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1-800marvelqueen · 6 months

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5:45

Frank Castle (Peter Castiglione x reader)

Part One

WC : 2.5K

SW : No usage of"Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Reader is gender neutral! but is implied to be AFAB. Mentions of blood, knives, stab wounds, etc. Frank and the reader do some smooching and some snuggling because he so cute and I just wanna put him in my pocket and carry him around.

If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!

Ths is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

Pete’s apartment is on a side of town you’d never been to. A shifty looking building with no front entrance, only a back door. You can’t really make anything out, your body slowly shutting down, your vision blurry, lids heavy. But you can briefly make out the fact that Pete removes one hand from holding you to wrench the building door open. It feels as if all the blood that isn’t pouring out of the stab wound in your side floods to your face. Literally on the verge of passing out from blood loss and you can only focus on his muscles, good going, you think to yourself.

You’re snapped out of your drooling reverie when Pete begins the ascent up the stairs. He tightens his grip on you, apologising profusely at the sound of your quiet pained whimpers, briefly explaining that the place had no elevator- it had been broken for years. He once again removes one hand from you to dig into his pocket grabbing a singular key to unlock his door. He quickly rushes you to this bed, placing you down gently. He glides his palm along your forehead as he immediately rushes off to some other part of the house.

Once again your mind is filled by Pete. Bleeding out or no, you can’t help but focus on the way the sheets are absolutely doused in his smell. Looking around you take in the small apartment -- if you could even call it that. The room is bare, as are the walls. The paint is tan colored. The bed he placed you on is small, next to it is a simple white night table. Upon the table is a stack of books, which makes you smile, there's a lamp, and a propped up photo, 4 white lines running through it, showing all the times it had been folded and unfolded. The corners are crinkled and dirty, and in the photo is a gorgeous woman and two children.

Oh.

“That’s Maria.” You gasp, whipping your head around. You hadn’t even noticed that Pete had come back. He places a hand against your sternum, thumb rubbing in a soothing manner. He takes a pair of scissors and begins cutting your shirt from the bottom of your stab wound to the edge of the fabric, gently peeling it from around the area and lifting it up to rest around the bottom of your ribcage. He says nothing else as he gently rubs the skin with an alcohol soaked cloth, gently avoiding the knife. The hand holding you down becomes heavier as he applies more pressure to keep you from squirming.

When he’s done with that he reaches down and grabs a thick leather belt from the rest of his supplies. He stands only to replace his hand with his knee, holding you down. He goes to hold the belt in front of your mouth, uttering a quiet “you’re gonna wanna bite down on this.” You’re confused as to why he’s got his knee on you, pressing down with all his body weight. Your confusion soon becomes painful understanding as he grabs the handle of the knife and slowly pulls it out. Your screams are muffled, teeth clamping down so hard on the leather you think they’ll snap right out of your mouth. Your hearing goes fuzzy, a dull ringing beginning to take its place. You can briefly make out Pete’s praise and whispers of how well you’re doing, that it’ll all be over soon. But you hardly understand him, your head spins, the ringing picks up full force and the world goes dark.

Everything hurts. That’s the first thought that comes to your mind when you wake up. Your whole midriff hurts. Eyes heavy, lids struggling to open. You make the mistake of trying to sit up, only partially getting up before the pain overtakes you. Letting out a loud yelp, eyes snapping open at the sudden burst that fills every nerve of your body. Tears well in your eyes, immediately spilling out the corners. A hand slides to the small of your back, another to the soft bit of your stomach. “Easy sweetheart, easy. I got you baby, don’t worry I got you.” Eyes snapping to your right to see Pete, body immediately going lax. “Pete?” voice wavering as more tears spill out. “Yeah sweetheart it’s me. Don’t move, I don’t want you to pull your stitches.” Your back makes contact with the bed again, pillow fluffed and plush under your head. One of his hands goes to your head, palm smoothing down on your forehead, pushing hair out of your eyes.

“Do you remember what happened?” Voice quiet and… scared? “Yes,” letting out a cough, your voice rough and scratchy, “The man from the diner, he got me. You got him.” The corner of one side of his mouth pulls up, before it drops down. He turns extremely serious in a split second, eyes losing any sort of emotion in them. He goes cold. “Yeah. I got him.” Eyes glancing away from you, his head turning, looking at the walls, the floor, the window, avoiding looking at you at all.

“Pete?” A hand placed on his, you see him physically tense up at your touch, causing you to let go, not wanting to disturb him. He turns his head back towards you, looking in a longing manner at your hand that's now resting back at your side. He gives you a long look before he spins around, sitting on the edge of the bed, back facing you. “Petey are you okay?” His head goes down, shaking. You’re worried you’ve done something wrong, why is he shaking his head?

“It’s Frank.”

“What?”

“My name’s not Pete, it’s Frank.”

This was such a bad idea. He’d be putting you in so much danger by telling you who he really was. But then again he had already put you in enough danger when he befriended you. But you deserved to know, he had literally killed a man in front of you less than 2 hours ago. He could still feel the fear in his system, the panic, the thought that you could’ve been gone, ripped from his world in a split second. He doesn’t realise that his eyes are welling up with tears, his hands beginning to shake.

“What do you mean?” your voice shaking, he can hear you shuffle in the sheets, the apprehension and confusion in your tone. He turns to make sure you haven’t made any drastic moves, that you haven’t hurt yourself further. When he looks at you there’s a tenseness in your bones, a crease between your brows, and a certain look of fear in your eyes.

This was a bad idea.

“My name isn’t Pete, my name is Frank Castle.” He watches the gears turn in your head as you connect the pieces. He knows you’ve put it together when your eyes widen a fraction, eyebrows from furrowed to raised in shock, your body becomes even more impossibly stiff. “The Punisher.” you whisper, eyes turning to make contact with his own, he can only muster a nod of the head. Licking his lips, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but Frank seems to fall short on words.

He starts to feel panic swell in his chest, the idea of you being afraid of him is something that doesn’t settle right. He scrambles for words, anything to say to you to make you not afraid of him.

“I-I never did anything to anyone that didn’t deserve it. Everyone I killed was a piece of shit. I would never do anything to hurt good people, t-to hurt you.” His voice is but a whisper, hoarse, he can feel himself choking up, that impenetrable wall that he had built was crumbling. He whispers your name, “I would never hurt you. Ever.”

“I know.”

Frank can feel the weight of the world fall off his shoulders, even more so when you prove your words by placing your hand on top of his and squeeze. “I know Pe- Frank. I trust you.” He hadn’t realised that any tears had slipped from his eyes until your hand briefly left his own to brush against his cheek, wiping the salty drop away. You trusted him.

What more could he ask for?

It was shocking. To find out the man you had been pining after for months was the Punisher, New Yorks’ most lethal man. Shocking, but not surprising.

Pete-- Frank, had always had the characterization of a dangerous man. At first glance he was an ordinary man. Quiet, respectful, he worked long hours doing construction, he ate the same thing every time he came into the diner. But that was at first glance. You knew him-- to some level, at least. He had that look in his eyes. A caged predator prowling, waiting for someone to forget to lock the door. It had always been there, lurking, waiting. It was second nature to him, pain was his career, in the military, and as Hell's Kitchen’s scariest vigilante.

You honestly feel sort of stupid, for not realising sooner who he was. You remember when he was in court, the trial of the century. You remember that you had honestly felt sympathy for him, he'd only been avenging the deaths of his wife, maria, and his children. He had never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it.

And you had never been afraid of him anyways. Quite the opposite really, the massive crush you’ve harboured for the man since the first time he invited you to sit at his table with him.

You’d fallen for Pete, but you could see yourself falling for Frank too.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Frank squeezed your hand. His eyes soft and his lips in a soft smile. You feel yourself giving him a soft smile too, “Thank you Frank. For everything. Truly.” Letting go of his hand so you can hold both arms out as much as you can, muscles still weak. He moves slowly, legs straddling yours. One arm slowly weasels its way behind your back, the other gently cradling the back of your neck. He gently moves you into a sitting position. You find it doesn’t hurt as much when he gently lifts you up, the precise and calculated movements hurting less than when you try to push yourself up earlier.

When you’re fully sat up, he accepts your invitation for a hug. One arm coming around your shoulders while the other gently cradles your head against his collarbone. “You really had me worried sweetheart. I was really afraid you weren’t gonna wake up. Your pulse got so weak, I just…” His words fade off as his fingers card through your hair. You snuggle closer to him, arm trying to wrap around his waist with as much energy you could muster. “I’m sorry for worrying you Frankie.” He squeezes you a little, pulling your head away from his body.

