks and a white shirt with suspenders crossing his back.

As you move closer, the man turns. It’s Francis. Your eyes go first to the soft smile on his lips before traveling down to the twin guns holstered by his sides.

You start to back up slowly and he frowns.

“Sweetheart?”

As you take another step backward, your foot slips. You rear lands hard on the stone path. You’re trying to pick yourself up when you notice bloody scrapes on your legs. You turn your hands over to find they’re there, too.

A frown forms on your face.

How did that happen?

As you observe the scrapes, tiny streaks of red slowly bloom and quickly grow.

A gust of cold air draws your attention to your ripped tights. When you reach down a hand to inspect the ripped fabric, a hand appears in the darkness and wraps around your ankle. It tugs hard, pulling you down as you scream.

With a gasp, you startle awake, your eyes flying open.

Your eyes dart around a familiar room. It’s yours. You sigh a breath of relief as you grab your chest, willing your breath to slow down.

The sun is high in the sky, filling the room with warm light and humid air. Your body is covered in a light sheen of nightmare-induced sweat.

In the distance, you hear Maggie plugging away on the typewriter.

You let the rhythm of the keys fade into the background as your mind wanders to the night before. The alley. Those men. Francis.

Francis.

Why had he been there? Thank god he was, but, it was curious.

If you were being honest, there was always something odd about Francis. Sure, he was gorgeous, but there something dark and mysterious about him. It had never frightened you, it intrigued you.

He was kind, a bit sardonic sometimes, and funny. But he was also dangerous. You knew it when he’d shown up to the diner previously with bruised knuckles and scratches. You knew it the other night when you heard him taking down your attackers.

Francis Castiglione wasn’t like other men.

That's what had drawn you to him at first. But now, that hint of mystery was real and violent.

You’d heard the way he’d laid into those creeps, his fits pummeling their flesh like it was nothing. You’d heard him panting like an over-excited dog, telling them to get up so that he could brutalize them again.

It was one thing to know he had that darkness; it was another to witness it.

You hardly know him. He doesn’t owe you anything but you can’t help having more questions than you know what to do with. If the charming writer who’s been flirting with you for months is also the man you saw last night, which face is the mask? How can you trust anything he’s ever said to you?

Even with your confusion the undercurrent of fear you feel isn’t for you, it’s for him.

What have you gotten yourself into, Francis?

With a sigh, you flip back the sheet to get out of bed. Searing pain around your torso stops you in your tracks and doubles you over with a sharp cry.

The typewriter stops and a few moments later, you hear footsteps hurrying down the hall as you slowly try lower your body back to the bed.

Maggie appears a few moments later with a cool towel and a worried look on her face. The towel still drips with water, proof of how quickly it’d be gathered.

“Thank God you’re awake! You scared me half to death. Are you alright?”

You nod and attempt a reassuring smile. It’s more of a grimace.

Trying to lie back down is too painful, you end up sitting with your back propped up against the headboard and your feet out in front of you.

Maggie wrings the towel out of one of the windows before sitting on the side of your bed and brushing the towel across your forehead.

The cool water on your skin calms you enough to begin to relax. You lean into the towel and close your eyes.

“How do you feel?” Maggie asks.

“Like I got dragged down an alley.”

She sighs. “I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know what to say. Just thank God you’re alright and that Francis passed by at the right time.”

Your eyes fly open. Francis.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Don't you remember?” Maggie says. “Francis was headed home and heard the commotion. Those men got spooked and scrambled away.”

“Right... And how’d I get here? Back home?”

Maggie flips the towel over and brushes it gently across the rest of your face.

“Well, early that morning, I thought I heard you coming through the door. I heard the keys and the floorboards creaking, then a man mumbling or something.” She laughs. “I thought you were about to get lucky. I came out being nosy, trying to get a look at your fella.”

You watch her face as she continues. She looks off to the side and stops brushing the towel against you.

“That’s when I saw Francis with you in his arms, covered in dirt and dried blood. Knocked out. I think I must have screamed because I remember him telling me to be quiet and asking about all kinds of supplies. I cleaned you up while he cleaned and dressed your wounds. Then he put you in the bed and left so that I could change your clothes.”

She sighs. “I’ve never been so scared or so certain. It was like I just knew what to do.”

You’d liked Maggie from the moment she stepped onto your doorstep asking about the room you had for rent. You knew a bit about her past but you mostly enjoyed each other’s company in the present. She’s like your wild and free little sister. It feels odd seeing her sad because of you.

