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dameronology · 6 months

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couples therapy (frank castle)

summary: you go to couple's therapy with frank castle. it's just as terrible as you can imagine.

warnings: so much language. at least 10 f-bombs.

enjoy xx

Couples therapy felt like a stupid fucking idea, to be honest.

There was only three feet between you and Frank; you wanted to be closer but at the same time, you wanted to drop kick his loud-talking, argumentative, defensive ass to the other side of the city. No, scratch that. The country, or maybe even world. Somewhere far enough so that you didn't have to look at his stupid face but somewhere close enough that you could still reach out for him in the night. Somewhere far enough so that you couldn't hear that gravelly voice that made your skin crawl, but somewhere close enough so that he could still whisper horny sweet nothings in your ear.

And it was thoughts like that that made you realise why you were here.

There had been a few weeks of tension; that had grown into two months of shit bubbling under the surface. You were mad at him. He was mad at you. You couldn't bring it up because he'd accuse you of overreacting and he couldn't bring it up because even before all the PTSD-causing-crap he'd lived through, Frank was shit at coming to terms with how he felt about things. Vocalising his emotions wasn't his strongpoint. Revenge and killing was. So, safe to say that this was his personal form of hell. Anyways. That shit had hit the fan eventually and now it was splattered all over the room and it was covering you both and no matter how many metaphorical showers you took, nothing would fix this except the clean slate that emotional catharsis would bring you.

Maybe you'd break up. Maybe you'd stay together. Maybe it was all up to the gaunt, old man in the chair opposite you who reminded you a little too much of John Kramer and was draining $50 an hour from your bank right now. Did they do Groupons for couples therapy?

"So," he began. His name was Doctor Richards. He was a little too quiet for your liking. "Tell me...why are you here?"

Frank let out a gruff laugh. "Isn't that what you're here to tell us, Doc?"

"No, actually," he shook his head. "You explain your problems to me and I'll give you reasonable solutions to try and fix those problems."

There was a moment of silence, and Doctor Richards glanced at you.

"Is he always this defensive?"

It was your turn to laugh now.

"Uhhh, not always," you replied. "Not with me, at least. More so with other people."

"So he's more open with you?" the doctor raised his eyebrows, but then glanced between you. "Emotional vulnerability is a good sign. A sign of life - of course, unless, this has changed over the course of your relationship."

"It hasn't," Frank firmly said. "I laid myself bare the day we met. That hasn't changed."

"He's right," you nodded. "I just...I think you have a hard time articulating your feelings, Frank. Sometimes when you do open up to me, it turns into an argument."

"That's bullshit," Frank muttered.

You cleared your throat and turned to look back at your relationship saviour. "We're here because we argue too fucking much, doc. If I say nothing, he gets mad. If I respond, I'm overreacting-"

"- because you do overreact!" he interrupted you.

"Maybe because you never let me fucking talking talk!" you snapped.

"Guys!" Richards cut you both off. "This is a safe space and I'm going to give you both a chance to talk. That's how you get to the bottom of things."

You glanced at Frank. "Can I go first?"

"Yes."

Shuffling uncomfortably in your seat, you glanced down at your hands and cleared your throat. There was so much on your mind but a complete disconnect between your brain and your mouth; translating your thoughts into feelings was hard at the best of times, but even harder under pressure. You didn't want to say something to upset Frank, even less to hurt him.

"I..." you trailed off. "I've always been someone who likes to talk about things, you know? I like to communicate, especially with the people I love, so I'm always open when something upsets me or doesn't feel right. Conversation is important to me but I think you're different, Frank. You like to think and not feel and when you refuse to talk to me about shit, it hurts. It's like you can open up to me about all your feelings except the ones about me and in my mind,. those are the most important ones."

Frank didn't respond; he just looked at you.

"For someone that chats so much shit, you sure seem to keep quiet on a lot of things," you continued, voice dropping to a murmur now. "I'm not overreacting when I respond the way I do. It's just fucking frustrating."

He looked away, brown eyes staring blankly at the wall behind Richards for a moment. That was the first time in the better part of three years that you's actually seen Frank quiet.

(Save for when he was sleeping, and the time he almost died in the middle of your living room).

"I like to keep certain things quiet," Frank finally spoke. His eyes flickered from the wall, down to your new therapist. "I work a night job, doc. It gets stressful. I deal with some heavy shit."

"It's an overused saying, but a problem halved is a problem shared," Richards replied. "You have a partner who is willing to listen. One who I assume knows their threshold, and would tell you if sharing it was too much."

"He's right," you said. "When you shut me out and bottle it up, it builds up, and then you get shitty with me and it manifests itself in every part of your life. Of our lives. Because we're intertwined as shit, Frank, and you can't pick and choose what parts you share with me."

Frank sniffed. "Well, hell. Look at us breaking ground."

"A lot of people come into couple therapy assuming it means their relationship is over," Richards said. "That's almost never the case. It shows you're both willing to work on it."

Your eyes fell to the floor for a moment. Frank had been strangely willing to come here; it wasn't something you'd thought about too much before now, but his willingness felt like hope to you. This time a few years ago, he would have walked away at the first sign of trouble. Now he wanted to take your hand and walk towards it.

"I can't tell you about all your problems based entirely on this conversation, but I can...I can share some introspection from a third party perspective," Richards said. "Frank, you have a partner whose willing to listen, but...maybe they go about saying it in the wrong way. Maybe it feels forced, or like they're not letting you do it on their own terms."

"I guess," Frank murmured. "What if I don't want to share? What if...what if I just want to protect them from all this dark shit?"

"You can choose what you share," he replied. "But if you choose not to share, you have to communicate that."

The apartment was tense when you and Frank got back. It had been a tense two hours; talks of communication and honesty, of sharing your lives and being partners. It had been okay for the first hour, but as soon as you hit the second you felt like you'd kind of gotten the point. You and Frank weren't the worst couple in the world, and couple therapy was fucking boring. That had been your main take away.

You threw your keys on the side, dumping your jacket as you entered the flat. Everything was as you left it; washing up from breakfast in the sink, pile of boots by the door, a letter pinned on your notice board about an increase in rent. All things that were headaches in themselves, but simply just contributing factors to a bigger, ongoing migraine. Frank was behind you, dragging his feet and huffing.

"Something you want to share, Frankie?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

"That felt like bullshit."

You snorted. "I felt like I was being listened to for the first time in months. Maybe that speaks volumes."

"Oh, come on," he rolled his eyes. "How are we leavin' couples therapy and you're already having a go at me?"

"Sorry," you murmured. "Honestly, Frank, I'm just fucking frustrated. I've said all I need to say but...whether or not you wanna listen and actually work on it is what counts."

"Are you dumb?" Frank asked, but quickly regretted his choice of words. "Shit. Baby, I'm sorry - I didn't mean it like that-"

"- how the fuck did you mean it then, Franklin?"

He paused, holding his hands out for a moment. "I just sat in a cramped room with some Jigsaw lookin' motherfucker for the better part of two hours, listening to you complain - rightfully so, don't get me wrong - and tryna take notes on how I can be a better partner to you. Maybe it's not obvious, and maybe it won't be for hot a fuckin' minute, not until I've got my ducks in a line, or just shot em all, but just...I will try, okay? I need you to be patient with me but..."

Frank took your hand, placing your palm on his chest. He covered it with his own large one, tangling your fingers together and pausing for a moment.

"I need patience...please?"

You nodded, letting him squeeze your hand. "Yeah. Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry. I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"We'll be okay, won't we?"

"Of course we will."

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

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komotionlessqueenmm · 8 days

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Imagine # 1,060

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (Roughly) - 12 minutes

This one was actually a request, which I don't typically do, but sometimes I simply can't resist!

Tag(s) - @rishdrago

With a tired sigh (Y/n) sat the last of her groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. It was another long day at work, with another grueling case coming to a close. While she loves her job, sometimes it really takes a toll on her. But now at home all she needs to worry about is putting away her groceries, and making a quick dinner. Easy enough. If it wasn't for the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway that set her into fight or flight mode.

Spinning on her heel in an instant, she unholstered her pistol and aimed at the doorway to the hallway. "You really messed up you know, but if you know what's good for you, you'll come into the light nice and slow. Otherwise you're gonna leave my house in an ambulance, or a body bag." (Y/n) called out to the would be intruder, bracing herself for a potential firefight. But when the intruder rounded the corner, and came into sight, she nearly dropped her gun. "Frank?" She breathed out in a whisper, her arms falling to her sides. "Frank's dead." He muttered mournfully. "You look pretty fucking alive to me." She sassed as she holstered her pistol, knowing deep down that she could still trust Frank with her life.

The behemoth of a man simply shrugged his shoulders, taking a small first step into the room, as if he was testing the water. "What are you doing here?" She asked turning back to her groceries, while letting him come into the room at his own pace. "I killed Gianni Franco." He stated as he walked up to the other side of the counter, leaving the space between them to prove he meant her no harm. "Trust me Frank, I am well aware of that. You do realize I'm still a detective right? And I'm still friends with Jake you know, so I'm the one he goes to, to vent about you." She glanced his way, trying to get a read of his reaction to her words.

He seemed unbothered, which really didn't surprise her. "I'm sorry." Now that surprised her. Setting the box of noodles down, she turned her full attention to Frank. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you should apologize to." She pointed out, but Frank didn't seem bothered, as he casually scratched at the scruff on his face. "Frank why are you here?" She asked now standing across from him at the counter, looking into his eyes which once swirled with so much life. "I don't know... I'm not exactly sure what to do now." He admitted.