He says no words, the creases and hard lines in his face smoothing out. Frown going away. His face becomes soft, the corners of his lips pulling up a little bit. “You ain’t got nothin’ to be apologising for baby. None of this is your fault.” his face moves closer and closer to yours, his arm around your shoulders subconsciously tightening around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself. His eyes glance down to your lips, “Nothing at all.”

It’s like fireworks going off when his lips fall upon yours. You can’t help the slight gasp that falls from you at the feeling. His lips are chapped, yet his kiss is soft. It’s barely a featherlight pressure upon your lips, his hesitancy to kiss you properly holding him back. It’s only when you weakly put your hand up to his cheek and try to push closer does he put more force behind the kiss. A low groan rumbles out of his chest as he presses his lips harder against yours, the hand cradling the back of your head moves to entangle itself in your hair.

It’s when your hand slides off his cheek, nail gently scraping across his beard does he let out a very loud, strangled, groan. He pulls away from the kiss, his breathing heavy, warm puffs hitting across your face. “We gotta stop before I get too worked up sweetheart.” Dropping his head so it bumps against yours lightly. Frank places a kiss on your temple before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, the coarse hairs of his beard rubbing against the sensitive skin.

You can’t form any words, both of your hands coming up to hold the back of his neck, brushing all the hair off his nape, fingers gently playing with the long strands.

“You’re a really good kisser Frankie.”

His body shakes with the force of the laugh that comes out of him. Frank pulls back from your shoulder, mouth in a full smile, eyes crinkled in the corners. You can’t help but think of how pretty he looks like this. He looks so normal like this, so carefree, like he just left everything that makes him who he is at the front door when he walked in.

You can’t help the admiring and lovesick tone in your voice when you say “You’re so pretty,” bringing your right hand down and around to brush against the crinkle next to his left eye, down to the smile lines just barely visible through his beard.

Frank slowly lowers you back down against the pillows before taking a spot next to you. He lays on his side facing you, half of his body on the edge of the small bed to give you more space. His left arm lays under his head, his right arm gently places itself along your midriff in a protective position. Being extremely mindful of your stitched up wound.

He continues to look at you with that crinkled-eye, dazed smile on his face. “You’re even prettier, sweetheart. Now get some sleep, you’ll need rest to get better.” You say nothing, simply nodding your head in agreement. Right hand going to the side to grab the bottom of his shirt, gently tugging on it. He takes the hint and with extreme caution, scoots closer to you, his front almost pressed completely against your side.

He moves his left arm out from under his head to lie under yours, pressing you snuggly against him. With your right ear pressed to his chest you can hear his heartbeat, even and strong, reverberating in your mind. You find that the warmth radiating off his body makes you extremely sleepy, eyes getting heavy, lids slowly slipping closed. Before you drift off to sleep you make sure you tell Frank how appreciative you are one last time.

You tilt your head to look at him, and just over his shoulder you can make out the beginning of the sunrise slipping through his thin-curtained window. “Thank you for saving me, Frankie.” Eyes closing all the way as you fall asleep.

A gentle kiss placed against your hairline, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Originally posted July 8th, 2022.

#frank castle x reader #pete castiglione x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle #1-800marvelqueen #mywriting

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houseforwhores · 2 years

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i just started watching the punisher, WHY ARE THERE NO DAVID LIEBERMAN STORIES. YALL TELLING ME YALL DONT LOVE A NERDY SHY GUY THATS HUNG LIKE A MOOSE, WHAT??

for the love of god 😩

if i wrote for him would anyone read it-

#the punisher #the punisher x reader #david lieberman x reader #david micro lieberman #frank castle #frank castle x reader #pete castiglione #pete castiglione x reader #marvel defenders #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo

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drstrangefictions · 2 years

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If I Could Get Rid Of You, I Would

Frank Castle & Female Reader

Word Count: 4K+

Spoilers: None

Basic Warnings + Trigger Warnings: Swearing. Does Frank need his own TW? Yes, but you also chose to read a Frank Castle fic so that's on you.

AO3: Link

Master List

She stood at the docks in Hell’s Kitchen with her arms dangling over the new rails. She breathed in the salty air and scrunched her nose—she hated the smell of salt water and the obstruction of view that the remaining boats cause. The ocean was supposed to be beautiful, not polluted and covered with metal. She hated being in the water and she hated being on the docks. She wouldn’t normally walk along the docks and find herself staring out at the water, but she roamed the docks only when a friend of fellow vigilante called her on her burner. It was also the only time she reentered Hell’s Kitchen as the thought of the city was enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She was called back to the city by a friend, a man who challenged the city and the police that were supposed to protect him. She looked down at the watch on her wrist and chuckled at his tardiness—something he never was. She fiddled with her gaiter mask and looked over her shoulder upon hearing a set of heavy footsteps.

“You’re late.” She looked over her shoulder.

He walked up to her, with his hands in the pockets of his coat and the hood from his hoodie covering his features. He scoffed at her accusation. “I’m right on time.”

She nodded slowly and pursed her lips. She looked back toward the water. “You are so full of shit.”

Frank glanced out toward the water and hesitated. “Don’t start that. Don’t you dare—.” He looked back over at the young vigilante and cut himself short.

“Honestly, Castle, I can start whatever I want. I can sound like and copy whoever I want, you know? I mean, hell, Karen has a point every time she gets upset with you for doing… you. The last time we all saw each other, together, she said you were crazy to be doing what you do. To continue this stressful, bloody life that you now live. She’s reluctantly helping you kill more people who may or may not deserve it. You’re also crazy to think that you’re saving her—us with this whole ‘You’re safer when I’m far away from you’ bullshit. She’s your friend—one of the few you have left—she helps you; she believes in what you could be if you just stop getting roped into trouble.” She exhaled sharply. “She’s a magnet, Castle, and you know that. You hang around here, around her, because you know that the minute you turn your back… it could be the end for her.” She pushed herself up; she held onto the railing with her hands, her mask was stuck between her hand and the rail. She kept her eyes on the calm water.

“I don’t need a lecture.” Frank said.

She nodded. “Let me finish that sentence for you. I’m aware that you don’t need a lecture from a kid that’s the age your daughter would be if she wasn’t dead.” She said firmly. She glanced at Frank with an unreadable expression. “I’m trying to make a point, to-to-to prove something to you. Your skull is probably a lot thicker than we realize; it must’ve slowed the bullet down enough to keep it from killing you permanently.” She released an airy laugh.

“Hey.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in months. I have Karen driving to my shitty little hovel in Midtown asking me what the fuck you’re doing as if you told me before you told her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her expression change so fast before I told her that you’ve been radio silent for a lot longer than I’m used to you being. I told her I honestly though they had you, whoever they may be this time; I thought you were finally dead and one day I’d wake up and see the news. It would be some bullshit about having the body on hand to prove that the ghost—the Punisher—can’t come back. They’d have to monitor the body to make sure that you couldn’t just get up and walk again.” She slid one foot back and bent her elbows, bringing her face closer to the railing and laughed at how absurd the situation was. She was arguing—trying to reason with the Punisher.

The Punisher was a killer, branded a terrorist, and he was also supposed to be dead this time. He hid under an alias because he survived, and they couldn’t prove that he was alive or dead because there was no body. He killed people—it was a revenge story; he was avenging his family; he was getting payback; he was giving them what they deserved. The Punisher could be reasoned with, but he would also return to the stressful life of playing God and deciding who could continue to live and who couldn’t based on his information about them. There was no slowing down or relaxing. Frankly, it didn’t much matter, he had no one to go home to (which was a blatant lie. She and Karen both cared for Frank, and he wanted nothing to do with it because he was afraid to care and lose again and again and pushing them away was the safest option. She looked up to Frank and Karen as her family—they were the most paternal and maternal figures she has ever had in her life. She would never admit to that because how and why would she? She was an orphan turned vigilante as her own revenge story, but she, like Frank, didn’t stop when the revenge story ended).

Frank put his hands up in front of him, palms facing her. “Slow down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to slow down.” She pushed herself off the rail and faced Frank. “Don’t tell me to calm down either, I know that’s what you’re going to say next.” She stepped toward him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I like that about you, kid, no bullshit but I can never guess your next move. You keep me on my toes.” Frank glanced toward what he can assume was the car that she drove her—and no doubt that she stole it. He chuckled dryly.

She slapped her hands to her face and looked up. “Ugh!”

“Alright, alright.” Frank sighed. He glanced back toward the young vigilante. “Somebody else figured out that I’m alive and I’ve been working with him. The same people that killed my family, got him.” He looked down at the ground between them.