You grab her hand and she looks at you.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

She gives you a slight smile as she squeezes your hand.

You finally take a moment to notice that Maggie’s wearing her audition clothes, a smart blouse under a grey wool jacket and matching shirt. “Audition day?”

“Oh!” Maggie stands abruptly from the bed. “I heard you call out just as I was about to leave.”

She gives you a guilty smile.

“I got a call back from that audition last week.” She gnaws on her lip. “I think this is the one.”

It couldn’t be better news. She’s been a struggling artist every day you’ve known her.

“Don’t feel guilty! I’m happy for you. Please, go. I can take care of myself.”

Maggie’s expression of guilt fades quickly into amusement. “You won’t have to.”

“Oh?”

Maggie grins and leaves the room, coming back quickly with a serving tray. The tray she settles around you is loaded up with chicken and rice soup, a hearty slice of bread, a glass of orange juice, and the morning paper.

You gasp. Maggie is a lot of things, but a cook she ain’t.

“Margaret! You cooked?”

She laughs and says in a sing-song voice, “Well, somebody did. Definitely wasn’t me.”

You open your mouth to ask who else it could have been when you hear the floorboards creak in the hallway.

“Hello?” you call out just as the visitor enters your room.

Francis leans up against the door frame. He’s fiddling with his hands and looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“How you doin’, sweetheart? Alright?”

You stare back at him. His knuckles are bruised but he otherwise looks better than the last time you saw him at the diner.

Maggie clears her throat, mouth twisted to the side as she hides a smile. “I should be heading out. Thank you so much for staying with her, Francis.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Maggie giggles on her way out of your room. Her footsteps recede until you hear the door open and close.

Looking at Francis, all of the questions floating around your mind earlier rush back in at once. You’re intensely aware of a chasm between the girlish fantasies you’ve entertained about him and the fact that you know so little about this man.

Neither you nor Francis speaks for minutes.

“’s gonna get cold,” he eventually says.

You nod, picking up a spoon. The soup smells delicious. You wonder how long he’s been here.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday! I slept an entire day?”

Francis nods. “Yeah. ‘s not uncommon. The shock, the overwhelm. When you’re safe, you just sort of…crash.”

You nod.

Wait, Saturday.

“What about Mister Cranston?”

“Museum guy?”

You nod.

“He was by yesterday. Pushy little guy. Grilled me for two hours about that night like I wasn’t the hero here.”

You smile. “How’s he gettin’ on at the museum? I hate the idea of leaving him alone. It’s a big project, he needs help with it.”

Francis wags a finger at you. “He said those would be some of the first words outta your mouth, worrying about him. He also said don’t worry about him.”

Francis gestures to an envelope on your bedside table. “He brought your pay by early.”

You scoff. Typical Mister C. You’re supposed to be paid on Saturdays for the work done that week. You’re certain that check includes pay for two days of work you didn’t do.

You turn your attention back into the soup. Some old, faint voice belonging to your mother pops into your head. “If you must eat in front of a man, dainty bites. No man wants a barn animal.”

But at your first bite of the soup, all ceremony goes out the window. The soup is delicious. There’s flavorful chicken, rice, and vegetables swimming in a rich and full broth. You wolf it down as fast as you can and quickly find yourself slurping up the broth after eating most of the bowl’s contents.

Francis’ laughter draws you out of your search for the last drops of the broth in the bowl.

“There’s more where that came from, ya know.”

You wipe your mouth, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“I haven’t eaten in two days, thank you very much.”

Francis finally steps away from the door, seeming more relaxed now. He sits on the bed, just past your feet.

You wait for him to speak, but he seems to be searching for words. He opens his mouth a few times, an “uh” or “um” coming out before he shuts it again.

You’d try to help him out but you don’t know what to say either. Instead, you grab the newspaper and start flipping through it. You’re hardly paying attention, just skimming to have something to do.

Then, an article at the bottom of the page catches your eye. As you start to read it, your breath quickens.

“WHO PUNISHES THE PUNISHER?”

Over the past several months, the criminal inhabitants of New York City have had a new kind of law enforcement to answer to. A nameless, masked vigilante—colloquially referred to as The Punisher—has been terrorizing the criminal sect, leaving in his wake a trail of dead and mangled bodies.