"Jake would tell you to turn yourself in." (Y/n) mused with a small smile, her words making him chuckle softly under his breath, a sound she had missed more than she ever realized until now. "That's why I came to you." He admitted, now leaning against the counter. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me on the spot like Jake, and I could just talk to you." Frank admitted with a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well that's where me and Jake are different, I actually believe you're doing the world good by killing those guys. People like that have to much money and power for us to touch, and we could use a vigilante to even out the odds." She hummed as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to Frank, who took it with a small mutter of thanks. "I knew you'd feel that way." He said before sipping his beer. "Then why didn't you come to me sooner?" She asked as she leaned again the counter.

"Because I don't want you trying to join me." He stated matter-of-factly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "That's fair I guess, but what's changed? Why come to me now?" She pried, hoping he would open up to her. "I had a dream about you last night." His words stuck a cord in (Y/n)'s heart, one she didn't realize was still there until now. "A dream?" She played off her nerves like a natural, making her glad she was trained to hide her true emotions, in order to effectively interrogate suspects.

"It started as a nightmare, I was reliving their deaths." She knew he was referring to his family, so she didn't pry for clarification, knowing it only hurt him to talk about them. "But before I could wake up, you appeared from the shadows. You didn't say anything, you just..." He trailed off as he stared at his beer. "You just pulled me into a hug, and held me while I cried for them." (Y/n)'s heart broke at his admittance, she knew he hated showing vulnerably before he lost his family, let alone now that he's The Punisher.

"It made me realize how much I've missed you, and I also realized I can't keep doing this alone, I can't keep being alone." He looked up to her, his eyes ever so glossy. "I know Julie would want me to move on, to come to terms with what happened. But I couldn't do that while the Franco's were still alive and free." He sipped his beer. "But now... Now I need help getting through this, and you're the only one that can help me (Y/n)." Frank wanted to hold her hand as he spoke, but he resisted the urge.

"I'll always be here for you Frank." She assured him, her words pulling a genuine smile from him. "How about I make us some dinner, and we can figure out where to go from there." She offered, smiling when he nodded in agreement. "You should stay here tonight, get a shower and have some normalcy for a change." She added. "Are you trying to say I smell bad?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"Frank dear I've been holding my breath this entire time." (Y/n) joked, making him roll his eyes, despite his smile. "Still a smartass I see." He huffed. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She sassed before pointing to the hallway. "You still remember where the guestroom is." She added, smiling when he nodded and walked off to take a shower while she cooked dinner.

"Well what are you planning on doing now that you've dealt with the Franco family?" (Y/n) asked before she finished off the last bite of her dinner. "There are still people who are not punished by the justice system." Frank stated having finished his dinner long before she had. "Are you planning on doing to them what you did to the Franco's?" She asked. "Only to those who deserve it." Frank clarified, setting (Y/n)'s mind at ease.

"I'm glad you've come to me Frank, but I'm unbelievably exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." She rose from her seat, picking up her plate, and moving to grab his. Frank took her plate, and grabbed his own. "I'll deal with the dishes, go to bed, we can talk more in the morning." He insisted. "Okay thank you." She leaned over and pecked his temple like she used to as a quick thanks. "Oh and I forgot to ask, you didn't break any windows to get in did you?" She asked.

"No don't worry, I just picked the lock on the back door." He shrugged casually. "You still have that spare key I gave you don't you?" She arched a brow at him, and his faint smile gave him away. "Goodnight Frank." She called as she walked away into the hall. "Goodnight (Y/n)." He called back to her. When (Y/n) reached her bedroom, she began shedding off her clothes, in desperate need of a warm shower before going to bed.

As the water washed over her sore muscles, (Y/n)'s mind drifted to Frank. She'd been so torn up when he was declared dead, and mourned for him and his family for many months. They were a big part of her life, they were family to her. Even though deep down (Y/n) had loved Frank in a deeper more heart wrenching way. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that then, and even now she feels guilty for it.

She never acted on it, and never intended on trying to take him as her own. He was happy and he deserved the love he already had with Julie. Now things are different, but it still doesn't feel right, even if it's been over a year since she passed. He clearly still loved her, and (Y/n) wasn't going to make a fool of herself, and potentially push him away and loose him again. Still she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him again, so much more gruff and rugged.

And knowing that he trusted her enough to come to her made her head spin. By the time she finished her shower, her eyes grew heavy with sleep. Her mind was still stuck on Frank, even as she crawled between the sheets. She wondered idly if he would still be here in the morning, or if he'd ever come back when he did leave. As she began drifting to sleep, she heard the sound of the guestroom door opening and closing. Telling her he was still here, and most likely would still be come morning.

(Y/n)'s sleep was dreamless and peaceful, which was better than she'd had in weeks. While Frank's dreams were chaotic and filled with memories that still hurt him oh so deeply. He dreamt of his children, of his wife, of the look of betrayal and hurt on Jakes face. Then he dreamt of (Y/n), and her never ending acceptance of the choices he's made. He felt at ease while he dreamt of her, his tense muscles relaxing as he dreamt of walking with her beside a lake.

She always had a way of putting him at ease, just by simply being there and listening to him vent whenever he needed it. He knew she meant more to him than just a friend, but he much like her, had never intended on exploring those feelings. But now after everything, despite knowing he's putting her in danger by coming around, Frank knows he needs her. He needs her help more than ever, and he knows deep down that Julie would understand.

When morning came Frank woke up to the smell of breakfast. Something he's missed more than he realized until now. In a bit of a groggy daze Frank wondered into the kitchen, dressed in the sleep clothes he found in the closet in the guestroom. "Mornin' bud." (Y/n) mused as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee his way. "Morning." He muttered as he slipped at the hot brew, slightly surprised she remembered how he likes his coffee.

"You want some breakfast?" She asked as she pulled two plates from the cupboard. "Please." He nodded his head in agreement. "Good because I made plenty." She mused with a smile, as she placed a plate in front of him. "I'm glad you're still here and you didn't slip away in the night." She added sincerely. "I half expected that last night would be the last time I'd ever see you." Her words cut him deeper than he would have expected, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Like I said, I need your help." Frank said earnestly. "Well then, what's the plan?" She asked as she sat beside him with her own plate. "I don't really have a plan, but for now I think we'll just take it one day at a time, and figure it all out." He shrugged. "Wow the Frank Castle doesn't have a plan, that's a first." (Y/n) joked, making him chuckle. "So are you planning on staying here?" She asked a few moments later. "No I don't want to put you at risk of being caught hiding a fugitive." He shook his head.

"I appreciate that." She hummed softly, having worried a bit about that last night. "I think it'll be best if I just come in the evenings when I need... Well a shoulder to lean on I guess." He said, picking at his food a little. "And when you need patched up I imagine." She added, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and Frank agreed with a small chuckle. "Yeah I'm sure I probably will come to you when I need patched up." He smiled at her before going back to eating his breakfast. "I'll be sure to stock up on some supplies." (Y/n) mused more to herself, than to Frank.

(Y/n)'s pager went off with a shrill beeping, signaling that it was time to get to work. Her partner letting her know they already had a new case to work on. "Well that's my queue, I've gotta get going. I'll see you later Frank, don't worry about the dishes, I'll deal with that when I get home." (Y/n) moved back into the kitchen, placing her half empty plate into the sink for now. "Hey (Y/n)." Frank called to her before she could rush off. "Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Thank you, for everything." He stood from his seat, and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. "You're welcome Frank." She hummed as she hugged him back, feeling as though she's already made a difference in his chaotic life.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I honestly couldn't think of a better way of ending this one, but I hope it was satisfactory either way. I'm a little rusty, as I haven't consistently written in ages, so I apologize if it didn't turn out as good as you hoped. (゜-゜)

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the-ghost-bird · 1 year

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Unless...

Frank Castle x Reader drabble

Gif by @darlingshane

Summary: She's had enough of him.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, murder, gun play, knife play, injury, blood play (don't do this at home fellas), sadomasochism, honestly a bit of a toxic dynamic, assassin!reader, sub!Frank, Frank being the biggest masochist ever, mentions of masturbation and voyeurism.

A/N: I havent written or posted any work in a long while, but I had the idea for this and I needed to get it out of my system. I'm not gonna edit, just gonna throw this into the world or ill probably never post it. Tagging @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @vandominia @softsapphicsap @chellestrash @chelseasdagger @itwasthereaminuteago

Frank fires before she can, and loses count of how many rounds he put into his target.

He's becoming reckless, that much he knows. With each kill, his anger grows, and he became a little too focused on shredding the man in front of him to keep count of how much ammo was spent.

He watches afterwards, takes in the sight of the blood staining the egyptian carpet in the pristine office. Well, not so pristine anymore.

Once it all feels real, he breathes. Inhales sharply, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. Frank isn't affected by death, at least not this one, but his kill list is getting shorter and he's been having an existential crisis every here and there, avoidant of the fact he'll have to figure out what to do with himself once this quest for revenge is over.

For now, he breathes.

For now, he focuses on dealing with her.

Frank walks towards the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office, looks out to see Y/N on the roof of another building, standing besides a sniper rifle, barrel pointed at him. They stare at each other from a distance until she grabs her gear and turns her back.

Frank has some explaining to do, so the dead body is left to rot.

He finds her on the roof of his safehouse. Y/N stands perfectly still in the shadows, still enough to fool him into thinking that maybe, just maybe, she won't be too mad.

"That was my contract." Her voice is cold and professional, the first winds of a tempest.

"I know." Frank's response is as professional as it is stupid. And it just feeds into Y/N's frustration.

"It was ten million dollars, Castle."

"Yeah. And?"

"IT WAS MY FUCKING MONEY, FRANK!"

He should be concerned, should care about how she fucking roared at him loud enough for Murdock to hear. But honestly? Frank can't bring himself to give a fuck.

"You'll survive." He brushes off. Y/N can feel her frustration turn into rage, but she still tries to keep calm and make a point.

"And my fucking reputation?! Don't you think word will get out that the Punisher stole my kill right in front of me like it was nothing?" She tries, but Frank just breathes out a chuckle and crosses his arm, deciding he wants to be funny.