She dropped her hands to her sides and slumped her shoulders. “So, were you blackmailed into working with this guy or what?” She stared at Frank, dumbfounded. He wasn’t a team player, even she knew that, but to hear him admit that he was working with someone that wasn’t Karen was mind blowing. “So, say you keep working together, are you sure you trust this guy? Are you sure he’s not working for them to get to you and this whole thing he has going is a lie to trick you? Am I supposed to believe, with your casual and nonchalant attitude that you’re going to come out of this alright?” She straightened her posture and crossed her arms.

“You just enjoy jumping to conclusions. No, I wasn’t blackmailed into helping this guy. Believe it or not, I trust him. He pretended and continued to pretend to be dead to keep his family safe.” Frank put his hands in the pockets of his zip-up hoodie. He looked back toward the lone car in the parking lot. “Those people that got him, got him because he tried to do the right thing. Those people were already pissed off when I didn’t die the first time—.”

She snorted. “So now these bad guys have to deal with two ghosts?” She followed his gaze toward her car. “So, what? You’re going to go find them, with this guy, and go in all guns a’ blazin’ because they put together this whole Blacksmith thing to kill you at the park and disguised it as a drug operation with the D.A involved for shits and giggles? Do you really think that’s gonna go as well as you think?”

“Hit the nail on the head.” He glanced back at her. “Smart kid.”

“Look, I don’t know your friend, and right now I feel like I don’t know you. But I have this nagging feeling that maybe I should trust your friend because you trust him. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and trust him to keep you alive long enough for me to find you and kick your ass when your whole shitshow operation is over.” She looked back at Frank and a lopsided smile. “I won’t offer my help because I know you won’t take it. You’ll tell me to fuck right off or something like that because it’s ‘too dangerous for a child’, but you know where to find me and you need to make sure that your friend can find me too.” She drew her lips into a thin frown.

Frank smiled. “I’ll make sure he can contact you if that’ll make you feel better.”

She nodded. “It would, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded slightly.

She didn’t say anything else, she let the silence grow between them; it wasn’t the typical comfortable silence, it felt more like the silence where they both had something else to say and neither of them were willing to say anything else. The discomfort from the lack of further conversation mostly radiated from Frank, he even looked like he had more to say to her—standing with his hands still in his pockets, the slight sway of his body, and obviously trying to avoid looking at her.

Frank was a man of many things and being silent was often one of those things. He wasn’t exactly a conversationalist, but he did make conversation every now and again. Even without conversation, the silence was fine; she enjoyed his company and he enjoyed hers (but he would never admit it). It had always been like that between them for some reason, even when the first met shortly after he shot the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in the head. Frank was also very much a violence magnet and a man covered in stories—most scars had one. He had a few to show that she technically saved his life at least once. Her work wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to keep Frank from bleeding out and to send him back out to do what he did best—if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for him he told her. He tried to backtrack on all the times he encouraged her vigilante life after learning that she was only a teenager because she shouldn’t be running around in a mask, looking up to the Punisher, patrolling her city, and doing police work for the incompetent police force. He learned, through her, that she wasn’t the only teenager who put on a mask to do a better job at protecting other people than those who are paid to do it. And no matter how hard he tried to discourage what she did, she continued to do it and she started to help the Punisher after she admitted to killing her father for what he did to her and her mother—who succumbed to her injuries.

She swallowed hard. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He spoke.

She nodded slightly. “Is there anything else that you want to say to me?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. She was fairly untrusting, she didn’t trust the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but something about the Punisher made her want to trust him. Maybe it was because he was blunt, to the point, honest, and made sure that everyone knew what he was about. Every time he said something, he proved it to be true—the Blacksmith was someone he knew, the D.A was involved, so on and so forth. To her and Karen, the man before her wasn’t crazy, a murderer, or a terrorist—Karen continues to say it—no, Frank Castle had a code: he wouldn’t lay a hand on anyone innocent, women, or children. Luckily, she was a woman and a child, not necessarily innocent though. Maybe Frank thought she had a point to what she did. The small number of people that she killed as part of her revenge story made sense, they all played a role in how she got to where she was today, she was right to do what she did. She thought the same of Frank: he was right to do what he did, all of those people played a role in the deaths of his wife and children, and they almost killed him.

Since she had known Frank, she began to see him as more than just the Punisher—he was just a man that was hurting, missing loved ones—she probably saw the same man that Karen saw and wanted to show New York (and the parts of the world that caught wind of the Frank Castle case). He was a father of two children that no longer breathe, he spoke so highly and lovingly of them, even when he talked about how much of a pain in the ass they were. He was a husband once, he talked about his wife so fondly, he spoke so highly of her as well. He held them a little to close, he told her once, and now they’re gone.

“Actually, there is.” Frank broke their silence.

“Okay?” She leaned forward, waiting for him to continue.

Frank swallowed hard and looked toward at water. “I was thinking.” He glanced back toward her. “Maybe if this goes the way I plan, you won’t have to keep living in the shithole.”

She shook her head slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I was thinking I could help you out. You’ve helped me a few times.”

“First, I kept you alive at least once. Second, that’s bullshit, Castle.” She spoke slowly.

Frank chuckled. “How so?”

She shrugged her shoulder and knitted her eyebrows together. She looked away from Frank, suddenly not knowing why it’s bullshit.

“No, don’t you shrug your shoulder at me. How is it bullshit?” He asked.

She leaned her head back and looked at the light polluted stars. She placed her hands on her hips and exhaled through her mouth. She scrunched her nose and kept quiet.

“Hey.” Frank said.

“I can only assume your kids loved to listen to you try to squeeze answers out of them when they didn’t want to answer you. Dad of the year, am I right?” She brought her head down and looked at Frank.

Frank inhaled and looked away from her. “My kids were respectful; they said please and thank you; they answered me when I asked questions, they were grateful.”

“Is there a reason you’re comparing me to your dead kids? Because if you really want a comparison, they’re dead and I’m not. You can’t bring them back and you can’t make me like them with all these stories and comparisons. I’m so sorry that your kids were so great and such angels. It kind of helps when you had a good dad and a good mom to make sure that you end up like that. I don’t have to remind you that I didn’t have that, right? I’m sure you remember exactly why this is my life.” She paused and stepped away from Frank. She furrowed her eyebrows and locked eyes with him. “To be honest, I think they’d hate what you’ve become and everything you’ve done to avenge their deaths. Is this the dad they want? Are you the man they remember? But at the same time, it doesn’t matter, right? Because they’re dead.”

Frank stared at her, saying nothing. He inhaled deeply and swallowed hard.

She looked down at the ground between them. “I’m sorry.” She took a few steps away from him. “Just forget it, alright. Forget it, all of it. I don’t want your friend to be able to find me, you’ll be fine with just the two of you.” She paused. “It was stupid to answer your call and meet you here, you just spew bullshit all the time.” She briskly walked toward her car. She pulled her gaiter mask over her head and wore it around her neck like a necklace. She pulled the car keys out of her back pocket and clicked the unlock button a few times too many. She jogged up to the car and fumbled getting inside and starting it up. She was rushing, trying to get away from whatever she many have unleased in the Punisher. He just stood there where she left him. From a distance he looked menacing as if she was next. She kept the windows up and didn’t take her sweet time turning the music on. She put the car in Drive and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal.

The young vigilante leaned up against the driver’s door of Frank (Pete)’s new truck. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at the puddle surrounding her boots. She ignored her glum reflection and instead focused on the rain drops creating ripples in the large puddle. She listened to the sound of the rather large rain drops against the truck behind her and the ground below her. Within the sound of the rain, she heard a set of heavy footsteps head toward her general area—she could only assume that those footsteps belonged to Frank. The retired Punisher approached her from the dingy New York motel room; he stopped far enough away from her for her to be able to see his typical disappointed expression in the puddle she was standing in. She flicked her eyes up at him; he was simply standing in front of her with his hands in his zip-up hoodie pockets, one hand most likely had the keys to the truck. He had no bags with him, and she had already checked the bed of the truck, so he may not have been leaving New York just yet. But he might be going on to see some friends or just Karen before he leaves everything behind.

“Hey.” Frank pulled her from her thoughts.

She glanced up at Frank and hesitated. “Are you leaving already?” She asked.