The Punisher has become a polarizing figure in the city, with many locals grateful to have a criminal who’s on their side, but with others wondering, “Just who does this guy think he is?”

Jeannie Serrano was a witness to The Punisher’s most recent outing in Hell’s Kitchen, during which he saved an unidentified girl from two ruffians in an alley two days ago. Neither man survived the attack.

Serrano says: “I heard a commotion in the alley on the side of the apartment. I went to the side window to check it out and there was a girl running from two men. She’s just screaming her head off and I ran to call the police but then I heard the men start yelling. I went back and there and saw some guy pummeling the creeps. You ask me, they got what they were asking for. Trying to interfere with a girl like that. It’s not right. I’m glad he did it. Maybe now girls can walk the streets without fear. Make those scumbags afraid for a change.”

But other residents aren’t quite as welcoming as Mrs. Serrano. “I don’t like it,” says Brooklyn resident Marvin Akeman. ”Who died and made him the law? Who even is this guy? I know I didn’t elect him, did you? What’s he want? We’re all just suckers sitting around thanking him and who knows what he’s got planned. He could be the worst of the bunch and you’re out here reporting on him like it’s nothing. You ask me, somebody oughta lock him up. See what’s what.”

Polarizing as he may be, if this week’s most recent events are anything to go by, The Punisher has no plans of stopping. Or being caught.

You finish with the article and find yourself just staring. You think back to the morning before the attack. You remembered seeing yet another article about the guy they’re calling The Punisher. He’s been in the news for months now but you haven’t thought much about it. You’re from a small town, you know how it goes. There are some things the law isn’t cut out to handle. You were really surprised there weren’t more people like him in the city, where there’s so much unnecessary danger.

Because you don’t have ill will or fearful feelings about the “Punisher,” you’d never stopped to wonder who he could be. You’d never asked yourself what kind of man might be wrapped up in this.

“What happened to you the other night?” you ask. “When you came to the diner. You looked like you’d just gotten out of a boxing ring. What happened?”

Francis, who had still been trying to figure out what to say to you, knits his eyebrows together and makes a gruff noise under his breath.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’. Just a little disagreement.”

You nod. Your hands subconsciously tighten around the paper in your hands.

“Like the disagreement you had with the men in the alley?”

“Exactly like that.”

An uncertain silence falls between you two. Francis doesn’t break eye contact until you do, looking down at the paper in your hands. As stoic as he can be, Francis is a fidgeter when he’s nervous. You watch out of the sides of your eyes as he cracks his knuckles, picks at his nails, and bounces his heel up and down.

You’re quiet long enough that when you speak again, Francis flinches so slightly you might not have noticed it if you weren’t so focused on him.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say.

“Hm?” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

You lift up and twist the paper around to show him the article. His eyes dart down to it and then back up to your face but he remains silent. You’re glad he doesn’t bother lying to you, but it’s clear you’re going to have to drive the conversation.

“D’you know I’m not from the city?”

“Yeah, I remember some of those stories about your growing up in the country,” he says with a grin. “Pretty sure you told me one about pushin’ some idiot’s face down into a cow pat when got fresh with you.”

“Exactly,” you shrug. “Where I come from, a girl had to look out for herself and failin’ that, we had to take care of each other. Maybe it’d be givin’ a face a slap and maybe that wouldn’t cut it.”

Francis nods. “I get that.”

You watch him for a moment that stretches so long he starts to get uneasy. He shifts his weight slightly on the bed and visibly swallows. A first nervously clenches and unclenches once where it rests on his leg. But he never breaks your gaze.

“I watched my gran run more than a couple of bad eggs out of town with her sawed off. Women beaters. Worse. Sometimes you have to take care of things yourself. Maybe I wish it was different but people doin’ what they’ve got to doesn’t bother me. But with you, I don’t know.”

He looks so handsome with his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed. You’d almost prefer to keep him confused.

“You don’t exactly owe me anything here, Francis, but I don’t understand it. It’s always gonna be someone but why you?”

Francis nods, seemingly to himself, as his eyes roam around the room. He stands and walks over to one of the windows, leaning his arm against the frame. The sun is still sat high in the sky and he squints against it.

“Sweetheart…,” he says quietly. He’s still gazing out the window, but he darts his head down as if he avoiding meeting your gaze. “’s complicated.”

You gesture at yourself.

“I’ve got time. Uncomplicate it.”