"So? Listen, if you're thinking you can outmatch me and you want everyone in your business to think the same, that's a you problem, and you're damn straight delusional-"

Next thing Frank feels is a bullet in his thigh.

He falls to one knee with a pained cry, draws his firearm at light speed, and pulls the trigger. But no fire comes out.

"You should've counted your bullets, Castle. I did." Y/N shakes her head in mock disappointment and stalks towards him, gun pointed at his head. And now it's his turn to get fucking furious.

"The fuck is wrong with you!? You gonna kill me over a hit?"

"You know better than to get in between me and a contract." She spits harshly, gun under his chin before she orders. "Get that other knee of yours on the ground before I blow it out."

Frank obeys, tries his best to ignore the pain on his thigh, and how it gets worse with pressure and weight onto it.

"Thaaat's it, baby." Y/N praises before her tone turns condescending. "You look so pretty in that position, you know that?"

Frank heaves, vibrating with anger. For a second, he tries reaching for the blade on his side, but Y/N raises her gun to his forehead.

"Keep moving and I'll unload the entire mag in you, and I know exactly how many bullets I've got left."

Frank let's out a shaky breath, knowing he fucked up but too stubborn to fully admit it to himself. Y/N looks at him for a long couple of seconds, and she can see him making mental calculations, trying to figure out how he's supposed to get out of this.

"What? You don't trust me, sweetie?"

He doesn't bother with an answer, and they keep up the unbreakable eye contact before Y/N speaks up again.

"You know Castle, I was 15 when my mother got me private medical lessons." She starts and, despite the pulsing pain, Frank is curious as to where in the fuck this conversion is going. Y/N rarely ever mentions any detail of herself, so suddenly he's very interested in whatever she has to say. "I already knew how to patch myself up so I was confused as to why she would hire a whole team of doctors to give me in depth lessons of the human body. I just didn't know how it would be... useful... for the family business." Y/N reminisces, before asking "Have I told you doctors make the best torturers?"

Both of them know the answer to that question, and Frank knows that underneath this ramble, Y/N is trying to control her emotions, so he indulges her with an answer.

"No. You haven't told me that."

"I should've figured it out sooner, but I only really found out when she brought me on a mission to extract intel. She made it clear: greatest amount of pain while keeping the target alive for the longest time possible." Y/N finishes with a deep breath before shaking her head slightly as if trying to shake away memories. She then caresses the scar on his cheek with her thumb, taking the time to look at him before hushing softly. "I could never hurt you, Frankie. Not in a way that matters."

That's when Frank understands what she's trying to say. That while she has an inhumanly accurate aim, the bullet she shot didn't go low enough on his thigh to damage his knee or high enough to hit his artery.

She hurt him, but she didn't incapacitate him.

She wouldn't kill him.

"Unless..." Y/N sings as she clicks off the safety on the gun and wraps her hand around his throat. "Unless the big bad punisher lets his ego get out of control again and thinks he can steal another one of my contracts. Is that going to happen, Castle?"

He sneers at her, anger clouding his vision again and making Frank reluctant to answer. But she knows he'll talk, and he'll talk real nice.

"...no." He mumbles. Y/N's not satisfied though, so she presses the gun hard against his temple, raising her voice to that soldier-like tone Frank used to hear in the marines.

"No what ?!"

"I won't get in your way. I won't-" He rasps, finally yielding before crumbling at the fury in her eyes. "I- I'm... m'sorry."

And that simple word makes her open the widest of grins, expression turning euphoric and leaning on unhinged, like it's what she needed all along. Frank knows how much she loves his apologies, even if she doesn't accept them.

Y/N doesn't hesitate to press a harsh kiss onto his split lip. Frank knows she can hear the whine he tries to suppress, that she can taste the blood on his tongue. She leaves him breathless, only parting to bring her lips close by his ear.

"I saw it." She whispers. "That night after I opened up your pretty cheek. I saw you."

Frank's eyes widen, and with a shudder, every bit of residual anger leaves his body.

Frank remembers when they met up a couple of months ago, remembers how pent up he was after their fight, remembers being hard while he stitched the cut on his cheek, and how he came in the shower afterwards, pleading her name and thinking of all the other ways she could hurt him.

And she saw.

He doesn't know how but she saw him.

"How about I leave you with a warning and a gift, huh?" Y/N proposes sweetly, pulling out the knife from Frank's side.

Later on, he'll pretend like he didn't nod so eagerly.

Y/N uses the knife to slice open the unscarred cheek. She takes in Frank's reaction, from his gorgeous whimper to the way his eyes are blown, and then focuses on how beautiful he is when he's bleeding.

Before Frank can register, her tongue is on his face, licking from his jaw up to the cut on his cheek, lapping up the blood before she comments with a smile.

"Now they match."

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miamochi-writes · 1 year

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I Choose You Wolfwood x Reader

A/n: Not a request but something I've been meaning to write when I first watched Wolfwood get introduced. This is much different from what you’ve seen of my writing so far. Let me know what you think! I try to do gender neutral with the reader but for this piece I’m going to make the reader female. Also mild trigger warning for those who don’t have a great relationship with religion. There’s a scene where I get into it after the read more button. Read at your own discretion.

You had no idea the impact that Nicholas Wolfwood would have on your life when you met on that faithful day. You were just an ordinary medic, except you ran away from your home and the religion that you grew up. You couldn’t take it anymore with their teachings and being forced to help people you didn’t exactly felt comfortable with. You thought anywhere was better than living or working with a cultlike community. Eventually you bumped into Vash, Meryl, and Roberto and managed to join the rag tag of a team.

You were traveling with them through No Man’s Land like any other day until you bumped into a man holding what looked like a giant wrapped up cross. You didn’t notice as you were bummed by the whole Jeneora Rock incident. It wasn’t until you felt a huge bump and felt yourself jolt from the impact and shaking your thoughts away.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” you asked as you saw a man unconscious. Meryl accidentally ran into a guy and you were panicking. You were not going to let him die on your watch.

“Hey! Stay with me! Guys I can patch him up but I need a place to work on him!” you panicked as you were trying to keep the man alive. You rushed to get him treated, and ended up in a nearby plant to nurse him back to health. Eventually he regained consciousness as you looked him.

“Hey are you okay? How are you feeling?” you asked. The man looked at you in a daze.

“Am I in Heaven because I’m looking at the face of an angel,” he muttered. You practically blushed as you were checking him.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re still alive. I’m a medic that helped patch you up,” you explained trying to force your blush away. You then found out how he was “a priest”. You were very skeptical of him as you were still wary of religion, and kept your distance. It wasn’t until you saw a child within the area who asked to help bury their parents and say a eulogy for them you saw this man’s true colors.

“Uh...Heavenly Father who art in Heaven...” the priest began.

“Forgive us our sins o Lord, as we forgive those who sinned against us,” he continued as you furrowed your eyebrows. That was not how the Lord’s prayer went exactly, maybe it was a different iteration?

“Please welcome their souls and the souls of all those who have faithfully departed...Into your...in your...what is it? Welcome them into your humble abode...into your prayer gates,” he said.

You opened your eyes to peak at what the heck this man was saying as Vash and Meryl were all giving each other confused looks. You knew for sure, this guy was not a priest with what he was saying.

“Deliver unto them...Deliverance...not quite but I’m getting there,” the man tried to continue but he faltered as his “cross” was leaning towards the ground as he tried to catch it. You couldn’t take it anymore as you and Meryl smacked him on the head.

“SOME PRIEST YOU ARE! THAT’S NOT EVEN THE CORRECT WAY TO SAY THE LORD’S PRAYER!” you yelled at him.

“Oh? And just what makes you say that?” he asked growling at you while rubbing his head.

“For your information this is how you start it! In the name of the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit! Our Father, who art in Heaven,” you began as you did the hand motions to start. You recited it just like how your parents taught you all those years. Hell, you even added your twist to the eulogy with praying that the people who passed find peace and rest in their next chapter.

“Now that’s how you do a prayer and eulogy, got it?!” you yelled at him with your hands on your hips and walked back with the group. The “priest” just stared at you with a slight growl and tched as he grabbed his “cross”.

Little did you know after that whole ordeal, one thing led to another. There was the whole worm incident and how the man’s “cross” was some other worldly high tech weapon that can obliterate a worm. He practically rescued you when you got lost, and freed everyone from being trapped in the worm. You were just speechless when you witnessed him using it as he chuckled at your shocked face.

“Cat got your tongue angel?” he commented with that shit eating grin.

“I have a name you know, it’s y/n,” you retorted.

“The name is Nicholas D. Wolfwood, don’t forget it angel,” he replied forever calling you that nickname that irked you.

You’ve been traveling with him for quite awhile and started to learn more about him. Despite his tough exterior he’s got a soft side. You learned he was an orphan and how he had a soft spot for kids. Seeing him trying to get kids to look at the brighter side or cheering them up warmed your heart. It was one of the things that made you want to spend more time with him despite how much you bickered with each other. Little did you know your crush for him only grew bigger the more you spent time with him.

Eventually you started growing fond of him, and practically knew him. But he didn’t know you or your background. You figured you wouldn’t bring it up unless he did. You took a pit stop at a town bar one day. Both of you sat next to each other grabbing a drink, just enjoying each other’s company while the others did their own thing.

“Hey, remember when we first met?” Wolfwood asked.

“Yeah, how can I forget? We practically ran you over and found out you were a shitty priest,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, but you know something’s been bugging me since we met. What’s your story? You practically know religion from the back of your hand perfectly. Doesn’t make sense why you’re with us when you’re not at a church,” he continued. You gripped your drink slightly as you looked down. You knew this was going to be brought up sooner or later. You took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts.