She swallowed hard as she studied his still bruised face. His expression was less disappointed and more of a resting expression (which still looked disappointed in her opinion). He looked mean with the bruises still covering his face. With the torture he had endured, she was impressed that they didn’t need to reconstruct his face. Aside from the physical wounds that he still had to recover from, he had more emotional wounds to recover from. His long-time friend, his brother, his fellow marine Billy Russo was part of the whole operation that took Frank’s family away and he came after Frank as a personal attack. Frank stupidly let the asshole live. They told him that they weren’t sure if he could or would recover. She had her doubts about his vegetative state, he was very much like Frank—to her knowledge—and if Frank could bounce back from being dead, so could Billy Russo.

“I’m just asking.” She added.

Frank inhaled and looked down at the small puddle forming next to him. “I’d like to leave.”

She nodded slowly and bit her bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, you’d like to? That’s your answer?” She asked. “You know, I’d appreciate a better answer than that, honestly. I mean, Frank—or should I call you Pete now? I’m an orphan, you know this, and the number of people I have in my life is already very limited. I just want—need—to know if Pete is going to leave me hanging the way Frank always did. I just want to know if you’re going to still be there for me.” She spoke softly and sadly.

She knew, deep down, that Frank had no obligation to her. They had a deal after she stitched him up; because she technically saved him, he would do something for her. And he fulfilled his end of their little deal back when they made it. He recently said he would help her, and he didn’t have to, she knew that. She hoped, though, that he would get her out of the shithole that she sleeps in every now and again. She hoped he would help her one last time even if that meant that they had to make a new deal where she owed him something. She actually hoped he couldn’t leave her behind or forget about her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He quickly glanced back at her and slightly tilted his head.

She shrugged her shoulders slightly and looked down at his boots. “I don’t know why you would, and I don’t know why you wouldn’t. Honestly, I figured that I offended you the last time we spoke. I-I left you there after I threw my tantrum. I even expected myself to throw the burner you gave me away, but I didn’t because I was hoping you’d call me back out to the docks to talk it out.” She paused for a moment. “I thought I pissed you off. And I really thought I did when you didn’t call me. I couldn’t even bring myself to call you to talk it out, you know? I was… I was scared.”

Frank nodded his head slightly and looked away from her. He furrowed his eyebrows and slightly shrugged his shoulders. “You were upset, and I got a little busy.” He spoke. “Russo’s still alive and if he ever wakes up, he better remember what he did. That guy I’ve been working with, Lieberman, he got his family back. I got a new life; some kind of debt owed.”

She nodded slowly; she licked her top lip then pursed her lips. “You know, the Lieberman guy called me. His name is David, in case you weren’t aware, and I thought that he was going to ask for my help. He just told me what happened, maybe because he assumed that you weren’t going to tell me. I mean, he was kind of right. You didn’t tell me; you didn’t even call me here. I found you because I wanted to.” She pressed her fingertips against the truck and pushed herself away from the driver’s door. She stepped away from the truck and stood inline with Frank; she glanced over at him. “And that’s the shit that pisses me off. It kind of feels like you’re holding back from telling me to fuck right out of your life. Am I right?”

Frank shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“Okay. So, tell me how I’m wrong.” She demanded.

He flashed a wry smile. “Look, I said I was going to get you outta that shithole and I meant it, kid. I don’t care if you believe me. I was planning on heading out to Midtown today, but like you said, you found me.” He explained.

“Still not convinced that I’m wrong.” She crossed her arms and looked toward the shitty motel.

Frank chuckled dryly. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She shook her head. “Unaware.”

He let out a deeper, airier laugh. “Kid, you have two options: I’m going to stick around until I get you somewhere stable or you come with me.”

She glanced over at Frank and raised an eyebrow. She studied his expression from her awkward angle; his expression was stoic, but that was normal for Frank, a smile, or any expression aside from stoic or melancholy would be out of the ordinary, but not unheard of. She has seen him smile fondly; she has heard him genuinely laugh too. She swallowed hard and looked away from Frank, changing her own expression to a stoic one to match Frank’s. As much as she wanted to give him a confused expression—in place of verbalizing her confusion—she didn’t. Her struggle mostly hidden by the angle Frank was looking at her. He only saw part of her face as they stood next to each other, and she was adamant about keeping her eyes glued to the motel in front of her. It was, however, clear that she stopped herself from speaking; she froze with her lips slightly parted.

Frank raised his eyebrows and waited for her response. He pulled his hands out of his pockets.

The young vigilante swallowed hard. Her eyes slowly shifted from the motel back to the asphalt parking lot beneath her feet. She knitted her eyebrows and focused on the rhythm of her breathing—unsteady, although normal for her when her youthful, teen worries and confusion begin to cloud her mind. However, this felt different from the typical worries from her adolescence; it felt daunting, and the weight of Frank’s options for her crept up next to her and towered over them both. Her heavy arms fell to her side, and she slowly peered opposite of where Frank was staring. Her eyes darted back toward the puddle behind her. The ripples from the raindrops began to slow down as her thoughts began to speed up. Frank offered her something: options. On one hand, she could take his offer about letting him help her get out of the shithole in Midtown by putting her somewhere more stable. There was a plan behind that one, but she didn’t know what it was. She was 16, she had two years until she was legally an adult and legally able to live on her own. What was Frank going to do? Find her a family that would only last two years? Fat chance. And there was a chance that it would be just as bad as living in an abandoned building and calling it home. The other option he gave her was going with him. But wouldn’t that be weird? A man and a random child moving out of New York together; or was he going to adopt her himself? Wait—no—Frank wouldn’t. She glanced forward with wide, unengaged eyes. Her heart pounded against her eardrums. She was stunned, the weight of needing to make a decision kept her from stepping away from the retired Punisher.

“Why would you offer to take me with you?” She broke their drawn-out silence with a shaky voice.

“It’s not an offer, it’s an option.” He corrected her.

She nodded slowly, feeling herself shake nervously. “So… you were serious, and I was a major asshole for no reason?” She asked. “Wait—don’t answer that!”

He leaned slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t say that you were an asshole for no reason. That’s just your personality and it’s also the reason all those bad things happened to you before you ended up alone.” He smirked.

“Cold, Castle, real cold.” She let out a dry laugh. She crossed her arms again and turned to face Frank. She smiled sadly at the supposedly retired Punisher.

He stepped toward her and put his arm around her shoulder; he spun her around so that she was facing the same direction that he was and kept his arm around her. “Not so fun when someone does it to you, is it?” He asked with a hint of mischief lingering in his voice.

She shook her head. “I get the point, asshole.”

He jokingly pressed his free hand against his chest. “Me? An asshole. You bet.” He smiled down at the young vigilante.

She flashed him a thin-lipped smile of her own.

“Still need to make a choice, kid.” He spoke.

She inhaled deeply and looked at the truck in front of them. She was silent for a moment, weighing the life-changing options he gave her one last time. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckled and pushed her toward the truck. “I guess so.

She smiled widely and ran around to the passenger side. The lock clicked and she threw the passenger door open and climbed in. “After we get my stuff, where are we going?”

“Back here to get my stuff.”

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foggyredkastle · 2 years

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Buncha quotes

Frank : *cocks gun* Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

Matt: What do you call disobeying the law?

Team Red: A hobby.

Matt: *crosses his arms*

Team red: That we do not engage in

Y/N: Well, remember when Marc made a romantic dinner for me?

Frank : Y/N, he microwaved you a pizza

Foggy: *Answers phone.* Hello?

Matt: It's Matt.

Foggy: What did you do this time?

Matt: No, it's me, Foggy. It's actually me.

Foggy: What did you do this time?

Steven: I'm very scary.

Frank : You're about as scary as a wet kitten.

Steven: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me.

Frank : And small.

Steven:

Steven: ...Yeah, yeah. I guess.

Jake: We're having a baby.

Y/N: Oh, congrau-

Frank , slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

Y/N: Arson? Oh, you mean "crime brûlée".

Matt:-no

Y/N: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

Khonshu: I desire moisture.

Marc: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

Text

Material Of Dreams

Pairing: Frank Castle x reader (no other specifications or gender)

Word Count: 1450 words

Outline: What happens when an abundance of love becomes a burden and a curse? Frank loses what was already lost.

Warnings: Heavy Angst. Character Death. Religious imagery/ spiritual reader. Blood mention, mild violence, alcohol mention, cigarettes, gun mention, swearing.

Author’s Note: Wanted to dawdle in more serious themes, and more linear storytelling, wrote this back in January and it went through many changes. Is truly a passion project by this point.

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

Main Masterlist ・❥・Frank Castle Masterlist

Humans are fickle.

So vulnerable.

So easy to break.

One moment you are breathing, the next your heartbeat is gone, your blood spilling out on the road.

