#frank castle smut s | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joybabyjune · 8 months

Text

Unexpected Snow

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summery: When you try to hide from a heavy snowstorm in a motel, you find out that all the rooms are taken. Frank offers you his room, but you can’t let him sleep in his truck. You get him into your room and into your bed 👀

Warnings: explicit (minors dni!!!), big age gap (reader is 21, Frank in in his late 40’s), pet names (Sweetheart, sweet girl, good girl, pretty girl), no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, harassment (not from Frank), smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv (be smart friendsss), little bit of praise kink, little bit of degradation kink, dirty talk, creampie.

Author’s note: alright I really wanted to participate in the Beardthalbash thing. So I wrote this. I hope you guys like it. If you do, please let me know with a note and if you really like it, please reblog. You’ll make my day and it’s completely freeee.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language + I kind of wrote this pretty quickly because of the Beardthalbash deadline. Don’t hate me for any mistakes ✌🏼

Masterlist

“Why?!” You yell out angrily, slamming your steering wheel and accidentally pressing the horn. “Oh shit..” You sink lower into your seat and wave a little apology at the car beside you. The lady on the radio continues talking. She goes on about the upcoming snowstorm and you really start to realize that you won’t make it to your destination. “Why today..” You whine to yourself.

After living with your alcoholic mother, and all the different men she brought in your life over the years, you finally decided that it was time for you to leave. You packed your bags, got into your car, closed your eyes and pointed your finger somewhere on your map to pick a location for you to start a new life.

You’ve been driving for a few hours now and the weather is getting worse and worse. You can feel your car struggling against the wind and the road surface slowly turns white with the snow that’s falling. Your wipers are working overtime and the windows fog over. “Fucking hell.” You mutter and turn off the radio, you’re done with the slight tone of panic in the weather reporter’s voice.

A few miles ago you saw a sign that said there was a motel nearby and you sigh in relieve when you see the exit towards it. “Lets just hope this only lasts ‘till the morning..” You say as you drive onto the parking lot. It is fully packed, but you find a spot. It’s not exactly near the entrance, but you take it. You get out of the car and are immediately hit by a gust of snowy wind. You run over to the reception and quickly get inside.

There’s a line of people, all trying to get a room and you quietly join the queue. It doesn’t take long before it’s your turn and you reach into your bag for your money. “One single room please..” You say while you look.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we’re fully booked for the night.” The lady behind the counter tells you. “There’s another motel a couple of miles away. If you want, I can call them to see if they still have a room?”

“W-what?” You ask frowning. You look out of the window, the weather has gotten even worse and there’s no way you can safely drive any further. “You have nothing?” You ask, slightly panicking.

“I’m afraid so..” She answers.

“Can stay with me, pretty thing..” You hear a voice drawl behind you. You turn around and see a man smirking at you. You take in his appearance and your stomach turns at the idea of having to sleep with him to have a place to stay. He must be in his sixties, his blonde-grayish hair sticks to his forehead and his mustache turned yellow under his nose due to years of smoking. There’s stains on the flannel that’s way to tight around his beer belly. “Got room for you in my bed, I mean..” He adds as his watery eyes glide over your body.

“N-no thank you.” You say nervously, deciding that it’s not worth it.

“Oh come on, Princess, can’t go out in weather like that..” He says nodding towards the window. He walks closer to you and you’re overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, stale beer and ashtray. It brings you back to all the times your mother’s boyfriends would try to get handsy with you. “Promise I’m not a serial killer.” He says laughing and displaying his yellow teeth.

“N-no, I’m good, really..” You say again and he reaches out to touch your face but you back away.

“She said no, asshole.” A voice behind you barks. You turn around and see a big, attractive looking man. Dark hair, dark eyes, well groomed beard. He radiates danger, but for some reason he makes you feel safe. “Leave her alone.”

“And who the fuck are you?” The creep asks him. “Who are you to decide what I should do. Keep it to yourself and let me have my fun with this one.” He adds and tries to reach out for your waist this time.

Your savior grabs his wrist and turns it, making him cry out in pain. “Go to your room and leave the girl alone.” He says, his voice a whispered growl.

“Ah ah ah, okey okey!” He says trying to free his arm. Once he succeeds he holds up his hands. “Alright. She’s all yours man. Not worth the fucking trouble.” He says, looking you up and down as he walks away.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling dirty with how looked at you and spoke about you. “Thanks..” You say looking at the floor.

“Here. Take my room.” He says and hands you a key.

You frown. “W-what? But where are you gonna-“

“Slept in worse conditions. I’ll be fine.” He says. “Take the keys, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” You say looking up at him. Not really sure why it bothers you.

He huffs a laugh and smirks a little at your stubbornness. “Just take the keys and be safe, okey?”

“We can-“ You start. “We can share the room.” You say taking in his appearance and not minding his company.. “I’m not comfortable with letting you drive in this weather either.”

“I’m not driving, I’ll just crash in my truck.” He says. “I’ll be okey ki-, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You smile a little at how he caught himself when he was gonna call you kid again. “But-“

“Go.” He presses. “Get your stuff before the weather gets even worse and I’m not even gonna let you get back to your car.” He smirks teasingly.

“O-okey, thanks a lot, ehh..”

“Frank.”

“Thanks a lot, Frank.” You smile and take the keys from him, quickly shoving a fifty dollar bill in his hand for the costs of the room.

“You don’t need t-“ He starts, looking at the money.

“You will take it.” You cut him off and you quickly walk away before he can say something else.

You hold your hands above your head to shield you from the snow while you run to your car. It does absolutely nothing to protect you, but there’s not really a better option available at the moment.

Luckily you fit al your belongings in a single suitcase and a backpack, so you don’t have to haul a lot of luggage. You grab your stuff and run as best as you can towards the rooms. The wheels on your cheap suitcase have trouble with the speed and the think layer of snow that has formed on the floor. You quickly look at the worn leather tag that’s attached to the key. “23..” You mutter the room number. The room in front of you has a big 18 on the door. You follow the wall to your left. “19.. 20.. 21..” You mutter to yourself as you pass the doors. The sound of a car door slamming closed catches your attention and you look over to the parking lot. It’s the guy who gave you his room. Frank. You squint your eyes to look inside his truck and see how he’s wrapped himself in a blanket. You bite your lip, feeling guilty and hold up your hand in a mixture of greeting, thanking and apologizing. He waves back and juts his chin in the direction of your room, telling you without words, to go inside.

You rush inside and look around. It’s a bit dated with the terrible green and orange wallpaper and worn out wooden furniture, but it’s nice and warm which is the only important thing for the night. You look around, but there’s not much to see. A bed, a tv, a desk with a chair and thank god, a minibar. You open the door to the bathroom, and peer inside. “Fucking hell..” You laugh through your nose when you see the puke green shower cabin. “Who would choose that..?”

You decide that going to bed early will make it feel like the time goes faster so that you can hopefully be on your way again before you know it. You fish some clean underwear and a big t-shirt from your suitcase to sleep in and head into the bathroom for a shower.

The hot water feels good on your skin and it’s the first time today that you relax a little bit. Your mind drifts to Frank in his truck and you really feel guilty. He helped you out big time and now he’s out there in the cold. You figure you could at least invite him in for a beer or something. If he really doesn’t want to share the room, he can always go back to his truck after that. You turn off the shower and quickly dry and dress yourself.

You peek through the curtains and see that he’s still awake, reading some book. You bite your lip and wave to get his attention, but he doesn’t notice you. “Fuck..” You mutter to yourself and move to open the door. “Frank!” You yell, shivering from the cold. Goosebumps forming on your bare legs. “Frank!”

He looks up and his eyes widen. He rolls down his window. “What the hell are you doing?!” He yells. “Go inside!”

“Come in here!” You yell back. “Warm up a bit, h-have a beer, take a sh-shower, whatever.. Y-you can go back to sleep in your truck after, j-just come in for a while.” You say shivering. “W-won’t take no f-for an answer.”

“Fucking hell..” He curses, wiping a hand over his face in annoyance and quickly gets from the car. “Alright, alright. Just go inside!” He says while he grabs a duffel bag from the backseat.

You smile to yourself, happy to get what you want and you quickly get inside, leaving the door open for him.

“What’s wrong with you.” He growls when he gets inside and quickly closes the door behind him.

“Felt guilty.” You answer shrugging as you sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Gotta be more careful with people if you’re gonna be traveling alone, little girl.” He says and drops his bag on the floor. “Don’t even know me.”

You pout a little, knowing that he’s right. “You gave me your room instead of offering to share like that creep.” You justify your actions. “Guess that makes you a good man, right?”

He huffs as if he doesn’t really agree with you.

“So…” You say skeptically. “Are you like.. Gonna kill me or something?”

He laughs quietly. “No, Sweetheart, you’re good.”

“Good. And I won’t kill you, so that’s settled then.” You say. “And I’m not a little girl by the way, I’m 21.”

He laughs. “Alright, I’m sorry.” He says holding up his hands in a mock excuse.

“There’s towels in the bathroom.” You say while you get up to look in the mini fridge. “The water is nice. And here..” You say when you open the fridge. “Here we have some beers, some nuts and some chocolates.”

“You don’t have to do this.” He says. “I’m fine in my truck.”

“Stop it. I’m not letting you stay out there.” You say, leaving no room for discussion.

“Alright.” He says, rubbing his neck. He grabs his bag and takes some clothes out to bring into the bathroom.

You grab yourself a beer and lie down on the lumpy bed. “Let’s see what the weather is gonna do..” You mutter to yourself while turning on the tv.

“Conditions are getting worse and worse outside and it does not look like this storm is going to settle anytime soon. Specialists are calling it the worst snow storm in years. You’re advised to stay inside and-“ The weather lady gets cut off by a shirtless Frank who opens the bathroom door.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of his ripped body, he slicks his wet hair back and water drips from his beard onto his chest. You rasp your throat and look away. “‘M sorry, didn’t think to bring one to the bathroom.” He says as he grabs a tank top and pulls it over his head.

You’re suddenly very aware of your lack of pants. Sure the t-shirt you’re wearing is big enough to be called a dress, but it still only reaches your mid thigh. “I can, eh, I can put on pants if you-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says while taking a beer from the fridge. He grabs the chair, sitting down on it with his legs spread. “‘S your room, should wear what you want, right.”

You nod towards the tv, changing the subject of your clothing, or the lack thereof, to the weather reporter. “Says it might be the worst storm in like.. Ever..” You say. “Well, maybe not ever.. But in years.”

“-cold temperatures like this can be deadly, so please be careful and stay inside if possible.” The weather lady continues on the tv.

“See. It’s dangerous out there. Think it would be considered murder if I let you sleep out there in your truck and you die tonight?”

“Nahh..” Frank says smirking. “Sooo.. What’s the deal with you? You running from something or towards something?” He asks waving a hand at your luggage.

“Who says I’m running?” You ask biting your lip.

Frank raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, telling you it’s pretty obvious without words.

You sigh and look away. “From something I guess.. I don’t know, just.. Just need a fresh start, you know?”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding. “Get that..”

“What about y-“ You start but you’re interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. “The fuck..” You mumble nervously and you pull your legs up to your chest.

There’s another loud knock and you see Frank grabbing a gun from his bag. “Wha-? W-why do you have that?” You whisper yell.

Frank places his finger against his lips to tell you to shut up and he walks to the door. “Hey Princes!” You hear the slurred voice of the creep from before and another loud knock on the door. Frank’s body visibly relaxes, he places the gun in his waistband on his back and he yanks open the door.

“The fuck did I tell you, huh?” He growls.

“Y-you?” He asks confused. He sounds very drunk. “Saw the -hic- saw the girl go in here..”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Frank says angrily. “Now.”

Seeing Frank protect you like that kind of turns you on. And the way the muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tenses in anger when the guy doesn’t leave straight away. Fuck.. The beer and that fact that you haven’t gotten any action in a while also don’t help.

“If you wanna live, you go to your room now and you don’t come out till the morning.” Frank rasps in a low voice.

You should be scared of this stranger with a gun, threatening someone’s life, but you’re not.

“Alright.. Jesus..” You hear the guy slur and you’re guessing he walks away.

“Yeah, that’s right..” Frank rasps before closing the door, placing the gun on the desk and sitting down again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a sip of his beer and you squeeze your thighs together.

“T-thanks. Don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” You say. “Good thing I got you in here, huh?” You add, smiling and winking playfully. Maybe even flirtatiously.

“Yeah yeah..” He huffs a laugh.

“First you save me by giving me your room and then you help me get a creep away from that room..” You say getting on your knees on the edge of the bed and looking up at him through your lashes. You’re pretty sure your nipples are showing through your shirt. “How can I ever repay you..?”

“How can ya-?” He looks off to the side, licks his lips and looks back at you. “Listen, Sweetheart.. You don’t have to do this. ‘S not why I helped you.”

“I know I don’t have to..” You say and you bite your lip, looking at his crotch. You think the bulge has grown a little already.

“Y-you already gave me money for the room and let me use your shower..” You can tell he’s getting a little nervous.

“Huh.. That’s right..” You say smirking at the realization. “Maybe.. Maybe you should thanks me then..” You’ve never been this forward in your life, but you kind of like it. There’s no going back now and you lift your t-shirt over your head.

“Fuck..” Frank growls softly as he takes in your appearance. The only thing covering you is a tiny black thong. “Sweetheart..” He pleads a little, but he gets up and walks your way. He places two fingers under your chin and pushes your head back, making sure you look up at him. “You sure?”

“Please..” You say panting.

He growls a little and moves his hands to your bare tits. “These are perfect..” He says as he squeezes them a little before rolling the hard nipples between his fingers.

You moan softly and arch your back, pushing against his hands. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he leans forward and sucks one hard little peak into his mouth.

“Yesss..” You moan louder as you feel his warm tongue slide over your skin. He bites gently and your eyes roll back in your head. “Fuckkk..” His beard scratches against your skin, but it only adds to the pleasure.

“Like that, little girl?” He asks.

“Not a little-“

“Yeah y’are.. A bad little girl.. Seducing men over twice her age..” He mumbles against your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. Giving it the same attention as the first one.

“Oh fuck..” You whine, your belly clenching at his words. “Don’t usually.. I.. I’m a good girl..” You pant.

He gets up and pulls the tank top over his head. “Good girl, huh? That right?”

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes.

He slowly undoes the strings of his shorts. “Gonna show me how good of a girl y’are, hm?”

You swallow thickly. “Y-yes..” You say nervously and move back on the bed so you can lean forward on your elbows, your face level with his crotch. “P-please..”

He growls and pushes the shorts down together with his boxers. A big, rock hard cock springs free. It’s thick and veiny with a nice, large, pre cum leaking head. Your mouth waters and you moan loudly. “So big..” You whine and take him in your hand. “Fuck..” You swallow thickly as your feel that he’s too big to wrap your finger around the shaft.

“You can handle it though, right, Sweetheart?” He teases and gently lays his hand on the back of your head tangling his fingers in your hair.

“Gonna try..” You say while you start stroking him. You look up at him while you stick out your tongue and lick the pre cum from his tip, lightly tonguing the little slit before swirling your tongue all around the head.

“F-fuck..” He hisses.

You contemplate if you should tease a little more, but you’re too inpatient. You smile up at him and slowly let him slide into your mouth. Your lips stretch tightly around his girth and you moan.

“That’s it.. That’s a good girl..” He groans as you take him as deep as you can, until he pushes against your throat.

You moan and your eyes roll back in your head at his words. You’ve never been with anyone who talked to you like this and you really like it.

You start sucking him slow and deep, letting your saliva drip down his shaft. You stroke the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth with one hand and gently fondle his balls with the other. The muscles in his stomach clench and his hips buck forward. The movement pushes his cock against your throat and you gag. “Fuck ‘m sorry.. Been a while..”

You smile around him and moan. “Oh you like that, huh?” He asks and he thrusts deep into your mouth. You gag again. Your eyes roll back and you moan. You love the way he takes control, the way he uses your mouth, your throat, for his pleasure. “Yeahh.. See, just a dirty, bad little girl.. Want me to fuck your face, hm?”

You try to say yes with his cock in your mouth, but all that comes out is some gurgles, so you nod. He growls and starts thrusting. “That’s it.. Take that fucking cock..”

You gag and choke. Your eyes are watery as you look up at him and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. Never been this wet.

“Gonna make me cum like that..” He groans. His hand tightens in your hair and he pulls out.

“Hmmmm.” You protest and you try to keep him in, but let go with a pop.

You pout and he chuckles. “I was supposed to be thanking you, remember?” He asks, gently stroking himself.

“Y’are..” You say, your voice a bit hoarse. “Think I’m doing this for you?” You tease smirking. “No.. This is for me.. And now I want my treat..” You add and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He laughs through his nose and shakes his head in disbelieve. “Gonna take a minute before I can go again if I do that. ‘M not 18 anymore, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t care..” You say. “Please..” You add before sucking him back in your mouth hungrily.

Frank growls loudly. Rambling while you determinedly suck him off, stroking what you can’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck.. You want it, Sweetheart? Want my cum? Such a good girl.. Yeah, don’t stop.. Sweet girl.. Fuckkkk!”

Thick, hot cum coats your tongue and squirts against the back of your throat. You moan and swallow everything. Fuck that was hot.. You slowly and gently suck a little more, trying to get every last drop without overstimulating him. “F-fucking hell..” He groans softly. You let his softening member slide from your mouth and smile up at him proudly. He smiles back at you lazily, showing the crow’s feet next to his eyes, and caresses your cheek. “That was amazing..” He pants. He immediately looks more light and relaxed.

“Yeah?” You tease, biting your lip and getting up, sitting back on your heels.

“Yeah..” He says and he almost sounds a little shy. “Your turn now..” He says as he gets on the bed and guides you on your back with him on top of you. He gently grabs your jaw and leans in to kiss you. The scratching of his beard against your chin and cheeks is pleasant in contrast with his soft lips. His tongue darts out and flicks over your bottom lip, silently asking to let him in. You open your mouth and your tongues dance together in a passionate kiss. His free hand moves between your bodies to your dripping center and he growls. “Oh, Sweetheart.. You’re soaking..” He mutters against your lips

You buck your hips into his hand. “P-please..” You pant. You need more.. A lot more..

“Did sucking me off make you this wet, Sweetheart?” He teases a little.

You don’t answer, just moan.

“Can I take these off?” He asks playing with the hem of your panties.

“Please..” You say. You’re the shy one now. l

He sits up, hooks his thumbs in the lacy fabric and you lift your hips, so he can slide them down your legs. He throws them on the floor. “Open up, pretty girl..” He says and he slides his hand from your knees to the insides of your thighs spreading you open for him. He growls loudly. “Such a pretty pussy.. Wanna taste you, Sweetheart.. You want that? Want my tongue, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes, Frank.. Please.. Need it so badddd..” The last word is dragged out as he slowly slides his flat tongue through the full length of your slit. “Holy shit..” You moan.

He growls loudly. “Hmmmm.. You taste so good..” He slides his tongue through your lips a few more times, pushing it inside of you a couple of times, before swirling it around your clit. His tongue soft, warm and wet against your sensitive skin.

“Ooh, Frank! Fuck! Y-your good at that!” Your hips buck and he holds you down, growling. He slowly pushes two fingers inside you and sucks your clit into his mouth. “Holy.. Fuck!” He hooks his fingers inside you, massaging the spongy skin at your front wall while sucking and licking on your clit. You see stars. “Frank I’m gonna.. Please don’t stop! I’m gonna..” You fist your hand in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Do it..” He hums against your skin. “Cum on my tongue..”

You cry out loudly as you explode. “Yessss!! Oh fuck!”

“Hmmm..” He growls as he laps up your juices. “Good girl.. Good girl.. Fuck I need to be inside you..”

“Yess.. Need you.. Please..” You pant and you try to pull him up at his shoulders. He moves over you, forearms on either side of your head, caging you in and kisses you again, hungrily. You taste yourself in his mouth and the hairs from his beard are wet with your slick.

He’s hard again and you can feel him against your groin. He moves his hand between your body’s and aligns himself with your opening. “Ready, Sweetheart?” He asks looking into your eyes.

“Yes.. Give it to me..” You pant.

“Eyes on me.” He says and slowly but surely sinks inside of you. “Fuck..” He hisses. “So tight..”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh Frank..” You moan. “So big.. So good..”

He slowly starts fucking you. His jaw is slack and he looks at you like he’s in awe. “Please, kiss me..” You moan and he happily obliges. It’s amazing and it feels like the two of you have known each other since forever.

“You feel so good..” He growls against your lips and speeds up his thrusts, making you cry out a little. “This okey?” He asks between kisses and he moves his hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“M-more.. Harder, please..” You moan.

“Yeah?” He asks, lifting up his head to look you in the eyes. You nod and he nods back before speeding up his thrusts even more, properly pounding you now. You can feel him slamming against your cervix and it feels absolutely amazing.

“Oh F-Frank! Fuck!” You cry out loudly. You can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. “Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

He growls. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock?!” He asks never slowing his pace.

“Yes!! Oh Frank!!!” You squeeze your thighs around him tightly and lose yourself in your orgasm. “Yessss!!”

“Fuck! Wh-where d’you want it?” He pants, his voice sounds strained.

“I-Inside! Please! I’m on birth control.. Please I want it inside me! Please Frank, please cum for me!” You beg, moaning.

His breath hitches in his throat. “Oh you’re perfect.. S-so perfect.. Fucking fill you up.. T-take it!” He pushes inside of you as deep as he can and stills as he cums, growling loudly. “Yessss!!”

He collapses on top of you and you just lie there, both panting. “Can’t breathe.” You say after a while. He chuckles and rolls next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“That was..” He mutters.

“Yeah it was.” You say.

“‘M not going back to my truck.” He says looking at you, smirking.

You laugh. “I’m glad.” You say and you cuddle into his chest.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring and if the snow will be gone, but you don’t want to think about that now. Right now, you just want to enjoy the warmth and safety from this amazing man.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #beardthalbash #beardthalbash2023 #the punisher #the punisher x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher smut #fanfic

793 notes · View notes

sunonyoreface · 1 year

Text

Sunonyoreface Complete Masterlist

Hi there! Thanks for taking the time to read my work! I’ll update this list from time to time, however it might be a little outdated. Some of these stories are quite old, but I thought I would still link them here because I like to see how far I’ve come as a writer.

Simon Riley

One cot: One Shot

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt1/apyh4v558lea

He Knows: Ongoing (short pause to catch up on school)

Pt 1:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt1/acbakysobbi1

Pt 2:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-2/0zii65im5wb5

Pt 3:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-3/01g855wtqncg

Pt 4:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-5/5l0te54wyz9e

Pt 5:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-5/x4x77sa7y020

Pt 6:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-6/ihub6bnz7k0x

Pt 7:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-8/q6wbbd8u17yr

Pt 8:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-8/nzkmyxliq3mg

Pt 9:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-9/3r592jukxvcr

Pt 10:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-10/a981kubohvep

Pt 11:

Pt 13:

Pt 14:

Pt 15:

Pt 16:

Pt 17:

Pt 18:

Pt 19:

Pt 20:

Pt 21:

Pt 22:

Pt 23:

Pt 24:

Pt 25: (last part?)

Jimmy Keene

Routine Examinations: On Pause

Pt 1:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt2-jimmy-keene-black/vfixsjm97wc7

Pt 2:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt2-jimmy-keene-black/vwgwyu10byto

Pt 3:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt3-jimmy-keene-black/kesyzt2xfis8

Pt 4:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt5-jimmy-keene-black/fgbmog3v4ktb

Pt 5:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt5-jimmy-keene-black/m3nzftzdug1l

Pt 6:

Deleted. I felt it was wrong writing about a real serial killer. Sorry if it leaves a few holes in the plot.

Pt 7:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/routine-examinations-pt7-jimmy-keene-black/by0nu4l46icf

Frank Castle

A week At the Cabin (can be read individually) Completed

Pt 1:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/frank-castle-a-week-at-the-cabin-pt-1/h84dpwzx7c4a

Pt 2:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/frank-castle-a-week-at-the-cabin-pt-2-cold/ha74ehl83tdk

Anton Chigurh

Anton Chigurh (never named this series because it was meant to be a one shot) Completed

Pt 1:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine/4yjpvkpxht1e

Pt 2:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-2/1ij7imw7lyrr

Pt 3:

https://www.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/677772790317891584/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt3?source=share

Pt 4:

https://www.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/678500466506743808/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-4?source=share

Pt 5:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/tw-implied-violence-anton-whose-house-is/ioenm4shth53

Pt 6:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/hello-this-ones-a-long-one-tw-violence-in-the/quz202meqbzt

Pt 7:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-7/2iaqqc9bq0t4

Pt 8:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-8/2nskjawrw7r4

Pt 9:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-9/h3gwpeaynw3u

Pt 10:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-10/9es5tc1d6jmg

Pt 11:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/tw-use-of-a-shaving-razor-we-stay-in-the-hotel/godpsf8xt1cn

Pt 12:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-pt-12/sjyfityi4sk6

Pt 13:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-13/oift2uvtfvai

Pt 14:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/anton-chigurh-imagine-pt-14/4q3439w9c3vh

Geralt of Rivia

Forest Nymph - Discontinued

Pt 1:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my/uyemvqruo6h4

Pt 2:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2/ksqxrghf1un1

Pt 3:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt3-hello-thank/s7ko6042rgzi

Pt 4:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt4/a0avzvk8jqmv

Pt 5:

https://www.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/614885191476969472/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt5?source=share

#Masterlist #Simon Riley #Frank Castle #Anton Chigurh #simon riley x reader

791 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 6 months

Note

Hi, can I request comfort fic with Frank? I just don't really like how my life looks right now... I don't like my job, but don't know what else I can do so I'm stuck here... and I feel really lonely recently and like I don't know what to do with my life... and reading fics are one of the few things that brings me joy...

So I thought about a fic where reader is sad and to cheer her up Frank planned a whole day for them to distract her from not kind thoughts?

And I'm sorry that I kinda dumpt it on you... I have trouble with expressing/describing my emotions and I think that was the first time I expressed those feelings to someone... Of course if you don't feel like writing this you can freely ignore this message, thank you 🫶🏻

Anon, I absolutely feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with my own work drama for months now and some days it feels like I’m going to have to completely start over to be happy. I hope I did your request justice, and if you ever need to rant to someone, my DMs are open :)

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank helps you when work is breaking your spirit.

warnings: swearing, hints of smut but nothing graphic

w/c: 3k

Digging your jagged nails into the flesh of your palms, you forced yourself to tune out the overwhelming plethora of stimuli that was currently bombarding you on the subway. Screaming children, the heat of bodies crowding around you, the shrieking of wheels on metal tracks, some old guy coughing up a lung at the back of the car, the bright fluorescent lights beating down on the dozens of people crammed in here like sardines. Fuck, you hated the subway.

It was especially unbearable on days where you were already overtired from work—which, recently, seemed to be every day. This job was supposed to be your ticket to a good life and a stable future, but instead it was a joyless, energy-sapping, waste of your fucking time. Your coworkers were catty, your boss far too demanding for the bottom of the barrel wages you received, and the work itself was dreary. Each day you sat in that cubicle, you could feel the light inside you flickering, just waiting for one more lackluster employee review to be completely snuffed out.

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who felt this way about your place of employment, given that over a third of the staff at your level had quit in the last two months. Unfortunately for you, this meant longer hours and crankier conversations with your superiors, who were consistently disappointed in your performance despite you efficiently accomplishing everything that was asked of you.

Not only did longer hours lead to you getting overstimulated on the subway, but it meant you’d been spending less time at home with your boyfriend. You’d barely seen Frank this month, between his trips out of town and your rigorous schedule, and it was driving you up a wall. All you wanted was to let him wrap himself around you, petting your hair as you cried and holding you tight when you eventually fell asleep. Though, with the way your days were going lately, most of the time you didn’t want to be touched. You just wanted to shove crap food in your mouth and pass out before you had to go back to that hellscape in the morning.

Frank was the kindest, most thoughtful partner you’d ever had, so he gave you plenty of space on the days you came home in an emotion-filled silence. He could read your moods pretty well at this point, and always respected your wishes, even if it meant he’d be nursing a beer in the living room alone until he went to sleep. You’d hoped that today would grant you enough energy to enjoy some time with him, but the world wasn’t that charitable.