“I ran away from home and my religion. To say my family is overly religious is an understatement. I practically grew up with it and was forced to learn the customs early on. At first I thought what I was doing was normal until I made some friends and realized the way we practiced was excessive. I was always uncomfortable with the people I went to at church. I never felt welcomed, I felt judged constantly like everyone focused on my mistakes and never my accomplishments. It’s like I had to keep up appearances or I get lectures,” you started. You can feel your hand gripping your clothes. Remembering or even talking about religion always made you tense.

“Sorry, it’s a bit TMI, I know,” you apologized as you took a swig of your drink.

“No it’s not, I had no idea you went through that. Continue, I’m listening” he answered as his shades hid his eyes and showed your reflection.

“I was sick and tired of being told what was right and wrong in their eyes. It just felt like I wasn’t living my life how I wanted. I wanted to be free, and decided to run away. I haven’t looked back since then and I’m glad I bumped into this group. I haven’t felt so comfortable being myself in a long time. I felt welcomed, and I can choose who to help instead of being forced to. I’m actually helping people who need it you know? So when you first introduced yourself as a priest, I was a bit scared of you. But after learning more about you, I’m glad you’re not a priest telling me my soul is going to rot in hell,” you continued as you let out a small chuckle.

“Can’t forget how you hit me when you found out. You left a nasty bruise that day. But I like someone who can put up a fight,” Wolfwood commented as he pulled out a cigarette and started smoking. Thankfully, he blew his smoke away from you as he knew how much you didn’t like it. You blushed with what he said and nudged him.

“Knock it off!” you whined as he chuckled.

“But seriously though, I didn’t know you had to go through that. I can see why you would leave. Sorry for bringing that up,” he replied rubbing his neck.

“I mean you were going to find out sooner or later, but honestly I’m glad I’m far away from home now. Meeting everyone here has been great. But I guess you don’t want to hang with some ex-church member after finding out huh?” you brought up and looked away from him. You understood if he didn’t want to be near you.

“I don’t care about that crap. I think it’s brave of you to leave something like that. That takes guts,” he answered looking you dead on.

“Wait, you mean it?” you asked.

“Dead serious. I think it’s brave that the person who brought me back to life did all that and is with us,” he explained as he smoked again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt yourself get hot as a blush crept to your cheeks. You didn’t know if he was actually serious like he said, but you figured you might as well enjoy it before he goes back to being his usual self again the next day.

"Thanks that means a lot Wolfwood. I’m glad we met. I can’t thank you for the amount of times you kept me safe,” you muttered that last part thinking he didn’t hear it. You saw Wolfwood rub your hair and turn away as you told him to quit it. He then raised his beer and looked you in the face looking a bit red.

“Toast for new beginnings,” he said waiting for you to do the same.

“To new beginnings and good company,” you added as you clinked his glass and drank the night away.

~*~

The next morning, you went to go grab some medical supplies for the group before heading out to the next city. You wanted to go alone and not bother anyone since you wanted to take care of things as soon as possible. You were about to head back until you stopped in your tracks when your eyes locked on to someone you least expected.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Is that you y/n?”

You couldn’t believe that the priest from your old church was right there standing across from you.

“No, it can’t be. Why are you here?” you asked taking a step back.

“Oh come now, is that how you welcome me after we’ve been searching for you? After all, I practically knew you since you were born. We miss you and your parents as well. Why don’t you come back with us and leave this wretched town? You’re wasting your efforts on saving people who don’t deserve to be saved,” he offered.

You were practically frozen in your tracks, horrified that this was real and not some nightmare.

“That’s not true, I’ve helped so many people who deserve a second chance. You only let me help people you wanted to save and shunned people who really needed it. I had to watch people suffer when we turned them away when we easily could have helped them. What you did was not right or godly! You made people suffer!” you argued shaking from anger and fear.

“I see you’re still going through a rebellious phase. You should know that suffering brings us closer to God remember? As for helping people in need… You say that, yet how would those same people felt if they knew the real you?” he asked as you felt your stomach do knots.

“That’s right, no one would understand you but us my dear. A runaway who abandoned their parents, church, and community just so they can explore the world? I don’t think people would like that now would they? No matter, if you come back I’ll forgive you of all your sins and the trouble you’ve caused since you left. You wouldn’t want to upset your parents more do you? After all, they’ve been a laughing stock ever since you left us. Maybe they’ll forgive you if you’re obedient again. Even your friends, they’ve all been punished by your leave. It’s your fault you know. You brought this upon yourself” he continued as you felt the guilt crawling up your neck. You dropped your supplies and looked at the ground feeling trapped. He knew how to get in your head. You hate how he still had a hold of you mentally. You didn’t realize how your departure would affect other people. Were you causing more harm than good?

“That’s what I thought, I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s bring you home shall we?” the priest spoke as he walked closer to you. Your heart was racing as you were screaming to get your body to move. This is not what you wanted, but you were paralyzed with these overwhelming emotions and thoughts. Maybe this was for the best? Maybe you were being a burden? Did you even consider how others felt about you joining them?

SLAP!

You looked up to see Wolfwood was in front of you and how he slapped the priest’s face.

“Wolfwood...” you spoke.

“Take another step towards ‘em and I’ll be sending you a one way ticket to the afterlife, and I guarantee you’re not going to Heaven,” Wolfwood threatened.

“How dare you hit a messenger of God! You must be one of the people who’s been filling their head with nonsense. Let me guess, Y/b must have sold you the sob story about how horrible we were just so they can follow those selfish desires,” the priest hissed.

“Shut up! Some priest you are! You say you miss Y/n and that you’ll forgive ‘em, yet here you are making them feel like it’s their fault for everything? For the record, Y/n has saved more people than you can count compared to your stupid cult! I trust them more than someone who claims to be symbol of God,” Wolfwood spat back.

“And just who are you to insult me?” the priest asked.

“I’m the Punisher! I make a better priest than you fool! And for the record, you didn’t even ask Y/n to choose asshole! Y/n is a person who can make their own decisions! Let them decide who they want to be with,” Wolfwood offered.

“Fine then, y/n who do you choose? Your family and community that truly know you or this unholy man you barely met?” the priest asked. You looked at Wolfwood as he looked behind you with his hand reaching out to yours. The priest did the same as you bit your thumb. You then looked at Wolfwood again as he said something only you could hear. “Whatever you choose, I respect. Just know, I felt like I was the luckiest guy on No Man’s Land when you took care of me that day we meet. I meant everything I said last night. Anyone is lucky to have you with them, including me...y/n,” he spoke.

Your glossy eyes widened as you felt your mouth quiver. You were shaking, but hearing those words did something to you. How could you possibly forget about last night? The fact that he was serious and not influenced by the alcohol made you realize something. Wolfwood accepted you for who you were. He listened to you and gave you the time of day. He didn’t judge you when you opened up about your past. He liked you for you. You ran to Wolfwood and held on to him for dear life as you buried your head on his chest.

“I choose you! I choose you Wolfwood! I will always choose you!” you managed to let out as you started crying. You felt him hold you tight as he caressed your hair.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me angel,” he reassured and then looked at the priest.

“If you lay one finger on ‘em, or if I so much catch you trying to guilt trip Y/n again, I’ll skin you alive and play with your bones until you’re dead. You’re lucky I didn’t bring my weapon or I would shoot you on the spot. You got that?!” Wolfwood sneered as he held you close to his side.

The priest staggered as he took a step back and ran the other direction as he looked in fear. Hopefully that was the last you would ever see of him.

“Hey, you’re okay now. He’s gone,” Wolfwood said as you felt your legs give out from how mentally and emotionally exhausted you were.

“How did you know I was here?” you asked.

“You took too long and figured something happened. Glad I went looking for you,” he said as he picked up your things and put it in your bag. You tried to stop crying, but no luck. You then saw Wolfwood give you one of his lollipops.

“Take it, you need it after today. It’s your favorite flavor anyway,” he offered. You popped the sweet candy into your mouth.

“Thank you Wolfwood,” you managed to speak as you tried to stop the tears from flowing.

“Can you stand?” He asked as you shook your head.

He then picked you up bridal style leaving you flustered. You figured he was strong enough to carry you since he carried that machine gun of his all the time. But him carrying you? That’s a first.

“Save it, let’s get you back with the others. Plus, I meant what I said back there earlier. I’m not letting anyone hurt the person I care about so long as you’re with me. Got it?” he said as he carried you back to the hotel you were staying at. he held a firm grip on you making sure you were secure in his arms.

You held on to him on the way back just listening to his heart beat. You were lucky to have him. He kept you safe and sound after everything that happened. You felt yourself getting sleepy, but you also kept true to your word. If you could choose all over again, you would always choose him.

#wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x y/n #trigun stampede #trigun #miamochi writes #trigun fic #the punisher #punisher x you #punisher x reader

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misspeachesmcgee · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Warning: Dark Themes Ahead! self harm, cutting, angst, depression

They’re only a block from home when Red freezes, tilting his head and sniffing the air like a damn beagle. They’d been working together on this drug ring for a few weeks, and while Frank still doesn’t get the full extent of the Devil’s abilities, he’s been around the man enough to know when shits about to hit the fan.

“What now?” Frank gruffs. It was a shit night but he managed to end it with only a few shallow cuts and he’s plenty happy to keep it that way.

“Shut up for a second,” Matt whispers, straining his senses. “There’s blood. I think it’s coming from your apartment.”

It’s enough to light a fire under Frank’s ass and send both men running across the rooftops.

———

You don’t know what broke the dam.

It’s been weeks, but you also feel like it’s been your whole damn life. Hasn’t it, though? There’s always been something wrong with you, something broken. It’s always been there, as much a part of you as the broken skin and split muscle beneath. It’s just you. You’re what’s wrong, the voice in your head whispers.

Another pull of the razor across your arm and you hear the gentle tip tap of blood droplets in the sink.

It turns out it was easier than you thought to hide it from Frank. He’d been too busy with his work to notice, sleeping during the day and not returning home until the early hours of the morning.