This chapter has been mostly finished for months but life does life and anyway, it's here now! I love writing these two. Let me know how you feel about this chapter. Comments and good-faith feedback are welcome.

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune | divider banner by @/saradika (sorry for the accidental tags! I have no idea what I'm doing!)

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roipecheur · 11 months

Note

Do you think Frank and Slade are similar?

Would Frank kill (or try to) Slade?

Ok you have asked the right person because I could totally write a Marvel/DC Punisher vs. Deathstroke crossover. Here's your pitch.

THEN: VIETNAM

U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Slade Wilson and Marine Lieutenant Frank Castle (Francis Castiglione) get separated from their respective units somewhere in the jungle. They initially both become aware that there's another person in the general vicinity who's not showing themselves and both think they're being stalked by Viet Cong. After some plotting, they attack each other at the same time and stop when they both realize that they're on the same side. Both are impressed that the other survived the initial attack, which was designed to kill. Slade technically outranks Frank, but they team up out of mutual respect.

(It's a little ((a lot)) homoerotic.)

Around their shared camp that night, they start to talk about back home, and they realize that back home is...different. Frank insists he's never heard of Gotham or Metropolis or Star City or Central City. They disagree on major historical events. Slade doesn't know who the Avengers are. Frank doesn't know what the Justice League is. Eventually, they give up and arrange watches for the night, each thinking the other is probably nuts, but hey, he's probably the only shot at getting out of this alive.

Over the next few days, they save each other's lives a bunch. I'm thinking they get injured and they have to (homoerotically, of course) patch each other up. If I were writing this for real, I would read a lot of war stories and literature about war stories that deal with the intimacy with other men that's allowed in war and on the battlefield in a way that it isn't back home. I would try to summon Hemingway's equally repressed and horny ghost. Anyway.

Stuff gets weirder. Creatures out of myth start attacking them, and they haven't seen another human being for days. Eventually, they come to a barren landscape that definitely doesn't belong in the middle of the Vietnamese jungle and are made to understand, possibly via a Watcher (Marvel) and Monitor (DC) that they aren't from the same place and the way they crossed paths got them stuck in between and is causing cracks in both realities. They both get sent back to their own worlds and aren't sure how much of that was actually real. But, they're both practical sorts, so they put it behind them and move on with their lives.

NOW: NEW YORK CITY

Frank falls into the DC universe. He needs to be the one who falls into DC rather than Slade falling into Marvel for this to work. At first, Frank doesn't realize that anything's changed. He gets into a fight with some heroes he doesn't recognize (the Titans), but that's not that unusual--there's always some new idiot in spandex popping up. By the end of the day, Frank has picked up the trail of what he thinks are his targets (a gang, traffickers, drug dealers, whatever) and goes to crash their party. He runs into Deathstroke, who's there to fulfill a contract, and they save each other's lives just like they did back in Vietnam.

Frank doesn't know who Deathstroke is, of course. He thinks Deathstroke is there for the same reason that he is, sharing his war and his moral crusade to fight crime in a lethal fashion. After the fight, when Deathstroke takes his mask off and reveals that he's Slade, Frank's old friend, this only solidifies Frank's assumption about Slade's motives and what he does.

They share a meal on a rooftop somewhere and talk about what they've been doing since the war. I think it would pack the biggest punch to set this in the preboot era where Slade had watched Grant, Joey, and Adeline die in front of him and hadn't discovered Rose yet. They could bond over watching their wives and kids die and being powerless to stop it. I'd incorporate the NMCU version of Frank where his wife and kids died because of him and not just due to a random mob hit happening in the park that day. Slade's honest about Adeline shooting his eye out and his role in Grant and Joey's deaths, if vague. He doesn't want to explain the exact nature of what he does yet. I think there could've been a time where Frank fucked up as a parent and almost got Lisa or Frank Jr. hurt and he knows in his bones Maria would've left him if it'd been worse, so Frank is uneasy with the way Slade lost his family, but feels he can't judge him.

Because Frank's phone isn't working and Slade's still is, it's pretty easy to determine which world they're in. Or, if you want to go the retro, pre-cellphones route with this, they could just turn on the news and see stuff about Superman and Metropolis and Frank just goes, "shit. It is real." This is another reason why it's better for Frank to go to DC rather than Slade going to Marvel--Marvel does have made up cities and countries, but they don't feature as heavily as DC's.