Shuffling off the subway amongst the masses, you let your body droop slightly as you trudged back to your apartment. Practically crawling up the stairs, you eventually reached the door—shoving it open in frustration as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Instantly, you were greeted with the sound of soft music and the smell of onions and garlic cooking. Frank was in the kitchen, swaying almost imperceptibly to the song he was listening to, stirring a pot of what looked like tomatoes.

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you softly, throwing you a smile over his shoulder but remaining planted at the stove, probably in an attempt to give you space.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and small, your stony face accented with glassy eyes.

Frank knew better than to expect that everything would change in a day, but the sight of your crumpling face broke his heart. Stepping towards you with a furrowed brow, he tried for a small smile. “Another bad day?”

You nodded, the force of the movement drawing two parallel tears down your cheeks. Sniffling, you didn’t respond, confident that your voice would crack if you did.

“Do you want a hug?” Frank asked, hesitating a few feet from you as he waited for your answer.

“I’m n-not sure, Frankie.” You admitted, more tears pooling as you did. “Not r-right now, I think.”

Nodding in understanding, Frank crossed his arms, as if to keep himself from hugging you anyway. “Alright, sweet girl. Not a problem. Why don’t you go lay down while I finish dinner, hm?”

Sighing, you nodded once, padding to the bedroom and collapsing into the blankets with a poorly stifled sob. Frank winced at the sound, his hands burning with an ache to hold you, to make everything better, but he couldn’t do that until you were ready.

You’d only given him glimpses of the nightmare you were living. Whether you didn’t talk to him about it because you were worried it would scare him away, or because you didn’t trust him, he wasn’t sure—though the dark parts of his mind were convinced it was the latter. Regardless, Frank did his best to maintain a cozy home for you. It couldn’t be easy to have a mass-murderer-turned-government-hit-man as a partner, waiting around on your own for days while he worked odd jobs for Madani, but you’d never let it impact your love for him.

You were thoughtful, sweet, and adorably shy—not to mention you balanced him out in ways he’d never expected. The pair of you brought out the best in each other, despite your peculiar relationship. You’d never made him feel distant or guilty for leaving, simply welcoming him back from his trips with open arms and eager eyes. Yet, the past few months your job had been eating at you, sapping the life from your beautiful eyes and leaving a listless husk of his girlfriend behind.

He didn’t want to pry, far too afraid of snapping your already fragile composure and ruining the bond you shared. But every day you came home holding back tears, and it was going to kill him. He’d rip your office apart with his bare hands if it would end your misery, though he knew you’d never ask him to do that.

So, instead, he did as much as he could—laying out his softest sweatshirt on your bed, playing quiet music, making a warm meal for the two of you to share—all in an effort to take something off of your plate, to remove an ounce of weight from your shoulders. After a week with no indication that any of this was helpful, he’d started scheming.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much begging to convince you to take an extra day off…

Stirring the tomato sauce one final time as he removed it from the heat, he tilted the pot over the cooked pasta, letting a ribbon of sauce drape over the noodles before giving it a quick stir. Scraping a dollop of sauce out of the pot with his finger, he popped the digit in his mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction at the array of flavors.

Brushing his hands across his jeans, he plated two generous helpings of pasta, assuming you had worked through lunch once again, and set them in front of two chairs at your table. Steeling himself for the sight of your tear streaked face, he shuffled over to the bedroom and knocked softly.

“Darlin’? You ready to eat?” Keeping his voice low, he gingerly opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that managed to slip through your curtains, his heart squeezed at the sight of you sleeping, curled in fetal position. Your delicate hands clenched around your covers like they were your lifeline, your damp face squashed against his pillow. Biting his lip in thought, he returned to the main room to cover the pasta.

Spending very little time tidying up, he wandered back into the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes in exchange for a pair of sweats and a worn Henley. Settling behind you with a book in hand, he slipped under the covers as unobtrusively as possible before his inner monologue made him pause. Would you even want him beside you? Was he crossing a line?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that for long as your sleeping form unconsciously wrapped around him, a small sigh falling from your lips as you nuzzled into his stomach. Smiling down at you, his free hand came up to stroke over your hair, his own grin widening when the soft touch made your lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. He thumbed through about a chapter of his book before you began to stir, shining lashes fluttering as your eyes opened. As the sleep disappeared from your eyes, Frank felt another wave of apprehension cresting in his chest, but the tide was quickly settled by your sweet gaze. Nestling into his side more deeply, you hummed in appreciation. “Hi, Frankie.”

“Hi, sweet girl. Did you have a good nap?” A teasing mirth danced in his gaze, making you avert your eyes bashfully.

“Mmm hmm. Sorry.” You murmured, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt.

Clucking his tongue, Frank slid down to face you, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “No reason to be sorry, dollface. I’m glad you slept, you’ve been tired.”

Sighing deeply, you traced the buttons on his shirt. “Work’s been a lot, recently.”

“I figured as much, doll. Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, but I’m always here to listen, yah?” The tip of his thumb caressed your ear.

Blinking back tears, you looked up at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, Frank, it’s just so stupid and I—“

“Hey, hey, it ain’t stupid.” Frank tugged you impossibly closer, brushing tears off your face carefully. “If it bothers ya, it’s not.”

“You just…” You drew in a ragged breath, the inhale catching on a sob. “You have so much to worry about already, and I don’t want to be a burden!” Bawling now, you felt your chest constricting at the thought of dumping more work onto Frank’s already overflowing to-do list.

“You’re not a burden.” Frank spoke fiercely, looking deep into your eyes. “You have never been a burden, doll. Never.”

His words were a promise, you drank in his commitment with immense desperation, praying to forces you didn’t believe in that he was being truthful. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Frankie,” Your voice cracked on the admission. “I’m fine at my job, but nobody can see that, and I don’t feel satisfied by the work that I’m doing but it’s all I know! I can’t just quit, I don’t have any other plan, this is everything I’ve worked for and—“ Your ramble broke off into sobs, your breath hitching as Frank shushed you quietly.

“I know, I know, doll. It sucks right now and I’m so sorry.” Rubbing a hand over your back, Frank encouraged you to breathe, waiting until your lungs could actually take in oxygen before continuing. “Sweetheart, if ya wanna quit, I’ll support ya. If ya wanna stick it out, I’ll support ya. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be right here at the end of the day.”

“I can’t quit, Frank, we need the money.” You whimpered.

“Hey, we can figure it out if we need to. It ain’t a problem.”

Nodding against his palm, you considered your options. “For now, I’ll stick it out. But, thank you.”

“No need to thank me, honey. It’s my job to look out for ya, remember?” His sappy remark sparked a tiny smile from you. “You’re my girl, sweetheart. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you stifled a yawn before abruptly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Frankie, what time is it? Did I miss dinner?” Wriggling out of his embrace, you wiped the lingering tears off your face before sitting up. Frank bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at your genuine concern.

“Dinner is waiting for us, sweet girl. I’m in no rush.” Cradling your neck, Frank pressed a languid kiss to your lips, taking advantage of your distraction and flipping you on top of him.

“Frank!” You squealed, beaming down at him with more happiness than he’d seen from you in weeks.

“What?” He questioned innocently, gently leading your face back to his for another kiss.

“What’s gotten into you?” You wondered aloud, returning the kiss but looking at him with feigned exasperation.

“I ain’t allowed to love on you now?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes, shuffling off of him and out of the bed. “C’mon, you sap. Let’s eat the dinner you made before it’s ruined.”

As the night sky populated with stars, Frank doted on you insistently. He’d reheated your dinner, turned on your favorite movie, even brought you a pint of your favorite ice cream for dessert. You’d gratefully accepted his comforts, yet he still seemed to be holding back. As he puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes alone (he’d staunchly refused your help), you could see the wheels turning in his brain.

“Frank, is something wrong?” You asked, picking at a stray thread along the seam of the blanket he’d wrapped around your shoulders, gazing over at him as your heart rate pounded anxiously.

“Huh?” Your timid question snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands nearly flinging the soapy dish across the room as he spun towards you. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.”

Unconvinced, you nodded, nibbling on a hangnail poking out from your thumb. In an attempt to self-soothe, you shifted your attention back to the tv, but Frank’s energy still seemed out of place.

Placing the last plate in the dishrack, Frank dried his hands, ambling over to you with a hesitant smile. “I gotta ask ya something, doll.”

Nervousness spiking, you nodded, tilting your head in anticipation of his query.

“If I asked ya to call in sick tomorrow, what would ya say?” Frank’s jaw was tight as he asked, clearly expecting anger in response.

“I’d say absolutely, love. Why do you ask?” “I was hopin’ you’d wanna take an extra day, to escape those assholes and maybe do something fun?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Frank Castle looked nervous. His eyes flirted between your gaze and his lap, his trigger finger twitching.

“Oh, Frank, I’d love that!” You gushed, throwing your arms around him. He grunted in surprise, his own hands coming up to hold you in place so you didn’t topple off the couch. “I’ve been hesitant to take sick days because everyone’s been so on edge lately, will you sit with me when I call in?”

“Course I will. If anyone gives ya trouble, they’ll have me to answer to.” Frank assured you with a menacing glint in his eye. Kissing his nose, you stroked a knuckle over his stubbled cheek.

“Thank you, handsome.”

“Anything for my girl.”

True to his word, Frank made sure you were seated comfortably in his lap when you called in sick, both so that he could rub reassuring circles along your waist, and so that he could hook his chin over your shoulder to listen for any flack you might be given. Fortunately for your boss, they grumbled an “ok” and hung up quickly. Anything ruder than that, and they might have been on The Punisher’s shit list.

Sinking backwards into your boyfriend’s sturdy chest, you shuddered. “Glad that’s over with.” Breathing deeply, you took a moment to collect your anxious self before standing to get ready for the day. Or, trying to stand, at least.

A set of strong hands caught your hips, yanking them backwards to hold you in Frank’s lap.

“Frank!” A small fit of giggles burst out of you as his fingers pressed into your ticklish skin.

“What’s the hurry, doll? We’ve got all day.” Planting heated kisses along your neck, you felt Frank smile when you mewled in response. “Attagirl, let me make ya feel good, hmm?”

Whisking you back to the bedroom, Frank helped you forget all about your shitty job.

Slightly breathless following your morning exercise, you hummed happily as Frank continued to press his lips to the exposed flesh of your body, taking care to show every piece of you as much love as possible. Boxing you in with his massive arms, he molded his beautifully crooked nose against yours, finishing his trail of kisses with a lengthy kiss to your lips.

“So, what did you have planned for today?” You asked against his lips, threading a hand in his hair.

“Nothin’ much. I was thinkin’ maybe nice coffee and a trip to that museum you’ve been talkin’ about?” A blush crept over his cheeks. “Sorry, doll, I, uh, I ain’t too good with this…” He gestured between the two of you.

“Aw, Frankie,” You scolded gently, kissing him tenderly. “You’re plenty good at ‘this’.” You mirrored his gesture and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, honey. You’re the most romantic partner I’ve ever had. And that plan sounds lovely. Let me clean up and we can go for coffee.”

As you curled into a seated position, Frank caught your wrist. “Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To wash up!” You giggled, striding back over to the bed where he slotted you between his legs.

“Nah, you’re gonna sit right here while I draw you a bath. And I’m gonna run to the coffee place across the street and get ya one of those sugary drinks ya like so much. Then we can go out, if ya feel up to it.” His demanding tone made you smirk, his military tendencies tended to come out when he was concerned about you.

“That sounds perfect, love.” You kissed his cheek, sitting on the bed as he headed to the bathroom.

The rest of the day passed quickly, leaving you longing for more cozy time with Frank. Though he considered himself lacking in the romance department, he’d provided you nothing but pure love on your day off, indulging your every whim just to see you smile.

And as you fell asleep at the end of the day, you clung tightly to him, trusting him to get you through whatever life threw your way.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #marvel #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle angst #the punisher imagine #the punisher x reader #punisher #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #my writing #fc #leah answers

133 notes · View notes

loveroftoomanyfandoms · 3 months

Text

That Summer, Chapter 1

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Frank Castle has been on the move ever since he "retired" as The Punisher after finding out the truth about his family's murder and handing his former best friend, Billy Russo, off to the Feds.

With his new identity as Pete Castiglione, Frank decides to settle down in a small town in Iowa, where he finds employment as a farmhand/handyman for you, a widow who's struggling to keep your farm running by yourself after the untimely death of your husband a year prior.

As Frank grows closer to you, his past -- and true identity -- begin to catch up with him, putting his chance of finding peace -- and both of your lives -- at risk.

Warnings/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, The Punisher S1 Compliant ONLY, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Frank calling Reader "Ma'am" is it's own warning 🥵

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: This is all Jon Bernthal's fault for looking so damn good in a flannel shirt and jeans.

Title from the Garth Brooks song of the same name.

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle

BangBangBangBangBang!

Frank Castle grabbed his pistol out from under his pillow as a sudden loud knocking on his motel room door startled him awake.

He had pulled into a small town in Iowa around 2 AM and had gotten a room, hoping to get a decent amount of sleep… but apparently there was no such luck since someone was banging on his door at fuck-o’clock in the morning.

He let out a deep breath and relaxed as he realized that the commotion was actually coming from a few doors down, the banging now followed by a woman's angry voice yelling that she knew that someone named Roger was ‘in there with that skank’. Sounds like a lover's quarrel .

He stashed his gun back underneath his pillow then looked at the bedside clock, which read 7:23 AM.

He sighed. Might as well get some breakfast since I'm up anyway.

He took a quick shower then dressed, noting by the silence that whatever had been going on between the angry woman and the allegedly-cheating Roger had apparently already been resolved.

There was a small hole-in-the-wall diner directly across the street from the motel, so Frank decided to just walk over there for breakfast.

He headed in and sat at the end of the counter, groaning when his back cracked.

He pulled out the bottle of aspirin he had bought at a gas station on his way into town and opened it, shaking out a couple of pills before popping them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He'd certainly slept in worse places than the back of a van and cheap, shitty motel rooms back when he was in the military, but now that he was getting older his joints were definitely preferring a nice, soft bed to sleep in.

The waitress, an older woman whose nametag read Mildred , walked over and poured him a cup of coffee. “Welcome to Sal's, what can I getcha?” she said.

Frank quickly scanned the menu. “Uh, I'll have the bacon and eggs, eggs over easy, please.”

“Sure thing, hon. Coming right up.”

Frank looked around the mostly-empty diner as Mildred shuffled off to go put his order in with the cook.

An old jukebox stood along the far wall -- its choice of music being country ranging from the 1950’s to the 1980’s if Frank had to guess -- while a framed black-and-white photo of the diner sat above the jukebox, the presumed Sal standing proudly in front of the building and pointing to a brand-new sign.

Frank glanced back towards the door, a hand-written flyer pinned to a bulletin board catching his eye.

“You lookin' for a job?” the waitress asked, setting a plate in front of him.

“Uh, yeah, actually, I might be,” Frank replied, still looking at the flyer. He had been considering settling down somewhere for a while and figured that The Middle of Nowhere, Iowa might be just as good a place as any.

He pulled out his phone and flipped it open, only to notice that he had forgotten to charge it the night before and that the battery had died. “Ah, damn, my phone's dead. You happen to know where this is located?”

Mildred nodded. “Yeah, it's down at the end of Route Six, just past Eureka Creek at the edge of town.”

“Mind giving me directions?”

“Sure, when ya leave here head right on Route 3, go down a ways ‘till ya see the sign for the hardware store, then hang a left on the road right past it and go all the way down. Ya can't miss it.”

“Can I take the flyer?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Frank finished his breakfast and coffee then pulled out enough cash to cover his bill and leave Mildred a nice tip before setting it on the counter. “Here ya go.”

Mildred walked over and took the money, counting it quickly before heading towards the register at the other end of the counter to close Frank out. “Thank ya, hon. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Frank took the flyer off of the bulletin board and folded it before sticking it in his pocket.

He headed back across the street and packed his duffle bag before checking out of the motel.

He unlocked his van and climbed in, reviewing the directions in his head before starting it up. Right outta here, left onto Route 6 after the hardware store… past Eureka Creek all the way to the end of the road. Got it.

He turned out of the diner's parking lot onto Route 3 and headed towards the edge of town, turning left past the hardware store down a gravel road with a faded sign that declared it Route 6 .

After a few minutes of bumpy driving he crossed a rickety-looking wooden bridge built over a small waterway (what Frank presumed to be the aforementioned Eureka Creek), which transitioned to a winding dirt road leading to a two-story farmhouse.

To the right of the house was another building that appeared to be a cabin, and beyond that was a barn, an older model truck half-covered with a tarp, a tractor that clearly hadn't run in a while, and a fenced-in pasture whose fence was in dire need of repair.

Definitely seems like there'd be plenty for me to do around here, Frank thought as he climbed out of the van.

He could hear barking coming from inside the house as he shut the door and began walking towards the front porch.

He paused just shy of the front steps as the front door opened slightly and you appeared.

You eyed him warily from behind a screen door, which remained closed. “Yes, may I help you?”

“I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, especially with it being so early,” Frank began as he dug the flyer out of his pocket and unfolded it. “But I was told you were looking for someone to help out around here?”

You nodded, glancing briefly at the flyer in his hands before looking back up at him. “Yes, that's right.”

Frank cleared his throat. “I apologize for not calling first but my phone is dead, so Mildred over at the diner gave me your address. Is now a good time to talk?”

You hesitated momentarily. “Yeah, now’s fine, just give me a minute though.”

Frank nodded. “Sure thing, ma'am.”

He waited as you closed the door, hearing a heavy lock turn on the other side. He couldn't blame you -- he'd be cautious too if some strange person turned up on his doorstep unannounced.

After a few minutes, he heard the lock click again and the door open.

A large black and white dog came bounding out past the screen door, stopping in front of Frank and sniffing cautiously at his boots.

You followed, this time carrying a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses and wearing a much friendlier look on your face. “Sorry about him,” you said as you set the tray down on a small side table and closed the door once again. “He's friendly though, I promise.”

“Ah, that's alright.” Frank squatted down to rub the dog’s muzzle. “What’s his name?”

“Frank.”

Frank chuckled. Guess that's a sign that this was a good idea. “Frank, huh?”

You shrugged. “That was the name he came with. He's a rescue.”

Frank turned his attention to Canine Frank. “Nah, that's a good name, huh boy?”

He stood. “I'm Pete. Pete Castiglione.”

You introduced yourself in return. “Would you like some lemonade, Pete?”

Frank nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I'd love some.”

He walked up the steps to the porch as you poured two glasses of lemonade.

You handed him one of the glasses. “Here, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Frank took the glass and sat before taking a sip of the cool, perfectly sweet drink. “Mmm. This is excellent. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” You took a sip of your own lemonade as Canine Frank settled himself at your feet. “So, Pete, do you have any farming experience?”

Frank shook his head. “Actually, no ma'am, I don't, but I'm a real fast learner and I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty. And whatever needs fixing, I can do as well.”

Your eyes flicked down to Frank's battle-scarred hands. “Well that's good to know, at least. I'm afraid it's been a bit of a struggle trying to keep up with repairs around this place while also tending to the animals.”

You took another sip of your lemonade. “Where’ya from, if ya don't mind me asking?”

“New York.”

You eyed him carefully. “Long way from home. Running from or towards something?”

Frank chuckled and shook his head. “Bit of both, I guess.”

“Honest answer. That's good. Honesty’s important around here.”

Frank nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Honesty's important to me too.”

You looked out towards the farm, then sighed. “I’ll take you on on a trial basis -- let's say two weeks. If it seems like you're at least starting to catch on to everything then you can have the position permanently, if not then I'll give you the half month’s pay that I'll owe you and we'll go our separate ways. Sound fair?”

Frank nodded in return. “Yes, ma’am, sounds completely fair.”

You stood. “In that case, how about I show you around?”

Frank finished his lemonade and set his glass down on the table. “That'd be great.”

You led Frank towards the barn. “We're a small farm, with just 6 horses and 5 cows, a dozen hens, a couple of bee boxes, and Frankie boy here. We used to be much bigger but… well, it became too much to handle on my own.”

Frank had a feeling there was more to that story, but said nothing.

You tugged on the barn door, grunting in frustration when it didn't budge. “That's one thing on the repair list -- this damn door. It's always getting stuck.”

You tugged one more time, the door finally letting loose with a loud pop and sliding open.

Frank followed you into the barn, which was neat and tidy -- well, as neat and tidy as a barn could be. “I can take a look at that door for you now, if you'd like.”

You nodded and waved a hand at the door. “By all means, go right ahead.”

“Got a ladder?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

You walked towards the back of the barn and unhooked a short folding ladder that was hanging on the left wall. “Will this do?”

Frank nodded. “Yes ma'am, that'll work.”

He waited as you brought the ladder to him then climbed up. “Ahh, yeah, I see the problem right here. One of the tracks is loose so they keep catching on each other.”

He looked down at you. “You got a screwdriver handy?”

“Yeah, there's a toolbox over here.” You walked over to a large tool chest and began rummaging through it, quickly producing a screwdriver. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Frank quickly screwed the track back into place and stepped off of the ladder. “Go ahead and try that door now.”

You walked back over to the door, which now slid easily in both directions. “Ah yeah, there we go. Thanks.”

Frank shrugged. “No problem, ma’am.”

You led him towards the stables. “Alrighty, so here are the horses. We've got Sunshine, Missy, Eclipse, Nutmeg, and Amaretto.”

You stopped at a stable that was further away from the others. “And this is the aptly-named Midnight.”

Frank looked between the jet-black horse and you. “Why is he being kept separate from the other horses?”

“He's not tame yet. I've been trying but haven't had any success.” You paused. “My husband was the horse trainer, I just don't seem to have the knack for it.”

There it is. “Was?”

You nodded. “Tom passed away just over a year ago -- car accident. He was coming back from Des Moines with a load of feed when his tire blew out and he ran off the road. Struck a tree, killed him instantly.”

Frank winced. “I'm so sorry. I know what that's like, though, I… I lost my wife and kids a few years ago too.”

“I'm sorry for your loss as well.”

Next you showed him the cows -- Lulu, Clarabelle, Daisy, Petunia, and Millie -- then the area where you kept the bees. “I usually handle them on my own but there might be an occasion where I would need you to help me harvest honey. You're not allergic, are you?”

Frank shook his head. “No, ma'am. That won't be a problem.”

“Okay, good. Let me show you where you'll be staying.”

You took him back around to the cabin. “Here it is.”

Frank followed you up the steps to the small porch and waited as you unlocked the door.

You opened it. “Come on in.”

He followed you inside and took a look around. To the left of the entranceway was a small kitchen, complete with a stove/oven combo, microwave and coffee maker.

“There’s a grocery store in town if you want to stock up on groceries,” you explained, “but you're also welcome to come have meals in the main house too if you'd like.”

Frank nodded. “I’m not much of a cook, so that would be nice if you wouldn't mind the company.”

“Not at all.”

Beyond the kitchen was a living area that connected to another side porch, then a small laundry room with a washer and dryer. “This was Tom’s and my place before we built the main house,” you explained as you showed him the bedroom and bathroom. “It wasn't much, but it was home while we needed it to be.”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, this is perfect.”

You handed him a key. “Breakfast is at six, lunch at noon, dinner at seven. Work starts tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Alrighty then, I'll give you your privacy, leave ya to get settled in. Let me know if ya need anything.”

“I will.”

Frank went out to the van to get his duffle bag as you headed back to the main house, Canine Frank on your heels.

He headed back into the cabin and unpacked his meager belongings, hiding his pistol in the nightstand next to the bed before plugging his phone in to charge.

He put a load of laundry on to wash, glad to have his own washer and dryer to use rather than having to find a laundromat.

He returned to the bedroom intending on taking a nap when he looked out of the window, spotting you carrying a large square bale of hay towards the barn and looking like you were struggling.

He headed outside and walked towards you. “Here, let me help you with that.”

You stopped and handed him the hay bale. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“No problem. Where we headed?”

“Horse stalls.” You wiped the back of your arm across your forehead. “It's been taking a lot longer than it's supposed to to muck them out because I've been having to transport the hay by hand and in smaller bales ever since that tractor’s been broken, not to mention having to move the horses to another stall instead of being able to let them pasture during the day because of the fence.”

Frank glanced over at the broken-down tractor. “Listen, I'm not really one to sit around and be idle, so instead of starting tomorrow why don't I help you with the stalls then go ahead and get started on that repair list for you? I can fix the fence then maybe take a look at that tractor, see if I can't get it running for ya tonight.”

You nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You quickly showed Frank how to muck out the horses' stalls, and together the two of you managed to get them cleaned and re-lined with bedding in just a few hours.

“Okay, that's the last one,” you said as you finished mucking out the stall you used to temporarily house each of the horses. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

Frank shrugged. “That's what I'm here for.”

You looked at your watch. “It's just about time for lunch, so how about you wait till after we eat before starting on the fence?”

Frank nodded. “Alright.”

You led him to the back of the main house. “Lunch usually consists of something simple like sandwiches and chips,” you explained as you went up the steps of the back porch and took off your boots. “But there's chili cooking in the Crock-Pot for dinner tonight.”

“Both sound great,” Frank replied, taking his own boots off before following you into the kitchen. “I'm not a very picky eater.”

You washed your hands then went to the refrigerator and began to gather the makings for sandwiches. “I've got turkey and ham, cheese, and fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the garden along with some pickles. Help yourself to whatever you like on your sandwich.”

Frank washed his own hands as you set everything out on the counter along with two plates, a bag of chips, and some condiments. “Thank you.”

You made your sandwich and set your plate on the dining room table. “Something to drink?”

Frank nodded as he made his own sandwich. “Some more of that lemonade would be really nice.”

“Sure thing.” You walked back to the cabinet, pulled out two glasses, and set them on the counter, then pulled the pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. “Go ahead and have a seat, I'll bring this over.”

Frank sat a couple of seats down from you, thanking you as you set his glass of lemonade in front of him.

He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, chewing and swallowing before asking, “What else is on the repair list?”

You huffed out a light laugh and shook your head. “Honestly too much to name, but I can give you a detailed list tomorrow.”

Frank nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you continued eating in silence, Frank stealing a glance at you as you looked thoughtfully out of the window.

He could see the pain of loss on your face as well as determination to keep the farm afloat and silently vowed to do whatever it took to help you succeed.

#lotmf writes #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #That Summer Masterlist

95 notes · View notes

chrisevansredbelt · 2 years

Text

Forbidden Fruit

not my gif! credits to @bernthalized !!

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader (mmmmm i haven’t decided yet if this is part of the current dbf!frank established series i have,, like this very well could be the backstory to how they started seeing each other but idk yet)

warnings: SMUT! age gap (reader is 21+, frank mmm late 30’s probably). blowjob of course. p in v sex.

summary: you find frank on the same holiday as you. taking this as your chance, you seek what you’ve always wanted and he too.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

Sipping on your cocktail, you spin around and lean against the bar. The liquid was so refreshing in your throat as you swallowed it down, the adrenaline from gambling and dancing catching up to you.

Your friends remained on the dance floor, each of them shoving their tongues down some lucky man’s throat that they’d all probably bring back to the AirBnB.

Not entirely keen on listening in on or contributing to this orgy, maybe you’ll buy some noise cancelling headphones with the $2,000 you won tonight. Unless of course you find a man for yourself that’s able to take you to his own home for the night. But being a state foreigner in the state of Los Angeles, you didn’t really like the idea of getting murdered so far away from home- or at all really.

So, you were pretty contempt in playing it safe and enduring the live action orgy porno while you try and sleep.

You soon found yourself at the bottom of your drink, the loud noise of your straw attempting to suck the remnants pulling you out of your thoughts.

It’s only then that you realise how fast the drink has already hit you, mind a bit warm and fuzzy. Wiping your lip, you place your empty glass back on the bar for it to be taken away. Just as you’re about to leave, in your peripheral you see burly a figure stand next to you at the bar.

You don’t immediately look, wanting to seem nonchalant if this person tickles your fancy. Seem mysterious and hard to get, y’know?

However, in your midst of momentarily ignoring this person, their voice as they order their drink makes your ears perk.

“Just an old fashioned please,”

You turn to look at them completely now, not even bothering with your attempt to seem nonchalant as you stare dead at their side profile.

He doesn’t even see you, head turned slightly away from you to glance back over at the stage, and just enough so that you escape his peripheral. But you know it’s him. Who else has this stupid fuck boy hair cut at his ripe old age?

“Frank?” You ask, a hand on his arm.