Truth is that any person could never find a body of water, any place, to live inside. Humans are floating amongst the sparkling stars and the depths of the abyss. We are nothing but citizens of the far end. Born at the end of the world. Right at the edge. The years are resembling floating sheets. ‘I want to make the time stop.Put those years out like cigarettes.’ he had said a cigarette falling off his lips one Friday night not too many moons ago.

You and him were one. But you started as two souls that couldn’t find shelter, stranger forces forcibly pushed them away from each other. A bullet straight in the gut and you fell down on the concrete ground. No words were spoken, no cries of agony. No time to mourn. You were no more.

Why must everything hurt so much?

A blur of vision.

“We were bigger than gods.”

“Gods can’t like mortals.”

You got lost one night like a primal nymph. Couldn’t wander any more. You needed to save the world. Couldn't let anyone get hurt. That's what you get for wanting to be the hero. Never thought it could be this bad. You were the huntress doing the hunting as the mystery unravels itself. The stars were falling into the mud reflecting back into your eyes. The weather is dark and windy. Dark clouds were chasing two shadows, who could run faster?

“Maybe the wind will take us away to another place.”

“Maybe a place where we could live together. “

A reassuring smile, a squeeze of the hand. Together.

Yet the oil is burning at both ends. Try to save the world, try to save the world. We try to live through the journey, but the journey is sweeping right by us. This night is forever cold and hurting, freezing you up all your insides. The pile of blood is getting bigger.

How much blood can a human spill?

+++

Frank shuts his eyes close. Waking up in the middle of the night became a habit for him. Maybe that was your fault, only showing up like a nymph inside his dream. Always inside a dream.

Your obsession with God. He scoffs at the thought. You were supposed to build a house together but you became a god instead. The fucking irony of it all.

He saw you walking around the house wearing your soft smile, your footsteps quiet but determined. Until a sudden light glows inside you and burns you up. Out of this world.

Where did you go?

Every day he woke up with the same wish, the same tender promise.

Will you come back when it grows darker?

“Please let the dream become reality this time.”

Sometimes he wishes he could pray, other times he wishes he could punch a god in the face. One thing remains still, his dreams kept you closer. Closer to him, alive in his sleep.

Only there can he see you, your glowing love touching his soul with your wings. When the morning comes you will be gone, lifeless again. The bitter reality.

What an odd circumstance. Empty room, empty soul, and no one can hear his voice whisper “it was nothing but a dream”. Defeated, he places the palms of his hands on his face sighing deeply, begging the sky not to rise again.

“But isn’t that why the world was made, my dear? Just so you and I could meet each other?”

Your voice echoes in his head, you were always the poet.

You were the one who believed in fairytales, in god and all the saints and all magic. Isn’t god magic? That’s the argument he always liked to make.

“The world was created just for us.”

A short world. A bitter world. But it was the world you shared.

A repeated motion.

Brightening up his life with just your existence, your warm smile, and the echo of your laugh. He could hold you and feel alive. He could hold your hand and have his heart beat faster.

What remains now? Nothing but dust. And memories, humans thrive on memories. Latching on to them for dear life.

The sun is rising again and loneliness is growing stronger. What good is a human on its own?

“Stay with me a little longer, stay, I want to tell you something. “

Can you? Can you stay a little longer?

“You were born for me, that’s why the world was made. “

He squeezes your hand and then he turns it around and places a soft kiss on the top.

“Our stories were foretold.”

Guess this one ends in tragedy. Imagine ever living a story that doesn’t end in tragedy. Are humans tragic? Is the world nothing but a big dramatic play?

Moonlight nights fueled passionate kisses. Once upon a time, hand in hand. You and him, him and you. Material of dreams.

+++

“I am writing to you again out of pure need and it is five am again and the only thing that remains is always you. What am I supposed to do with all these other people and with their theatrical speeches? There’s nothing but paper idols, they could never compare to the realness of you. That’s why we have to love each other. Love me, as much as you can whenever you can. The world is a shitty place. You are the only one who can brighten it up.”

One of the many letters he had sent you many moons ago, your most prized possession. He loved writing you letters while you were on your different hunting sprees. No phone call could ever do that.

He’s looking at himself in the mirror. Inside it, he’s looking at someone almost familiar, and maybe if he shaves his beard he will recognize the face. The ugliness shakes him to the core. Maybe the ugly will go away when he shaves and washes his face. How long has it been since he last touched his own face?

Your blood was still on his clothes. His breath stinks of the cigarettes he smoked, brain going rotten by all the useless things. To his left on the wall there’s your picture. He looks at the picture frame of you and his heart almost starts again.

It feels like murder because it was a murder. Was the bullet meant for him? Or maybe it wasn’t. He can’t remember anymore. He can’t remember anymore. He got his revenge and yet nothing moved on. He Is getting hazy becoming a ghost with all these memories.

+++

“This isn’t love, this is only fear.”

Silver tears falling from your eyes, crumpled clothes in a small bag.

“This is not love that we are living and is a miracle if we manage to survive it.”

It wasn’t always perfect, was it?

Does it matter now that you are his ghost?

But you loved him here, here in your little corner. The house that you built together. Where are you now that he is searching for you. Angel wings have long engulfed you. In what port, which train station could he be searching for you? Where is he supposed to lay his body at? He needs to find you, to be near you. A miracle.

“Nobody stayed with you for longer.”

Your words felt like a dagger in his heart. You were cold long before you became a ghost.

You loved him here with the moons and the rain and the sun. Here where he had been waiting so long to relax and to rest. He loved how you smiled when you woke up. He never thought you would forget him. Forget it all. That’s what he thought.

Did you forget it? Would you have come back?

“My sweet darling, wherever you are, wherever you will be, don’t ask about me. I loved you here, but now this place is gone, please, don’t ask about me anymore.”

Your epilogue to him not so many nights ago. So why did you show up that night in that dark-lit alley to protect him if you didn’t love him?

Up the stairs, many moons ago, you were walking with beer bottles intertwined around your fingers. He was waiting for you and he was listening to the door, listening for your footsteps, hoping you would come around. You opened the door and walked inside but he wasn’t the one sitting on the bed.

Maybe that’s why you ended up bleeding red.

Guilt leads to death.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

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eddies-mattress · 2 years

Text

You're the Closest to Heaven that I'll ever be

Frank Castle x Reader

Gif not mine

Word count: 1700

Warnings: smut (18+ Minors will be blocked!), dom!Frank, Soft!Fem!Sub!Reader, Use of Y/N, established relationship, fluff, angst? (Insecure Frank), soft smut, reader uses she/her pronouns, size kink, use of bunny as a pet name, use of the word daddy (only like twice)

not my gif !

Frank's POV:

As I watched her sleep I couldn't help but feel fear.

What if they found out about her. I couldn't stand to lose anyone else.

I did everything in my power to protect her.

I ran my fingers through her hair as she slept. Her face scrunched up and her eyes fluttered open. "Frank." She groaned and I chuckled. "I couldn't help it. You just look so pretty when you sleep." I told her. She rolled her eyes and closed them again. Rolling over to ignore me. "I'm tired.." She whined and I smiled sadly at the sweet girl. As my thoughts began to run wild I could feel my heart begin to beat faster and my eyes well up with tears. I quickly wiped them away but let out a sniffle in the process. "Frankie.." She whispered turning over quickly.

Her mouth was slightly agape and she stared at me with big sad eyes. "Baby.. What's wrong?" She asked putting putting her hand to my cheek and used her thumb to wipe my tears. I leaned into the warmth of her hand. "Y/N.. I'm so sorry." I whispered and she whimpered and scooted closer to me. "I'm just.. I had a bad dream is all." I said and she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, then another to my lips. When she pulled away I wrapped my fingers in her hair gently and pulled her back into me. Her arm gave out and I pushed myself up slightly to lean over her.

She whimpered into the kiss as I pushed my tongue into her mouth to play with hers. "Frankie.." She whimpered looking up at me. "I love you." I whispered and she gave me a soft smile. "I love you too baby.." She said.. The smile I loved so much never leaving her face. I couldn't help but push my lips back into hers. Her hand pulled at my hair that was just long enough for her to do so. As our tongues played together I could feel my hard on forming. I moved her legs so they were around my waist before pulling away from the kiss. She let out a whine as I pushed my lips to her neck. "Frank.." She whined as I nipped at the spot I knew drove her crazy. Her hips bucking into mine as she let out a whine as I left marks all around the area.

"Please.." She whimpered and I chuckled and looked up at her face. "What baby?" I asked and she whined. "I wanna take my time.. wanna make love to m'girl." I said and she whimpered. "Wanna make it slow and.. soft." I whispered while my hands trailed up her shirt and over her ribs. I could feel the goose bumps form on her skin.