You thought you’d feel lonely. But really you just felt relieved. It left you more than enough time to clean up the evidence, and it gave you a break from the constant worry that he’d find out. A break from the shame.

Another cut. Not too shallow, it scolds. Not too deep.

You fucking hate that word. Shame. You’d spent years of your life suffocating under it. So fucking what if you needed an outlet, if this is how you chose to cope? Who the fuck had the right to judge you?

Another.

A simple glance in the mirror and you saw the pathetic truth in your own eyes. That all that shame you fucking hated wasn’t coming from everyone else, no. Wouldn’t it be easier that way? Fuck them all.

Another.

No, you knew the truth. That the shame is coming from you. Warmth is dripping down your wrists and you watch the way it tangles through your fingers before merging into a trickle as it sinks down the drain.

It’s not enough. Deeper.

God, what would Frank think of you? It’s easy, you scoff. He’d hate you.

He’d hate you.

You start slicing recklessly, harder and deeper than before. It doesn’t matter, it’s not enough. Not ever enough, you think as the blade slips through your slippery fingers and you sink down to the floor. Your head is pounding, its slamming, that hateful voice screaming as you sink to the floor in exhaustion.

The tile is nice and cold on your cheek, and it’s a small and soothing comfort from the bleeding warmth from your arm.

Rest, you think. God, just for a moment, please. Let me rest.

———

Frank screams your name as he throws his shoulder into the door again, the old wood finally splintering under his weight. Through the cracks he can see a bit of blood, a flash of your hair. Another shove and the door flies open.

He freezes at the sight of your open wrist. Freezes. He’ll never forgive himself for that. But the sight of you laying in a pool of your own blood has Frank rooted to the spot, his worst nightmare flashing in front of his eyes over and over. Maria. Frankie. Lisa.

You.

“Frank!” Red shouts from the other room, breaking the spell that has Frank just standing there watching you bleed out on the linoleum. “Bring her in here!”

Franks moving, wrapping you in his arms, your wrist dripping a trail of blood from the bathroom. Red’s got his kit open on the coffee table, needle in his hand as Frank lays you down on the sofa.

“Red,” Frank pleads, though he’s not sure for what.

“Shut up and let me work, Frank!” Red snaps. “Hold her.” Frank doesn’t need to be told twice, the marine in him ever grateful for an order to follow. He can’t think, can’t breathe. All he feels is your blood on his hands and the pounding of fear in his chest. He kneels by your head, burying his face in your neck as Red starts on the stitches. He can’t watch.

“Cmon baby, c��mon” Frank whispers, lips pressed into your forehead as his hands stroke your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Hang in there for me, please.”

———

Frank sits by your bedside, trying to memorize the way the soft skin of your hand moves under his thumb.

He doesn’t feel anything. Not a goddamn thing. He just sits, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next order. Good soldier.

Red left a few hours ago. giving you what little privacy he could, though Frank suspects he hasn’t gone far. How could he? You lit up his life almost as much as you did Franks, as much as everyone you touched. To know you was to love you.

And in return, this is what you got. He’d let you end up here.

How the hell had he not seen it? He knew you’d struggled in the past, he wasn’t an idiot. He saw the scars that freckled your arms, your thighs. But who the hell was he to judge? His skin was covered with them, a testament to his own right to cope however he damn well pleased. And you’d never shied from it, not once. He shared it all with you. Every nightmare, every bruise. He lost track of how many nights you’d stitched his skin shut and put his soul back together with nothing but gauze and tape. How many times you’d pressed soft kisses to the rough skin of his hands, soaked in so much blood and death.

You’d even shared some of yourself in return, about the pain you carried from the room you grew up in. But not– Christ, not this.

You stir in your sleep, and for a moment, Frank thinks this is it. His chest aches with the breath he’s holding. But in the end, you just murmur his name and shift a little to the side, falling back into whatever shade was keeping you from him.

He decided then and there that he was going to fix this. Whatever it took, whoever he needed to be for you.

You were gonna be okay. He’d make sure of it.

Please feel free to lmk what you think! xoxo Peach

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michinnyun · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 9- Frank Castle: Panties

Kinktober list

Frank observes your messy apartment with a quirk in his brow, the one you’re always trying to smooth out with your thumb before you give him a peck on the lips.

He treads on light feet to your bedroom, keeping a watchful eye out for… something. Anything. There was a threat on your life, and he’ll see to it that any danger in your way is obliterated. Nothing is going to happen to you. Not if he can help it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots your laundry hamper, full of used garments and wrinkled clothes. After doing a sweep of the room and making sure there’s nothing for him to find, he hesitates. Looks at the hamper. Drags himself over.

A pair of underwear is hanging off the side. Used. Your used panties. Just sitting there.

“You’re better than this,” he scolds himself under his breath. He moves to leave, but before he can stop himself he’s shoved the panties into his back pocket. __

You’re safe. For now. Frank’s got you in a safe house, and he’d join you, but first he’s got to make sure the danger’s gone before he can even think about relaxing. Matt is watching over you. Red’s the only person he trusts enough to leave you with while he investigates, resolving to bloody his hands again before the night is over.

When Frank Castle wants answers, he gets them, one way or another.

But in the meantime, it’s been two weeks since he last saw you, and Frank has needs. Needs that he begrudgingly satisfies when he fishes your panties out of his back pocket during the quiet hours of the morning, inhaling deeply as he holds them up to his nose.

He feels himself harden instantly, your scent filling his head with memories of your touch, your taste. He groans quietly, grinding the heel of his hand against the erection threatening to undo him. You smell warm, like earth and salt. He misses you already. What he wouldn’t give to have you in this car right now, straddling him. Smiling that sly smile you flash him every time you grind down into his lap. Christ, you drive him crazy.

He imagines your lips on his, your soft body perched atop him. Wilting for him. He palms himself a little more insistently, clenching his jaw to keep quiet. In his fantasy you’re wearing these panties. Only these panties. Getting them all nice and wet for him to use later.

God, he’s disgusting. Depraved. You’re a sweet girl, he shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts when you’re not here to slap him upside the head for staring. For swatting your ass as you walk past. You’re adorable, yelping and scurrying a little when you feel the tap. He always smiles at the thought, but now it’s making him closer, so close to ruining these pants in the middle of this empty parking garage.

He grunts at that thought, unbuckling his belt deftly, undoing his fly and reaching so he can jerk into his dry hand and get it over with. He’s not going to walk around with dry semen on his pants, he’s not a teenager.

He comes from the thought of you on top of him, stuffing the used panties into his mouth to keep him quiet while you silently ride him. You were always so good at that, making him shut up.

He strokes hard and fast with your underwear covering his cock, catching his release before it can spill onto his trousers. He pants raggedly, thrusting his hips into the cradle of his palm, thinking of you shushing him softly as he comes down.

When he’s finally done he looks down at the scrap of fabric in his hand, wrinkling his nose.

He ends up washing it and hiding it in one of your drawers when the danger’s gone.

You still don’t know what broke the elastic.

#Daredevil #my fic #punisher #the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #punisher x reader #punisher x you #jon bernthal #kinktober #kinktober 2022

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juniperwoodwell · 1 year

Text

The Beast Finds Love

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

word count:197

Pairing:Frank Castle x Fem! Reader

Warning(s): Fluff

a/n: Just something small I came up with for a warm up, Enjoy.

"You don't want me, sweetheart, The blood on my hands...It don't wash off." Frank leaned against his truck, looking at the sweet woman standing before him; her arms were crossed over her chest. She huffed and rolled her eyes. Frank found that look in her eyes comforting. "Frank Castle. You can't tell me what I do and don't want." When she reached forward and took Frank's large hands into her smaller ones, He chuckled at the size difference; his tired eyes found their way to her determined ones. "Even the beast deserves love." She looks down at their hands and lifts Frank's hands up to her face. "I'm not afraid of these hands. They've done nothing but protect me since we met. Frank, I love you. I want to be with you. With all your scars, skeletons, and secrets." Frank stepped in close, his hands gently holding her face like she were the most fragile thing in the world; he leaned in, their lips brushing as he responded, "You're crazy, you know that?" "Only for you." She closed the gap with a sweet, loving kiss; It was slow and passionate. Conveying everything they couldn't say with words.

#writing #writers on tumblr #fanfic #reader insert #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #punisher x you #punisher x reader #the punisher

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devils-dares · 2 years

Note

Super congrats on the milestone! Wooooo!!!

Thank you for always writing amazing fics 🧡

Could you do number 11 with Frank touching male! reader's neck and and reader being very flustered?

Once again super happy for you!😄

cw: needles for stitching, injury, a little blood

enjoy!

-----

He stomps down through the hallway into the bathroom, trying to find the first-aid kit as you hobble into the dinky living room, black eye forming and a cut on your eyebrow dripping blood down your face. You can tell he’s angry with you, bubbling within him while you’re ready for him to erupt at any moment.

“You can get mad, I know what I did.” You say, and get an angry puff of air directed back at you. You puff back, showing your annoyance at Frank’s silence. He sets the box of bandages down in front of you, kneeling to your height to clean you up.

He tries to dab at the cut on your eyebrow but you pull away, not allowing him to touch you until he talks to you. He tries to dab at it again, but when you move away for the second time, he glares at you and grabs you by the neck to clean it up.

“Oh-” You say, caught off guard.

“Did that get you to stop being a huffy baby?” His words break the buzzing silence of the safehouse.

“Shut it, Frank.” He squeezes harder for half a second to get you to actually shut up, and then goes back to cleaning you up. The two of you fall into another stifling silence, the look in Frank eyes murderous because someone touched his boyfriend.

“Which one of ‘em did this to you?”

“The one with the western accent.” He hums.

“I took my time with him.” Silence falls again. He starts threading the stitches and you try to hold still, gritting your teeth when the pain gets a little unbearable.