He practically whips around, defence mode kicking in at the sudden intrusion of his personal space. But he relaxes almost instantly at the sight of you, a smile etching it’s way onto his face in disbelief, “Hey!” He laughs a little and you smile back. Somehow, you find yourself hugging the long-time family friend before you, it only felt natural- a handshake was too formal and no contact at all just felt rude- plus you hadn’t actually seen him in a while and a hug was definitely appropriate, “Oh my God, what are you doing here?” He asks as you pull away from the hug, internally frowning at the lack of touch and contact with your tits that squished against his chest.

You don’t miss the way his eyes travel down to your chest- more specifically your cleavage. You suddenly feel naked under his gaze. But you love it.

“I’m on holiday with a few friends.” You glance over at the dance floor to no longer see any of your friends. You shove that thought to the back of your mind however as you focus your attention back on your Dads best friend, “What are you doing here?”

“Wedding.”

You blink at him once, glancing down at his hidden left hand before quickly blurting out, “Y-Yours?”

He’s quick to deny and you feel a surge of unknown relief, “No, no, his.” You follow the direction of his limp pointer finger, eyes landing on a man who you don’t recognise, watching the showgirls on stage as his friends rile him up. Ugh, bachelor party, ‘last day of a mans freedom’ bullshit. Turning your head back to Frank, you raise a questioning brow and he already knows what you’re about to ask, “He doesn’t know your Dad.”

You scoff, “I was gonna say, Dad would never turn down a wedding.” For a second, part of you thought that perhaps this was your parents way of surprising you on your holiday. After all, you had finished your first college semester and gone straight on holiday- much to the disproval of your mother who had wished you’d come home first.

“How’s college treating ya’?” He suddenly asks, grounding you back to reality and you perk up at the mention of your recent life.

“Yeah, it’s great. I made a heap of friends and got a heap of good grades.” You nod.

“Finally get yourself a boyfriend?” He asks teasingly, a running joke between you and your father and obviously Frank knows about it. It’s not that much of a joke, more like your father was just so incessant in whether or not you had this secret boyfriend you were hiding from him. He would literally embarrass you and ask all your friends whenever they came over, basically interrogating them about whether or not you had a boyfriend. It’s not that he would even care either- he just wants to know so he can meet the guy and make fun of you for it.

With a flushed smile, you shake your head slightly, “No, I’m… not so attracted to the boys in college.” You avert your gaze to your hands, twiddling your fingers and playing with your acrylic nails before looking back up at Frank through your lashes.

Fuck, if only you knew what that did to him… Except you did.

But he shifts in his stance, a curious look to his face as he tilts his head to the side a little, “Oh, I didn’t know you batted for the other team.”

You laugh a little at his misinterpretation, but don’t entirely blame him, “No, more like, the professors is what I’m after.”

His cheeks flush a little and you can’t help but get a kick out of his reaction. You hope his cheeks aren’t the only part of him that’s rushing blood.

“Oh, don’t tell your father that.” He laughs and you purse your lips jokingly.

Franks drink finally arrives and you engage in more conversation about college and life back at home as he drinks.

He tells you how it’s pretty much the same back home- not much having changed in the few months you were gone. Good. But there was one thing you particularly wondered about and whether or not it had changed.

“And what about you? Find yourself a little girlfriend yet?” You ask mockingly- a play on with his question he had asked you previously.

“Nah- well, I managed to flirt with some of the neighbourhood milfs but that’s about it. None of them are game enough to leave their husbands for me.” You snort at his answer.

“The absolute nerve.” You giggle, “To flirt with the Frank Castle and not leave their husbands whom they have children with for you.”

“I’m saying!” He throws his hands up in the air.

Biting your lip for a moment, you hesitate before saying, “Well, don’t lose faith,” You start, making sure to place a reassuring (suggestive) hand on his tricep, “I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually.” You say teasingly, squeezing his arm before retreating your hand.

He hides his pleasure well, slightly blushing with a small smile, “I hope so.” He says as he sips on his drink, eyeing you slightly and you just smile innocently at him.

It’s then that you realise how physically close the two of you had gotten. Your knees are touching, your heel is slightly caressing his leg (driving him crazy for the last half hour) and you’re leaned over the bar, holding your head up with your hand as you unknowingly give him lovey-dovey (fuck-me) eyes.

He’s too distracted by your tits to notice though. They almost spill out over the top of your dress from how tight it is on your frame and how your arms are subtly pushing them together.

Looking over at the crowd on the dance floor, you feel a slight buzz and boost of energy. Looking back at Frank, he’s practically drooling over your chest… and you decide to have a little fun with it.

You bounce in your seat a little, tits recoiling as you take his large bicep in your hand, “Come dance with me.” You beg. He finally looks up at your eyes now, a hesitant look on his face as he turns back to look at his friends by the casino, “Come on, no one will know.” You stand from your chair and tug on his arm softly, before whispering into his ear, “I know you like this song.”

He stands then, almost uncontrollably as his cock takes over his mind. You smile triumphantly and lead him through the sea of people.

It’s not long before your dancing up on him, keeping him close so as to not get touched by some other man. From the outside looking in, another man wouldn’t dare even look at you for too long.

His hands found their way to your waist soon enough and as you feel the prod of his stiffy against your ass, you smile to yourself and begin grinding against him.

You hear him groan in your ear, his grip tightening around your waist- almost keeping you from escaping.

You turn in his grasp, wrapping your hands over his shoulders and around his neck. You gasp softly when you literally feel his cock nudge your pelvis- and he feels it too. He looks at you a little guiltily, thinking he had gone too far and misinterpreted the whole ordeal between you two.

So, without any logical thinking, you pulling him down to your lips.

From the way he tenses, you can tell he’s taken by surprise and doesn’t exactly know what to do. But it’s not long before he’s pulling you closer by your waist and deepening the kiss. His hands also slide down to your ass. He squeezes the flesh softly, making you whine a little in his mouth.

He smiles against your lips at that, making you smack his chest softly. You pull away from the kiss then, resting your forehead on his, catching your breath that was lost in the kiss.

Your heart thumped in your chest. Another course of adrenaline for the night as you have literally just kissed your Dads best friend and grind against his dick. It feels so wrong, but so fucking good.

“Come back to my hotel.” He practically demands. Before you’re even finished saying ‘okay’, he’s tugging you through the crowd.

When you exit the casino, both of your friend groups long forgotten, you’re on the curb for about 5 seconds before Franks hailing down a cab.

After telling the address of his hotel to the driver, he’s attacking your neck. You shamelessly moan out loud as he sucks at your sweet spot, most definitely leaving a mark.

His hotel must not have been far for the cab ride was barely a few minutes. You watch in awe as Frank pays and tips the poor man generously before pulling you out with him and into the lobby of his grand hotel.

When you enter the elevator, it’s straight back to tongue and teeth. You jump in his hold and wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to hold you up against the wall and deepen the kiss while the elevator makes its way up.

His hand that holds you up creeps extremely close to your heat, so much so that you find it difficult to return his kisses as he constantly squeezes the flesh of your inner thighs.

Frank smiles to himself, you’re already so cockdrunk that it’s hard for you to even kiss him. The elevator ride goes on for longer than usual, and excitement builds up inside you thinking of how high you’d be. Maybe if you get a bit more in you, you’ll beg him to fuck you over the railing of the balcony.

The sound of the elevator dinging made Frank break away from the kiss to reorient himself in the elevator and exit out of. He looked both directions, clearly forgotten which room he was in and you giggled up at his cluelessness.

“What’re you gigglin’ about?” He asks you teasingly, slapping your ass softly as he finally remembers his room.

“You’re so silly.” You tease, trailing kisses over his neck while he carries you through the rest of the hallway, before coming to a stop in front of his room door.

You couldn’t explain the excitement and rush that coursed through your body at this moment in time. It felt like such a dream to be wrapped around Frank, his hands on your ass as he unlocks the door to his hotel room.

He kicks the door shut once you’re in, uncaring if it’s locked as he brings you towards the bed and places you down it.

As he goes to your dress off, you sit up and stop him, a hand on his chest that makes him worry a little. Until you smile, and move your hands down to his belt.

You then stand from the bed, eyeing the small armchair diagonal from the bed, in front of the large window overlooking the city of Vegas.

With on hand on his belt, another on his chest, you push him backwards until he falls back into the chair. Eyes trained on you the whole time, he watches dumbstruck as you fall to your knees before him and continue to undo his belt.

You keen with so much excitement that you surprise yourself with how fast you undo his belt. He helps you out and lifts his hips just enough so that you can pull his pants down his thighs just far enough so that you have access to his boxers. They’re quick to follow suit and you gasp softly as his firm cock springs out of its confines. It slaps his stomach, a complete 90 degree angle and you have to contain yourself from drooling.

You take it in your small hands, the size of it restricting your fingers from touching as you encompass all of your fingers around it. God. Help. You.

Franks lips part slightly at the sight before him. God, he feels like he’s dreaming.

You stroke his dick a few times first, rubbing your thumb over his slit and spreading the precum all over his tip, making him groan slightly. When you look up at him with doed eyes, you take pity on him.

Puckering your lips, you slap his cock against your plump lips, kissing the tip. You kitten lick it once, before tilting your head and kissing along the side- driving Frank crazy with how much you’re teasing him because of how badly he just wants to fuck your face until your gagging around him.

And then you spot his balls. Smiling to yourself, you hold up his cock with your hand, kinda moving it out of the way for better access. Taking one of them in your mouth, you suck and moan around it harshly.

Frank throws his head back, groaning and tensing under the pleasure. You smile with his balls in your mouth before moving to the other one and giving it the same love.

Your saliva spills down it and Frank shudders at the feeling of your spit dripping down his balls.

“Fuck-“ He mutters through gritted teeth, hands finding their way to your head. He doesn’t push down or anything, just holds you in place.

Once you’ve had your fun with his balls, you make your back up to his cock, kissing from the base up before licking the prominent vein halfway up to the tip of his cock. And then you close your mouth around the head, sucking softly and twirling your tongue around the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum on your tongue.

His breath is staggered as you continue your motions with your hand on the lower half of his cock, a kind of circular motion with your hand while you suckle on his tip.

When he fists your hair, your heat pools in your panties and you try not to moan as loud. So instead, you take his cock all the way in as far as it can fit to gag yourself.

Frank literally loses his breath, eyes screwed shut as you go as far as you can and gag around his cock. Your saliva spills out of your mouth uncontrollably and down his cock. You catch it with your finger and as you pull yourself back up you use your hand to jerk the lubrication up his shaft.

You then begin your languid bobbing on his cock, taking him as far as you can each time. You want to believe the idea that you take him deeper each time you go down, but you don’t think that’s entirely true as you still gag when you reach a certain point.

The noises filling the room are purely pornographic and you squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the ache in your pussy.

“Fuck, Y/N-“ He curses as you swirl your tongue around him once more.

He then bucks his hips up into your face, making you unexpectedly gag around him and interrupts your pace. But apparently it feels good from the way he groans above you.

He then sits up out of his leaned back positioned, leaning over you now as he pushes your head down and guided you back up at his own pace. You don’t mind though, whatever will get him to unload in your mouth.

As you easily comply with his pace, you bring your hand up to his balls and fondle with them in your hand. He cries out at the unexpected added pleasure, one of his hands coming down on your ass, making you jump underneath him. He then harshly pulls your dress up, exposing your ass to the air before smacking your bare ass again.

You whimper around his cock, but by God, does it feel good. Your panties are probably soaked as you feel some of it drip down your thigh out front the small fabric of your g-string and you moan around him.

You await another spank, but nothing comes about. You then realise how tense he feels underneath you, how the muscles of his thighs are rock hard and how he curses and begs you to ‘keep going’, ‘right there’.

It takes one final buck into your mouth until he’s cumming all down your throat, painting the inside of your mouth white with his seed.

As he fills your mouth, you take his cock out and let the rest of his cum spill out on your lips and face, making Franks cock twitch in your hand at the sight he could really only dream of seeing.

With his cum still on your face, you show him the contents of your mouth before swallowing it down and taking your finger and cleaning your lips of his cum, sucking your finger clean.

With deep breaths, he hands you the tissue box from the small coffee table beside his chair and you take a few tissues gratefully.

“Thank you.”

You wipe your chin and cheek. And as you feel a bit of warmth over your chest you look down and realise he had spilt some over your tits as well.

As you clean yourself up, you’re barely given a few seconds to recompose yourself before he’s pulling you up into his lap on the chair.

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” He asks and you’re unsure if its rhetorical or not.

“Practiced on my dildo a lot, always imagined it was you.” You say. And one thing he didn’t know, it was the truth. It was the complete, utter truth.

He just laughs though, pulling your dress up over your ass once more and slapping your ass. He then eyes your tits that are inches away from his face, pulling the straps of your dress down so that they spill out from the confines of your dress.

He takes a second to admire them, squeezing the flesh and running his thumb over your nipple, making you gasp softly at the tingle it gives you.

As you bring your hand around his head, playing with the short strands of his hair, he brings his mouth towards your tit, wrapping it around the nipple and you throw your head back.

He looks up at you while continuing to suck and flick his tongue over your little bud and you find yourself grinding your hips against him. Which is when you feel it. His bare cock still dripping with cum, resting on his stomach still rock hard- grind against your barely clothed, soaking centre.

And from the way he bites down softly on your nipple, you know he feels it too.

“You like that, huh?” He asks, smiling at your attempts to conceal the guttural moan that wants to escape you at the feel of his cock so close to your core, “Want me inside you?”

You nod weakly, hand planted on his chest to try and ground yourself and not fuck him right then and there. He removes himself from your tit, kissing up your neck instead until he reaches your ear, “I always watched you.” He confesses, “From across the street. When I was at the house.” He lists and you just smile softly.

“I know.” You confess back, and he furrows his brows a little. You knew? “Always pampered myself if I knew you were coming over… and never wore any panties.” You grab one of his large hands that was planted on your hip before bringing it down below your dress. You then bring it up your thighs, skimming the trail of your slick before reaching your cunt. You move your panties to the side, before connecting his hand to your clit, “But you knew that.” You continue, as he rubs his fingers over your clit and through your dripping hole, “I know you saw.”

Frank is transported back to the time when he was over at your house as per usual. It was only about midday, but he’d been there since the morning.

Your parents were holding yet another BBQ for a few of your parents friends in celebration of the New Year. So they were spending the day setting up the backyard and preparing the food.

Once they had finished they had decided to go stock up on more food after making the snap decision to invite more friends… which is how you found yourself alone with Frank.

“Y/N- Oh…” Your mother stops in her tracks, her heeled footsteps coming to a stop and you relax your body even more. She turns to- what you can only think is your father, “She’s sleeping.”

There’s a pause as your Dad thinks for a second, “Just let Frank watch over the house.”

You’re so glad your mouth is covered by the blanket so that you can smile wickedly. Your plan had worked.

Soon enough, they had left for the store, leaving Frank in the kitchen and you in the living room, ‘sleeping’ on the couch.

Once Frank finishes up washing his hands and grabbing another beer, he decides to go check on you- in case you had woken up at the sound of the car starting and wondered why you were left alone with your parents best friend.

But instead, he was met with the sight of your bare pussy. Your leg was hiked up against the couch, and your dress had been hiked up your hips- the blanket covering the rest of your body also haphazardly thrown off your lower half.

His eyes widened, fisting his beer bottle so hard his knuckle turned white. He couldn’t bare to look away. So he just stood there for a moment while his dick hardened, staring at your sweet, sweet pussy.

You then shifted in your ‘sleep’, turning over and pulling the blanket back over your body- eyes still closed as you settled back into your ‘deep sleep’.

Frank was long gone by then, scared you had caught him staring and trying to will the image of your cunt out of his mind. But he couldn’t. In fact, he didn’t want to.

And all the other times your nipples poked through your thin shirt and your ass hanging out of your booty shorts. It would be described as something that left little to the imagination. Which wasn’t entirely true because there was no imagining, Frank had seen it all.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he looks up at you, his hand still gliding through the folds of your cunt, “Didn’t know it was for me.” He admits. Which was true. If he did know, he would’ve made a move ages ago… You tilt your head, how could he not know it was for him? “I was with your father in thinking you had some secret boyfriend.” He explains and you roll your eyes. He then shoves a thick fingers inside your cunt, “Turns out she’s just a whore for older men.”

You sigh blissfully as he finger fucks you, “You caught me.” You smile, rocking against his hand, “I always hoped you would come upstairs and fuck me.” You confess more, words coming out a little slurred as you ride out your pleasure on his fingers that curl in just the right place, “My parents would be downstairs and they wouldn’t have a clue that their only daughter was being fucked by their best friend.”

He pulls his finger out of you then and for a second you’re worried you had gone too far. The realisation that your his best friends daughter, this forbidden fruit, hitting him and he’s regretting everything. Until he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks on them.

Your eyes fall hooded as you watch him do so, moaning against his fingers at the taste of your slick. You then watch as he takes them out of his mouth and all but shoves them into yours.

“Always wanted to.” He replies and you him around his fingers at the mixture of his saliva and your own cum.

You release his fingers with a pop, never breaking the eye contact you hold with him as you whisper against his lips, “So do it.”

That’s practically all it takes for Frank to pull your dress over your head, leaving you bare for him but gives him easier access to your cunt.

He then takes his hard cock, still laying flat against his stomach and taps it against your wet cunt.

You hiss at the contact, just wanting it shoved inside of you but also wanting to prepare yourself first. He slides it through your folds, a pussy job at its finest as he only places the head inside a few times.

To be completely honest, you’re a little intimidated by his size and not entirely sure he will fit- not comfortably at least. But that only builds the excitement within you.

“Ready?” He asks, eyes trained on your pussy, leaking and more than ready to take him.

You hum your answer, nodding your head slightly as you bite your lips and dig your nails into his shoulder to prepare yourself.

He slides the tip in easily and you inhale a deep breath. The rest of his length is slow and burns at first, making you cry out softly.

He massages your ass to soothe you and kisses your temple before going back to your pussy and concentrating on the pace at which he intrudes your right hole.

Every inch seems to just her thicker and thicker, but it’s not long before you find yourself at the base, his cock fully sheathed in your tight pussy.

You finally exhale the breath that you had been holding, cunt clenching so tight around his cock it’s literally a wonder how he fit it inside without tearing you apart. Eh- don’t speak so soon, we’ll see about that when you go to pee after this.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, whispering sweet nothin in your ear about how good you feel, to relax and how he can’t wait to fuck you so hard. The last part doesn’t really help, but it feels nice.

When you think you’re ready, you nod, hooking your arm around his neck and getting more comfortable as he places both hands on your waist.

“You got it, whenever you’re ready.” He encourages.

And so, you slowly lift yourself up off his cock, the way up just as bad as the way down, and you can’t deny the burn it gives you.

Once you feel the tip of his cock about to exit, you halt before going back down. This time ‘round, the burn it’s as bad as you spread your slick all over his cock. The way down is much quicker this time and you don’t go all the way down. You stop about 3/4 of the way down before coming back up and beginning your bounce.

He of course helps you, lifting your hips and planting them down each time now that you’re comfortable. You rest your head in his neck, clawing his back and still clenching tightly around his cock.

He then starts to fuck his hips up into you, and you whine softly, “Fuck, Frank!”

“Like that, huh?” He asks, smiling down at you as you fall limp in his hold. You nod weakly, practically letting him take control now as he fucks up into you, balls hitting your ass with his rough thrusts.

Suddenly he stands up out of the cramped chair, taking you with him as he makes his way to the bed. He sets you down on your back, kissing you briefly before standing to his full height. He brings one of your legs over his shoulders and kisses your ankle before beginning a much deeper and more controlled thrust.

You arch your back off the bed at the new level of deep he hits inside of you. You don’t think you’ve even been able to reach that spot with your own fingers or dildo.

“Fuck, fuck!” You moan, “Fuck, daddy.”

Frank felt like he was about to cum right there at that. His cock literally twitched inside of you and that told you all you needed to know about how he felt about that.

You smiled softly, brining him down by his neck so that you could kiss him. He continues to thrust into you, the sound of slapping skin literally echoing through the room.

You moan into his mouth and tug on his hair roughly as he continues to hit that spot. “Right there, please don’t stop.” You beg, literally crying at this point as he sucks on your tits once more.

The head of the bed slams against the wall now as his thrusts become quicker and harder. A lone tear escapes the corner of your eyes as the pleasure builds inside of you at a fast pace, the flower inside you about to bloom.

Your pleas come out slurred as you see white in your vision- even as you close your eyes. Your nails dig into his neck as his hand rubs at your swollen clit.

He only rubs it a few times, simultaneously thrusting deep inside you. So deep he swears he sees his dick bulge through the skin of your stomach. Until you’re cumming hard around him.

Your moan gets cut off by your own throat, the pleasure taking over all of your senses you don’t even hear the way Frank guides you through your orgasm. Telling you to cream his cock, how you’re his good girl, how he’s close too.

He overstimulates you as he continues his thrusts, chasing his own high. Your legs squeeze around his waist at the stimulation, and now you’re begging him to cum inside you.

The warmth of his seed filling you up makes your eyes roll to the back of your head and you swear you see stars back there.

He doesn’t give you all of it, he pulls out swiftly, making you whine, as he paints your cunt and stomach and tits with his hot, white cum.

You smile down at the mess before throwing your head back down against the plush mattress, chest heaving. Frank grabs one of the folded hotel towels on the ottoman by the bed, wiping your stomach clean before chucking over on the arm chair.

Pulling his boxers back over his cock, he kisses up your body before moving you up the bed a little so that you’re head rests against the pillows instead.

You’re way too fucked out to focus much longer, sleep taking over you as he places the blanket over you. Your eyes grow heavier by the second, the last thing you remember is Franks lips on yours.

It’s early in the morning when you wake up. You only know this because of the digital clock on the bedside table that tells you so. As well as the sun peaking through the curtains but that could mean any time in the afternoon even.

It would be cliche for you to say you don’t remember who’s bed you ended up in last night. You remember every part of it, including who it was.

Which is why, when you turn over to an empty bed, you feel a bit of sadness pang in your chest.

Has he left you? Did he run for the hills and not look back?

“Hey, you’re up.”

You head whips up to the voice, Frank emerging out of the hallway that lead to the bathroom by the front door. A towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slicked back and water droplets still dripping down his chiseled chest.

You smile at the sight of him, both admiring his figure and glad he didn’t in fact leave you hanging.

“Thought you left me.” You scoff, sitting up out of bed rubbing your eyes from the sleep. God, you probably looked a mess. But like a hot mess.

“So,” Frank starts, gaze lingering on the floor and you tilt your head curiously, “This stays between us, right?”

You smile softly, biting your lip to contain a laugh, “No, I definitely have to tell my parents.” You joke, finally laughing at the way his face drops as he believes you for a moment.

You reach for your phone that’s stuffed inside of you purse the bed side table closest to you- it hadn’t been charged but still had like 20% of battery left.

Upon turning it on, you browse the few notifications you had- many of them being missed calls and texts from your friends, asking where you had gone and if you were safe.

While you looked through your phone, Frank turned to his suitcase that was perched on top of the dresser in his room. He quickly found a fresh pair of socks and boxers, fiddling with them in his hands momentarily, deep in thought about the events of last night.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” He suddenly asks.

You divert your attention away from your phone and back up at him. He’s facing you once more after having turned to his dresser, a difficult look on his face that you can’t quite decipher.

Tilting your head, you smile a little, there was a lot of things you said last night that he could be talking about, “Which part?”

“That you always wanted me to fuck you?”

“Mhmm,” You hum, “Did you mean it when you said you always wanted to?” You ask, flipping the question. He doesn’t say anything in response, instead just eyes the parts of your naked body exposing themselves through the scrunching of the blanket around your figure. He nods once then. You smile, almost victoriously, holding the blanket over your chest as you get up on your knees and waddle towards him on the other side of the bed. You reach for his arm, pulling him closer as he extends it out towards you. You entwine your fingers with his, hand in hand now as you look up at him, lips ever so close, “Well, if you want,” You softly kiss his lips, “I’m more than happy to continue this little… arrangement back home.”

His answer was given in the reply of fucking you against the glass window of his hotel for all to see. If he had to hide the fact that he was fucking you back home in New York, then he was going to bask in the freedom of it while he could.

And as Frank left to attend the wedding ceremony of his friends’, you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbles inside of you- along with the warmth of his cum that he filled you up with not long ago. There were no nerves in this it all- despite the fact that you were literally fucking your Dads best friend. The forbidden fruit of men for you to date if your Dad could compile a list, probably followed closely by Tony Stark- his other friend. You didn’t mind that guy either- he was filthy rich.

But, you’re glad you have Frank. You still feel like you’re dreaming every time you think about the fact that you fucked him and will continue to fuck him. Life just got interesting.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

i literally forgot all about this gif and it was like in the depths of my drafts and i was like oh no! but here it is hope u enjoyed the blowjob smut was like top tier writing for me idk why

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #the punisher #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher smut

1K notes · View notes

anna-hawk · 11 months

Text

Fallin' with me

Pairing: Frank Castle x GN!Reader Fandom: The Punisher Rating:E 🔞

Warnings: heavy dose of angst

For @lucy-sky 's ask. Thanks again, Lucy. I mixed a bit of smut and a lot of angst for you 🧡🧡🧡.

Send me a character or ship + a title

With one hand loosely curled under your jaw, while the other one was pushing one of your thighs up towards your chest, Frank drove into you over and over again. Moans and cries of pleasure escaped your lips with each of his thrusts, your walls fluttering around his cock and begging him back inside each time he pulled back. The sight of you and the sounds you made had pleasure shooting down Frank's spine just as much as the grip your body had on him. Your fingers ran up his arms and to his shoulders, the fingertips pushing into the skin, as your cries changed in intensity. You'd done this often enough by now that Frank knew all your body's tells. You were getting close, and Frank wanted to see every emotion running through your expressive eyes.

“Look at me, Sweetheart,” he half commanded, half begged, as he lowered his upper body over yours and pushed your chin up.

Your eyes opened, although only by half, as you fought the onslaught of intense pleasure that kept you from focusing on him immediately.

“Frank,” you breathed brokenly as soon as your gaze fixed on his, and started coming apart under him.

Frank grunted and gasped as you spasmed around his cock. It took his whole concentration to not let go of the hold he had on his release and instead, put it all on watching yours. Only after you started coming down did he allow himself to kiss you ravenously and come inside you with a loud groan, loving the feel of your hands as your fingers stole into his hair to kiss him back with just as much intensity.

He slumped on top of you, but still managed to keep most of his body weight off of you as the kiss went on, the exchange slowing until Frank kissed along your jaw and nuzzled under it. Fingers trailed absently over his back, one hand moving up to his head and playing with the hair, the act having him hum pleasantly. Your hands suddenly came to a halt, and Frank rose onto his elbows as you began squirming underneath him.

“You alright?” Frank asked with a frown and rolled off you since you kept moving around until he did so.

“Yeah, of course. I just have an early shift tomorrow,” you replied with a smile that Frank noticed didn't fully reach your eyes.

Frank only nodded as he watched you head into the small bathroom of his apartment to clean up. He sighed to himself when he heard the shower turn on. It looked like he hadn't been wrong in the end. Everything had been okay between you just a few weeks ago, but then you'd started pulling away from him. It hadn't been obvious from the start, since you weren't actually together. It had happened gradually, and Frank couldn't explain to himself why. He'd tried asking you several times if things were alright, at your job or otherwise, and you'd always replied in the affirmative. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, he also didn't want to push. You were… Frank didn't really know what the two of you were to each other. He'd met you through Matt Murdock, of all people, after they'd worked on a case together and Matt sought the help of a coroner. Which had been you.

Weeks later, you'd been the one to look for Frank. In your line of work, you knew, saw, the horrible things that could be done to a person. You'd come to him one night, full of rage and despair, on the behalf of yet another victim whose murderer would walk free. You hadn't stayed to listen to his answer; only given him a file with an address, and whispered just one word before leaving.

“Please.”

In the little time you'd stood before him, Frank had still been able to see how scared and ashamed you'd been of what you were asking of him. It had been this reaction more than anything that had him opening the file and doing his research before taking his shot.

The evening after he'd taken care of the target, you'd appeared on his doorstep again. He had barely had the time to fully open the door before you'd pressed into his body and sobbed uncontrollably. His arms had instantly wrapped around you and pulled you into the apartment, where he'd held you on the couch until you'd calmed down. With embarrassment all over your face, you'd pulled away from him with an apology and started to rise, only for Frank to hold you still by gently grabby your wrist. That night, you and Frank had come to an agreement to help each other out. You never talked about any of it, however. Being it you giving him a new name or him coming to you for information, you never talked about what would happen once either of you left.