I scooted down on the bed and pulled her shirt over her head. I kissed down between her cleavage and left marks all over her stomach as I kissed down it. "You're so beautiful.." I whispered and she whimpered as she squirmed. "Please.." She whimpered as I kissed back up her ribs to her chest. I slowly licked around her nipple and her back arched as she whimpered. "Frankie.. Don't tease." She whined as I pulled her into my mouth. I sucked on her nipple and rolled it around my teeth. "Please!" She cried out and I pulled back and her nipple left my mouth with a pop sound.

"Can I pull these off?" I asked and she nodded. "Please baby.." She said and I pulled her panties down with them. I looked down at her beautiful body as she panted lightly beneath me. The only light in the moon coming in from the moonlight from the cracks in the curtains. "Don't stare.." She whimpered covering her body. "I've been inside you more times than I can count and you're worried about me looking at you?" I whispered leaning down so my mouth was next to her ear. "s'embarrassing.." She whimpered as one hand came up to play with the short hairs on the back of my neck and the other scratched the back of my shoulder. One of my hands sat next to her head to keep me from crushing her small body under mine. My other hand was moving down her. I gently pressed my lips to hers as I pushed a finger to her clit. "This okay?" I asked and she nodded. "More than okay.." She whimpered and I smiled down at her as I pushed my lips to hers and ran a finger up and down her folds.

"You're so wet baby.." I whispered into her ear. "Please.. Don't tease.." She whimpered and I pushed a finger into her. "s' so tight.. Don't know how you fit me in there.." I whispered in her ear and she whined as I played with her g-spot. "Frankie.." She whined and I chuckled. "Want you to fuck me.." She whined. "I'm not fucking you.." I said and she whined. "Please.." She said frantically. "I'm gonna make love to you tonight bunny." I whispered and she whined. "Want that? Want me to be so gentle to my little hole? Whisper sweet things in my bunny's ear.." I whispered and she nodded frantically. "Fuck you're so tight.." I whispered as I pushed a second finger into her cunt she let out a loud cry as my fingers worked her faster. "Gonna cum.." She whined as her back arched. "You're aloud.. gonna be nice to my girl tonight.. Been so good to me." I whispered before kissing her just below the ear. "Y/N.. Can I put my cock in? Think you're ready?" I asked and she nodded as I felt her clench around my fingers. Her thighs began to shake and she cried out my name loudly. "Frankie.. Cumming.." She whined out and I worked her through her orgasm.

Her hand wrapped around my wrist and I gently pulled out and circled her clit. "sensitive.." She whimpered and I chuckled and kissed her while her hand tightened around my wrist. "Gonna put my cock in you.. Gonna be so gentle.." I whispered and she nodded.

When I pulled my fingers away from her clit she whined. I got off the bed and pulled my boxers off to throw them in an unknown direction in the room before crawling back on the bed between her legs. I pumped my cock in my hands a couple times before rubbing the tip between her folds and up to her clit before going back down and pushing myself inside her. Bottoming out in one thrust. I leaned down to kiss her as we moaned into each others mouths. I sat still for a moment to let her adjust before pulling out half way and pushing back in slowly. "Frankie.. ts'so big.." She whimpered and pushed her face into my shoulder. "Shit.." She whined as I continued at a slow pace. She let out little whimpers as I hit that same place over and over again. "So tight baby.. no matter how rough I am on this little cunt.. my little cunt. Fuck!" I moaned into her neck as I bit down on her shoulder. She pushed her face into my neck as she let out loud cries. "Fuck.. Frankie.. so good to me baby.." She cried as I my thrusts became more rough. I began pulling out so only my tip was inside her and slamming back in hitting her g-spot every time. She let out cute little cries every time.

I moved my hand down to her clit and began spelling my name. That really made her cry. "Frank! Shit!" She moaned as she clenched around me. "You're doing so fucking good for me.. My best girl.. always so tight for me baby.." I groaned into her ear. I could feel myself getting closer.. I knew she was getting closer too. "Gonna cum Frankie!" She cried. "Hold on a little more for me.. doing so good bunny.. doing so good for me." I groaned into her ear. I knew I wasn't gonna last much longer. "Just a little bit longer baby.." I whispered in her ear and she let out a loud cry of "Can't daddy.. I can't!". With that nickname came the end of me. "Cum baby.. Cum for daddy." I told her and she immediately clenched down around me and let out loud cries.

I let myself spill inside her as she scratched my back and cried into my neck. "So good.." I moaned despite trying to hold my noises back. I softened inside her and stayed for a minute. "Frankie.." She whispered and I pulled my face up to look at her. Her face was covered in her hair like a halo. "Look like an angel baby.." I whispered and she smiled up at me as she gave me a kiss. the only thing separating our bodies was sweat. "I love you.." She whispered and I smiled and pecked her gentle. "I love you too.. You did so good." I told her and she whined as I pulled out. "I'm gonna go grab a towel baby.." I told her and she nodded. I got off the bed quickly and walked into our bathroom and grabbed a towel. I turned the water on and got it warm enough before getting the towel wet. I rang it out before going back to my lady.

I cleaned her thighs and she whined when I cleaned her cunt and hit a sensitive spot. "I know baby. I'm sorry.." I said. "s' okay Frankie.." She spoke with a smile. Once she was cleaned I threw the towel on the floor and climbed under the sheets with her. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her face while I pulled her into me. She let out little giggles as she wrapped her arms around me. "Now I'm really tired." She spoke with a tired smile and half lidded eyes. "Sleep bunny.." I whispered.

Once I heard her light snores I let my eyes close and let the darkness consume me.

This is the first story/smut I'm posting! So I hope you enjoyed it! <3

#frank castle #pete castiglione #the punisher #jon bernthal #marvel #mcu #smut #first smut #x reader #frank castle x reader

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annoyingnerdsposts · 2 years

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Get-up-and-go part 1

Heyyyyy... so i haven't posted much and I’m sorry for that my life has just been really busy rn and I’m getting back into writing.

ANYWHO- here’s a story with frank and his adoptive child being on the run :)

Gender neutral reader

relationship is platonic with a capital P

It was late at night, maybe 11 or 12 o;clock but it was late nonetheless. You had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the tv, your arms stretched around the sofa and a blanket covering you. You were melting in the heat of this September night. You began to peel your body off the couch and make your way to the kitchen to make a tea and maybe grab a snack.

the news was on.

It was a rule in your house to always have the news on. If it wasn't on the TV it, was on the radio. But it was always on in some way shape or form. Frank said it was good to know what is going on in the city at all times.

As the kettle was heating up on the stove you couldn’t help but over hear the story the news anchor was telling.

“An apartment building in Brooklyn was burned to the ground in a booming earlier tonight, the police have no suspects and have made zero arrests as of late, i will keep you updated as the situation unfolds.”

You move closer to the TV and notice the address of the building.

That’s close to where Miles lives

Miles Morales, your best friend. and a part of your iconic trio. Miles, you and America. Miles was one of the first people you meet in New York, and frankly one of your closest friends.

You pulled your phone out in a panic and clicked on the saved number with miles face on it.

“MILES?!” you yell into the phone “MILES?!”

“..Yeah its me wassup” says a tired Miles. He must have been sleeping by the sound of his grubby voice into the phone. A relieved sign escaped your lips. “Are you OK?! A building near you was blown up !” Now miles must have been a little worried because the sleepy Miles that you called earlier was gone.”What where?!” he said, you could hear his bed squeaking so he must now be sitting up. “ Two streets down from you” I said into the phone, “Turn on the news”. You could hear Miles’ dad call Miles. “ I have to go y/n I’ll call you when I can, OK?” “OK” I replied and hung up. Something was different when you looked at the news screen now.

12 dead 19 injured.

Fuck.

Amid all this you don’t know where Frank is. Double Fuck. You called him. No answer. Again. No answer. Again. No answer.

The next 20 minutes consisted of you pacing back and forth in your small apartment trying not to freak the fuck out. Then the door finally opens, Its Frank, and he’s a mess. “Frank” you say staring at him standing in the hall. Hes covered in blood which. to be fair, is normal Frank behaviour. But what threw you off was what his boots and face was covered in.

Ash, building ash.

“Kid..” he grumbled under his breath. “Y-You need to get your bag.” This time he sounded genuinely worried.

The bag he was lovingly referring to was your ‘Get-up-and-go’ bag. You’ve been with frank since you were a little kid, and since then hes made you pack such a bag. A get-up-and-go bag is used when you and frank need to leave the city fast. That bag contains clothes for 5 days, water, snacks, a first aid kit, 150 dollars in cash and a flip phone burner. On said burner had four numbers, Franks, Karen’s, Curtis’, and some random contact labled ‘Micro’ that frank said you should only use as a last resort.