“You can squeeze my arm if it makes you feel better.” You don’t take his advice at first, but when the next stitch starts and the needle pierces your skin, you dig your nails into his arms.

“‘m sorry.” He mumbles almost inaudibly. Once he finishes, he grabs a small bandage to place over your cut and presses a kiss to it, not saying anything else. You know that’s the best he can do at this time as far as conveying his love for you goes, so you take it and hold on to it.

“You were right, I shouldn’t have left the van. It was stupid on my part.” He hums as you pull a bandage from the kit, beginning to patch him up.

“It was stupid.”

“But- but you were getting surrounded and overpowered. So I left my post to come help you, and I’d do it again and again.”

“Over and over, huh? You’d risk your life for mine? That’s the definition of stupidity.”

You stop what you’re doing and look at him, a ‘are you serious’ look dancing across your face until Frank laughs.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Fuck, I love you.” His words leave you speechless, and you do nothing but laugh with him.

“I love you too, Frankie.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth as you grin.

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xixxala · 2 years

Text

y/n: Violence isn't the answer.

Frank: You’re right.

y/n: *sighs in relief*

Frank: Violence is the question.

y/n: What?

Frank, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

y/n, running after them: NO-

#marvel incorrect quotes #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x yn #punisher x you #punisher x reader

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

Text

Rose Petals

Pairing: Frank Castle x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1100 words

Outline: Surprising your boyfriend when he comes home early from work.

Warnings: swearing, daddy kink, lots of licking, soft biting, nipple play, oral sex (female receiving), pet names (honey/princess), spit play, not beta read. All mistakes are my own!

Author’s Note: A lil bit similar to this one. Yet completely different :P Also I'm sure Frank is the sensual, take your time type of lover. I absolutely had a ball writing this :D

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Frank Castle Masterlist

18+ CONTENT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS STAY AWAY.

You are humming to yourself dressed in a tiny sheer pink bodysuit and throwing rose petals on the bed over silky pink sheets. Everything matched perfectly. Fluffy white pillows on the side, their purpose one and only as you return your attention to the oil diffuser, opting for your favorite strawberry scent. Taking a look at the picture frame on his bedside table, you and your boyfriend Frank Castle wearing jumpers and smiling brightly from ear to ear. ‘Perfect.’ You think to yourself, throwing the final petals on the picture and then kneeling on the bed.

You had decided to surprise him when he said he'd come early from work and here you were, as good as naked, in the bedroom, rose petals all over your body. From a distance, you can hear him parking his bike outside the house and you take a deep breath as you position yourself innocently on the bed.

A few moments passes until he reaches the bedroom door. Frank pushes the door handle to the bedroom after calling your name once or twice to no avail. “Honey?” He whispers pushing the door open, the low lights and the petals confusing him for one second until his eyes caught the sight of your legs playing ever so slightly with the petals.

“Holy shit.” He says taking a step inside and stroking his beard looking at you. “Is that all for me?” He asks an eyebrow raised while you are wringing your body on the bed.

“Everything is for you, daddy.”

“Then maybe I should get to business.” And in the next millisecond, he is taking off his shirt, his gold chain shining against his chest before he is kneeling on the bed. He wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you closer to him, a hungry look in his dark eyes. He begins to place kisses on your body, pushing the petals away with his nose, brushing and caressing your naked skin.

One petal is firm on your torso and he uses his teeth to slightly grit your skin and push it away maintaining eye contact with you. Your hands are on his hair, brushing them and caressing them. Then using the flat of his tongue he works his way through your bodysuit pushing it down and then licking your skin.

When he reaches for your breasts he sucks and pulls the skin, nibbling on it. Running circles around your areolas with the tip of his tongue before he is sucking on your nipple needily causing you to moan and arch your back, to his amusement.

“Already so sensitive…” He mumbles shaking his head before he is squeezing your breasts again with his large palms.

“Can’t help it can you? Daddy always making you feel so good.” He continues, a faint faux sympathy in his voice as he leaves a trail of kisses down your belly, reaching for your core. He darts out his tongue and begins to lick so slowly while his hands are removing your garment. Your wetness had long ruined it and he takes one large sniff before throwing it on your face with a chuckle you want to roll your eyes at his assertiveness.

“Wet and dumb…” He shakes his head and kneels down again, coming close to your body and wrapping his hands around your thighs, pushing your legs securely apart. Oh, he wasn’t planning on letting go of your pussy any time soon. You could tell by the calm look in his eyes, that he wanted to take his time with you. He starts licking stripes up and down your pussy lips, parted and wet just for him. He is taking his time as he is making sure he is touching all of your sweet and delicate nerves, licking his lips with your taste, your juices dripping on his beard.

The way he is nuzzling his head between your legs, lets you know that your thighs will be bright red tomorrow morning. When he reaches for your clit he runs his tongue so slowly and gracefully until you can’t take it anymore and you are begging him.

“Daddy, please, please!“ You are riding his face needily while he is lazily running his tongue around your clit. Just some more friction, if only you could make him do that.

“Now I thought you were my gift, let me taste you how I like princess.” He scolds you, but the way your juices had drenched his beard only made you groan more.

“Daddy, I can’t hold it anymore. I need to cum, please…” You whimper, holding on to his hair, pleading with your eyes.

“Very well. But only one.” He raises an eyebrow critically and nods his head before digging deep inside your pussy, burying his face inside your cunt. A very different kind of tune to the rhythm set before. He is sucking down on your clit harshly until you are orgasming on his face. The intensity of your orgasm catches you by surprise, as a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Your nails are digging deep into his scalp, while you are squirming underneath his hold. He lets go of your clit only to star at your state intensely, proud of how sensitive he had already made you.

“Is princess satisfied?” His hands are still strong around your thighs looking at you. Frank asks, a mocking tone evident in his voice. As if you had interrupted his playtime just to orgasm, you whimper once more as your grip on his hair gets loose, and your throw your hands on the bed.

“Very well. Back to business.” He chuckles against your pussy before landing a big spit right in the center and then is licking with the tip of your tongue your pussy lips once more. Slowly, at a torturous pace while you are panting heavily above him. Orgasming always made you hazy and you hadn’t even seen his cock yet.

What it felt like an hour later, Frank is still between your thighs, lazily running his tongue and sucking whenever he pleases. When he comes up from your pussy, his beard is soaked in your juices. Your thighs had burned from the friction. Frank is licking his lips together.

"Now time for the real gift. Are you ready, princess?"

Your pussy is clenching in response to him, and he could only chuckle.

“Atta girl.”

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modern-vellichor · 2 years

Note

hi!! totally cool if you don’t do this request:)

(reader is a female with female pronouns)

frank is drunk and the bartender called you to drive so he doeisn't (i dunno reader is the designated driver). you both start walking out and halfway down the street frank is like “oh I forgot my card.” you stay there and he runs back but then you're cornered by these three guys and he comes out sobered up because these three guys are verbally and physically harassing his girl. (you can choose the ending i haven’t thought that far ahead, he beats them up idk!!”

lots of love <33-RA

a/n; hello gorgeous, i absolutely love this idea!! tyvm for sending it to m. i hope you enjoy it.-warnings; drinking, violence, blood, some graphic descriptions, fluff too.

You were having such a relaxing evening. You were just about to change out of your work clothes into your pyjamas when the phone rang.

"Hey, dude," it was Roy, the bartender who worked down the street. "I got your buddy here, Fred or somethin', I dunno. But uh, he's fucked, so will you come and get him?"

"Yeah," you sighed, already putting your boots on. "I'll come get Frank."

It was freezing out. Normally you would have walked, but it was too cold. So you parked a little ways away from the bar and waltzed in. Frank's hard to miss. You spotted him as soon as you walked in, sitting quietly at the bar, alone, sipping his water. You thanked Roy as you leaned against the bartop.

"Hey, Frankie."

"Oh," he sounded surprised, which meant he was drunk. "where did you come from?"

"I came to take you home, c'mon."

He followed you without any resistance. You linked your arm with his. He was nice and warm against the cold wind of New York. You kept him close. You got to the corner, so close to the car when Frank stopped. He cold must have sobered him up because he let go of you and ran his hands over his pockets.

"Shit."

"What?" you dug your hands into your pockets.

"I forgot my wallet. Wait here."

You watched Frank jog down the street. You could still see the bar and so you leaned against the wall and waited. It couldn't have been two minutes before a group of young men approached. They circled you, their ringleader eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

Under normal circumstances, you would have beat the shit out of any guy who looked at you the wrong way. But they had your cornered and outnumbered. You could see the handle of a knife sticking out of someone's waistband. It would be a deathwish to try and fight. So you played cool. You politely asked them to leave you alone.

The ringleader was getting too close. His nose was almost touching yours. He leaned in, lips nearly brushing your neck. You pushed him, as hard as you could. He swung a punch and you ducked.

"You righteous bitch!"

Just as he reached for the knife, Frank loomed behind him. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun him around. Frank smashed his forehead into the man's nose. Blood gushed from the broken nose and the knife clattered to the ground. While Frank continued the vicious assault on the ringleader, you dived for the knife. You struggled for a little with another member of the group, but he was young and scrawny and more frightened than you. You growled as you kicked his shin and bit down onto his forearm. He let go of the blade. You swung the knife in semicircles in front of you, warding off the other group members. When their leader collapsed to the pavement in a bloody, barely breathing heap, they scattered, leaving the asshole behind.

Frank gazed at you amorously. You pocketed the knife and offered him your hand. He took if and pulled you tight against your side. You walked like that until you reached the car. Frank offered to drive, but you knew he was probably still drunk. You drove in silence, until you took a left five minutes later.

"This isn't the way to my place," Frank grumbled beside you.

"I know," you chirped.

You gazed at Frank out of the side of your eye. He looked totally indifferent, not a single bruise or scratch marring his beautiful skin.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home."