Things had changed again after months of this going on. You'd slowly begun spending more time together before exchanging information, and Frank had even agreed a few times to stay over for dinner. The conversation had flown easily enough, but you'd taken extra care in avoiding the topic that had you sort of working together in the first place. No matter how many times you had sought his help or he yours, he'd been able to tell that it was far from easy on you. As he'd been leaving one evening after dinner, you'd surprised him by kissing him. You'd stared at him with wide eyes a second later, but Frank hadn't let you get out the apology you'd probably been about to say, and leaned in to kiss you into silence.

Rolling onto his back on the bed after putting on a pair of sweatpants, Frank stared at the ceiling with a huff and rubbed over his face. This was getting out of hand. You might not be in a relationship, and Frank had never intended this thing between you to become more than just something of a friend with benefits or even fuck body thing. Yet, Frank couldn't deny that the feelings he had for you weren't as simple as that. You might not talk about the things that Frank did when it came to your agreement, but you still knew things about him that only few people like Curtis, Matt, or Karen did. So having you pull away from him only had him realize how much his feelings for you had changed.

Frank's gaze returned to the bathroom as you came out of it, dressed again and pulling at the collar of your shirt. His jaw ticked as he saw you glance at him briefly before averting your eyes again and looking toward the bedroom door and then down.

“Uh… listen, Frank… I – I think we should – should stop. Stop this… I-” you stammered without looking at him.

Frank blinked a few times before his jaw hardened. He knew that you weren't talking about your arrangement, but about the physical aspect of your relationship. He felt like he should have seen it coming, considering your behavior towards him. It still didn't make any sense to him. If you didn't want him like that anymore, he would accept it, but he couldn't help but feel like there was something off. You'd been upfront with everything from the start, meaning that your elusiveness was wholly unexpected. That's why he said the next word instead of simply agreeing.

“Why?”

Clearly, you had expected him to go with it like he would have any other time because your eyes widened briefly, and you suddenly stilled in your act of putting your shoes back on. You licked your lips and looked away from him before answering.

“I just think it's better that way,” you said softly and finished with your shoes.

Frank got off the bed and joined you, noticing the way your back went rigid at his approach. He frowned.

“Did I-”

“You didn't do anything wrong, Frank,” you talked over him, shooting him a small, but sincere smile before turning around and starting to leave.

A small, sincere and sad smile.

Something inside Frank loosened when he finally saw what was going on. He smiled and ducked his head with a small shake.

“Why?” he repeated, his voice low and soothing. He was relieved to see you stop in the doorway and walked up to you, coming to a halt a few inches away from your back. “Why?”

Your head fell forward, and Frank saw your body shaking with some unshed emotion.

“Frank,” you pleaded, your despair wrenching at his soul like that first night you'd come to him.

This time, however, you didn't leave before hearing his reply. Frank moved up behind you to wrap his arms around you and press his forehead to your shoulder. He was as scared as you about what was happening between you two.

“It's okay, Sweetheart… 'cause you're fallin' with me.”

His feelings for you were clear, but he couldn't say the actual words out loud yet. Just as much as he knew that you weren't ready to say them either. The feeling still too raw and new to be formed into words.

You heard him loud and clear, nonetheless, since you collapsed against him with a choked out sob. Turning you around to face him, Frank pulled you tight against him and closed his eyes as you hugged him fast.

It would be alright, as long as you were falling together.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle angst #reader insert #gn reader #the punisher #jon bernthal #frank castle fanfiction #mes fics

159 notes · View notes

frvnkcastles · 1 year

Text

WRETCHED & JOYFUL ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank sees your scars for the first time.

Warnings: DESCRIPTIONS OF S*LF-H*RM SCARS. Please proceed with caution. Some making out, doesn’t go all the way to smut.

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: I broke my 3 month streak recently and wrote this to process. Much love to anyone who might relate <3

The weight of his body on top of yours felt secure and all-encompassing, the warmth and firmness of his bare chest stealing away the little breath you had left between seared kisses. His arms were over your head, closing you against the mattress, and you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and let the moment consume you.

It felt like a dream, one that you had repeated an endless amount of times, but this time, the feeling of his lips and the scent of his cologne were all real and not a mere figment of your imagination.

Right here, right now, this moment was perfect.

It wasn’t the first time Frank kissed you, and right now you doubted it would be the last, but you had never been like this — enveloped between his firm body and your soft mattress, the buttons of his shirt drawn open and his chest for your hands to wander across, and your breath hitched in your throat as he moved to kiss down your neck and his stubble grazed your skin.

It was entirely too overwhelming, in the best possible way, but enough to numb your mind from any mundane thoughts, any daily worries that haunted you whenever he wasn’t there. That was why you didn’t hesitate when his large hand dipped to the hem of your sweater — why it slipped your mind that undressing you came with the burden of what hid beneath.

Frank’s eyes roamed all over you, hungry and curious as he sat back just enough to take in the sight of you, his hands balling up your sweater and tossing it onto the floor without a second thought. With your eyes heavy with intoxication of him, you watched his chest rise and fall as he watched you beneath him, the denim of his jeans abrasive against your bare thighs.

Then, his gaze found your arm, and the half-hearted smirk on his lips fell. You recognized the look instantly, and you were punched in the gut with the realization that in your need for him, you had forgotten to worry about revealing all of you to him — and tonight, you weren’t concerned about dips of soft flesh or stretches of imperfect skin as much as you were about them. The scars.

A lump rose in your throat, and panic delved into your heart as you silently watched Frank process.

”Sweetheart…”, he finally spoke up, his voice husky and heavy with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. But it wasn’t all pity — it was, on some level, understanding, and that somehow broke your heart even harder.

”Hey, we can pretend like I ain’t see a thing”, he continued, suddenly more of his assured self when he saw the fear in your wide eyes. Fear of what, exactly, he couldn’t pinpoint. Of rejection? Judgment? Well, he had hoped you’d expect better of him, but he understood. He did. He didn’t want to push or pressure, not when you looked like a single touch would shatter you right there and then — so he waited patiently, leaving it to you to tell him what you wanted.

”It’s okay”, you finally managed, your lip trembling slightly as you sat up on the pillows, brushing your hand across your scarred arm and not missing the way Frank tensed when you did. Still, there was something safe in the way he softly looked you over, convincing you to speak up. ”I—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But it’s… not my favorite thing to constantly hide from you”, you hesitated, and swallowing, Frank sat down opposite from you and gave you a slow nod.

”You don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. But I promise, you ain’t gotta hide with me. Shit, you deal with my messes every goddamn day, yeah? I’mma stick by you all the same”, he promised, making sure to keep his eyes on yours, not staring at the faded scars littered across your arm. He remained patient and respectful with you, and you certainly noticed.

”Promise I’m not gonna scare you away?” you asked with a quiet chuckle and repeating the sound, Frank ducked his head briefly before glancing up at you.

”Promise.” He spoke so sternly, you couldn’t help but believe him. When he reached for your hand, you extended your arm over to him and let him encompass your smaller fingers against his palm. ”Y’know I love you, right?” he asked quietly, then, almost shy, and you melted into a smile.

”I know, Frankie. I love you, too”, you whispered before leaning over to him to press a kiss against his beaten nose. ”And don’t ever think you’ve caused any of this”, you pleaded, and with a hesitant nod, he made a silent promise. You knew him well enough to know he wanted to blame himself, which was why you were glad when he asked for clarification.

”You don’t gotta answer this. Aight? I make you uncomfortable, you tell me to shut the fuck up”, he insisted, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. ”What, uh… What’s… How come, y’know?” he asked, stumbling, just a hint awkward but you appreciated his attempt to remain respectful.

You swallowed. It was a loaded question, but one you wanted to help him understand. ”Sometimes it just hurts too much. Too many loud thoughts in my head at once, too many overwhelming feelings… I guess, in some weird way, I just want to be heard. To be taken seriously. I’m hurting but when it’s on the inside…”, you struggled to find the right words. But the look in Frank’s eyes suggested that maybe he understood.

”Yeah, hey… I hear you, sweetheart. I ain’t sayin’ it’s the same, but that, uh… that makes sense to me, I s’pose”, he licked his lips, still holding your hand with soft caresses against your skin. ”And you’ve seen me. I got plenty of my scars, too. You’ve never once judged me, huh?” he reminded, and with a soft smile, you nodded.

A silence fell in the room, and you wondered if, after all, it had been a bit too much.

”Kinda ruined the mood, huh?” you chuckled nervously, and rushing to interject you with a pfft, Frank gripped your hand a bit tighter.

”Nah, don’t say that. I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he gave you a grave look before gesturing at his lap. ”C’mere”, he whispered, and unsure what he was planning, you slowly crawled to straddle his hips, your hands landing on his chest while his came to rest on your waist.

”What are you thinking?” you asked with bated breath, watching his eyes as they eyed your arm with your permission, allowing him to take in the sight fully.

Slowly, Frank reached for your wrist and held your arm up so he could place a kiss along the scars, followed by another one, and another, and another…

”I think you’re beautiful”, he murmured, looking up into your eyes in a way that sent your heart reeling and stomach flipping. ”Fuckin’ beautiful and goddamn brave. You amaze me, sweetheart. So strong”, he showered you with praise, leaning in to kiss your jaw — not so heated this time, promising you that he had no ulterior motive, only the hope of showing you even a sliver of the affection and love you deserved.

”That’s bold coming from you”, you argued with a content sigh, and with a protesting grumble rising up his chest, Frank leaned into you more.

”This ain’t ’bout me. I fuckin’ adore you, ’s what I think”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you broke into a faint smile, he couldn’t help but do the same. ”Means a lot you’d share with me. And hey, any time you need me to hold your hand through the urge, you lemme know. I’m all in”, Frank continued, his low voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and softly shushing you, Frank wrapped his arms around you and let you drop your head to his shoulder. He hugged you, his firm hands holding you tight as you cried, so grateful and so safe in his arms.

And while it wasn’t a fix or a solution, his promise to stand by your side was hope.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #tw: sh

285 notes · View notes

stcverogers · 2 years

Text

AUGUST FIC RECS 1!

what i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the first half of august

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series

masterlist

STEVE ROGERS

F: before you go by @world-of-aus 𖥻 steve is a trucker who is stuck in a snowstorm and has to seek refuge in a small inn. one week in the quaint town and he's found himself falling in love with the inn's owner.

F + A: the night we met by @avengerofyourheart 𖥻 one night, that was all you got with steve. years later, he returns and realise that much has changed since.

F: airport scenes always make me cry by @demonpoxballad you and steve watch love, actually

F + A: mirrors by @bonky-n-steeb 𖥻 you're the new PA for steve rogers and as much as he wishes to make a move on you, his ex wife is holding him back.

F + A: no questions asked by @pellucid-constellations steve does what he does out of love

F + A: love and medicine by @just-dreaming-marvel 𖥻 what happens when you start your first day as an intern in your local hospital, only to find out that your one night stand from last night is your new superior.

F: losing composure by @marvelettesassemblenow you lose a bet to bucky and have to dress up as an USO girl

F + A: brooklyn, thursday night by @intrepidacious when the blip happens, steve can't find a single thing to be thankful for on thanksgiving

F: birthday escape by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend the avengers have planned a surprise party for steve and he is determined to not attend it

F + A: by the strength of his heart by @irisofeden hercules rewritten with steve rogers

SEBASTIAN STAN + CHARACTERS

F + A: the last name by @demonpoxballad 𖥻 your last name is all bucky has to remember you by. his memories come back in hitches and he is determined to find you again.

F: new teacher on the block by @galaxy-siren 𖥻 the teachers in midtown high have a wager on whether the english and physics teacher will admit their mutual feelings for each other.

F + A: the two of us by @bucky-bucket-barnes 𖥻 you and bucky investigate the strange occurences of westview. however, you find yourselves getting sucked into the hex.

F + A: no such thing by @sanguineterrain 𖥻 bucky barnes is the absolute bane of your existance. after you interview him for your school's newspaper, he seems to show up everywhere you go.

F: first look by @atlasbarnes bucky never believed in love at first sight till he saw you

F + A: cold by @wvintersoldat you absolutely cannot stand bucky barnes. never have, never will.

F + A: wrong choice, right places by @mvtthewmurdvck 𖥻 falling in love with you was not a part of bucky's job description

FRANK 'THE PUNISHER' CASTLE

F: easy early mornings by @fanboygarcia waking up to frank next to you is the best feeling in the world

S: the game by @chrisevansredbelt two can play that game

S: cute by @jaceyneedsabetterusername to frank, you have always been just a next door neighbour. when you become neighbours again years later, you've become the girl next door

S: kiss it better by @lordabovehelpme frank castle is a gentle lover

S: sit around and miss you by @ohcaptains you would stay at home looking pretty for frank any day

S: west coast by @mrsswaino frank proves just how much he loves you

S: honey by @babybugwrites just. like. honey.

MATTHEW 'DAREDEVIL' MURDOCK

F: large black coffee by @daring-the-devil 𖥻 you own a small cafe in hell's kitchen

F + A: bruises by @goldustwomun no matter how battered and bruised, you will always be there for matt

F: the seven stages of matt murdock’s jealousy by @alrighty-matty matt murdock was not a jealous person. absolutely not.

PIETRO 'QUICKSILVER' MAXIMOFF

F: lumea mea by @tommiruewrites you know pietro loves you, even if you may not be able to understand what he's saying

A: the perfect distraction by @ficnacs you are sucked into wanda's hex

F + A: at the end of the day by @acciopietro pietro reminds you that at the end of the day, you should always put yourself first

F: hidden treasures by @haunteddelusiontale pietro was supposed to be dead, right?

F + A: truly, madly, deeply by @mendesxruel no matter how severe of an argument, pietro still manages to show you how much he loves you

F: seven evil exes by @inpraizeof you recount all seven of your exes to the black widow

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: welcome home by @anna-phora bob is utterly and fully in love with you

F: things one, two, three, and four by @callsignbob there are four things bob looks forward to everyday

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F + A: see you soon by @sunnysidevans you see hangman for the first time in years

F + A: getting even by @lass-that-is-gone jake seresin makes your job ten times more difficult than it should be

S: basic training by @welld0nebaku jake seresin is a sharp shooter

A + S: small doses by @purelyfiction stationed at top gun, you encounter a ghost of your past

A + S: fucked up by @twinklelilstarkey seresin needs to be put in his place

S: make me a... by @sunderlust hangman with a breeding kink

F + A: all bets are off by @rolycolysficrecs guys like jake don't like girls like you

S: competition by @enchanting-eloquence everything is a competition between hangman and rooster

F: caught by @heytheredelilah333 what the hell is jake seresin doing in your bath

F: do you love me by @wishfulwithwine hangman was full of surprises that night

F + A: we're only human by @obsessedasusual where you give jake the reminder that he is only human

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA + JOAQUÍN TORRES

F: since when? by @callsign-squints since when did fanboy have a wife

F: meeting the team by @peterman-spideyparker this was not how you intended to meet sam and bucky

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro x reader #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x reader #claire’s fic recs

683 notes · View notes

munsonownsmyass · 1 year

Text

Quality over Quantity

Billy Russo x reader (aaaand some Frank Castle x reader)

Summary: You miss going to the movies while on deployment. Billy decides to give you a surprise, but it doesn't go quite the way he planned.

Notes: I have no idea how life while deployment is like, so sorry for any errors. But hey, fiction. And in this world Frank haven't met Maria yet. This is the first time writing Frank... and also first time writing a threesome, so be gentle 😅

Also thank you to @thisishellfire for sending this request ❤️

If people like this, I have an idea for a part 2. So let me know 😅🙈

Warnings: Oh God, so many. Fluff, pining, kissing. SMUT! Oral (m and f receiving), fingering (both vag and anal), unprotected sex, anal sex, juices for lube (I know, but I dont think marines carry around lube), double penetration, cock warming. Feelings and more fluff.

Words: 3.1 K

If there was one thing you missed when being away on deployment, it was movies. Sitting there in the dark, eating your popcorn while enjoying a movie. You, Billy, and Frank had talked about what you were looking forward to the most about getting home again. For you, it was a silly little thing like a movie. But that would still be months away. So for now, you were settling for one of Billy’s books.

“Hey there, short stack.” Billy teases as he sits down on his bed opposite yours. Eyes never leaving the book, you just flip him the finger and even though you don’t look, you know he’s flashing you his brightest smile. “Aw, is that how you greet all your friends?”

“Who says we’re friends?” You counter with a smile, eliciting a chuckle from Billy. When he still doesn’t move, you close your book and look at him. “What, Billy?”

“I have a surprise for you.” He’s very excited, practically jumping in his seat. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. You’re about to dismiss him, knowing better than to trust Billy after some of the pranks he’s pulled on you. But when he stares at you with those deep dark eyes, how can you refuse? With a heavy sigh you sit up on the bed.

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, still confused. He leads you out of your quarters while you make small protests and into one of the abandoned tents on base. “Billy, what are we doin-”

But you stop, speechless at the sight before you. A small, slightly worn couch with some pillows and some crates with a laptop on top. What is this? And where did he even find a couch?

“I know it’s not a movie theater and-” he walks to the couch where he pulls out some water bottles and a small bowl of popcorn and gummy bears. “This is nowhere near as good as the large popcorn you usually devour and the giant soda, but you missed watching movies, so.” He shrugs, smiling softly.

“Billy, I…” You don’t even know what to say. This is really so sweet and so unexpected. Half expecting it’s all just a prank because of what you told him and Frank yesterday, you’re weary about sitting down. Billy, who clearly senses your apprehension, walks up to you, his smile faltering a bit.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you.” He looks away, about to walk out of the tent when you stop him.

“Thank you. It’s really sweet of you. It’s just so unexpected.”

“I can be nice, you know?” He says with a grin, that perfect boyish smile of his that always make you weak in the knees.

“Okay, so…” He sits down, powering up the laptop while you join him. “I borrowed this from Stevenson, but she only have a few movies saved on this one and she has a horrible taste in movies.” Billy makes a horrified face that makes you laugh as he opens the folder. “There’s a chick flick, some drama or that Gray thing. Could be horror.”

When you see one of your favorite films, Dorian Gray, you squeal with joy, only confusing Billy. “Are you kidding me? Dorian Gray? I love that movie! Ben Barnes looks so good in that one.”

You do a little excited dance in your seat, and you can tell Billy have already regretted doing this for you. But as he sees your smile, he just rolls his eyes and start the movie.

It’s barely been a minute before you sigh softly. Billy chuckles beside you, clearly finding it amusing how attracted you are to the man on screen. But you haven’t been on a date in ages, haven’t had sex in months, so could he really blame you?

“He is so cute.” You sigh, stuffing another gummy bear into your mouth. If only there were men like him in real life. Well, the things Dorian does are questionable, but the hotness would be great. Billy shift beside you, causing you to look at him. He actually does look a little like the actor, if he grew out his hair and removed the beard. And well… If he was younger. “You look a lot like him, actually.”

“Oh, so you think I’m cute?” He smirks, nudging your shoulder.

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re gorgeous.”

You don’t even have to look at him to know that shit eating grin of his is there as he is staring you down. You just ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at him again.

28 minutes into the movie is the scene that always leave you yearning. There’s something about the look in Dorian’s eyes that would make you do whatever that man asked of you. Without even thinking, you clench your legs together with a heavy sigh.

“If anyone ever gave me that look, I’d suck their dick in a second.”

“Really?” Billy asks curiously, turning his body slightly towards yours. But you don’t even notice, to focused on the screen. A soft ‘yeah’ leave your lips, the yearning palpable. It’s been months since you were with someone and in this moment you don’t even care if Billy thinks you’re pathetic.

You feel him shift beside you and when you look at him, Billy is giving you the same look as Dorian. Eyes dark with desire, full of promises of all the pleasure to come.

“What are you… Wait, do you want me to…?”

With a smile, Billy starts to unbuckle his pants. You stop him, your hand gently moving his away. Your hand travel along his waistband, unbuttoning his pants with ease. Slowly, you pull the zipper down, your eyes never leaving Billy’s.

Your finger digs under his waistband, pulling his pants down with ease. Billy’s cock springs free, already hard and leaking precum. His dark eyes watch your every move, as you fall to your knees between his legs, gently pushing them apart before your hand grip around the base of his cock.

Billy lets out a sigh, his right hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as you slowly run your hand up and down his shaft. He leans back, his eyes shut in pleasure, as you lick up the length of his cock. His hand in your hair tightens while his free hand grips at the couch, his dark eyes now opens as he focuses on your tongue sliding around the head of his cock.

“How the movie-” Frank’s voice interrupts you and as both you and Billy look to the opening, Frank is rooted in place, shocked over the sight before him.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Billy asks, his voice soft but demanding, his hand in your hair pulling your attention back to him. Well aware that Frank is staring at you, your face turns bright red as you once again focus on Billy’s aching cock.

His body shudders with pleasure as you take him into your mouth, his heels digging into the floor to keep him grounded. You take his cock deeper, drawing a sweet moan from Billy’s lips. Your tongue dance over his heated skin, drool slipping past your lips and down his throbbing cock.

Billy looks to the side, seeing Frank still standing in the doorway, staring intently at the way you work his cock. “Enjoying the show, Frankie?” Billy moans as you take him to the root, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck sweetheart.” Frank breathes out, his hand travelling to his cock to adjust himself. His eyes linger on you when you pull back, until only Billy’s tip remains in your mouth, lightly sucking the head. Your eyes find Billy’s, a mischievous grin as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Good girl. Sure you don’t want in on this, Frankie?” Billy tears his eyes away from yours, looking into Franks eyes. Swallowing hard, he turns and close the tent door, making sure no one else could enter. Slowly, he makes his way over to the couch, his eyes never leaving your mouth working Billy’s thick length.

Gripping your hair, Billy pulls you off his cock, his free hand caressing your cheek. “You’ve done so good baby. Now, get your ass onto the couch.”

“Wait.” Frank stops you once you’re on your feet, quickly removing your pants and underwear. With the help from Billy, they get you onto the couch, Billy claiming your lips in a heated kiss as Frank kiss down the column of your neck. Working in sync, they remove your tank top and bra, leaving you naked between them.

Billy’s mouth soon joins Franks, peppering kisses on your soft skin. He moves down your body, now his turn to be on his knees in front of you. Placing soft kisses on your inner thighs, he watches as Frank kiss you hard, your hand traveling to the bulge in his pants.

“Why don’t you show Frank how good you are with that mouth, baby girl, while I take care of you?”

Frank unbuckles his pants, making quick work at removing them, revealing his thick length. You grin, tongue running over your lips before placing them around the head of Frank’s cock. He gasps at the feeling, been months since he’s felt the touch of anything besides his own hand. His brown eyes watch you intently as your mouth encircles him, sucking gently.

“Feel good, Frankie?” Billy ask with a smile, as he place a tender kiss on your mound. You gasp around Frank’s cock, moaning as Billy’s tongue lick up your slit. He gives a low growl, and his tongue flicks out to taste her again. His tongue works against her heated sex, tasting, sucking and nibbling on the tender flesh. Billy push two fingers into you, working you open as you suck Franks cock with greed.

Franks hips buck into your mouth, driving his cock deeper into your throat as his hand grips your hair, holding you in place. You gag around his length as Frank continues to thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby doll.” He gasps, his eyes closing in bliss at the feeling of your warm tongue on his cock. “So good. You’re so good.”

You moan out loud, having never felt this good before. Billy’s fingers keep hitting that sweet spot inside you and his talented tongue helping, bringing you closer to the edge. Frank’s free hand cups your cheek, caressing you as he whispers soft praises over how well you take his cock.

It only takes a few more flicks of Billy’s tongue before you come, Billy’s name falling from your lips as you come undone. He works you through it, kissing and licking softly as you come down from your high. He looks at Frank, the two of them exchanging a smile.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” Frank praises, his thumb rubbing your cheek in soothing circles.

“So perfect.” Billy follows, kissing your thighs before looking up at you.

“B-Billy…” You whimper, your breathing still strained. Billy’s hands caress your thighs, his lust blown eyes locked with yours. “What is it, baby?”

“More.” You pant, your pleading eyes darting between Billy and Frank. “I need more…” You whisper. Billy’s eyes widen and he looks at Frank with a smile.

“What do you say, Frankie? Should we give her what she wants?” Billy get up off the floor, kneeling on the couch beside you. His pants hand loose on his hips, his throbbing cock begging for attention. but he tears your gaze away, looking into your eyes as he gives you a soft kiss. “You want us both, sweetheart?”

“Yes… Please.” You whimper. Billy sits down on the couch, pulling you in to straddle his lap. Frank walks up behind you, brushing the hair away from your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder and neck. Billy’s hands squeeze your hips gently, pulling you closer against his erection.

With just a glance, Billy and Frank come to an agreement. Frank’s fingers gather some of your juices, one of his thick digits pressing against your tight hole. You gasp at the feeling, but soon forget as Billy start rubbing your clit. As Frank continues to work your ass open, Billy makes sure you feel good and relax for them. You come hard, his soft-spoken praises in your ear once again bringing you over the edge.

“What do you say, sweetheart? You ready for us?” Billy asks tenderly, his smooth voice causing you to shiver. Frank’s hands caress your hips, waiting for you to speak. They patiently wait for you, not wanting to move before you do. You nod, cheeks flushed red as you feel both men’s gaze on you.

Frank leans in, his breath ghosting over the soft skin of your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear, before he hums. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Y-yes. Please.”

Delicately, almost like they’re afraid you’ll break, Billy lift you up, lining his weeping cock up at your entrance. Slowly he lowers you onto his aching length until he’s fully sheathed in your velvety heat. You shudder above him, gasping as his thick cock stretch you open.

“Fuck, Billy.” You gasp out his name, bracing yourself against him as he pulls out and thrust back into you. Lost in the feeling of him, you forget about Frank until he chuckles softly behind you, patting your ass playfully.

“You forgot I was here, beautiful? Does Billy’s cock feel that good?” He nipples at your ear, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. Your whine is all the confirmation they need, a happy smirk forming on Billy’s beautiful face. Billy gestures to Frank, pulling you closer to make more room for him. Frank takes the hint, gathering up some of your slick and his own spit, wetting his cock.

“This may hurt, sweetheart. Just breathe.” He coos, lining his cock up at your tight entrance. You tense for a second, but forget it all when Billy claims your lips in a passionate kiss. His finger on your clit distracts you, making you relax as Frank push the head of his cock inside.

You whimper as Frank push in slowly, taking his time. Billy leaves a trail of kisses down the column of your neck, whispering softly in you ear of how good you are while Frank caress your back, easing into you. With some patience, Frank push himself all the way to the hilt, growling as he bottoms out.

It’s all too much, both of them fully sheathed in you, their throbbing cocks stretching you open. Billy’s fingers still dance over your clit, their free hands caressing your curves.

“You okay there, baby?” Billy ask, his eyes fixed on your even though they are closed from pure bliss. With a barely audible yes that makes both men grin, they start moving.

Moving in sync, the men breathe hard against you, both of them thrusting into you faster. You’ve never been more full, more satisfied in your life. Throwing your head back against Frank, he kiss your neck, fucking you harder.

“Nah, Frankie. She’s mine.” Billy breathes out, thrusting deeper as he cups your cheek, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You moan against his lips when suddenly, another wave of pleasure wash over you. With Billy’s name on your lips, you come harder than you’ve ever done before.

Billy feels another wave of pleasure at how vulnerable you look. Usually you’re strong, independent and feisty. But now, in this moment, you look so small, delicate. Completely at their mercy and honestly he’s never wanted you more. Your cheeks flushed, eyes clouded with lust and tears in the corners of your eyes from the sheer pleasure you feel from them both.

“Fuck!” Frank grunts from behind, gripping your hips so hard its sure to leave bruises as he buries his cock in you, spilling his hot seed in you. The sight of Frank’s face torn in pleasure and you moaning out their names in bliss, is too much for Billy. He throws his head back as he gives in. He comes hard, filling you with his cum as your name spill over his lips.

You stay like this for a moment, only the sound of your shared breathing filling the tent. You’re slumped against Billy, his cock still throbbing inside you, as Frank stand panting behind you, hands loosing on your hips. When Frank pulls out slowly, you open your eyes only to see Billy with his shut with the biggest smile on his face.

When he opens his eyes, his dark orbs find yours. His eyes are softer now, the way he’s looking at you different than before. But even though you secretly like Billy, you dare not hope, knowing how he is with women.

But what you didn’t know was that for the first time, Billy truly saw you. Your cheeks red, eyes still unfocused and your hair a mess. But most of all he saw your smile. God, you’re truly beautiful. Your eyes find his, softer whenever you look at him than with anyone else.