You nodded and grabbed the bag from under your bed and walked to the front door. Frank was cleaning the blood and ash from his face in the bathroom. He finished up and grabbed his bag and with that, You both disappeared.

You got into the van and drove away, your head leaning against the window of the vehicle watching your apartment building fade into a speck. You look over at Frank. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” you asked calmly, “No”. “When we get somewhere safe we will talk about it, but right now, we need to focus getting out of the city” He states. you wait till you ask the next question. “Dose this have anything to do with what happened in Brooklyn?” You asked. Frank remained silent.

The city look so different at night. A sea of black with specks of light, each light a home with people who are living out there lives. Its a strange feeling, realising how small we are. As you left the city you and Frank stayed silent. You had millions of questions running through your mind at once but didn't know how to ask them. You looked over at Frank, the same fixed expression as before he looked over to you. It must have been around 1 in the morning at this point. “Hey kid, I know your tired and you want answers and you’ll get them but we need to get out of the city first. he placed a hand on your shoulder. you nodded and laid your head on the window of the van and fell asleep.

You woke up at 4:00 because Frank swerved the car and you almost crashed. “Frank, you need sleep” you said. Frank let out a sigh. “The next motel I see, were staying there” you noded and the both of you continued driving.

You pulled into this shady motel of the street and got a two bedroom for a night. You flopped into the bed as did Frank.

“Fuck” Frank said

“What?” You said “What did you do?”

“Y’know that building that blew up in Brooklyn?”

“Yes”

“I blew it up”

Triple Fuck.

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Sooooooooo that was part one, if you want a part two let me know cause i have big plans for this story and yeah thanks for reading i appriciate it :)

heres the link to part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/annoyingnerdsposts/694144608735739904?source=share

#dad!frank castle #frank castle #frank castle imagine #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x y/n #father figure #frank castle father figure #father figure frank castle #frank castle x reader platonic #frank castle x daughter reader #pete castiglione #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x daughter #frank caslte x you

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months

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lilac, masterlist

a/n: ...yes i did spend about an hour in procreate trying to change the sign on the right photo to say lilac and not the name it originally said... welp. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't an overachiever.

summary: moving back home to the family-run inn isn't exactly what you had expected, especially not with the mysterious lumberjack that now calls the quaint little town of Dunbrook his home as well...

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, running an inn in a tiny rural town, explicit sexual content, violence, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, pete castiglione era, total word count is 42k

masterlist | join my taglist | series playlist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

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anna-hawk · 1 month

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Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be.

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck.

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone.

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle #reader insert #the punisher #mes fics #always time for coffee series #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #the punisher fanfiction

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bellaxgiornata · 9 months

Text

Don't Walk Away [Part One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frank is a good man–you learned that the day he brought your dog Lucky into your life. The two of you soon began a relationship afterwards, one that was rather unconventional with how often Frank was always on the road. But one night when he's back, you're hit with the realization that you're in love with him. Noticing your nerves, Frank eventually pulls the truth out of you–and then you're left confused and heartbroken when you wake up to find him gone the next morning.

Warnings: 18+; Angst with a happy ending (in part two), emotional hurt/comfort, smut (in part two), love confession

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: This was going to be a one part thing but I wanted to give this story everything I needed to which meant it was growing into something bigger. So there will be a part two coming that has the happy ending and smut. For now, this is angst. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Humming absently to yourself, you sealed the lid on the tupperware container of the leftover pasta you’d made for dinner. A crisp breeze made its way through the open windows in your kitchen, that comforting and familiar scent of autumn soon approaching wafting inside and filling your house. You loved this time of year when the nights finally cooled off and you didn’t have beads of sweat rolling down your back from the scorching heat of the day. There was something serene and calming about having your windows open at night, the sounds of the crickets outside a peaceful background to your evenings.

As you made your way over to the refrigerator, you heard the sound of a car rolling to a stop somewhere along the street out front, the noise louder than usual with your windows wide open. You saw Lucky raise her head from off the kitchen floor, perking up at the noise as you opened the refrigerator door and placed the container of leftover pasta inside. Lucky let out a soft whine from the floor next, your attention fully turning down towards your dog as you shut the fridge.

“It’s just a car, girl,” you told her. “Nothing to be worried about.”

Making your way towards your dishwasher, you pulled the door open and slid out the bottom rack. Turning, you began pulling the dirty pots and bowls out of the sink from this evening and setting them one by one inside of the dishwasher. The loud thud of a car door closing outside rang out through your kitchen and Lucky jumped up from the floor. You paused, half-bent over the dishwasher as your focus shifted to her. She was standing perfectly at attention facing the living room, her entire body absolutely still except for her cropped tail. It was doing that hopeful, eager wag she would get where her tail would wag exactly three times before it stopped for a couple of seconds only to wag three more times.

And she only ever acted like this when she noticed Frank was back.

“Is your daddy here?” you asked Lucky.

Her head turned back towards you, a happy glint in her eyes. You couldn’t contain your own excitement either, a large grin slipping onto your lips as you slid the dishrack back before closing the dishwasher door. Heading to the sink, you washed your hands, your smile only growing when you heard Lucky softly whining in barely contained joy.

By the time you were drying your hands on the kitchen towel, you heard a knock coming from the front door. Lucky bolted off towards it immediately, her excited barks loudly echoing through your previously quiet house. Making your way out of your kitchen and to the living room after her, you could hear Frank’s laughter coming through the open windows. The warm, resonate sound of it had you picking up your pace as you headed to the front door. It had been awhile since Frank had last stopped by and you'd certainly missed him.

Unlocking the door, you hurriedly pulled it open to reveal Frank Castle standing on your doorstep–or Pete Castiglione as everyone else in the world knew him as. But you had come to know him for exactly who he was shortly after the night you met him eight months ago now.

He was the one who’d brought Lucky into the animal hospital you’d been working at late at night. She’d been in terrible shape, barely holding on from the abuse she had clearly suffered from, and she had been covered in injuries from what appeared to be dog fights. He’d been in a panic about her, begging you to do whatever you could to save her that night when he’d barged in through the front doors carrying her limp body in his arms. Frank had barely left the animal hospital’s parking lot for the entire week she’d been in your care. He had always been checking in on her, asking if there was anything he could do.

It wasn’t long before you’d looked into who he was, curious about the man who cared so much about an abused dog that supposedly wasn’t his dog–and then you’d managed to uncover his past. You’d been a bit wary of him at first, but Frank had only ever been kind and respectful to you and your colleagues. It was clear he had a big heart judging by how much he cared for the dog he’d rescued and couldn’t seem to let go of. Though when she was finally ready to go home and recover, you’d expected he would want to take her with him, but he’d surprised you when he had told you that he couldn’t. He was apparently living on the road for now, traveling from state to state without a real home, trying to find where he belonged. He had stayed only long enough to make sure she was healed and safe before he left.

You had ended up taking her in and naming her Lucky–because she was lucky Frank had been the one to find her and rescue her that night. But you’d also referred to her as your good luck charm because two weeks later, Frank had returned to the animal hospital you worked at and was asking about her. When he learned you’d been the one to give her a home, he’d asked if he could see her again. It was Lucky who had ultimately brought you and Frank together; she was the reason the pair of you had eventually fallen into the unconventional relationship you’d had for months now while Frank continued to live his life on the road trying to find himself–though you always wondered if he was really just punishing himself.

Pulling the screen door open, Frank stepped inside with a broad smile spread wide across his face, his warm brown eyes focused on you. The sight of him had your heart feeling ready to burst, a large smile spreading onto your own lips in return. Lucky quickly began excitedly hopping around by Frank’s legs, demanding attention as happy barks flew out of her one after another. She only quieted when he'd finally tore his eyes from you and focused his attention on her.

“Hey girl,” Frank greeted Lucky. “You missed me, did ya?”

He took two steps inside before swiftly dropping down to his knees on the floor beside her. Lucky was quick to bombard him in a series of kisses straight away, only further encouraged by his large hands scratching behind her ears. Laughing lightly at the pair of them, you closed the front door and locked it before turning and leaning against it, watching the both of them with that smile lingering on your lips. Lucky’s entire lower half wiggled back and forth in delight as Frank continued to enthusiastically scratch behind her ears, muttering sweet words of praise to her. The reunions between the two of them had always went like this whenever Frank showed back up at your place, and it always warmed your heart to watch them together.