Frank smiled in the passenger seat. He knew exactly where he was going now. Home was wherever you were, and that made Frank the happiest he had been in a very long time.

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

Text

[TW: stalking, implied/referenced assault]

>PUNISHER playlist<

Imagine meeting Frank while you're being followed.

The glimpse of your own shadow frightened you. Have these alley always been so narrow? Have their walls always threatened to close in on you, suffocate you under their rubble? Was the sky always this dark, this... hopeless?

His footsteps persisted. Part of you was still believing it was simply an accident - that he was headed in the same direction as you and maybe felt as uneasy about the whole situation as you did. That naive believer inside you, however, had been gradually growing silent with each wrong turn you took on purpose, each store you entered without a need for it. Reason, on the other hand, was a quiet beast - its voice couldn't be heard over your fear and thundering heart.

You rounded a corner, praying that this unknown alley did not lead to a dead end. Staring at your feet, fighting back tears, you accidentally walked into someone, suddenly feeling a rush of both adrenaline and cortisol leading an incursion on your sanity and blood.

"Sorry," you spat out quietly, ready to walk past the stranger and continue your nightmare. The man, of course, could be of help should you ask him but that was the problem with creatures of the night: foes and friends tend to smile just the same.

Before you could leave the scene, the man gently grabbed your arm. With terror rattling your bones, you dared to look up at his face: worst case scenario, you were going to be able to point him out in a line-up. First, you noticed his crooked nose, no doubt a result of his adventurous lifestyle. Then your interest was piqued by the bruises and scars peppering his face. Before you stood a man of little fear. His sanity, however, had never been as questionable to you as at that moment.

"You okay?" he asked.

His tone, despite the roughness of his voice, was softer than you expected. Just as you had predicted, there wasn't an ounce of hesitation or fear audible in his voice. Truthfully, his decisiveness made the hurricane of your thoughts spin slightly slower, although only for a short while.

"Yes, I'm just in a rush, sorry," you answered while trying to look anywhere but his face: the last thing you needed right now was egging someone on. "Good-..."

"It's him, isn't it?" he asked but the tone of his face made the question sound more like a statement.

"I'm scared." Your whisper was bearly audible and entirely unexpected. Only when the words left your mouth did you realize how foolish it was to acknowledge your vulnerability to another stranger. A panicked tear run down your cheek, your scattered wits unable to keep you whole anymore. Perhaps it was the sudden dreadful realization that broke the dam - it was very unlikely that you were going to return home safe and sound.

To your surprise, the man shoved you behind him, now standing tall and proud in the face of the shadow that was following your footsteps for far too long. Peeking around his broad shoulders, you took a glimpse of the menace in the form of a hooded figure. Whoever he was, his physique was in no way imposing. The wraith that resided inside his ribcage betrayed its existence through eerie, fairly inconspicuous means: it was as if a dark cloud, invisible to the naked eye, hung above his head. Your wits, however, seemed to sense the upcoming storm, smelling lighting of evil in the night air before it even struck.

"Move on, pal. Nothing to see here," your unfamiliar saviour called out to the stalker. Saviour... Could you really be sure he deserved that name? He was, after all, as beautiful as the Trojan horse.

The stalker, however, remained in place, standing only partially in the yellow light of the streetlamp. He was waiting, no doubt.

"I said," the stranger continued in a more angered tone. "Go home."

A flash of light moved in the distance and if you were to squint your eyes, you could see a knife in the man's hand. Your limbs were hot, swollen with blood begging your muscles to just run ahead and never look back until the morn. The flashing continued in a rhythmic manner as if the man was closing and opening the weapon while thinking about something - calculating the chances of success of whatever actions he was thinking of taking.

You weren't sure whether the time slowed down or picked up its pace. In any event, it didn't flow according to its usual, unbothered rhythm. Perhaps it was because its heart was trembling just like yours, forever hesitating whether it was flight or fight that would give you a better chance of survival.

It could've been hours or minutes until the hooded stranger in the distance closed his knife for the last time only to back away into the darkness of the night, vanishing in the lack of yellow streetlights. His disappearance in the face of failure was impeccably swift, leaving you with an impression that, maybe, he never indeed was there. Could it be that a curse of fright and madness runs inside this city's walls?

"Let's get you home, alright?" the unfamiliar stated while gently patting you on your shoulder, offering awkward reassurance. Feeling his hand against your body, you began to wonder whether you didn't exchange a lion's maw for a shark's teeth. "I'm Frank."

"(Y/n)," you answered weakly. As adrenaline and cortisol ended their pillage on your organism, it seemed as though all of your strength did too. If that beast did, in fact, bite and claw, you no longer had any power to fight it back. The pleasant simplicity of his name forced you to paint him in brighter and softer colours in your imagination.

The walk to your condo was silent. Maybe he didn't want to be nosy or he wanted for you to know as little as possible about him. Whatever it was, you felt grateful that he wasn't much of a talker - that night had been long and you were in no state to have casual small talks. Even after reaching the entry door to the building, he didn't leave immediately. Instead, he was waiting for you to go in and the door to shut behind you. Caging you, in a way, in the safety of your own home.

"Thank you," you said timidly right before shutting the doors closed. You weren't going to reimburse his time and effort but Frank, to be honest, didn't expect that either.

You never learned this but Frank lingered around your apartment until the morning light - just to make sure that some vultures never retake their flight.

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

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how do you imagine frank castle with a small chested reader? maybe reader is really insecure with the way her body looks and is constantly comparing herself with other women, thinking she looks like a teenage boy and is not feminine at all.

this is a bit self indulgent so i would be very grateful to hear your thoughs

nice shirt

18+ minors dni!!!

omg omg okay as a fellow member of the itty bitty titty committee i have THOUGHTS!!!! i’ve never done a thoughts thing before so let’s give her a GOOOO sorry this took so long

also idk if i got a bit carried away here but I JUST LOVE FRANK OKAY

okay so FIRST and foremost frank does not care about physical shit

i think that he doesn’t have a specific type, he falls for character and someone’s personality, and the physical comes after

BUT when he does find someone, every part of them becomes his type so small titties are PERFECT because he will worship them just the same

butttttt when he finds out you are insecure about them???? omygod so many thoughts

so maybe you are like getting ready to go out somewhere, or just walking past a mirror and it catches your eye - this shirt you borrowed from your friend. you remember how GREAT her boobs looked in this shirt and you were so excited but it literally hangs off you.

you buy all the push up bras, all the padded shit to make up for it, but when it comes down to it and the shirts come off - your confidence deflates.

frank does a pretty good job of distracting you, but this shirt in particular you really thought you were gonna see a difference!! it was meant to frame your chest but god you really aren’t working with much and it just hangs.

frank comes up behind you - it’s been a long day and there’s nothing he likes better than being buried deep inside you after a shitty day of killin bad guys! but he can tell somethings off and he asks you

“i just - this shirt looked so good on her. i really thought i’d like it, but it just looks like everything else.”

“what you mean, baby? you look good.” franks hands wrap around your waist and you would forget all about it if you weren’t standing in front of a mirror right now - your reflection blaring right at you. you have to look away.

“don’t lie to me just because you want to fuck me, frank.” okayyyy that was harsh as hell - but frank can take whatever you throw at him. you wanna be a little mean? that’s fine, hell, he knows he’s been there after a bad day. as long as it’s him you use to take out your frustration, and it’s him you fall into afterwards. he steps to you, spins you around and almost slams you into the wall

“you wanna tell me what’s goin’ on, pretty girl? or you just gonna pout at me?” he’s so close you can feel every word brushing against your cheeks and you blush just at his warmth, which is now pressing on the entire lower half of your body.

“i don’t want to talk about this with you.” you can’t look at him, his wide eyes are so sweet and they melt all the little chips of ice on your shoulder. he knows your avoiding him, so one hand stays on your shoulder while the other hooks under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“i can drag it out of you, if you want. either way we gonna get there.” as appealing as that sounds, you can see underneath the lust he’s a bit worried - worried he’s done something to get you feeling this way, and it’s that alone that breaks you. okay, that and the way his thigh is pushing against your heat so close to that spot that if he just moves a little-

“every girl i know has this fucking shirt. and their tits look amazing in it - like seriously. and i hate that mine don’t. nothing about me is round enough or big enough and it’s practically a flat surface and i just HATE IT! i hate looking at myself.” the frustration of the way frank is holding you, not letting you move paired with the insecurity you’ve had your whole life bubbles over like boiling water in a long forgotten pot and you sizzle and crumble underneath him. this has always been a thing for you, but you’ve kept it hidden as well as you could until now.

frank has noticed. not that you had smaller boobs - well i mean of course he noticed, he’s practically ripping your clothes off every two seconds. but he’s noticed how you always go to hide your chest first when your naked together, how you push his hands in different directions when he comes up behind you in the shower. he’s caught you a few times pulling and tugging, trying to push shit together in a dress you already look fucking deadly in. but you never brought it up - until now.

“sweet’art.” is all he says before his lips brush against yours. it’s soft and sweet and full of all that love and attention you need right now. frank always knew exactly what you needed. he starts kissing down your neck, taking his time and leaving marks in his wake. by the time he reaches your collarbone you can hardly support your own weight, but your hand gently stops his descent as he kisses down your sternum.

“you don’t have to… it can’t exactly be.. appealing. for you.” frank is speechless. are you seriously suggesting that tasting every inch of your skin doesn’t sound like the best deal in the world right now? it almost makes him angry - the most perfect girl in the world was standing right in front of him telling him that she wasn’t.. what did you say? appealing? christ.