Sensing the shift between you and Billy, Frank picks his pants up from the floor, the action causing both you and Billy to look at him. Suddenly you feel guilty over the attention you’ve given Billy, never wanting Frank to think he wasn’t wanted.

“Frank, I-”

“No need to worry about me, baby.” He give you a boyish smile as he close his pants, closing the gab between you. “I still had fun.”

Giving you one last soft kiss, he begins to walk away, but turn hallway to the tent opening. “Besides… I got this girl at home I’ve been wanting to take on a date. Quality, you know.”

He gives Billy a little wink, before he walks out of the tent, leaving you and Billy alone. That’s when you realize you’re still naked and his softening cock still is inside you. Suddenly you feel very exposed, the confidence from before gone and left only the insecurity you’ve always felt around Billy. You know you’re nothing like the girls be brag about from home. But the smile on his face gives you hope that maybe, just maybe, you’re not just another notch in his belt.

“Even though it didn’t go as I planned, I hope you still like the surprise.” Billy says, gently brushing your wild hair behind your ear.

“I did.” You chuckle, running your hands down his chest, to the little scar on his belly. “What did Frank mean by quality?”

He just smiles, grabbing one of the blankets beside him, wrapping it around your shoulders. Pulling you into his embrace, he kiss you softly before letting you rest against his chest. “Just something Frank told me the other day. And I think I know what he was talking about now.”

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @realfernmayo @mindidjarin @mattmurdocksscars @lucy-sky

And taking a chance with these tags (feel very free to ignore): @kayhi808 @k-marzolf @darlingshane @fluffyprettykitty @idaoftheburningmind

#billy russo x reader #frank castle x reader #billy russo x reader x frank castle #billy russo fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #billy russo #frank castle #the punisher fanfiction

269 notes · View notes

shiorimakibawrites · 8 months

Text

Shiori's Fan Fic Masterlist

This is my general masterlist for my fan fiction, gathered here to make it easier to find what you are looking for.

In addition to current WIP, previews for upcoming stories will also be posted.

Anything marked as smut is not appropriate for minors. Image description is supposed to be the ALT but please let me know if it isn't working.

Likewise, please alert me to any broken links or if you would like to be added to any of character or series taglists.

My work is also posted on A03.

My fan fiction recommendations can be found here.

MATT MURDOCK

Now has his own masterlist which can be found here.

FRANK CASTLE

Series

A Vigilante and a Gentlemen

Image Credit:kissmegoodbye.net / Jakub Kapusnak (Unsplash) / Kevin Turcios (Unsplash)

Rating: 18+ for canon-typical violence and eventual smut Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Summary: You are an office manager and aspiring novelist. One day when you are walking to work, you past a construction site where the men began to catcall. With the exception of one who stops the others in their tracks. You find yourself intrigued by this rather mysterious man who calls himself Pete Castiglione. It helps that he keeps taking off his shirt in the summer heat. Genre: Fluff, Romance, Drama Current Status: ONGOING, Part 1 - Code of Conduct has been posted. Part 2 - Untitled is TBA.

Port in a Storm

Overall Rating: 18+ Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem! Reader Genre: Romance, Drama, Murder Mystery Working Summary: One night during a nasty storm, a mysterious stranger comes to your door looking for help. His arrival at your home coincides with the beginning of a deadly conspiracy, a danger from your past that threatens not only your life but the lives of your children. Is this handsome stranger your enemy or your salvation? Series Warnings (Subject To Change): Canon-typical violence, temporary character deaths, permanent character deaths, murder, mentions/worries of suicide, original child characters, eventual explicit sex Current Status: UPCOMING, Part 1 - Untitled is TBA.

One Shots

One of Those Days (fluff): You have a bad day but Frank makes it all better. Frank Castle x Reader

MICHAEL KINSELLA

Series

Rhapsody

Image Credit: kissmegoodbye.net / Qui Ngyuen (Unsplash) / Mayur Gala (Unsplash)

Rating: 18+ for canon-typical violence and smut Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Summary: You have always had a weakness for bad boys. Which why you were surprised to find yourself charmed by a man named Michael Kinsella, who is as sweet as he is handsome. But there is more to Michael than meets the eye. Genre: Romance, Drama Current Status: UPCOMING, Part 1 - Blank Space is in the current writing queue. *All Chapter Titles will be the name of a song. Not always a Taylor Swift.

A Brand New Ending

Overall Rating: 18+ Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem! Reader Genre: Drama, Romance, Crime, Family Working Summary: On a visit to Dublin, you run into your ex-boyfriend Michael Kinsella in a pub. You get to talking to each other. You kiss him. And the next morning, you wake up in his bed, naked and pleasantly sore. You would have loved to stay but a family emergency calls you away. A couple months later, you discover that you are pregnant. You always wanted to be a mother but to your disappointment, it seems like Michael isn’t so eager to become a father again . . . Series Warnings (Subject To Change): Canon-typical violence, explicit sex, pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, discussion of previous miscarriage, fear of miscarriage, deception, referenced sexual assault, referenced child abuse, domestic violence, drugs and drug trafficking, organized crime, murder, epilepsy, seizures, referenced character deaths. Current Status: UPCOMING, Part 1 - Untitled is TBA.

One Shots

Warm (smut): Michael keeps you warm. In more ways than one. Michael Kinsella x Fem! Reader. Written for Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge.

PETER PARKER / SPIDER-MAN

Series

Legacy

Overall Rating: 16+ Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem! Reader Genre: Superhero Adventures, Strangers to Lovers Romance Working Summary: Your father Matt Murdock disappeared along with half the universe. He never wanted you fighting but you cannot stand by while all of his hard work is destroyed. Hell’s Kitchen needs its Devil. As you patrol the nighttime streets, you meet another young hero who is struggling to uphold the legacy of his own mentors. Series Warnings (Subject To Change): Canon-typical violence, temporary character deaths, permanent character deaths, grief, mourning, bullying, ableism, eventual making out Current Status: UPCOMING, Part 1 - Untitled is TBA.

Adrift

Overall Rating: 16+ Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem! Reader Genre: Drama, Slow Burn Romance Working Summary: Things have been hard since you came back to life. You were gone for five years and that time everything changes. All of your old friends moved on. Your parents had another kid. School is different. Even over a year later, your life still doesn’t feel like yours anymore. Then you meet two other lonely souls struggling with the same feelings that you are – your coworker Peter Parker and the vigilante Spider-Man. Series Warnings (Subject To Change): Canon-typical violence, referenced temporary and permanent character deaths, alienation, depression, guilt, self-doubt, suicidal thoughts, worries about self-harm and/or suicide attempts, eventual making out Current Status: UPCOMING, Part 1 - Untitled is TBA.

OTHER

Events

Flightless Angel Wing's Kinkotober 2023 - Personal Masterlist

Castlevania (2017 - 2021)

Silence of the Mind (angst, hurt no comfort): All Trevor Belmont wanted was the silence of the mind.

66 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 10 months

Text

masterlist.

reader & prompt(s) below each title. warnings are noted on each fic.

FRANKIE MORALES:

⋆ Caught Out 18+ f!reader. spice/friends to lovers. “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, I was just..” “Want some help?”

⋆ Cold to the Touch 18+ f!reader. smut & angst. “It hurts...” “What?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you...” "Why are you so cold?" "I do not have an answer for you." "Don't call me that." “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest.” “Can I kiss you?”

⋆ Attention Seeker gn!reader. fluff. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

MARCUS PIKE:

⋆ For Him gn!reader. fluff. “You wrote me a song?”

⋆ Rough Lines 18+ f!reader. YSE/RTY universe. angst & smut. “Is that a drawing of me?”

DIN DJARIN:

⋆ Say You'll Stay 18+ f!reader. angst/smut.

⋆ Before You Go f!reader. angst. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

⋆ Uncertain Intimacy 18+ f!reader. fluff & spice. “Can I kiss you?”

JACK DANIELS:

⋆ Stepping Stones 18+ f!reader. smut/angst/fluff.

⋆ Errands 18+ f!reader. Smut/fluff. "Can we go home yet?"

DAVE YORK:

⋆ Your Taste I Crave 18+ f!reader. smut. “You know where to find me.”

PERO TOVAR:

⋆ Greedy f!reader. fluffy/spicy. "I have no idea what you're talking about." “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

⋆ Don't Hide From Me 18+ f!reader. soft smut. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

JAVIER PENA:

⋆ Stuck of You 18+ f!reader. smut. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” “I'm going to fuck you until you forget that assholes name.”

⋆ Before My Eyes 18+ f!reader. spicy/smut. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” “You’re so fucking cute.”

⋆ Gaze Into Me

f!reader. fluff & smut. “I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you.”

⋆ Rule Breaker 18+ f!reader. smut. “Just once.”

EZRA:

⋆ Close Calls f!reader. Angst. “This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you."

STEVEN GRANT:

⋆ Tear Into My Heart f!reader. angst. “I fucking hate you” “Let me do this, please.” “You’re my everything.”

⋆ Sunny Days: gn!reader. fluff. “I love seeing you smile.”

RICK FLAG:

⋆ Hear Me f!reader. angst. “The first time you smiled it felt like the universe aligned.”

FRANK CASTLE:

⋆ Close Up 18+ f!reader. smut. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

#foli's 3k #might as well share it now #and continue to update as i go #so the fics don’t get lost y’know #frankie morales x reader #marcus pike x reader #din djarin x reader #jack daniels x reader #dave york x reader #pero tovar x reader #javier pena x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #steven grant x reader #rick flag x reader #frank castle x reader

88 notes · View notes

divineecelestial · 1 year

Text

Bloodied Hands — Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary — Frank Castle shouldn't like you. He has a mission to complete and his hands are far too bloodstained for someone like you, but, God, he can't help himself.

Word Count — 24k (yeah, you read that right. Sorry.)

Warnings — Graphic depictions of violence and death, use of female pronouns, and [Y/N] but is written in third-point-of-view. Slow-burn.

Author's Note — This might be a series depending on if you guys like it and that will eventually contain smut and slow-burn. And this was originally written as OC and not as a reader insert but I edited it but if you still see an OC name or description, please let me know! :)

Greed was the underlying cause of everyone’s misdeeds. Some stalked the shadows for an opportunity to yank on someone’s polished pearls, and some bloodied their calloused fists for stacks of green. The people who [Y/N] had found herself growing exhausted with were the ones who placed themselves on thrones of manipulation and terror and ruled from the darkness of the city. She was tired of smelling the morning breeze and finding it still tainted with greed and illusion.

[Y/N] released a steady breath as she brought the handle of her flashlight between her teeth, pulling a hairpin from her scalp and kneeling on the carpeted floor. Breaking inside the District Attorney’s office was much easier than she initially thought it would’ve been. She managed to stealthily take a badge from one of the office employees as she was escorted from the premises earlier that morning. Truthfully, she was completely aware that she wasn’t going to speak with Samantha Reyes regarding Frank Castle. She predicted their dismissal and wasn’t shocked when Reyes had someone pull her from the building by her arm. She had counted on it. Escorted inside and outside provided two chances to memorize the design of the office space.

She knew any information worth some importance wasn’t going to be openly placed in some unguarded filing cabinet beside a water cooler. The discrepancies of Frank Castle were going to be concealed from the public eye, locked and placed in a dark corner. This narrowed her options to the DA’s office and her personal assistant’s office.

Her hairpin was thicker than she needed, but she managed to unlock the office door. There were orange and tan files strewn across the wooden desk, multi-colored notes taped around the computer screen, and crime scene photos neatly piled. [Y/N] raised the flashlight above her head, carefully flipping through the stacks of scribbled papers. There was nothing of importance and she pushed the chair to the side, kneeling on the floor. She smiled as she saw the shiny lock on the bottom drawer. Predictable.

With nimble fingers, she used the hairpin and struggled for a brief minute. She cursed at herself for not bringing her pick-locking kit with her. The subtle sound of the interlockings of the padlock shift was barely loud enough for her to hear, but she practically yanked the drawer open. She shuffled through the contents, a self-satisfied smirk rising as she found the bright orange file with black ink scribbled on the corner; ‘Frank Castle’.

There wasn’t much within the file. There were mostly crime scene photographs of his doings against the three gangs. She slowly examined each photograph, eyes memorizing every bloodied wound. She couldn’t believe one man was managing these crimes. At the bottom of the file was a large x-ray of Castle’s skull and brain with a bullet lodged inside. She could hear her father’s voice in the depths of her mind.

[Y/N], this wasn’t a suicide attempt. He would’ve been dead. Someone else did this and wasn’t very good at it.

She brought her camera and snapped photographs of the papers and pictures.

[Y/N] thought of the chilled breeze as she drove through the thoroughfares of New York City. She thought of the multi-colored lights that illuminated the night sky and she thought of the dull musings of each person that remained awake that night. She wondered if someone could feel the emotions she was plagued with every night, the loneliness and the violent rage that burned through her veins. She glanced at the empty passenger as the strangers of the night crossed the street. There was no one there and there wasn’t going to be another person there. The music quietly filled the car, some old song her father used to listen to and she forced herself to memorize the words. She must have listened to the song a thousand times, writing the words down with black ink over and over again until her hand ached.

The song repeated and she tapped her manicured hand on the leather of her steering wheel as she disappeared from the bright lights and drove through the suburban neighborhoods. She occasionally glanced down at a scrap of paper, reading the address over again each time. She should have chosen a less conspicuous car, she realized. She parked the car at the end of the street and the music ended and she was left alone in the darkness again. She smelled the fragrance of her perfume as she observed the steadiness of the neighborhood. She knew the Castle house was deserted, empty, and forgotten, but she found herself thinking someone was going to walk outside; Frank walking outside with a white and heavy trash bag or his children rushing to the lawn with a dog. But there was no one and nothing coming outside.

[Y/N] glanced around, smelling the wilted flowers on the sidewalk as she neared the porch of Frank Castle’s house. There was an American flag swaying gently with the wind and an empty mailbox that wasn’t going to be filled again. She wondered if anyone remembered them anymore or if anyone in this neighborhood glanced outside their windows for a second just to think about the slaughtered family. With light footsteps, she walked to the side door with a lock pick placed between her gloved fingers. Seconds passed and the door unlocked with ease. She hurried inside, closing the door lightly behind her. The house was still furnished and smelled like laundry detergent and forgotten memories. Everything remained the same and nothing was moved. The Castle family left their house never knowing they weren’t ever coming back. There were still toys scattered across the floor, dishes placed on the table, and couch pillows disarrayed. This house was empty but still filled with remnants of the dead.

She dragged a gloved finger across the kitchen countertop, wiping away the layer of gray dust. Across the foyer, [Y/N] caught the yellow beam of a flashlight before the beacon disappeared into nothingness. She tensed, the only sound she could hear was her breath calming. She wasn’t alone. Hushed, she pulled the handle of her sharpened blade from her holster. Her footsteps were light and air-like as she moved across the house, following the person who didn’t know they were being entirely visible in the depths of the shadows. With her back pressed against the wall, she peered over the wall of the foyer, eyebrows furrowing together as she noticed this was some woman. An ordinary woman dressed as if she was going to her office. The woman brought her heeled shoe to the first wooden step of the staircase, a bright light shining in her grasp. “What are you doing here,” [Y/N]’s voice was low, smooth like florid wine. The blonde woman reeled, pressing a pale hand to her mouth. The flashlight fell from her hand, inches from smashing onto the dusted floor before [Y/N] caught the device in one fluid movement. “Are you trying to let everyone in this neighborhood know we’re here?”

Karen thought for a second. If this woman were going to harm her, she would’ve brought that polished blade to the vein of her neck. She wouldn’t have taken away her upper hand and alerted Karen of her presence. “Who are you?” The question, although simple, was stupid. The yellow beam of light illuminated the high points of the woman’s face. For a moment, a fluttering moment, Karen was taken aback. The darkness of her eyes resembled pools of midnight, harsh and unforgiving as she glared through the shadows. Her hair was like looking at glistening ink and her skin was smooth.

[Y/N]’s eyes narrowed as she inched forward. “I don’t suppose you’ll answer first,” There was silence as they continued to watch each other, mindful of every subtle movement. Karen watched the reflective blade clutched in her hand until Karen assumed her knuckles were white, and [Y/N] watched her shaky hands squeeze the straps of her leather purse, aware of them inching closer and closer to the zipper. [Y/N] released a steady breath, those dark eyes unwavering. She didn’t want to use her knife, she didn’t want to go home and scrub the crimson stains from beneath her fingernails and clothes, she didn’t want to do any of this. She wanted to go home and sleep beneath her baby pink silk sheets and have her only concern be that her straightener wasn’t heating properly. “If you reach for that, you’re going to make this unnecessarily difficult.” [Y/N] brought her toned arms over her head, displaying the blade before she tucked it into her holster. Karen exhaled shakily and moved her hands away from her purse. “Appears that I’m not the only one looking for Frank Castle.”

Karen swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. “I guess not,” She muttered, blinking the frustrated tears away. She wasn’t going to cry, especially in front of this woman who she didn’t even know wasn’t going to kill when she got the chance. [Y/N] extended an arm, offering the large flashlight. An olive branch or a white flag. Karen hesitated, thinking over the possibilities. If she were to accept the light, was she accepting her death? Or was this woman going to search this house with her and would they both walk away from each other with what they both needed? With an apprehensive expression, Karen latched her hand onto the flashlight. “What are you doing here?”

[Y/N] glanced around, noticing the disarray of children’s shoes and toys. “Same reason you are,” She said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow as Karen wiped the handle of the flashlight with a wipe. “Looking for something, anything, about Frank Castle that will make sense.” [Y/N] pushed past Karen’s shoulder, ascending the staircase lithely. She stepped over the shoes and carefully pushed open a door. Her stomach sunk as she smelled the crayons and dried paint. The room was littered with children’s clothes and toys; a girl was brimming with colorful images that were screaming to be drawn. There were vivid drawings on display, taped and framed around the room. She sighed. Her nimble fingers flipped through the book tossed onto the small desk. One Batch, Two Batch, Penny and Dime. As she stepped on a few wooden paint brushes, [Y/N] was overcome with this gnawing feeling of guilt. She shouldn’t be here, she was quite literally the darkness of this room. This was wrong.

Pliant, [Y/N] closed the book, glancing at the edges to see if she smudged the corners, and descended the staircase. Her hands felt dirty even though they were beneath layers of leather. She shouldn’t have touched any of their belongings, tainting them and their memory. The floorboards creaked beneath her weight as she walked to the banister, resting her forehead on her forearms. She stared at the laces of her boots, the way they looped over each other. She needed something to concentrate on as she breathed the torment away. [Y/N] thought of the anger she would feel if someone stepped inside the emptiness of her home, and touched her father’s clothes and her mother’s files. She would’ve seen blazing red and snapped, but here she was, doing the same thing. Nauseous, she gripped the banister tightly as she stepped down.

Across the fireplace, the blonde woman scanned over the array of framed photographs of Frank smiling with his unit, covered with dirt and camo, but he looked happy. There were his medals, hanging beneath a layer of dusty glass. [Y/N] turned away, a rush of despair coursing through her as she saw the vases filled with withering flowers and small cards offering their condolences. On the nightstand beside the window was a photograph of Frank with his family, smiling and radiating adoration as they stood beside the carousel. She tried to think of this man as the one who was hanging cartel members on meat hooks, storming the hospital corridors with his weapons. He didn’t seem like him, but she also didn’t seem like a woman who bloodied her fists either.

The sound of gravel being crunched brought her attention to the neighborhood outside the window and beneath the sheer curtains. A large van slowed to the driveway and the door slid open, revealing a group of suited individuals. [Y/N] turned, unsurprised that the woman was already staring at the window. Bringing her finger to her mouth, [Y/N] jerked her chin to the back door. They twisted the door handle slowly, preventing any creaking hinges. They slipped through, nodding once as a sign of acknowledgment before departing.

[Y/N] thought of the polished shine of Frank Castle’s medal; a Navy Cross he was awarded for his service in Afghanistan. Her cluttered mind thought of the photograph of him accepting this medal, the way his eyes gleamed though his face remained stoic. Frank Castle was a war hero, someone who had a ceremony and was admired. Something damaged this man and altered him when his family was murdered.

She brought the strands of hair around her face, framing the delicateness of her expression. She stared at the lovely reflection and tried to blink away the tiredness swirling deep within those eyes. She could sleep for hours, never see the sun disappear into the night for days, and she would still feel this overwhelming exhaustion. She readjusted the turtleneck to her black dress, smoothing over the wrinkles that ended where her thighs were exposed. She thought this was something a lawyer would wear. She didn’t know any lawyers that could offer an opinion so this would have to suffice. She grabbed her long coat and the badge she had spent hours working on. She could only hope the fraudulent credentials and her pretty words would work.

The Metro-General Hospital was brimming with cameras, and flashing lights as each reporter swarmed the waiting area, desperate for some information on The Punisher. [Y/N] didn’t think he was going to be arrested this soon, having his bruised face plastered on every news source. He was caught, handcuffed, and sedated as he was clumsily thrown to the back of a police car. People pushed past her, the room filling with dozens of voices. She walked ahead, dodging the incoming nudges from people’s elbows as she neared the double doors. “Are you press,” A nurse questioned as two men attempted to walk inside.

[Y/N] smiled dazzlingly. “Attorney, actually.” With one hand, she flipped open the badge. The police officer’s eyes roamed over her figure, his fingers on his belt tightening and she gritted her teeth together as she forced herself to remain unbothered. The police officer grabbed the badge, his eyes flickering over the typed words. She could feel her palms dampening as he examined her credentials and the tall man beside her glanced down at her, his eyebrows furrowed. His glasses were a deep shade of red, his hand encircled around a white cane. He was blind, and couldn’t see her, but she felt his gaze go through her facade. She turned away.

“[Y/N] [L/N],” The sound of her name cutting through the clamor of the crowd wasn’t something she was expecting. With a cool casualness, she whirled on her heel and feigned an expression of enthusiasm. She didn’t need to search through much of the media to discover the name of the woman rummaging inside Frank Castle’s home. Her innocent face and those big blue eyes were plastered on every newspaper and news outlet months ago when she was involved with Union Allied. Karen paused her assured stride beside her co-workers. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Karen’s gaze bore into her and [Y/N] needed a moment to compose herself. If she were to slice the pale skin of her neck, she would be restrained before the blood could even splash onto the marble floor. She wasn’t going to stain her freshly painted nails for this woman. [Y/N] blinked then her expression lightened, her plump lips stretching into a lovely smile. “Karen Page,” She said, the softness of her voice brought the other man’s attention to her. “How unexpected.” The sound of her name falling from those rosy lips startled her. Karen’s knowing smile faltered. She felt stupid for thinking she could have the upper hand with this interaction.

With an uncomfortable chuckle, Foggy inched forward, extending a sweaty hand to her. [Y/N]’s gaze remained fixated on Karen and, although magnetizing, was also unsettling. “Foggy Nelson,” He introduced with a kind smile. “And this is my partner Matt Murdock and seems like you already know Karen.” [Y/N] was suave, her eyes and lips welcoming and intriguing, but Matt was staring at her like he could see the lies engraved on her bones.

Disregarding his intrusive gaze, [Y/N] stepped inside the unlocked double doors, motioning for the three of them to follow her. “Lovely to meet you,” Foggy was open-mouthed and blinking as if she was a mirage, a breathing example of women on the cover of magazines. With an amused smirk, Matt nudged his partner’s side. Foggy cleared his throat.

[Y/N] didn’t listen as Foggy spoke endlessly with his hands shaking and the beads of sweat lining his hairline. He was nervous, quite obviously, and was sputtering every thought that formed inside his head. [Y/N] stood across the elevator’s doors, centralizing her focus on the dark reflection on the metal. From the corner of her eye, she could see Karen watching her, almost expecting her to jam her knife into Foggy’s throat. The elevator dinged and she didn’t waste a moment stepping outside.

The corridor was overwhelmed with officers covered with tactical gear, hands clutched on the metal of their weapons. An officer raised a palm, having the four of them pause in their tracks. “What the hell are you three doing here?” The only man wearing a tailored suit exclaimed, exasperation evident on his face.

“Brett,” Foggy replied, “You’re wearing a tie and it’s not a clip-on.”

The officer, Brett, stopped across from them, releasing a heavy sigh. “It’s not a good time, Foggy.”

Unbothered, Foggy continued. “How’d you get babysitting duty, Sergeant?”

Brett pointed at the badge dangling from his neck. “A detective sergeant now.” Despite himself, he smiled. “Top dogs like the press of a good collar.”

“And the cops that get them.”

[Y/N] peeked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but the area is restricted beyond this point. You can’t be here.” Brett said, shifting on his heels.

The path of LED lights and scuffed marble was blocked and she groaned inwardly. She tore her gaze from the guarded door and plastered on a swoon-worthy smile. “And if we have possible business with Frank Castle?” She could feel the frustration consuming every fiber of her. She was only a few steps away from the door, could pull the handle of the sergeant’s holster and unleash a wave of blood, and could open the door and see him.

Brett furrowed his eyebrows together, resting his hands on his hips. “Business?” He asked, “The guy’s barely conscious.”

Matt cocked his head to the side as he smelled the adrenaline spike. “Our firm wants to represent him,” He didn’t acknowledge the woman beside him. He would ask Karen later.

“The man’s already got a lawyer.”

[Y/N] sighed. “As Karen and I discussed, we both feel the Nelson and Murdock firm is far more equipped to represent Mr. Castle. The district attorney wants the death penalty, and will do just about anything to have him dead,” She removed her coat, offering the high-priced cloth to the officer beside her. Without a word, he accepted her briefcase. “I suspect he’ll cooperate when we explain we’re trying to keep him alive.”

Their belongings were thoroughly searched, every crevice was ransacked and anything deemed a possible weapon was removed from them. “Do not give Castle anything. Do not take anything from him,” The sergeant stopped across from the door, his hand around the doorknob. “Everything’s been removed from inside the room. He’s tied down, but keep your distance and mind the tape. Do not step past it or I get to make my dream come true and arrest you.”

The doorknob rattled as he shoved the key inside. [Y/N] remained behind the three of them, narrowing her eyes as she watched Karen interlace her hand with Matt’s, her eyes soothing as she stared down at their hands. The door opened and the burning smell of alcohol rammed through her. The EKG beeped steadily and Karen muttered something under her breath as she stepped inside. The room was barren, glass windows were covered with sheets of metal drilled into the wall. Surrounding the bed was bright red tape on the marble floor. “Frank Castle,” Matt said, his voice low and collected. His eyes fluttered open. “My name is Matthew Murdock. These are my associates Franklin Nelson and Karen Page.”

Frank Castle's harsh gaze hardened as he breathed heavily. “I know who you are,” His voice was brusque, rough, and coated with fiery anger. “You protect shitbags.” His light brown eyes glared into the redness of Matt’s glasses. [Y/N] remained beside the door, hidden from view as she calmed her breathing. She wasn’t worried or concerned he was going to tear through the restraints. She was terrified she was going to stand right in front of him and stare into those eyes just as her father did and she didn’t want to know what was going to stare right back at her.

“We came here to make an offer,” Matt said, “We don’t want money for our services, we’re not interested in fame or free advertising. We weren’t even assigned to your case. We don’t have to be here. But if you take a quick look around, you’ll notice we’re the only ones who are. As you may well know, your list of enemies extends well beyond the gangs you’ve killed,” Matt inhaled deeply. “You’re very good at making powerful enemies. And the day you were admitted to Metro-General for the round you took to the head, a do-not-resuscitate order was placed on you.”

Foggy stood far from Frank Castle, nearly across the room. “And a shoot-to-kill just a few days ago.”

“These orders were issued by the District Attorney and the fact that she’s had it in for us ever since we started asking questions tells us we’re on the right track. Someone in the DA’s office wants you dead, Mr. Castle and we’d like to know why. You let us take your case, we can soften your sentence, and give you a shot. Maybe even find out who’s responsible for what happened to you. We’re talking about life, Mr. Castle. We can help you keep what’s left of it.”

[Y/N] listened to the words as he spoke, repeating them over and over inside the confines of her thoughts. Frank chuckled humorlessly and the sound reverberated through her and there was something about the casualness of the sound that unsettled her. The smell of fresh linen and the coldness of the room reminded her of her father, the way she would gnaw on her lower lip until she could taste blood as she focused on steadying her shaking hand as she pressed the needle into the skin, pulling the stitches through. She couldn’t remain hidden behind the light blue curtain. She rummaged through her boot, yanking the folded photograph pressed between her calf. His eyes flickered from the blood-red glasses to her.