Of course, Slade lets Frank crash at his place (a very nice safehouse) and promises to help him get back to his world. Due to their earlier conversation, in which Frank waxed romantic about his war, Slade knows that Frank would kill him if he knew who Deathstroke the Terminator really was. Still, he feels a connection with and an obligation to him due to their time in Vietnam, so he will help him regardless. The plan is to do that before Frank knows too much.

Meanwhile, Frank is suspicious of how nice Slade's place is because the Punisher is a nasty stinky grungecore man who lives in his battle van or dirty warehouses and canonically bathes once a fucking week. So he's wondering where Slade got the money for both a swanky apartment and the state-of-the-art weapons stash that Slade couldn't resist showing off. (Phallic objects, homoeroticism, etc.)

So, while Slade's sleeping that night, Frank does a little research. He finds out who Deathstroke the Terminator is. All the people he's killed. Some of it Frank doesn't object to--most of them are bad, and he's worked with Elektra, after all--but Slade's also killed some people he can't excuse. And if Frank finds out about Tara and/or that Slade killed a teenage girl's dog, listen... In terms of overall morality, Frank is better than Slade. He might be a mass murderer, but he'd never hurt a child or animal (we're ignoring the MAX comics where he killed dogs, that's not canon to me). It's a low bar, but Slade congas right under it.

(Yes, Slade killing the dog happened in the reboot, not the preboot. I mix and match canons, it's what I do.)

If you want to extend this a little, Frank doesn't have to find all of this out by himself with Google or whatever. Say he finds out just enough to make him leave, and Slade wakes up to find him gone. Frank seeks out the Titans because he fought with them earlier and Slade mentioned having a "long history" with that group, and they tell him about the HIVE contract, about Tara, about Tanya's poor dog. Once he's gotten what he needs, Frank sneaks away from them, and one of them--I'm thinking Dick--realizes that Frank is going to try and kill Slade. Now, none of the Titans know who The Punisher is, and all Frank told them was that Slade's an old war buddy he came to town to catch up with. They leave to track him down and stop from getting himself killed.

Frank is definitely on his way to kill Slade. He's angry, he's betrayed, and he's hurt. He's not in touch with his emotions enough to like, know that, but it's true. Slade has become the next target in his war. Frank walks right back into Slade's safehouse, where Slade's just chilling in the kitchen and making himself something to eat. In the middle of Slade asking him where he's been, Frank takes out his gun and shoots him.

BUT. Frank doesn't know about Slade's healing factor, or he just doesn't realize the extent of Slade's healing factor. So Slade's fine. While Frank is helping himself to Slade's impressive armory, Slade gets up again, and they start fighting. The Titans show up. Because I'm entirely self-indulgent, Frank looks at Nightwing's escrima sticks and says yeah, I know a sanctimonious idiot with sticks like yours. And when they crackle with electricity, Frank goes, huh. Well, not exactly like yours.

(Frank's never going to mention that to Daredevil. Doesn't want to give him ideas.)

Because the Titans are attacking both of them, Slade and Frank have to fight together. Frank notices that Slade isn't shooting to kill. They manage to escape, and Frank asks him about it. Slade says that he doesn't kill anyone unless he'd paid to. When Frank pushes, Slade talks about how he doesn't agree with the Titans, but they have earned his respect, and he appreciates what they did for Joey. It changes Frank's perception of him a little. Slade doesn't share Frank's morals, but that's not to say he doesn't have any.

Once they've calmed down--maybe Frank gets injured and Slade has to patch him up in a callback to their war days--Slade talks to him. Tells Frank that this isn't his world and isn't his war, and that he needs to get home before spending too much time in the wrong place starts to fuck with things. They both remember what happened last time. Frank grudgingly agrees, and they go back to find the Titans.

Slade calls a truce, and he and Frank explain that Frank isn't from here and needs to get home. Fortunately, Raven is uniquely suited to help with that. She does some magic stuff and opens a portal. Before Frank leaves, he and Slade clasp arms (homerotically) and look each other in the eye. Frank says, "If I ever find you on my side..." and Slade says, "I know" and lets him go. Frank goes home, and the last scene would be them standing in the same place in different versions of New York, mirroring each other.

---

So, to answer your question: Yes, they have a lot in common, and yes, Frank would try to kill Slade lmao. I know this is more than you bargained for, but I hope in a good way!

#asks #frank castle #slade wilson #deathstroke #punisher #wrote stuff #kinda #this is enough of an outline go to in that tag lmao

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