“are you fuckin’ kidding me? must be out of your damn mind.” with one hand, he takes both of your wrists and pins them above your head. with the other, he rips that fucking shirt on two. he prefers you in his clothes anyway. he looks up to find your eyes a little hazed over at the display, and searched for any sign of hesitancy. he just sees a little embarrassment, but that’s fine. he can work with that. won’t take him long to knock that shit right out of you and have you screaming his name.

franks lips move slow. it’s wet and sweet one second and then rough and hard the next, his tongue darting out and licking and then his teeth dragging and nibbling at every point. you know what he’s doing - he’s leaving evidence of how much he wants to be right there. how long he’s spending there, a permanent reminder that he had the part of you you seem to hate the most in his mouth and loved every second of it.

he circles around your tits, leaving purple and red and purple again all over. it was a fucking mess and so were you - unable to take your eyes off him as he worked so earnestly towards his goal. he made a spiral pattern, spending extra time when he finally found the centre and sucked your nipple into his mouth, groaning at the sounds you made when he did so.

when he was satisfied you were enjoying that side, he moved to the other, repeating his torment. he wanted you to only think of this - of how good you felt when you looked at yourself in the mirror. every time you wanted to look a certain way he wanted to you to remember this - his mouth on you and how if you changed in any way you would never feel this exact thing again and oh god it was so incredible - why does it feel so good? it was just his mouth but it felt like he was under your skin he was so close. sparks flew up into your throat and you choked and gasped his name every time he moved.

“s’beautiful baby. you are so damn beautiful.” he spun you around to face the mirror and forced your chin up - your reflection was staring back at you again, but this time you weren’t filled with dread.

you saw yourself and your body looked the same - but this time your chest was covered - seriously covered - in marks and kisses and the bare skin was still wet from how long he spent worshipping you.

“look at you. a fuckin’ dream.” you found his eyes in the mirror and smiled at him. then you smiled at yourself. this man loved you - loved every part of you. how could you deny him anything, how could you not believe him when he told you something?

you did feel dreamy - you were on a cloud floating somewhere outside your body and his touch brought you back when he flipped you on the mattress where he planned to make good on his promise of making you forget about everything else except him.

you caught a final glimpse of yourself in the mirror, chest fully exposed and your arms flipped over your head, and this time you didn’t look away.

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frankenhookersmonster · 2 years

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I do have a frank castle request I've been listening to a song called Mushroom cloud by Tempest the lyrics tell a story of a dude who gets caught up in the moment he's got a temper highly recommend a listen or look up the lyrics but can you write a fic surrounding the lyrics where frank makes a scene out of jealousy and tries to make up for it angst / comfort.

Mushroom Cloud - Frank Castle x Reader

warnings - 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, frank castle x reader, major angst, extremely brief mention of smut, canon typical violence, reader cries... a lot, hurt/comfort

word count - 1.6k

a/n - ty for your request anon!!! this request has been sitting in my inbox for FOREVER and i’m finally happy with it :) friendly reminder that requests are open for one shots, headcanons, and concepts. also - highly recommend listening to the song, it bangs and also makes me wanna sob!

Sometimes I get carried away in the moment.

He had tried giving you space, but it was becoming more and more difficult to do that. You left his apartment nearly twenty four hours ago, if you were anyone else he would’ve let your tension simmer for longer, but you weren’t anyone else.

Admittedly, he missed you. When he came home that night he just wanted to hold you, wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you tight until morning. Maybe he’d sprinkle in some kisses, some mumblings of sweet nothings. A shower wouldn’t have been too bad either, he’d let you hop in with him if you asked, he knew you liked to be close to him like that.

It was late when he did stumble through the front door, he was drenched in someone else’s blood, a fresh shiner ringing around his eye. He didn’t notice you on the couch at first, fully expecting you to be asleep or relaxing in bed with a book. You were watching him, staring as he kicked his boots off and headed to the kitchen, finally seeing your tired eyes and the bags that sat under them.

“Babe, it’s late, you should be in bed.” He rubbed his uninjured eye, not able to see how pissed off you were. Tears were already forming, amplified from it being so late and the lack of sleep in your body. Frank wasn’t paying attention, he was busy grabbing a glass of water and searching the freezer for something to ice his face. The sob you stifled made him look over, though, and through his fuzzy vision he could see how upset you had become in a matter of seconds. For you, it had been hours, what felt like eons of sitting in his apartment and waiting for him to come home, especially elongated when you had expected him to be there when you arrived.

“Frank,” You started, but he cut you off as he walked towards you, “It’s only a little blood, this is nothing.” Part of you wanted to forget about it, help him clean off the caked on blood and tend to the cut you noticed on his cheek, but you stood your ground. “We had plans, Frank.”

You watched the realization hit him, a wave of guilt as he remembered how he invited you over for a night in. He had been working on finding someone - he didn’t bother you with many details, he liked to keep his work as far from you as he could - and he had been neglecting you, both of you felt it. He couldn’t imagine how you must’ve felt, showing up in his apartment without him there, no text or call to warn you.

“I’m sorry, baby, I-, there was a lead I had to follow.” He wasn’t sure how to console you, he could tell you were still frustrated and you had every right to be. “It’s always something like that, isn’t it?”

Frank’s face twisted up, he knew he hadn’t been exactly available these past few days but he had work to do.

“Shit had to get done or people were gonna get hurt.” Frank’s voice was tired, you could hear it. You were fed up, though, so continued. “I’ve barely seen you, do you know how much I miss you when you get like this?” Your voice was trying to stay low, you didn’t want to bother any neighbors, you knew how thin the walls could be. Almost in retaliation, Frank’s voice boomed, “When I get like this? Baby, this is my job, this is me.” He followed you over to the couch, where you attempted to sit down until his words forced more of the argument out of you. “Your whole life shouldn’t be work, Frank, if you can even call it that. There’s other things-”

“What, like you?” You both paused, Frank had gotten so worked up that you could hear his heavy breathing, and only that and a stray ambulance siren wailing as it passed by. “Yeah, like me, Frank.” You knew you didn’t really know what he was saying, hell, you couldn’t remember what you had told him a few sentences ago. “I hate to break it to you, but right now there are worse things I have to deal with than your tantrum.” Ironically, Frank was screaming at this point, standing over you and making you physically shrink.

He looked at you then, seeing how damp your cheeks were, how helpless you seemed. What could have been a healthy disagreement, followed by a quick make up and his long awaited cuddles, had now become a full on screaming match, or him screaming and you trying to keep your voice calm. He felt guilty immediately, the words he was begging to spill got caught somewhere in his throat. He was stunned by you, the look in your eyes as you watched him get so angry.

He softened, tried to reach his hands to your shoulders but you moved away from him. “Y/n,” Frank whispered, though you didn’t respond, instead moving to the door faster. You slid on your shoes and grabbed your jacket while he stood still in the living room, the only word he could muster up being your name.

Seven more minutes until he hadn’t seen you for a full day. He had gone way longer before, there were week-long stretches where he was chasing someone down and instructed you not to contact him. Those periods were hard, but Frank knew he had you when he got home at the end of it all. Now, he hadn’t done anything for the whole day but mope around and sit by the phone. When he wasn’t calling you, leaving long and apologetic voicemails, he was waiting for you to call him. He knew you wouldn’t, he didn’t deserve it.

The streets were bare, probably due to the rain that had nearly flooded the roads just below his apartment. It had lightened up by this point, but it was hardly like anyone would dare to walk around this late at night. There was a harsh wind, too, that was bound to chill.

Frank knew he had a temper, he blamed it on getting old. He always told himself he’d never let you see it, you were one of the only good things he had. His work let him take out all of his pent up anger, but that previous night he wasn’t entirely sure what got into him.

He groaned, opening his phone again to send you another call. He knew you weren’t going to pick up, ashamedly he was doing this more for himself than for you, he doubted this was helping whatever you must have been going through.

As usual, your phone rang for a few seconds before he was prompted to leave a message, a dance he knew all too well at this point.

“Y/n,” He cleared his throat, sitting himself up on the couch. “I don’t need to tell you how sorry I am, you know how bad I feel at this point. I don’t wanna give myself excuses, either. I was being a shitty partner, but you could tell me that. Fact of the matter is, I’ve been a shitty partner for a minute, huh? Not sure why I said the shit I said, I didn’t mean it. Jesus, I made you cry. I never wanted to do that, baby, and I’m sitting here beating myself up over it. You don’t need to forgive me, alright, I wouldn’t. Just let me know you’re okay.” Frank jumped a bit at the knock on his door, exaggerated by how little he had slept since you left.

Frank hung up the one sided call, tossing his phone to the side so he could stand and make his way to his front door. If he were thinking clearer, he would’ve taken longer to figure out who was behind the door, making sure he wouldn’t get killed. But he hadn’t been thinking straight for a while now, so he just opened it.

You were the last person he expected to see, but relief flushed over him. It was short lived, because he noticed almost immediately that you were crying again. You were soaked, too, he figured you must have walked through that flash storm. That alone told him that, emotionally, you were in the same place that he was.

Frank opened his mouth, but you just raised a hand and placed it on his chest, the simple gesture made his stomach flutter. “I know what you’re about to say because I’ve listened to every one of your voicemails.” That made Frank smile, which in turn made you crack a small smirk. “Doubt you heard the one I just sent. It was pretty good, got interrupted towards the end, though.” You both began to laugh a bit, but for you it quickly turned to quiet sobs.

You wrapped yourself around him and wet his shirt with your tears. Frank hovered his hands for a moment before succumbing to your touch and squeezing you. He missed this, so much so that his own tears threatened to spill.

“Can we be okay, please?” You looked up at him, sniffling a bit when you saw his red face. He nodded, placing a long kiss on your forehead before you went back to snuggling into his chest. “If you’ll have me.” Frank mumbled into your hair.

You stayed that close to Frank for hours after that. On the couch, in his shower, in the kitchen while he got you a drink, in his bed when he made love to you. You’d stay like that forever, so would Frank. He thinks as you both drift off about how thankful he is for you, and if you’ll ever really know it.

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