Frank Castle was sedated, restrained beneath thick straps, and could barely see through the blurred haze from his right eye, but he saw her with ease. Her eyes gleamed with lovely wrath and for a delirious moment, he thought he could stare into those raging eyes for decades.

[Y/N] was a darkness within the illuminated room, a shadow with swaying hips and manicured nails. She marched toward him with authority as her heeled shoes clicked against the floor. She stepped over the bright red tape and he couldn’t remove his gaze from her, transfixed with the woman who didn’t even care she was stepping over the boundary. Matt latched his hand on her forearm, pulling her back. Lithely, she pulled his hand from her and pushed him aside as if he were nothing but an inconvenience. She raised the photograph and her eyes burned with conviction. “You need answers, so do I.” Her voice was the sound poets wrote about. It took him a second to remove his eyes from the rosiness of her lips. They widened as he examined the photo. “We aren’t going to get these answers if you’re dead.” She leaned over the side of the bed, her smooth face dangerously close to his. He could smell her florid perfume and she could smell the dried blood encrusted on his skin.

“Where did you get that?” His voice was gruff and his eyes watered. Her facade of a cold exterior wavered and there was nothing but shame filling her. She had done several things she wasn’t proud of, but this was desperation she didn't think she would ever come to.

She lowered the photograph and blinked. “From your home.”

There was silence as soon as the words fell from her full lips. Frank swallowed the lump lodged in his throat as his breathing hitched. “You were in my home,” The question was barely a whisper. “Why were you in my house?”

The grievous sound of the District Attorney's muffled voice echoed through the corridor and [Y/N] stepped away, outside the tape, and folded the picture. “Someone is lying about what happened to your family,” His eyes burned into her as the doorknob rattled. “And I am going to find out who and why.” The way the words scorched through him, he knew she wouldn’t let anything stop her.

Samantha Reyes stormed inside the room with fury radiating from her. “All of you out now!” As the door slammed against the wall, [Y/N]’s facade was back and the change had been instant, so subtle that Frank almost missed it.

[Y/N] could barely hear the condescending conversation exchanged between Mrs. Reyes and the firm as she apprehensively stepped outside the room. She was deafened by the blood rushing through her and she could bring herself to focus on their mushed words. She stared into the eyes of the Punisher and he stared right back at her and all she could see was herself. He was tormented with his own memories, the guilt of remaining alive as his family was buried beneath the dirt. “Castle doesn’t want the public defender,” Brett said, and her composure rattled through her. “Says Nelson and Murdock are his lawyers now.”

The three of them gathered their files and paperwork, disappearing into an empty room with hushed whispers. [Y/N] stumbled to the restroom door, releasing a strangled sigh as the door closed behind her. Her hands squeezed the white porcelain of the sink and she blinked the dwelling tears away. She couldn’t look at the reflection, refused to see her eyes redden and lip quiver. She was a coward. She forced him to look at his slain family and she was shaking at the memory of hers.

There was a gentle knock at the door and she straightened. From the reflection of the mirror, Karen appeared in the doorway, the bright lights circling her. She appeared uncomfortable with both being alone with [Y/N] and having interrupted an intimate moment. She shifted on her heels. “Frank Castle wants to speak with you alone.” She emphasized the last word and [Y/N] wondered if she was trying to frighten her from walking inside that room. If she hadn’t seen and experienced the horrors she had, [Y/N] might’ve cowered away and pretended this was nothing but a night terror.

With a firm nod, she pushed herself away from the mirror and didn’t bother looking at the reflection as she closed the bathroom door behind her. The hallway suddenly transformed into an uneasy silence as she sauntered back to the locked door. She dismissed the inquisitive glances and glares and hurried through the opened door. Frank Castle stared at her with an uncertainness that almost uneased her. “My family,” He said as soon as the door was locked, “What do you know?”

[Y/N] stared back and he was somewhat shocked that her gaze didn’t falter. She opened her briefcase and plucked one of the papers, raising it for him to see. “Have you seen this,” She asked, “It’s a police report, complaint number 211974. It says, ‘Victims were stopped at a traffic light northbound on Buellton Ave when an unidentified male suspect began firing a 9mm handgun at their vehicle. A juvenile male, a juvenile female, and an adult woman were found dead at the scene. The adult male driver was critically wounded and taken to Metro-General.’”

She stopped reading the passage, looking at him through her thick-rimmed lashes. Frank appeared shocked. He shook his head softly. “That’s horseshit.”

[Y/N] loomed forward, the end of the bed pressing into her lower abdomen as she placed the stack of paper on the blankets. “Obviously,” She said, “It took a lot of reading of old articles, but I know you and your family were at the carousel. With the three gangs involved, I’m assuming there was some firefight and there were unreported casualties.” She didn’t hesitate to pull the small black chair to his bedside. She leaned forward and there was a delicate softness in her eyes, something he didn’t even realize he missed seeing when someone looked at him. “Is there anything you can remember?”

He glanced away. “This ain’t about what I remember.”

She nodded reassuringly and there was something comforting with how she looked at him like she was seeing him as Frank Castle and not as The Punisher. “I know this isn’t easy and I know even trying to remember what happened hurts, but this will help us put these scattered pieces together.”

Frank’s eyes fluttered around the room as he scoured through his mind as he muttered incoherently. “It goes in and out. The fact that it fades…” He trailed off. [Y/N] didn’t speak and he appreciated that she hadn’t rushed him. “We took our blanket to our spot. She was by the carousel on the lawn and then I heard her shout. Scream. It was a grown man.” His eyebrows furrowed together and his voice was wrapped with grief. “I didn’t see anyone, but I found out later. The cartel. Irish. Bikers.” His words trailed into softness. “I should have seen it coming.”

[Y/N] shook her head. “There was no way you could have known.”

“I heard it,” Frank said, “I heard it and I didn’t do anything. My job was to keep them safe and I didn’t.”

There was nothing said and [Y/N] looked down at the faux leather of her knee-high platforms. “I am going to tell you what I wish someone would’ve told me when my family was murdered,” She hesitantly reached forward, grabbing his bruised and scabbing hand. “This pain is never going away. This is permanent and that is never going to change. There are a million things we could have done to change or prevent their deaths, but we didn’t. And the sooner we accept this, the sooner we can heal. Do not kill yourself over the ‘what-ifs’. And you do what you need to do to take that step and if it’s brutally murdering everyone involved, do it. Don’t listen to anyone that says revenge won’t change anything or make you feel better. It’s bullshit, it will make you feel better. So, fuck them, Frank Castle, and heal.”

His eyes softened and his rambling thoughts were struggling to reach his mouth. There were a thousand things he wanted to say. He thought about muttering a small ‘thank you’ for telling him what he needed to hear, not some pitied apology. He straightened, hesitantly removing their interwoven hands, and pushed himself from the softness of the blankets. “I only hurt people that deserve it,” He said, his eyes were covered in different shades of purple, his lips were sliced open and scabbing, and his cheekbone was yellowed with larger bruises. “I wanted you to know that.”

She smiled and the gentleness coloring her expression was enough to almost knock the wind from his lungs. His eyes roamed over her and there wasn’t a single flicker of anything indecent within his gaze. He analyzed her as if she were a riddle, a puzzle adorned with everything grandeur to disguise she was a puzzle to begin with. It might have been the sedatives muddling his mind, but she was almost too pretty to look at. He turned away. “You’re not a lawyer, are you?” He asked, somewhat amused.

The warmth of her expression didn’t dwindle as she crossed her leg over her knee and loosened, resting against the cushioned chair. “What gave me away?” She asked lightly.

Frank glimpsed at the small and smooth hand visible on her knee. “Your knuckles are bruised and you tried covering them with makeup,” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Of course, he would see through her mask. She covered her knuckles with a corrector before blotting a skin-tone colored concealer on the lilacs and light reds scattered across her skin. “You don’t act like how a lawyer is supposed to act and I’ve never seen a lawyer wear high heels like that to try and sweet-talk a client.” Her smile widened and she chuckled breathlessly. “And when I look at you, it’s like looking at myself. You’re angry, aren’t you?”

Her expression flickered and there was a second where the despair and wrath were brightly visible, flashing with neon lights deep within the void of her eyes. He could see himself inside the depths of her shattered gaze and he knew she could see herself inside his. He wondered if this petrified her as it did for him. She frowned as she glanced at the EKG machine beside his bed, desperate for something to distract her. “They’re pumps.” She murmured. His eyebrows pinched together with confusion. “They’re not high heels, they’re pumps.” She didn’t care about the difference, not really. She thought of admitting the truth, telling him that she wasn’t always angry. She always found a temporary release when she was smashing her knuckles into the bones of vile men.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. “Same shit,” Now, she rolled her eyes. He might’ve been a bloodthirsty man, but still a man nonetheless. “Why are you here playing dress-up?”

“You knew my father and now he’s dead,” She replied, tearing her gaze from the fluctuating lines on the machine. Those eyes glistened with salty tears as they pierced into him, flooding with overwhelming despair he could feel tremble through his bones.

A moment of silence. “You gonna try and kill me, lady?”

She sighed heavily. “Quite the opposite.” Her honeyed voice was thick with admittance. “I’m here to keep you alive.”

“Why would—”

She raised her palm, dismissing his words. “You didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking. Someone else did, just like your family. As I said, I’m going to find out who.” She couldn’t guarantee a variety of things; she couldn’t guarantee she wasn’t growing fond of the taste of blood splashing across her tongue and she couldn’t guarantee a simple and bland death, but this was something she promised the stars. Her eyes flashed as she sunk within the crashing waves of her memories. “You knew him, he talked about you sometimes. He said you were a pain in his ass, almost as bad as me.” She laughed and Frank Castle swore the melody coursed through him like warm sunshine. “Stitched you up more times than he could count.”

He thought and there he was—young and hot-headed within the sands and dirt of warfare across the ocean and wincing through trembling teeth as the needle pierced his skin. Dr. [Y/L/N] was a man who wouldn’t flinch at the grisly sights dragged into his station. He would narrow his eyes and scrub his hands with vodka if he didn’t have enough time. [Y/L/N]’s hands drowned in pools of blood every day and he would still reassure every injured soldier and speak until the soldier was certain he was going to damage their eardrums. He only rambled when he knew they needed something to think of, something to distract them from blistering pain. Dr. [Y/L/N] mentioned his daughter several times and would mutter something along the lines of, ‘She’s too pretty for her own good, Frank. Breaks too many hearts.’ His breathing hitched. “You’re [Y/N],” The realization rippled across his nerves and he couldn’t believe Dr. [Y/L/N]’s daughter was across from him, mourning him all over again. He blinked and his breath disappeared. The loss was nearly crippling as he laid his head on the pillow. Another person he cared for was murdered, taken from him and their family.

She stood, smoothing the wrinkles of the black fabric. She could recognize mourning as if it were scarred on the back of her hand and Frank Castle was mourning the loss of a man he didn’t know was dead until that unfortunate moment. “We can talk some other time—”

Frank snapped from his thoughts. “Stay. Please.” As soon as the plea escaped from the confines of his bloodied mouth, he felt pathetic. There was something almost comforting about having someone beside him feeling the numbing sorrow he was suffering in. She was inside his house, breathing the air of the place he couldn’t step inside. “I guess I worry that the memories are just gonna go away. You were in my house and—” He stopped and there was rushing shame inside him.

[Y/N] closed her eyes and sighed. “You never went back.” Her words weren’t a question, merely an acknowledgment of the unsaid admission. She understood the grief that overcame someone when they think about returning to the home where your family was slaughtered. How was she supposed to unlock the door and place her keys aside and not have anyone to greet? She couldn’t pretend the house wasn’t swallowing every moment she breathed in there.

“Can I just ask you—” He swallowed the jumbled words. “Were you in the kitchen?” [Y/N] nodded and didn’t utter a word. “Were the plates on the table or did they get to the sink?”

She opened her mouth before closing it, furrowing her eyebrows together as she tried to remember the blurred details of that night. “Some were on the table and some were washed and on the rack.”

“Did you go into the next room? Did you see that piano that was there,” She nodded wordlessly. “My son Frank Jr. used to grab a handful of cookies and take ‘em and hide ‘em in that bench. He’d play soldier. Guard it, protect it. Then he’d fall asleep down there.” Frank didn’t even resemble the man featured in every media outlet. This man who remembered the flavor of his son’s cookie crumbs wasn’t the Punisher. He was Frank Castle, a marine and loving husband and father. She couldn’t contain the laughter bubbling and leaned forward, eyes bright as she listened. “We’d find him sleeping on a pile of cookie crumbs.”

Those full lips of hers rose. “When I was younger, I used to take my dad’s medical supplies and stitch a bunch of horrible stitches on my stuffed animals, pretending I was a doctor saving lives.” Her voice was light and air-like as she reminisced over the simple times of being young and brimming with hope. Frank smiled and he chuckled. “And in those moments, I wasn’t seven-year-old Ellie. I was Dr. [Y/N] [Y/L/N] with hundreds of Ph.D.'s and every certification you could think of.”

She shook her head, dismissing the memories as if they were a pesky fly. “Your children’s rooms were covered with colorful drawings and dozens of sports trophies.”

The words stung. “I was gone a lot, so I missed all that.”

“And there were toys everywhere. Almost had me tripping up those stairs with all those plastic dinosaurs.”

He chuckled and the unfamiliar sound rang through the room. “Those were my little girls’. Those were Lisa’s. When she was little, she used to make these little noises when she played with them.”

The corners of her mouth curved into a simper. “That little remote-controlled jeep reminded me of those old dinosaur movies.”

Frank grinned as the memories resurfaced. “Yeah, that was Frank Jr.'s. I got that for him for his seventh birthday. He drove me crazy with that thing.”

[Y/N] glanced at the darkness of her shoes and unfolded the photograph. “I know they loved you, Frank.” She whispered, placing the paper between his restrained hand. Her hand rested there for a moment, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s something you can’t ever forget.” He hesitated as if the picture burned him, but his grasp tightened eventually.

“Thank you, [Y/N].” Her name dancing across his tongue was barely familiar, merely a distant memory.

She peered at him through her thick lashes. “And thank you.” She motioned over her shoulder. “They’re going to ask you a million questions, do everything they can to get you off the death penalty, and it’s going to be your decision if you choose to accept that or fight it. You do what you need to do to heal, Frank Castle.” She stood and gathered her papers, closing her briefcase. “But I’m hoping you choose to fight for the truth.”

The smell of nail polish burned through her nose as she meticulously brushed over her fingernails. As she steadied her hand, she glanced at the fading bruises scattered across her knuckles and remembered her conversation with Frank and how easily he saw through her. She thought of the softness on his face as he remembered the blurring memories of his children. The sudden blare of her ringtone shook her from her thoughts and the polish stained her cuticle. She groaned and pressed the speaker button. “Hello,” She said aloud, wiping the surrounding area of her nail with a remover.

The person didn’t speak and she opened her mouth to repeat the greeting but Karen’s voice cut through the silence. “[Y/N],” She paused and lowered the brush. A surge of seething annoyance flared through her veins as Karen’s voice rattled her speaker again.

Closing her polish, she blew a gentle breath on her nails. “Karen Page, you are certainly testing my patience.” The night at Frank Castle’s home she had made a decision to keep her hands blood-free that night and she was growing to regret that unfortunate decision as soon as Karen revealed her name to an entire room filled with media outlets. Now, pesky as ever, she was calling her.

“I didn’t want to call you, but I had to. We tried talking to Frank Castle and he refused to talk. I’m sure you know he plead ‘not guilty’ because of whatever you told him.” The exasperation and crippling frustration wavered in Karen’s voice and she couldn’t refrain from releasing an amused chuckle. “The only way he’ll talk is if it’s with you.” She didn’t utter a word as she continued to casually blow her nails. “[Y/N]?” She repeated impatiently.

With a final blow, [Y/N] extended her hand outward, examining her work. “I heard you, just giving you some time to process that you’re asking me for a favor, therefore, you will owe me.”

Karen exhaled a shaky, yet annoyed, sigh. “I am aware of that, yes.” Her voice was hushed, but [Y/N] could hear the faint voices of Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson.

[Y/N] hummed, an acknowledging sound, and took her time forming a response. “Lovely,” She stood from the cushions of her couch, her bare feet flinching against the coldness of her marble floor. “See you in fifteen minutes, sweetheart.”

The air was thick as [Y/N] entered the facility with a beckoning gaze, a pleased expression enlightening her as the Nelson and Murdock firm gritted their teeth. She was their thwarting personified and she considered the bitterness they must’ve been feeling as they grasped the notion that she was their only solution. She removed her belongings, placed them inside the gray tub, and extended her arms from her frame. The metal detector quietly whirred and she was given her briefcase back. Stepping through the door, Matt darted in front of her. “What are you doing?” He sneered. He was close, voice barely above a harsh whisper and she could smell his cheap cologne.

He couldn’t see her, but he could smell the light fragrance of her luxurious perfume and the fabric he was certain was only imported from Italy. There was something almost sinister buried beneath her words. “I’m here to speak with Frank Castle,” [Y/N] spoke smoothly, unbothered by the abrasiveness of his question. Matt listened and there wasn’t even a flutter in her heartbeat.

Matt gritted his teeth. “He pleaded not guilty.”

With a taunting tilt of her head, she quirked an eyebrow. “How unfortunate for you, I assume?”

He was struggling to remain composed. “He initially agreed to plead guilty. This is going to trial because of whatever it was you told him.”

She rolled her eyes and sashayed onward. “God forbid the lawyers actually do their job.”

His hand wrapped around her arm, preventing her from taking another step. Her heartbeat increased, an erratic sound within her chest. When her adrenaline spiked, he knew she was displeased. “I looked you up,” He whispered, leaning close to her ear. “There aren’t any [Y/N] [Y/L/N]’s working with any attorneys or prosecutors in New York.”

Disinterested, she jerked her arm, and Matt was taken aback by her spike in strength. “I could’ve spared you some time and told you that myself.” She said, “But I’ve been informed he’s refusing to speak to anyone so unless you want to show up to court tomorrow with nothing, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and let me help you, Mr. Murdok.” Her voice was acrid poison cloaked with honey, unbearably sweet.

His knuckles were blanched as he stepped back, offering the file he and Nelson forged together. Pleased, she grabbed the file and loudly apologized to the escorting officer for the inconvenience. There were alarms and buzzing sounds every few seconds as they ambled further inside and she would’ve lost her mind being forced to stay in a place like this. The gated entrance swung open and she safely assumed the corridor suffused with dozens of officers was where Frank was restrained. She disregarded the questioning and suggestive looks she received as she neared the opened door. The array of voices and clanging of metal dimmed as she reached inside. Across the room, handcuffed and dressed in bright orange, was Frank Castle. Some of his bruises were lighter and most of his scabs were gone.

Frank convinced himself the sedatives blended with a possible concussion mustered this image of a woman forged in a lab; someone couldn’t be that pretty, but here she was. “I would lose my mind if I was stuck wearing an orange jumpsuit.” The heavy-duty door closed with a bang and she sauntered to the metal table like they were old friends having lunch together.

The metal chair scratched against the concrete. He watched her intently. “Something tells me you would make it work.”

She chuckled and opened the organized file. “Of course, I would,” Her eyes moved quickly as she scanned over the highlighted and underlined questions as she clicked open her black pen. The writing was messy, practically scribbles in different colored ink, but she managed to discern the passages. “They’ve been going over similar cases and they think it would benefit you if they bring forth someone from your past. The Nelson and Murdock firm is suggesting you bring someone from your military unit to speak to the nature of your service.” She read from the paper and fiddled with the pen, twisting and swirling it around her fingers.

Frank brought his eyebrows together in confusion. “What’s that got to do with anything?

She peered at him through her lashes. “How should I know, I’m not a lawyer,” His mouth twitched. “Oh, it’s circled and underlined here saying it’s a character witness. They want to put someone on the stand who knows you well and can speak about what you’ve been through.” She chuckled, which sounded more like a huff from her nose, and flipped through the pages. “They really dumbed it down for me, huh?”

There was a flash of anger in his eyes. “They’re going for PTSD, aren’t they?”

She scanned the columns of words, arrows that showed definitions, and simpler terms. “Seems so since that’s also circled and underlined.”

Frank shook his head assertively. “You write down that they’re not gonna do that. It’s an insult,” He rubbed his finger and thumb together. “It’s an insult to them, people actually going through it. I know what they want to do. They want you to sit there and ask me questions that will label me just another case of some crazy-ass combat vet who lost his mind. Maybe that’ll appeal to some shitbag jury in some shitbag court.” Frank was nearly fuming at the accusation, the idea of sitting in a courthouse and hearing them disrespectfully throw around the word ‘PTSD’. “It wasn’t on a battlefield. That’s not when my life went to shit.” [Y/N] neatly wrote every word, making sure to circle and underline every curse word that Frank sneered. “Now, doll, I believe that you told me that you were going to find me answers. That’s what you said to me. Do you have anything for me or not?”

Her hand froze and she narrowed her eyes. Lifting her gaze from the cursive on the paper, she straightened her back. “Oh, I’m sorry, let me pull some answers right out of my asshole for you, Frank.” She didn’t have much information, probably because nearly nothing was documented. She was searching and forging aliases daily for a smidge of information, but whoever was the leader of this operation had instilled terror. “It’s not that easy—”

“That what you want? You want things to be easy?”

She rolled her eyes, something she found herself doing basically every minute of every day now. “Get over yourself. I’m doing everything I can with little-to-no information and limited resources. I am losing sleep making fake IDs and credentials to find something. Breaking into places I have no business being in and you wanna sit there and act like I’ve been doing nothing but twirling my hair?” Frank didn’t think unfiltered anger could be so mesmerizing. “So, do us both a favor and give me a goddamn character witness and cooperate so you don’t rot in a prison cell.”

He didn’t speak but watched the way her eyes burned with raging embers and the way her hair gleamed in the interrogation room lighting.

For that moment, he was done for.

“Colonel Ray Schoonover. My old CO.” She nodded and took a breath, writing the name down. “Forget the PTSD defense, but if they want a character witness, the Colonel, he will do.” Her hand moved quickly and Frank wondered how someone could write so many loops so quickly. “Now, do you have anything for me or not? Or should I go back to rotting in my prison cell?” His voice softened and there was even amusement laced in his words. She chuckled lightly and shook her head, barely noticeable.

“So dramatic,” She muttered beneath her breath. “I did find something.” She pulled a stack of papers from her briefcase.

“I’ve already been over all those a hundred times.” He said once he caught a clear glimpse of the words.

She smirked. “Not with me, you haven’t.” Frank didn’t know how to respond to that. “The medical examiner’s report was done by Dr. Gregory Tepper. As I’m sure you know, he is the Chief Medical Examiner and he’s testifying for Reyes in two days. His report says your family was killed by a single gunshot wound, and correct me if I’m wrong, a gang war doesn’t kill a family caught in the crossfire with just a single gunshot.”

Frank’s eyes glazed as recounted the vivid details of that night. He spoke about the different angles of exit wounds, the different bullet calibers, and the way their flesh dangled from their corpses. He spoke the faltering sentences with a numbness she could feel rush through her like a chilling wave. There wasn’t a detail disregarded. It occurred to her that he must have seen these images every night he tried closing his eyes. He had no other option but to remember every horrific detail.

The black ink of her pen swirled and looped into an intricate cursive and each curve resembled strands of hair around her shoulders. “Do you think it’s going to get easier,” She muttered under her breath. Her hand continued moving across the legal pad, but he could see her thoughts were scattered across the room. “The grieving and the nightmares and the anger?”

The brightness behind her smile often made Frank forget she was suffering from loss, too. There was no sugared lie he could tell her, he wouldn’t do that to her. He didn’t think this wretched agony was ever going to fade and there wasn’t a single moment he thought it was. This was etched into every crevice of his damaged soul. “No, I don’t think it does.” The harsh admission made her pause and she raised her chin. “But I think we’ll learn to adapt and live with it.”

Wistfulness colored her expression and she nodded, hardly perceptible. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

The courtroom was overflowing with journalists and the bright lights of their cameras. [Y/N] glared at the emptiness of the bench and she couldn’t think of anything other than screaming until her throat scabbed and the blood-stained her teeth. She wanted to clutch the lapels of Judge Cynthia Batzer’s black gown and tell her everything wrong with what she and Frank Castle were forced to endure. Her narrowed eyes traveled across the room and there wasn’t anything she wanted to do more than smash Samantha Reyes' pointy nose onto the polished wooden table until the wood splintered.

Across the courtroom, the door squeaked open. “All rise,” A man declared and [Y/N] forced herself to stand, “Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Cynthia Batzer presiding indictment number 1986-4447, The People v. Frank Castle.” An unwavering silence filled the room and she swore she could’ve heard a needle drop.

Batzer perched herself on her cushioned chair. “Be seated,” In unison, everyone plopped back down on their seats. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant has been indicted for several serious crimes. But I’m instructing you, as a point of law, that the defendant is innocent until proven guilty. Ms. Reyes, are the People ready to begin opening statements?”

Samantha Reyes stood with assurance. “More than ready, Your Honor.” She moved around the desk, exposing her self-asurred expression to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Frank Castle brutally tortured and murdered 30 people,” She peered over her shoulder, glaring daggers at the handcuffed Frank. “30 that we know of. He took the law into his own hands. Acted as judge, jury, and most violent executioner. And you will hear that the defendant’s victims were criminals, but the victims are not on trial here today, and justice does not belong in the hands of a man like Frank Castle. This isn’t the Wild West. Justice is served here in a court of law. And it is up to each of you to take back the city from lawless vigilantes like Frank Castle.” With a sneer, she analyzed him with such fuming hatred. “This man is no hero. He’s a serial killer. And he is guilty.” She thanked the judge and returned to her desk.

From where [Y/N] was, she could see the bruises across his skin were fading. He didn’t appear fazed by the blatant disrespect spat at him. “Mr. Nelson, are you prepared to make your opening statement?” She could see his hands trembling as he shifted through his index cards. “Mr. Nelson, are you reserving the right to make your statement at a later time?” He didn’t answer, merely glanced over at the murmuring crowd of witnesses and juries.

Distressed, his chair squeaked as he stood. “No, Your Honor, the defense is ready to proceed.” [Y/N] sighed as she ultimately came to the conclusion Frank Castle was monumentally screwed as Foggy flipped through his cards. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant, Frank Castle, is not—Sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sunk further into her chair. “Mr. Castle is as much a victim…” He trailed off before tossing his cards onto the table. “Okay, you’re 19, standing in hot sand, sun burning down, there’s noise, yelling, gunfire. The only thing you know for sure is that you’re surrounded by an enemy that wants you dead. But you do it. You endure it. Why? Because you have orders and you have a duty. And also because your life doesn’t end here. You have people you love waiting at home. Because aside from being a decorated marine, the man before you is a good husband and an excellent father. Frank Castle returned from the hell of war wanting nothing more than to pick up his life. But his wife, young son, and daughter were brutally murdered by criminals and no one, not the police and certainly not the District Attorney stepped up to make it right. Frank Castle never came home. He just traded in one war zone for another. This trial isn’t about vigilantes. It’s about the failure of the justice system and how one man is being used as a pawn to cover up that system’s mistakes. The prosecution wants blood. But as the judge just said, to get it, they have to prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt. So all I’m asking of you today is to keep an open mind. That’s all, Your Honor.”

“Colonel Ray Schoonover, United States Marine Corps.” The Colonel pressed his palm on the leather of the Bible, his other was raised as he swore to tell nothing but the truth. He nodded firmly, sitting down with an unshakable look.

Foggy Nelson pushed back the wooden chair, flattening his tie as he stood. [Y/N] could see there was a sureness emitting from him, something that wasn’t there yesterday. The acceptance brought from the people of the courtroom brought a newfound confidence to him. “Colonel, how long have you known the defendant?”

Colonel Schoonover was a frighteningly grave man. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in those empty eyes. “I’d say, the better part of a decade. Most of his career in the Marine Corps.”

“So you’re familiar with his service in the Middle East?” Foggy asked, “Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran?”

Schoonover nodded only once. “Yes, very familiar.”

“I wonder if you could tell us how Lieutenant Frank Castle won the Navy Cross?” Frank's eyes glossed over at the mention of the medal as if the polished metal wasn’t of any importance to him anymore.

Schoonover took a slow breath. “Due to the nature of that mission, you’ll have to understand that precise circumstances are classified.” He recited the words as if he had said them a million times.

Foggy paused. “How about the parts that are not?”

“Lieutenant Frank Castle was part of a small team. He was conducting a close target reconnaissance in the vicinity of the Hindu Kush. The mission became compromised, taking enemy contact on three sides. Lieutenant Castle wanted to abort. Said the mission was a bust, pulling the plug would save lives. Officer in charge said ‘no’.” He said, “Maybe he wanted more medals on his chest. Doesn’t matter. Either way, Frank was right. They were cut off, boxed into a canyon. Within the first hour, the officer in charge of that mission got his arm blown off. So Lieutenant Castle assumed command. His only goal was to get his men out alive. The enemy had set up an ambush at the only LZ that would accommodate one of our birds. LZ is a landing zone that can accommodate a helicopter. So the enemy blocked this landing zone, knowing it was the only shot the team had to get out alive. All they had to do was wait. They knew Frank’s team had to come to them. Frank went to the LZ all by himself to draw the bastards away.”

“Why didn’t he order one of his men to do it,” Foggy asked, “Certainly could have.”

Colonel Schoonover shook his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Wasn’t his style,” He said and [Y/N] chanced a glance over where he was restrained. He tore his gaze from his hands and looked directly where the Colonel was. There was an unsaid conversation exchanged between their silent gaze. “So the men hear the firefight break out. All hell breaks loose. Frank against God knows how many. And then there was silence. The team thinks, ‘That’s it. Frank’s dead. We’re next.’ The next sound they hear is the helos, the helicopters. They get to the landing zone, you know what they see? Frank Castle, standing there, grinning. Thirty-two muj surrounding him, all dead. Son of a gun cleared that entire LZ all by himself.”

“How?”

The Colonel shrugged as if the answer were blatantly obvious, which it was. “By being Frank Castle.” Her colorless eyes flickered from the golden shine of The Colonel’s medals to the fading bruises on Frank’s cheek, listening to the narration keenly. . She tried seeing Frank with a beaming smile as his fellow recruits' hopeless eyes teared with relief.

“And his men survived?”

“All of ‘em. Including the idiot officer that got ‘em trapped in the first place.”

Frank didn’t seem pleased by the sudden positive reaction he was receiving from the jury. “If you had to sum up Frank Castle, how would you do it?”

“I would say Frank Castle is a man who would gladly give his life to keep others safe.”

“And the crimes he’s accused of today?” Frank could feel everyone’s eyes burning into him, but he could easily distinguish hers. He refrained from meeting her gaze. “Could the man you knew have committed them?”

The Colonel didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely not.” He said firmly. “Lieutenant Frank Castle that I know is a hero. A man who deserves our respect and our gratitude.” And as Schoonover glanced at him from across the courtroom, there was a flash of grief. “Not the same man.”

Foggy returned to his side of the courtroom as Samantha Reyes was called to stand. As she stood, flattening her skirt, she scanned over the spread documents. “I’d like to personally thank you for your service to this country, Colonel. My father served in Vietnam. Do you know what he told me about medals?” There was nothing sincere about the way she spoke. “He said the only people who truly know what happened are the ones that were there. You told a nice story, Colonel. But how can we know that it happened the way you described it?” And just like that, any form of false gratitude she was pretending to have was entirely gone.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Ray Schoonover said, “I was there, ma’am. That officer that didn’t listen to Frank, got his men trapped, you’re looking at him.” [Y/N] tried to muffle the sounds of her threatening laughter by covering her mouth, but the sounds slipped. Reyes’ assistant glared from his chair. “And believe me when I tell you, I thank God every day that I only lost my arm. That man saved my life and the lives of his entire team. If it was up to me, he’d have a Medal of Honor hanging around his neck.”

There was something so incredibly satisfying to watch Samantha Reyes’ hand clench by her sides until her knuckles blanched. “No further questions at this time, Your Honor.”

Sunset had arrived and the yellow and orange sunbeams poured into the courtroom when Andrew Lee was brought to the stand with an enlarged x-ray of Frank Castle’s skull. “The bullet penetrated Mr. Castle’s skull in the lower right quadrant, or more specifically, the sphenofrontal suture, which is the cranial suture between the sphenoid bone and frontal bones, both here and here.” [Y/N] watched the projector and followed the red laser. She didn’t have to be a licensed doctor to see the bullet stuck between the folds of his brain.

Foggy gestured to the projector. “I believe what my expert witness is trying to convey is that my client, Frank Castle, was shot, point-blank, execution-style, in the head.” Reyes fiddled with her pen as the words echoed through the room. “Could you please describe the damage Mr. Castle sustained from the bullet?”

“It fragmented on impact, causing damage in both the right frontal lobe and temporal lobe of his brain.” Dr. Lee explained, “Mr. Castle is suffering from what we call a ‘Sympathetic Storming’. It’s a heightened and ongoing state of fight or flight in which the sympathetic nervous system is hyperactive. As if he is reliving the incident of trauma over and over again. It can plunge a seemingly peaceful individual into mental and emotional chaos.”

“Can you define it for the jury, please?”

“Extreme emotional disturbance. It’s twofold,” From the corner of her eye, [Y/N] could see the displeasure of Frank’s movements. “First, the defendant is so emotionally disturbed that he loses control. And second, the defendant has a reasonable explanation for said disturbance, from his point of view.”

Foggy continued to stare at the jury, hoping to rouse some connection with them. “Are you aware that Frank Castle’s wife, son, and daughter were all murdered right in front of him when he sustained the brain injury in question? An injury which, you say, keeps him in a perpetual state of mental and emotional chaos?” Dr. Lee nodded and announced he was aware. “With that in mind, would you say that Frank Castle’s mental state satisfies the definition of ‘Extreme Emotional Disturbance’?”

Reyes shot from her chair. “Objection, calls for a conclusion!”

Foggy restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Your Honor, Dr. Lee is an expert on the brain. He is qualified to an opinion, and said opinion is not only relevant but imperative to the case.” Batzer thought for a second before nodding for him to continue, announcing the overruled decision.

“Personally, I do believe he is suffering from EED, yes.”

“And one who’s suffering from extreme emotional disturbance, is it possible to willfully premeditate a crime?”

“Any infractions would be considered crimes of passion.”

“How many of your patients witnessed their families being brutally murdered right in front of them? Other than Frank Castle?” Dr. Lee confirmed that Frank was the only one. “And so would you say the circumstances surrounding Frank’s mental state are different than those of your other patients? And what exactly would that difference be, in simpler terms?”

“Frank Castle’s been through hell.”

The sound of a chair colliding onto the floor echoed the room. “You killed my dad!” A young boy’s voice tore through the air. A row behind her was a child with pale skin and freckles scattered across his tear-streamed face. “I don’t give a shit what you’ve been through! You killed him!” His eyes were bloodshot, his ginger hair tousled and disheveled. “I saw him in a coffin with holes in him! He was my dad, and now he’s gone!” An officer yanked him by his forearm and his voice dissipated into nothingness as he was dragged outside the double doors. The disturbance racked through the jury. She could see their unsettled gazes flicker between Judge Batzer and Frank. [Y/N] couldn’t even hear the uptight words that judge was advising the jury.

Minutes passed when the courtroom was advised to leave and she couldn’t think of anything other than the grief-ridden voice of the young boy and how he clutched onto a photograph of his father as the tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. She was disturbed, not by his wailing and grief, but more by her lack of emotion towards the outburst. She mulled over the void of sympathy. Did this make her worthy of those distressed glares, too? She didn’t think of buzzing alarms and metal clanking as she ventured further to where the interrogation rooms resided.

The door swung open and the officer stepped aside, his distracted gaze remaining on the softness of [Y/N]’s exposed legs as she entered the confined room. From where Frank was casually perched, his restrained hands closing firmly as his jaded glare intensified. The officer noticed the warning glare and immediately tore his eyes away and closed the door. The scene was familiar as she walked across the room, pulling her chair from under the metal table. “A theatrical performance, wasn’t it?”

“I did that, right?” He asked, “That kid, I took his father from him. I did that.” His voice was jagged as gravel as his calloused hands clenched again.

[Y/N] drew her lower lip between her teeth, nodding. “Appears so.” She agreed.

Frank swallowed and she thought that the boy’s words affected him much more than she initially thought. “Was that rough for you in there?”

She pondered on the question. “I’ve seen worse.” Her detached eyes gleamed as the thick rim of lashes fluttered. “Sometimes I think something is wrong with me because I feel nothing when I think of the things I’ve done. Sometimes, at night, I think of the countless times I’ve scrubbed my hands and the blood doesn’t come off. But I don’t feel guilty, I feel ready to do everything all over again.” The words spilled from her and she couldn’t control them from pouring from her. She wasn’t certain why she was telling him this and he was staring at her as if he were thinking the same thought. “I have done some terrible things for my family and I don’t think the blood is coming off my hands no matter how many times I wash them. So when I hear them say all those things about you, they’re saying them about me and I’m worried because I can’t bring myself to care.”

There was no glossiness in her eyes. He knew the feeling of the gradual numbness that gnawed through him. She wasn’t searching for reassurance or for someone to whisper against her tears that things would get better. She wanted someone to hold her hand and say, ‘I see you and I understand.’

He wasn’t a man of many words, but he told her what he needed someone to say to him. “I see you, [Y/N].” Her eyes moved from the chipping of her nail polish to him. “I see you and I get it.” She closed her eyes tightly with her eyebrows scrunched together. A broken stained-glass mural is what she reminded him of; a shattered array of colors.

When she opened her eyes again, there was something brighter within them. She was understood and this restored a fragment of her mural. “They told me they need you to take the stand.” The conversation was over but he could already hear a shift in her voice.

He groaned quietly, exasperated. “Come on, why would I?”

She leaned forward, her elbows propped on the table. “That kid screwed you over. The jury has to know what happened to you, what you go through every single day.” Her fingers were pressed against her temple, resting there. “They were trying to sugar coat it, but this is basically your last shot before it all goes to shit.”

Frank narrowed his eyes. “And what do you think is gonna happen here?” He asked, “We’re not gonna win this thing.”

Her eyes closed softly. “Think that’s pretty obvious, but we can still reduce the charges.” Frank sighed as if this were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Don’t give me that. You might not give a shit, but this is important to me. Every single one of those people out there thinks you’re some lunatic monster, but I know you’re not.” Her voice was shaky as she opened her eyes, looking into that warm gaze of an off-guard Frank Castle. A rare sight, that was. “You’re not.”

Frank’s expression softened before hardening. “You sure about that?” He asked. “What if I find these men that did that to my family? What if nothing changes? What if this is just me now?” He looked scared at the thought of his efforts, the blood he spilled, the tears he cried to mean nothing.

“I think you’ll adapt and learn to live with it,” She said softly. “It’s the only thing we can do, remember?” Her eyes scanned over his shoulders and forearms, leaning over and glimpsing beneath the desk at his legs. His eyebrows pinched together as he stared at her as if she were the most bizarre thing he’d come across.

“What’re you doing?” He gruffly asked.

“Getting an estimate on your measurements for your suit.” She replied casually.

His nose scrunched, the small wrinkles creasing around his eyes. “Hold on, I gotta wear a suit?”

She released a small giggle, the sound was feminine and reminded him of sunshine on a bright summer day.“I didn’t think you’d grown fond of the neon orange,” The lightheartedness seeping from the rosiness of her lips was something he didn’t know he needed. Every day was shrouded with overbearing darkness and just to have a second where he could see the light was gratifying. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s an expensive one.”

“I didn’t agree to take the stand.”

She clicked her pen and brought her legal pad closer to her. She scribbled something down. “You will,” She crossed her knee over the other. He opened his mouth to protest. “Now, black or dark blue?”

“I’m not wearing a—”

“Stupid question,” She said to herself, scratching away whatever she had written. “Obviously black. I’m thinking no tie.”

Stepping inside the courthouse was crowded, the air was thick with aflutter conversation as she sipped the carton of her warm hot chocolate. She didn’t like the strong bitterness of coffee, pouring spoons of sweetened creamer and sugar only for the bitterness to strain her tongue. She pushed through the gathering crowd of the photographers when a hand grabbed her clothed shoulder. She retracted and was going to pummel her closed hand into their nose when she saw the hand belonged to an officer. His eyes remained forward, but his grasp tightened. “Keep walking, [Y/N].” She furrowed her eyebrows together and glanced around. No one was looking at them, they were completely disregarded as they inched closer to a secluded corner. As the crowd dwindled, he leaned closer to her ear. “Castle has agreed to be sentenced to Ryker’s Island. There, he will speak with Mr. Fisk about the information regarding his and your family’s death.” His voice was monotone, almost recited, and nonchalant. [Y/N] yanked his hand from her shoulder and whirled around. His hand quickly moved to the closed latch of his weapon. A wordless threat, surely. “Once Frank complies with Mr. Fisk’s demands, we will contact you and you will pick him up. Any failure to comply, Ms. [Y/L/N], I will arrest you for multiple counts of fraud.” With a final nod, he continued onward as if the conversation weren’t filled with threats and illegal plans. She watched him disappear inside the courtroom with an unbothered casualness.

[Y/N] was rarely ever wrong and when she was, she seldom admitted it. This time wasn’t any different. Frank Castle entered the courtroom with his severely passive expression, his hands, and ankles handcuffed as the crowd gathered in every available cheer. His tailored suit fit him perfectly and the darkness of the smooth fabric matched his eyes. The police escorted him to the stand and his eyes scanned the crowd. There were people wearing clothes with his name painted on them, his face ironed on the plain fabric, and they raised large signs. He thought it was strange for people to be treating him as a celebrity. The officer from earlier leaned close to him. “Think about what you want, Frank.” He didn’t chance him a glance. His eyes glossed over every face in that room until he found her.

She was distracted by the color-coordinated notations on her paper, her delicate fingers twirled her pen in circles. The room clamored with indistinct voices and the aggravating clicks of cameras, but his gaze stayed on the smoothness of her skin. He observed her movements when she thought no one was looking; she was achingly pretty. Her eyes moved from the paper and met his, her blushed lips parting softly before they curved into a half-moon. The noise dimmed and for that brief second, there was nothing worth paying attention to in that courtroom but her. And that was dangerous and he couldn’t have that.

Matt unraveled his white cane and hesitantly loomed closer to where Frank was seated. “Mr. Castle, you’ve been charged with multiple capital crimes. Been called a killer incapable of empathy or remorse. May I call you Frank?” Frank nodded, barely perceptible as he narrowed his eyes. “Frank, we’ve heard a lot about neurochemistry and psychology, and all things unfolding, scientifically and otherwise, inside your brain. But I just have one question I want to ask. What happened that day? The day your family was so tragically killed.” Frank opened his mouth, entirely prepared to speak his truth, but his eyes moved from Matt to the officer who whispered to him that Wilson Fisk had his answers, then they moved to [Y/N]. “It’s okay, Frank. I understand it’s difficult.”

His brusque voice tore through the tense air. “Do you?” He asked, “Do you understand? ‘Cause I don’t think you understand shit.”

Matt sighed, folding his cane. “I’d like permission to treat the witness as hostile, Your Honor?” He placed his hands on his waist. “All right, Frank. You don’t want to tell us? I’ll tell you. I’m gonna tell you exactly what kind of man you are. You’re the kind of man this city needs. Because, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we all know this city needs help. Needs it now. Not tomorrow, not next week, not when the day comes, when the corruption that Wilson Fisk left in his wake is flushed out for good, and the police force is finally back on its feet. We need it now. Because this city has been sick. And the cops can’t fix it alone. We all need men and women who are willing to take the fight themselves. The kind of people who risk their lives so that we can walk safely at night in our neighborhoods. The ones our esteemed District Attorney here is trying so hard to destroy. New York needs these people. We need heroes.” The people raised their signs and cheered, clapping and whooping reverberating. “The help they offer and the hope that they provide. Frank Castle wanted to help, but he took it too far. He shot people, he killed people. It’s against the law. And he broke that law many, many times. Now, I don’t like him any more than you do, but here’s the thing, he is not a common criminal. He’s not malicious in intent. Frank Castle is actually a good man, he just doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong anymore. And he doesn’t need punishment for that. He needs help. Our help. That’s the kind of man Frank Castle is. And now, you have to decide what kind of jury you want to be. No further questions, Your Honor.”Frank took a breath. “Your Honor, can I say something?” He wasn’t going to do this just for himself. He was going to do it for her, too. “You know those people? The ones I put down, the people I killed? I want you to know that I’d do it all again,” The crowd exclaimed with shock. “This is a circus, all right? It’s a charade, it’s an act. It’s bullshit about how crazy I am. I ain’t crazy! I’m not crazy. I know what I did. I know who I am. And I do not need your help. I’m smack-dab in the middle of my right goddamn mind, and any scumbag, any lowlife, any maggot piece of shit that I put down, I did it because I liked it! Hell, I loved it! I’m sitting here, I’m just itching to do it again. And you think you’re gonna send me to a nuthouse? Some doctor is gonna get me to stop from doing what I want to do? Well, that ain’t happening! Not on my watch!” [Y/N] watched, open-mouthed, as Frank stood so hard that the chair flew back. “You people call me The Punisher, ain’t that right? The big bad Punisher. Here I am! You want it, you got it! I am The Punisher!” An officer wrapped his baton around Frank’s neck and struggled to remove him from the stand as Frank screamed and bellowed at the crowd and jury.

The moonlight poured through the windows of her apartment, the moonbeams casting panels of white shadows across the cold marble. The blush pink wine was lukewarm as she pulled her knees beneath her chin and listened to the faint noise of the city outside her balcony. She needed the silence, she couldn’t hear anything other than the blaring news all day. The district attorney’s office was obliterated with military-grade ammunition and the devastation unnerved the population like crashing waves. Samantha Reyes was murdered, dozens of bullets piercing through her skin, and there was consolation in the news.

There was a creak across the room, a sound she might’ve dismissed from the flush wine if she hadn’t heard the same creak from her rusty door hinges the morning before. [Y/N] squinted through the darkness of her room, wondering if she could see moving shadows. The sounds seeping from the opened balcony door quieted and there was an unsettling stillness. She apprehensively reached for the chilled metal beneath her silk pillow. Soundless, she wrapped her hands around the handle of the gun. She stopped breathing as the door slowly moved open. She released a wavering breath as Frank Castle appeared from the shadows of the night, her hands collapsing onto the silk sheets.

She was on her knees, the smoothness of her thighs was uncovered from her nightgown. The strap was dangling beneath her shoulder, unveiling the softness of her breasts, and her hair was lazily bound together with strands sticking everywhere. Her bare face brightened as he loomed closer to the edge of the bed frame. With the moonlight caressing her skin and the achromatic nightgown emphasizing her curves, he could have fallen to his bruised knees at the sight of her smiling from his arrival. She was relieved to see him lurking in the glooms of her room and he didn’t know how to feel about the realization. “I have to admit,” She mused, “Orange was not your color.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

An aureole of moonlight shrouded every curve and contour of her with a sweetness he could only think of as basking in the moonbeams at midnight. His breathing hitched as she stared at him with a beckoning gaze. “I like your hair like that,” He foolishly said, nervously pointing to the darkness of her bundled hair. “You look…pretty.” As soon as the words filled the chilled air, he mentally groaned at the stiffness of his voice. There was a time when having conversations with people was effortless, a second nature. But he couldn’t think of something ordinary to say. She simpered and glanced at her reflection across the room before laughing at the sight.

She brought her softened gaze to him and motioned to his clothes. “You clean up nice when you aren’t covered in blood.” He glanced down at the dirtied shoes he found and chuckled airily. When she brought him away from the prison, he didn’t have much time to scrub away the blood he sustained from killing an entire cell block. She had handed him a small packet of floral-scented towelettes and wiped away as much as he could with the car’s mirror. “Do you need any ice for the bruises?” She asked, pointing to her own eyes and nose. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without any black eyes.”

The purple bruises were beginning to fade until the altercation in the cell block and Wilson Fisk. Now, they had darkened again, spreading further across his face and occasionally aching. He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.” He glanced around the room. The decor was exactly how he’d imagined it would be; sultry and feminine. He felt like a teenager again, like he was slowly walking inside the school’s prettiest girl’s room. His hands were tucked inside the pockets of his black jacket as he examined the framed photographs scattered across her room. He neared the balcony, watching as the sheer curtains flowed with the night breeze, and from the corner of his eye, he’d seen it; a shadow moving quickly across the street on the rooftop before disappearing into nothingness. He paused, contemplating what to do before moving on. “Someone’s on the rooftop,” He said, his fingers brushing over the mahogany desk. This would have been straightforward if he were by himself. He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone other than himself, but she was beside him.

She nodded as she pressed her lips together, carefully scooting to the edge of the bed. “Two, actually.” She put her sandals on and Frank thought they were adorably ridiculous. She wore a black satin nightgown with cushioned sandals with some sort of fuzz centered in the middle. She was such a girl. “One for you and one for me, I assume.” Her manicured hand reached for his calloused one. His eyes trailed from her small hand to the space between her eyes where a steady laser appeared.

Frank tossed himself onto her and she gasped before the air escaped from her lungs as she slammed against the floor. His entire body was strewn over her, his hands tangling her hair as he covered her head from debris. His stomach was pressed against her back and the zipper of his jeans scraped her ass as he squirmed above her. The room was decimated with gunfire. She couldn’t see anything from Frank’s large hands shielding her face, but she listened to the glass shatter and wood splinter. The gunfire was deafening as they tore through the room and she choked on the powdery rubble as she breathed heavily. Frank squeezed her tightly as the glass splintered his exposed skin.

The gunfire stopped and the room became eerily still. He apprehensively lifted himself from her and he wiped the fragments of glass and splinters from her cheek. Her eyes were tightly closed and her hands pressed against her ears. When the noise stopped and the heavyweight disappeared, she reluctantly opened her eyes. He tucked her tangled hair away from her dirtied face. “You okay,” She frantically nodded and grasped his steady hand. Her wide eyes blinked as the dust in the air stung them. “Come on, [Y/N/N], I gotta hear you say it.” His hands, rough and the cause of mayhem and death, touched her like she was fragile glass.

The nickname was unfamiliar against his tongue but if she didn’t like it, she didn’t say anything. She grabbed his hands, embracing them tightly. She was in an unfamiliar state of shock. He knew that dazed expression like the back of his scarred hand. “Yeah, I’m okay,” She murmured. Her voice was velvety and faint as she peeked around the tattered room. The filling inside her pillows and mattress were scattered across the floor and her picture frames were torn and fractured. As if waking from a deep slumber, she turned back to him, her shaking hands caressing his cheekbones. She couldn’t think of the broken perfume bottles and holes on her walls, she was distracted from the trickle of blood cascading down his cheek. “Are you okay?” Her eyes moved across his face briskly. She brushed a shard of glass away from his forehead. Her movements were unstable but gentle.

He swallowed away his fogged thoughts. “I’m good, but we’ve gotta go.” He pulled her from the floor with ease, kicking aside the broken pieces of furniture. “Stay low.” He covered her backside as she wobbled to her feet. She took a breath before darting across the room and through her kitchen. There on the countertop were her car keys, casually discarded when she returned home earlier that night. She snatched her keys and unlocked the door, misstepping and nearly collapsing to the hallway floor. The other residents of the complex were screaming and sobbing. She pushed forward and peered over her shoulder and released a relieved sigh as Frank wrapped his arm around her, ushering her to the emergency staircase. The heavy door slammed closed as they stumbled down the staircase, occasionally peeking behind them. Frank’s hand remained pressed against her back, always making sure she was ahead of him. She couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through her ears and the burning of her lungs with each breath she took. Her hand hovered above the rusted handrail and she grimaced every time her sandal almost slipped off.

Messily spraypainted onto the wall was the bolded word ‘Garage’ when they reached the bottom of the complex. She shoved the garage door open, revealing the apartment’s occupants’ vehicles, and she scrambled to the high-priced car parked across the garage. [Y/N] pressed the button on her key and the doors unlocked. Once inside and situated in the driver’s seat and with Frank beside her, she tightly closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. “Gonna take a wild guess and say those are the Blacksmith’s men and you didn’t kill Reyes and Tepper?” Frank glimpsed at the rearview mirror and eased when there wasn’t anyone following them. He nodded wordlessly. “There’s definitely a hit on me now, isn’t there?” His exhausted glance answered her question and she relaxed her head on the headrest, pinching the bridge of her nose.

His eyes softened as she steadied her breathing. He used these brief distracted moments to take in the sight of her. “Last chance to leave and forget about all this,” Frank said, his chest heaving. She opened her eyes and lifted an eyebrow. “You can leave and hide away in some penthouse and be safe, or you can start the car and drive.” He gave her a choice; he was giving her the chance to realize this journey was going to shatter and strain them, forcing them to relive every aching moment of their tragic life. He was giving her the chance to realize this and leave. He was giving her something he never had; a chance to live.

A lush laugh filled the quietness of the car. Her eyes were brimming with stilled distress and he could see her hands trembling on the steering wheel. Her thighs and forearms were scratched, vague bruises blossoming on her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” She breathed, and the finality lacing her words was profound. She knew this was going to haunt her thoughts and she was going to spill blood again, but she had to. [Y/N] wasn’t going to disregard the torment anymore, distract her plaguing thoughts with expensive shoes when her chance to avenge her family was beside her. She twisted the key inside the ignition and the rumble of the engine ripped through the silence of the garage. “I’m not letting you have all the fun.” Frank gave her a once-over, stunned at the definitive response.

The garage gate slowly moved open and the moonlight streamed through the windows. The multi-colored lights of the nightlife and the clamoring voices and music flowed through the city as they drove mindlessly. She occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror, expecting someone to appear behind the car with handguns aimed at them. With Frank beside her, she didn’t feel as vulnerable. There was a small and foolish piece of her that wished someone would try to strike them. She dismissed the twisted thought. “Are you hungry,” He asked, jutting his chin at the bright neon lights of a diner’s sign. Some of the letters were flickering and a few were completely out. She didn’t bother giving him an answer as she parked near the entrance.

She closed her door and crossed her arms over her chest, the frigid breeze caressing her exposed skin. Looking down, she supposed wearing scantily-clad pajamas hadn’t been the appropriate choice. They were further away from the main city, but the streets were still illuminated with the occasional headlights. She exhaled shakily as goosebumps rose. She was going to need a landfill of hot chocolate. Frank sized her up, faintly shaking his head. He removed his jacket, draping the much larger fabric over her shoulders. She jolted at the gentle touch but didn’t protest as the warmth enveloped her instantly. He pulled open the squeaky door and stepped aside, allowing her to step inside before him. Her cheeks flushed, turning her face before he could notice.

[Y/N] smelled the brewing coffee and the sizzling bacon, the warmth of the small diner was comforting, a drastic change of atmosphere. She dismissed the bewildered glances a few of the customers gave her as she slipped inside the booth across the room. She extended her bruised and scraped legs beside his thighs and closed her eyes as she leaned against the backside of the booth. There was faint music playing over the damaged speakers and she needed a second to unwind, to process everything that had happened less than an hour ago. “Had to pick the sketchiest part of the neighborhood to stop at, huh?” She muttered, her eyes remaining closed.

His eyes flickered over the softness of her neck before looking around. There were a few questionable patrons, some he noticed were clutching onto their guns and pocketknives, but the dining area was relatively empty. “Oh, yeah. I’m shaking in my boots.” She opened her eyes, a curve rose on her lips before chuckling. She didn’t think the Frank Castle was capable of making jokes. He gestured for the waitress behind the counter. “Ma’am, can we get a little black coffee over here?” [Y/N] shook her head, muttering that she wanted hot chocolate instead. “And one hot chocolate, thanks.”

She peered outside the windows, watching as the branches swayed with the wind. The streets were emptying as the time passed. “Overheard Reyes saying the Blacksmith is moving uncut narcotics into Manhatten,” She whispered, “I figured with the lack of information about him, he’s working alone. So I eliminated everything except railroads, shipping lines, and trucks.” She mentally crossed off the bullet points she made when determining possible covert routes. She stopped as the woman placed the empty mugs on the tabletop. The waitress poured the burning coffee into Frank’s mug and placed a steaming mug of hot chocolate beside [Y/N]’s hand. She smiled and disappeared before she could thank the woman.

Frank cocked his head, a teasing smile rising. “And how’d you ‘overhear’ that?”

[Y/N] blew the steam from her mug. “I’m good at sneaking into places I shouldn’t be at,” That was a severe understatement. She was adept with breaking into high-security places and leaving before an alarm would even detect something was wrong—a mastery she found brought her much discipline when her father was still alive.

He sipped his coffee. “I’m starting to think you’re some kind of secret badass, [Y/N/N].”

With the rim of the chocolate-stained mug against her mouth, she laughed. “Oh, yeah?” She rhetorically questioned. “Could probably easily take you and put you on your ass.”

Frank laughed quietly as if the mere thought was ludicrous. “I guess we’ll have to see about that one day,” He challenged. He gulped down his coffee and licked the remnants from his lips. She didn’t understand how he could enjoy the overbearing bitterness of plain black coffee. She grimaced at the thought of even sipping a droplet. His gaze moved to the callouses on his hand. ��Who would’ve thought?” He mumbled to himself.

She brought the mug down, a ghostly smile still on her lips. She licked the chocolate stains from the corners of her mouth. “Thought what?” She asked, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. Her eyes were doe-like and glittering at each word he gruffly said.

“That the princess of New York would be making jokes with the big, bad Punisher.” His rough hands were permanently tarnished with blood he spilled every night and they were desperately reaching to feel the tenderness of her pure hands.

[Y/N] casually shrugged, not even thinking twice about the nickname. “I’ve had worse conversations with worse men.” She teased. “Although this is the first time I’ve talked to a man who had the trial of the decade and escaped prison in a day.”

“First time for everything.” She glanced at the veins on his hands as he raised the mug to his lips. “Full of surprises, doll. Here you are, sitting in your underwear drinking hot chocolate with the dude who put shitbags on meathooks.”

Her lashes fluttered as she looked at him. “Wouldn’t have you any other way.” She said the docile words brought a warmth inside him. “And it’s not underwear, it’s a nightgown. You are such a typical guy.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

Frank laughed, a sound that wasn’t shared often but a sound she was beginning to grow fond of. “Nah, doll, I’m not like all those pretty boys you’ve talked to.” There was nothing ‘pretty boy’ about Frank Castle. He was a brusque man who relished the warm feeling of his enemy’s blood tainting his skin, used his hands as weapons, and still smiled softly as he opened the door for her. He was knife-like, sharp-edged and rough, calloused, and didn’t care if he broke dozens of bones every night. But, here he was, making sure she didn’t burn her tongue on her hot chocolate.

She lifted an eyebrow. “No, you’re right,” She lightheartedly agreed. “You’re the first guy who opened a door for me.” Her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. Undiluted shock colored Frank’s expression and she couldn’t restrain the bubbling laughter as she covered her face with her palms. “And definitely the first time a guy has offered his jacket.”

She giggled at the flash of burning frustration on his face. “[Y/N], you dating douchebags or something? Come on, that’s bullshit.” He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the mere thought of someone looking at her, having someone that beautiful giving them a sliver of her precious attention, and refusing to be a gentleman. He was so unnerved by the admission that he hadn’t even realized he had mistakenly correlated himself with guys she’s dated.

“Yeah, I was.” Her expression drooped. “Gave up dating for some time after…everything happened. And when I did start again, all I met were guys who were more concerned about having lint on their suits and having some pretty thing on their arm than being nice to me.” She looked up at him and the sadness on her face disappeared. “So believe me when I say I’d rather talk to you.” [Y/N] was always interlocked with someone who was concerned with their image, and how they presented themselves every second of every day. So she savored this passing moment of genuine conversation with someone who didn’t care if she wasn’t ‘presentable’. Frank Castle looked at her as a human, not a trophy.

Headlights shined into the diner before fluttering off. Frank sighed, almost seeming disappointed the conversation needed to end. “That Buick rolled around the block three times before it finally pulled up,” She tensed as she glanced out the window. Two men slammed their doors closed. “Now, go in the back and get the waitress. Find the cook and find the biggest piece of steel and get under it. Go now.”

She blinked, processing the information. “Who are they?” Were those the men who destroyed her apartment?

“Just some guys who are about to walk into a diner for the last time.” He tore his gaze from the car. She opened her mouth to respond, but he swiftly interrupted her. “You gotta go now. Now, [Y/N/N].” She hesitated, wanting to protest but he was already pulling his gun from his waistband.

She hurried to behind the counter, pushing the waitress away from the dining room. She had barely stepped inside the cooking station when she heard gunshots, glass shattering, and the sound of wood splintering. She ushered the waitress and the cook to the corner furthest from the entrance, covering them with a spare metal table.

[Y/N] removed Frank’s jacket, tossing it aside. She couldn’t even count how many gunshots she was hearing as she fastened her hair with a loose hair tie. Stepping outside the cooking station, Frank yelled incoherently at her as he threw himself over the counter. He crashed onto the floor as the goon aimed his gun, the discarded glass plates shattering. Frank reached for her, missing by inches when she rushed forward, sliding her thigh across the countertop, and kicked the chest of the goon. She landed on her feet as he groaned and collapsed onto the table inside the booth. She didn’t give him the chance to compose himself and she grabbed his raised arm, jamming her palm into the point of his elbow. She grinned as his bone caved in the opposite direction, his bone fracturing. He screamed and she collided her knuckles with his nose, hastily kicking her leg outward and against his stomach. As he clutched his stomach, she spun low to the floor and swung her leg against his ankles. She straightened before he could crash against the floor.

He kicked her ankle and she stumbled against the countertop. With a glare, she steadied herself before she could trip over her own feet and he pushed himself from the floor, grabbing a freshly washed kitchen knife from the sink. He swiped the blade at her and she dodged every slice in the air he made. She backed away and grabbed the handle of the boiling coffee pot from the stove and smashed the glass over his head. The goon screamed with agony as his skin welted immediately, flushing a bright shade of red as the coffee burned him. She yanked the kitchen knife from his weak grasp and sliced at the thin skin of his neck and shoved the blade inside his stomach again and again and again. She ignored the hardness of his ribcage and the sound of his skin tearing as the blood poured onto her in pulsing waves.

Across the diner, Frank stepped on the hand of the other goon who crawled to a discarded gun on the floor, leaving a streak of blood on the floor. He grabbed the gun from the floor, flipping the bleeding man on his stomach. His breathing was heavy as he aimed at his head. “The Blacksmith, where is he?” He interrogated, nearly breathless.

“Screw you.” He brought the gun to the goon’s knee and pressed the trigger. He released a strangled cry as he choked on his own blood.

“Where?” Was all Frank panted.

“Go to hell.” The goon choked. Frank didn’t seem surprised, simply inconvenienced by his refusal. He straddled the man, both of his knees against his bleeding ribcage. He flipped the gun upside down and repeatedly smashed the bottom of the grip against his face. His face was disfigured and chunks of his skin were dangling when Frank stopped.

Frank pressed the gun to the bottom of his chin. “I want a place.”

The man coughed and a splurge of blood dribbled down his face. “41st Street,” He said through broken teeth. “The pier. I can take you—” The gunshot silenced him.

Frank stood from the corpse and took in the sight of [Y/N] completely soaked in blood. She panted as she wiped the drenched hair from her face, tossing the knife onto the counter. The clinking of the utensil against the bloodstained counter pulled him from his jumbled thoughts. She examined her hand, groaning as she picked at her finger. “I chipped my nail polish.” She whined with a small pout.

He stared at her incredulously. “What the hell was that?” His eyes moved to the mangled corpse of the goon she endured by herself, barely maimed by the man. Her skin was colored dark crimson and he furrowed his eyebrows together as he continued to glance between her and the mauled man. She wasn’t small, but he supposed it was only his fault for mistaking her as delicate.

She dismissed the question with a quick wave of her hand. “I’ll explain in the car.” She stepped over the corpses, grabbed Frank’s jacket, and scrunched her nose as if she stepped on a piece of gum, not two dead men—one she had killed. Frank shook his head, unbelieving as he followed after her. The door squeaked as she stepped outside. The wind chilled against her wet skin and walked to the side of the diner, switching the water for the water hose that was discarded onto the gravel. She quickly doused herself with the water, washing away the blood as much as she could. She rinsed her hands, then washed her unclothed legs and arms. “I’ve got spare clothes in the trunk for times like this. Be a doll and grab them for me, please?” The blood pooled on the gravel, seeping into the patches of dirt.

Confused, and particularly intrigued, he obliged and opened the trunk of her car. Neatly folded near the back were all-black attire and stained boots. With his hands gripping the clothes, he chuckled to himself. He was a fool to think [Y/N] was innocent. He handed her the folded clothes and turned his back toward her, offering some privacy. She dried herself with Frank's jacket and slipped on the skin-tight bodysuit before tossing the nightgown in the truck before slamming it down, and zipping the front zipper. She slipped on her socks, then boots. When Frank whirled around, he gave her a blank look. “Really,” He asked blandly.

She scrunched her eyebrows and looked down at the clothes. There wasn’t any skin visible, although the bodysuit clung to every divot and curve. Was it unnecessary? Absolutely. Did she look incredibly gorgeous? Also absolutely. She shrugged. “It was on sale.” She tossed him the car keys and he latched onto them mid-air. As the engine rumbled, she inspected her reflection with careful eyes. She rubbed the splotches of splattered blood from her cheeks.

Frank drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other behind her, his hand brushing against the skin of her neck. His eyes were narrowed on the traffic of the streets, but she could feel his thoughts were rampant. “You gonna explain what that was back there?”

She lowered the music from the speaker after a moment. “My dad was a paranoid man,” At the mention of her father, his disarray eased. “You know what war does to people. Each time he came home, it was like seeing him slowly fade away. When I was eleven, he decided I needed to be prepared for war when it came. He wanted me to survive.” She watched as the city lights blurred together outside the window. “I didn’t have much of a childhood with being forced to learn how to stitch stab wounds and how to kill someone under thirty seconds with my hands.

“I didn’t see my dad often when he was across the world, but when he did come home, it was like all the things he forced me to do with strangers didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that he was home and he could hold me again. I don’t blame him for losing himself during the war. I can’t even imagine the horrors men like you both would have to see and endure. I love my father and I couldn’t be more proud of him, but there is a small part of me that can’t forgive him for leaving me when I needed him the most.” Her gaze flickered from the smears of the nightlife to him.

He didn’t know how he could respond to the admission. He didn’t think of the wistful yearning from someone else’s perspective before. Of course, he knew his wife and children had missed him, but he didn’t think the longing ache could create unforgiveness or resentment. “I’m sure he understood.”

[Y/N] knew they had arrived at the pier once the air smelled like seawater and machinery oil. The car slowed to an eventual stop. There was an eerie silence as she stepped outside the car, the gravel crunching beneath the bottom of her boot. Frank unlocked the trunk and stuffed a gun in his waistband and then offered her another one. He closed the trunk and they watched their steps, careful not to make too much sound as they neared the pier.

She had been aiming for a subtle approach and Frank most certainly wasn’t as he rushed forward, yelling and immediately shooting at everything that moved. There were flashes of orange light as Frank pressed the trigger dozens of times before she could even match his pace. When she lowered her gun to her side, she glanced at the puddles of blood dripping into the steady waves of the pier as Frank panted beside her. The silence returned and she stepped forward on the dock.

There were hundreds of boxes and crates scattered across the dock, all varying in size. She dragged her hand across the splinters of the wood, attempting to decipher the spraypainted words. She grabbed a discarded crowbar and jammed the edge in between the crate’s crevice, grunting as she pushed open the lid. There were multiple wrapped bricks of drugs, tightly sealed with a clear wrap and then taped. Frank appeared behind her, peering inside the crate with a curious gaze. She handed him a brick. “What do we do with this,” She asked. There were enough undiluted drugs to reach a worth of millions and it was unguarded and in her palm.

He looked at the heroin, disinterested. “Burn it.”

The suggestion was absurd, but this was the Blacksmith’s operation and if they burned this entire boat into ashes, the Blacksmith had nothing. At the realization, [Y/N] smiled. “You go find him, I’ll take care of this.” Frank hesitated but nodded nonetheless. There were a few large canisters of fuel and she unscrewed the caps as Frank sprinted inside the boat. She began pouring the fuel over the crates and on every surface she could tarnish. The fumes of the fuel singed her nose with each breath but she was concentrated on the sloshing sound of the canister. Inside the boat, there were gunshots and muffled outcries, but she wasn’t going to interfere. This was something Frank needed to do.

A gloved hand covered [Y/N]’s mouth and she dropped the green canister, small droplets of fuel seeping from the nozzle as the canister clanked against the floor. She scratched at the leather of the glove as she stomped the bottom of her boot on the assailant’s shoes. A pained groan escaped their mouth as their grasp loosened. She jammed her elbow into their ribcage and she slithered from their restraint. With a side-step, she whirled on her heel and pulled the gun from her holster, and aimed.

She raised an eyebrow as the blood-red leather gleamed from the moonlight. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen raised his hands and apprehensively stepped back. “That isn’t the Blacksmith in there,” He said and she could’ve sworn his voice was painfully familiar. “I know you’re trying to help Frank, but listen to me. That isn’t the Blacksmith. Just think about it.”

[Y/N] tightened her grasp on the cool metal of her gun, calm and steady. She glanced around her, at the bodies leaking and staining the wood of the boat. This was effortless, almost too easy. Guards were surrounding the area, but these goons were guarding heroin, not the head of the entire operation. This wasn’t the personnel you handpicked to defend your life and money. Her resolve faltered and she slowly lowered the weapon. “It’s bait,” She mumbled, realization coloring her expression. There was anguish filling her as she realized this was a trap and they eagerly stepped inside. “How could I be so stupid?”

With the weapon lowered and her thoughts distracting her, Daredevil rushed forward and pushed open the metal door where Frank had disappeared minutes before. “Don’t shoot him, Frank!”

Frank’s head lowered with frustration. “For Christ’s sake,” He tightened his hand on the gun and pressed the tip further inside the man’s mouth. “Get outta here, Red.”

“He’s lying, Frank,” Daredevil said through rough breaths. “We’re here for the same reasons, all right? I want the Blacksmith just as much as you, but he’s not him. I know when someone is telling the truth and he’s not.” [Y/N] stepped inside, her palm slamming against the rusted door. There were dozens of sealed bricks of cream-white heroin scattered across the rickety table and Frank gripped the lapels of the unknown man’s jacket, peering over his shoulder.

“Bullshit,” He shouted, his throat burning as his finger brushed against the trigger. “Just get out of here!”

“He’s not the man you two came for, Frank.”

Frank was silent for a moment before readjusting himself, pressing the gun deeper into the man’s skin until there was a redness blossoming on his mouth. “Are you lying to me,” Frank screamed and [Y/N] wondered if he was even asking the man anymore.

She hesitantly stepped further, her expression drooping as Frank snapped his head towards her. “Frank,” She said breathlessly. His name was a soft pull from the burning ire consuming him. An anchor tethering him to the cruel reality. She shook her head, barely perceptible and wordless, but he knew this was a confirmation that the man with a gun between his teeth wasn’t the Blacksmith.

Matt Murdock listened to the falter of Frank Castle’s heartbeat as his watering eyes connected with [Y/N]’s. Interesting.

Frank stood from the floor and removed the drool-covered gun from the imposter’s mouth. “Either way, you die.” Daredevil threw a small hammer at Frank’s hand and the gun was ripped from his grasp, falling across the room. Frank’s nostrils flared as he slammed his heel into the imposter’s jaw before attacking the man in red leather. “You just couldn’t let it be, could you? You just couldn’t let us—” Frank latched his hands onto Daredevil’s shoulders as he launched them both through the doorframe.

Frank landed on Daredevil, immediately punching his masked cheekbones. “When are you gonna learn,” Frank shouted roughly. “Mind your own goddamn business!” Each word seeped through clenched teeth as he repeatedly kicked wherever he could stomp his foot.

Daredevil hurriedly rushed to his feet, panting as blood dribbled down his cheek. “Goddamn it, Frank. I don’t want to fight you.” [Y/N] watched as they stumbled across the boat, their grunts of exhaustion and pain filling the cold air. Daredevil was quick and dodged Frank’s faltering punches, kicking his spleen and knocking him to the floor. “Stay down, Frank.”

[Y/N] didn’t interfere as Daredevil extended his hand and offered Frank a truce, helping him straighten from the floor before Frank shrugged him off. “Just couldn’t let me have it, could you? One second in peace.” Frank was pumping with adrenaline, his heavy breaths appearing in puffs before swirling away as he collapsed onto the floor, his backsliding against a crate. “It was right there. You had to sweep in. Do you feel good about yourself? Piece of shit.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] moved and stood against the crate, inches from Frank’s fidgeting form and she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Oh, come on, Frank,” Daredevil said, “It wouldn’t have been the truth, and you know it. I can’t let you start a war for the wrong reasons.”

“Maybe a war is what I need,” Frank frightfully admitted, “Maybe I need that. These people, they took my children from me. They killed my kids! Don’t you get that?” Frank’s scream tore through the night, his voice cracking as he screamed his reality into Daredevil’s face.

Daredevil kneeled. “Then do right by them! Help me. Work with me to find the man who gave the order.”

Frank looked defeated. “And then what, Red? Are we gonna bring him in for justice? Is that what we’re gonna do? Your way’s bullshit, Red. It doesn’t work. I need him—We need him gone. It’s gotta be permanent. It’s gotta be finished!”

“I understand,” Daredevil said, “You’re right. My way isn’t working. So maybe just this once…” He trailed off and [Y/N] didn’t need to see his concealed expression to know he was frightened and disappointed as he pressed his fingers into himself in a cross. “Maybe your way is what it’s gonna take.”

Elle closed her eyes and she saw a younger version of herself; frightened and shattered as she realized she was going to permanently tarnish her hands. She could see herself in Daredevil as he accepted that he was going to need to take a life and he was already begging for forgiveness. “It’s not going to be just this once,” She said, her voice a ghostly whisper. “If you do this, this is never leaving you and you don’t get to go back to your side of the line. It’s never just once.”

Daredevil stared at her, but it was a distant gaze. His head jerked as a tire screeched from the distance. “I count ten of them, all armed.” She peered around the crate, blinded by the headlights of the speeding cars as they abruptly parked on the pier. Daredevil sniffed. “There’s a lot of gunpowder below decks. If any of these guys start shooting, this whole ship is blowing up. We gotta get off this boat before they open fire.” Daredevil hurried to the railing of the boat, glancing below at the gentle waters.

Frank clenched his teeth as he rushed forward and pushed him over the edge of the boat, Daredevil disappearing into the darkness of the water with a splash. [Y/N] glimpsed down at the ripples before returning her confused gaze back to Frank. His expression softened and there was a warmth glittering within his shattered eyes. The tenderness was enough to have her heart flutter as he apprehensively loomed closer. “That’s Gosnell,” He whispered, jerking his chin in the direction of the man on the pier, slowly interlacing his bloodied hand with hers. She furrowed her eyebrows together as he touched her with an unfamiliar fragility. “I used to serve with him and that can only mean one thing, doll.” His thumb caressed her cheek as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Schoonover.” He muttered so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

She closed her eyes as she relished the feeling of his touch. She was lost within her thoughts and didn’t notice he subtly brought her to the edge of the boat. When her back pressed against the railing, she opened her eyes to find him already remorsefully staring at her. [Y/N] shook her head. “Don’t be stupid, we’ll find him together.” She pleaded, disregarding the sound of car doors slamming close. If he was going to take the risk of potentially dying within the gunpowder explosion, she would remain by his side. “Jump with me, Frank, or I’m staying with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” The finality of her voice shook him and that terrified him.

Frank squeezed her hand, his eyes fluttering close as his nose brushed against hers. “I’m sorry,” She opened her mouth to plead with him, or scream at him, she wasn’t sure, but he already pushed her over the railing. The cold air nipped at her before she landed within the ripples of the water. She barely managed to tear free from the depths when the explosion shook the pier, bright orange flames burning everything within its path. She concealed her face with her shaking forearms as shards of glass and splinters of wooden crates flew into the water.

She pushed through the floating debris, warm tears streaming down her cheeks as she searched through the darkness of the water for him. She couldn’t see beneath the water but she splashed through the growing waves as if she were going to suddenly discover him. She paddled forward and the overbearing heat of another explosion crashed against her. She wasn’t going to be able to stay there, the flames were traveling quickly and the explosions would only continue.

With a frustrated cry, she chose to swim away from the debris and away from Frank.

[Y/N] cleaned the fogged mirror with a quick swipe of her palm and clutched the porcelain of the sink. The dampness of her hair clung to her neck as she stared at the ceramic drain. Her skin was slathered with moisturizer and she scrubbed her scalp twice before the saltiness of the seawater finally disappeared down the drain. Another day had gone by and Frank still hadn’t contacted her and her hope was slowly dwindling. She couldn’t remember how many times she checked the unlit screen of her phone and peered behind the floral curtains of her cheap motel room. She was clutching onto the flickering flame of hope that he was going to appear outside the door and tell her he kicked some ass. But he didn’t.

When she discovered the confidential discussion between the authorities the following morning, shaking hand pressing the police radio beside her ear as she listened to the quiet words discussing the explosion, she practically collapsed onto the floor. She closed her eyes tightly as the distinct chatter revealed their suspicions of Frank Castle’s death. She felt utterly pathetic for clinging onto her childish hopes. The amount of gunpowder made the explosion practically impossible to survive, and she knew that, but there had been the small part of her that was praying for the renowned Punisher to arise from the heroin-soaked ashes.

Her dazed eyes scrutinzed the small gashes plastered on her knuckles and forearms, the radio chatter had become indistinct whispers as she thought over everything she needed to do. She remembered the softness of his voice when he realized Schoonover was the Blacksmith, the deepness the betrayal seeped through his glistening eyes. She was overcome with a blinding rage as she understood the man—the monster—that sliced away everything she ever cared for, had taken another person from her. And the loss was quick. She barely had any time to register the salty burn of the seawater before he was torn from her life.

With a resolute expression, she stood from the rough carpet of the floor and her freshly-washed suit. Her hands were no longer shaking.

The modern lanterns brightly illuminated the polished porch of Schoonover’s lavish house. [Y/N] glanced around as she pressed the small doorbell, gritting her teeth as the chime echoed through the night. The ornate glass panels on the door were decorated with chiffon curtains, complementing the freshly painted doorframe. She wondered if he was comfortable shrouding himself with the wealth he gained from spilling her family’s blood. He must’ve been because he didn’t appear uncomfortable when he swung open the door. There was the daughter of the man he had brutally murdered and there wasn’t even a noticeable waver in his eyes.

The harshness of her expression softened as his gaze moved across her face. She couldn’t have him discovering her intentions, she needed to have the upper hand. “I was hoping you could talk to me about Frank.” She reluctantly said, wondering if her performance of the grieving daughter searching for solace in a man she barely knew was believable. “I just need to know if he was a good man.”

Schoonover grimaced at the request, but he widened the entrance and stepped aside. The flames of the fireplace filled the foyer with an intense orange glow. She inhaled, smelling the burning wood and aged whiskey. He offered coffee, but she declined, mumbling something about having drowned herself in caffeine earlier. She would have to be a thoughtless fool to drink anything coming from him. “Castle would call that a good start,” She refrained from flinching at the mention of his name, choosing to centralize her focus on the bright flames crackling a few feet away from her. “I know I’m old. My wife calls me cranky. With all the violence these days, the media would have you believe that’s all there is in the world. I’m glad you got to know Frank. The real Frank.”

She forced herself to remove her gaze from the fire. “I’m glad I got to know him, too.” And that was the unfortunate truth. She didn’t want to admit the reality of her emotions, but she was beginning to care for him.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Although I’m confused as to how you grew into contact with him. I wasn’t aware you were a lawyer.”

[Y/N] smiled. “No, a legal assistant.” She casually corrected. Her dark gaze moved across the array of framed photographs displayed on the wall. There were several of Schoonover with his uniform and medals, but there were even more of him draping his arm over the soldiers, including Frank, with the faintest hint of a smile. “You know, you’re probably the only person I’ve met that has said positive things about him. Would you consider him a friend?”

Schoonover smiled politely. “When you’re fighting a war, you don’t really make friends. At least, not if you’re fighting it the right way. I suppose you don’t want to get close to anyone because we’re not all coming back. But at the same time, you have to feel something, don’t you? Otherwise, what are you all fighting for?”

Her head tilted slightly and the false glimmer of naivety disappeared from her eyes as they narrowed. “And do you feel?” She inquired, disregarding the intensity of the warmth from the fireplace. His expression transformed into something much more confused as he opened his mouth to respond. She interrupted him. “Do you feel anything knowing you’ve murdered innocent families? My family?”

His face turned into jaded awareness, a completely different person from a few minutes prior, and released a bored sigh. “Right into business, I see.” His hand moved underneath a pile of mail, revealing the sleekness of his gun in his hand. “I was hoping it didn’t have to come to this.” She chanced an unimpressed glance at the barrel of the weapon, knowing this was going to eventually happen. She was almost disappointed that this entire situation was predictable.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “Do you love your wife, Colonel?” And with the question floating in the air, there was a waver from his mask. It was brief, barely a second, but she noticed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter because she’ll be dead if I don’t leave this house alive in an hour. Sooner if you don’t get that fucking gun out of my face.” She sneered and the contempt was obvious on her expression.

And his resolve dissipated, his hand shaking as soon as the words fell from her clenched teeth. He pressed his lips together firmly, performing mental jumping jacks in order to decide his next move. But his hand and weapon remained raised. The coldness of her eyes hardened. “How about your kids, Colonel? You would think a man like you would take precautions for this exact reason, but it was so easy to find each and every person you feel and fight for. It was pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t.”

A curve on her lips rose. “Won’t I?”

He exhaled shakily. “They’re innocent.”

“So was my family.” Her voice was detached, enough to make his blood run cold.

“They’ve got nothing to do with this!” His voice cracked as he shouted. That was the first time she’d ever seen him anything other than calm and collected. She was making him shatter and break and she savored every second of it.

There was a sickening cruelness behind her smile. “You took my family, I don’t see why I can’t take yours?” He thought over his options, wondering if there was any possible way he could gain the upper hand, but he was ultimately at her mercy. He eventually lowered the gun. She smiled. “We’re going for a drive.”

Within moments, they were outside of the lavish household and unlocking the passenger door of rented car. She purposely shoved him inside the vehicle, making sure he roughly banged his head on the top of the car. She slammed the door, ignoring his string of curses. After turning the car on, they silently drove on the dark and empty thoroughfare. She could see him contemplating, planning on something beside her. She knew there must’ve been another weapon concealed beneath his clothes and she could’ve removed anything possibly lethal, but the would have eliminated the challenge.

And Frank Castle had a knack for dramatic and unnecessary entrances because the predictable moment Schoonover pulled a small blade from his waistband, Frank smashed his stolen truck onto the passenger side of the car.

[Y/N] gasped as the shattered glass of the windows sliced small gashes on her exposed skin, a wave of dizziness overtaking her as her head smashed against the car door. Everything happened quickly, much too quickly for her to have even noticed the warm blood gushing from her arm. The sound of metal scratching against the gravel captured her attention. She slowly moved her head, attempting to blink away the blurred haze. The truck was slowly backing away before the headlights blinked off. The door opened, revealing black boots crunching on the broken shards. They moved quickly, circling around the damaged vehicle until they stopped right beside the driver door. Within seconds, the seatbelt was removed and she was gently pulled from the wreckage.

The coldness of the winter air nipped at her soaked skin, puffs of smoke escaping her lips with each shaking breath. Warm and calloused hands cupped her cheeks, uncaring for the redness cascading down her temple and cheeks. “Come on, [Y/N/N],” The gruffness of the voice sparked something deep within her. His thumb caressed her cheekbone, almost fondly, and he gently shook her. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”

She recognized the softness of his voice, the delicacy behind his bloodstained touch, and her eyes fluttered opened. “Frank,” She mumbled, her words were breathless as her weak hand moved to touch him. She grasped onto his arm, steadying her wobbly feet. She couldn’t see the exact details of his bruised face, the orange light of the street lights overhanging them shrouded them in a fiery blanket of light. But Frank could see her and there was something frightening about the overwhelming relief coursing through him as she said his name. “You’re…here.” She eventually said, swallowing the dryness of her mouth away.

A ghostly smile rose as he slowly brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Within that moment, he knew something changed about him; she thought he was dead, was moments from avenging her family, him and his family, and was leaning into his touch like he was her savior. Whatever changed inside him in those seconds, he knew it was dangerous. “Someone’s gonna come pick you up, take you to the hospital. Just get some rest.”

She closed her eyes and listened.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher x y/n #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x you #the punisher fluff #marvel fanfic series #marvel x reader #marvel female reader insert #frank castle x female reader

330 notes · View notes