It was a few minutes before Lucky finally calmed, lowering to sit on her haunches in front of Frank with her tongue happily hanging out of her mouth looking as if she was smiling herself. Frank glanced up at you, one hand still absently petting Lucky as he directed that broad smile still on his face at you. The sight of it had your heart almost skipping a beat–it had been two weeks since you'd last had the opportunity to see that smile in person.

His attention not leaving you, he slipped his duffle bag from off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor by his feet. “How’s my favorite girl?” he asked.

“Feeling a little left out of this reunion,” you teased.

“Well I can’t have that now can I?” he mused.

He gave Lucky two more pats on her head before he rose back up to his feet, eyeing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly sauntered towards you. You quirked a brow at him, the corner of your lips curving even higher upwards. The moment he was within reach, his hands were on your hips. You could feel the warmth of them seeping past the thin fabric of your sweatpants, his fingers firmly gripping you in an almost possessive way. He stepped in closer to you, closing the distance between you both as his face hovered just before yours. Your own hands rose up, landing on his chest just over his dark jacket. Your eyes locked onto his brown ones, spotting that familiar light in them they always had when he was with you. Though every time he said goodbye to you before heading out to his truck, ready to get back on the road again, you swore you saw that light extinguish behind his eyes.

“What about you, beautiful?” Frank asked, his voice a gentle rumble in your ears as he cocked his head to the side. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone, Frank,” you assured him, hands snaking their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him in closer to you. “And I’m always happy to see you.”

“Is that right?” he murmured.

Frank lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his eyes closing. Yours closed seconds later, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips in anticipation of your greeting from him. He was so close to you that his lips brushed yours when he spoke next.

“How much did ya miss me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, your arms pulled him in the rest of the way to you as you tilted your face up, capturing his lips with your own. It surprised you that his lips were always so soft every single time you kissed him because everything about Frank usually screamed the opposite of soft. And right now those lips of his were moving so deliberate and slow against yours over and over again, the feel of them finally back on yours making you suddenly breathless. You quickly found yourself getting lost in him, your body melting into his as he pressed you further back into the front door. The scent of leather and gasoline and smoke filled your nose as your mind went blank to everything else but him. Frank took another step into you, his hands sensually sliding their way down your hips and around towards your ass as he kissed you exactly like a man who'd been gone for two weeks would.

Kissing Frank for you was vastly different than kissing anyone else you ever had before. With Frank, every kiss and every touch from him always felt full of passion and something more . Something more than just lust and desire and the urge to scratch an itch. You’d never experienced that with anyone else but him, and you’d always been left wondering what that had meant.

When you felt Frank’s tongue drag its way along your lower lip so painfully slow and purposeful, you couldn't resist the faint moan that fell out of your mouth. Frank swallowed down the sound before he squeezed your ass in his large hands. Then he pulled away from you just a bit, chuckling at the whine you emitted in protest.

"Much as I'd love to continue this, beautiful," Frank murmured, pausing to place a sweet kiss back to your lips, "It's been hours since I ate. Been drivin' all day trying to get back to you before you went to bed. D’ya mind if we catch up while I eat?"

Your right hand withdrew from its place around his neck, gradually making its way towards his face where you began to affectionately stroke his stubbled cheek. Frank’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you did. It was a moment before you answered, just enjoying the slight rasp of his beard against your fingertips, content that he was here again. Though you loved the slightly outgrown beard he always showed up with, clearly not having had a chance to shave in a few days each time you saw him again.

"Only if you don't eat that packaged shit in your bag," you replied, gesturing your head at his duffle bag with a grimace. "I just finished dinner a bit ago, I can reheat you some of the pasta I made."

Frank's smile widened further, his hands gripping your ass firmly again. "You're too good to me, sweetheart," he told you.

"Well somebody needs to make sure you're eating more than tuna fish from a bag and beef jerky," you shot back, nails playfully scratching along his jawline. "I need to make sure you're not malnourished out there on the road."

"Oh do you now?" he asked, his hands releasing you.

"Mhmm,” you hummed out as Frank stepped back from you, a grin forming on his lips. “You make sure you take those dirty things off before you make yourself comfortable, though," you told him, gesturing a finger down at his black boots.

Frank's grin curled up even higher before he dipped his head once in a single nod. "Yes, ma'am."

You hummed out a pleased noise before turning and making your way back to the kitchen. It came as no surprise to you that Lucky didn't follow after you, choosing to stay behind with Frank as he gathered his bag and took his boots off.

Opening the refrigerator door, you pulled out the container of pasta you'd only minutes ago put away before setting it on the kitchen counter. Next you reached up into a cabinet, pulling down a bowl and then grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer. Afterwards, you began scooping a generous portion of food into the bowl–you knew damn well Frank ate like shit when he wasn't with you. You also knew he loved your cooking.

As you opened the microwave door, you heard Frank's tired feet shuffling their way towards the kitchen. By the time the pasta had begun reheating in the microwave, Frank was at your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling the back of you into the front of him. He buried his face into your neck and you tilted your head, giving him easier access as your eyes fell closed. He nuzzled quietly against your skin for a moment, the scratch of his beard almost a tickle.

“Missed you,” he murmured into your neck.

Your hands landed on top of his arms where they were wrapped around your waist, a contented sigh slipping out of your lips. You missed him every single day he was gone, constantly checking your phone for a new text or a call or a voicemail from him. Always desperate for anything at all from him. For the past few months you’d found yourself wishing he’d just stay one of these days instead of always slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder in a few days’ time, carrying your heart off with him as he drove away in his truck.

“You know you don’t always have to leave,” you told him quietly.

Frank inhaled an audible, deep breath, holding it for a long moment before he expelled it roughly. He soon drew his face from your neck as his arms began to unwind themselves from around your waist. Your stomach nervously twisted in knots at the physical distance he was clearly creating.

You’d had this conversation with him two times before. The first time it was mostly one-sided with you doing most of the talking. The second time had resulted in a fight. Frank had gotten incredibly upset with you and you hadn’t exactly understood why before he’d grabbed his bag and disappeared. You thought that was the end of things until he’d called you a few hours later apologizing profusely. Though you didn’t see him for almost three weeks after that.

Before he could respond with anything, the microwave beeped loudly. The sound cut through the tension that had formed in the kitchen. Clearing your throat, you focused on grabbing the hot bowl from the microwave.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll grab you a beer?” you suggested, shooting him a strained smile over your shoulder.

For a moment Frank stood there silently just a foot behind you, an unreadable expression on his face. You could see the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he ground his teeth together–in anger or something else, you had no idea. It was a bit before he finally nodded, turning and shuffling his way towards your kitchen table. You watched him slide out a chair before sinking down into the seat. Lucky was at his side instantly, resting her head on his thigh.

With the steaming bowl of pasta in one hand, you made your way to the refrigerator and opened it. As you pulled out a beer for him, you could feel the weight of his stare on you.

“So what stories did you bring me back this time?” you asked him, trying to diffuse the tension as you shut the fridge door.

Almost instantly his face lit up with a smile, another one of his deep, rumbling laughs filling your kitchen. Your nerves quickly melted away at the sound as you headed over towards him, depositing the bowl of pasta and beer in front of him on the table.

“Oh I got plenty of stories, sweetheart,” Frank told you, straightening in his chair as he grabbed the fork, hungrily spearing a few noodles.

Pulling the chair out beside his, you settled down into it before resting an elbow on the table. With a bright smile back on your face, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, listening intently as he began to animatedly fill you in on his past two weeks.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Slowly waking, your eyelids fluttered open only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom. It took your brain a moment to register the warmth that was at your back, though you smiled in the darkness when you remembered Frank was curled up behind you with his large hand resting on your hip under the sheets.

The tension had quickly vanished between the pair of you while Frank had eaten and the two of you had caught up. Shortly afterwards, Frank had grabbed a shower while you’d been hurriedly closing up all of the windows in your house. Then you’d made your way to the bathroom and slipped out of your clothes, joining him under the warm spray where the two of you caught up with each other in another way.

Now he was fast asleep behind you wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers. His breathing filled your bedroom with each soft and rhythmic exhale from his mouth. You always missed having him in your bed whenever he was off on the road. It always felt too big and empty without him here sharing it with you.

That thought hit you hard right in the chest and you winced. It had been nearing a year of this long distance relationship with Frank now, and even though you’d been aware of his situation of being on the road when you’d started it with him, you’d recently come to feel differently about it. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust that he wasn’t with anyone else–though at first you’d wondered about that–but there was something there that you hadn’t been able to put your finger on before. Some other reason that his constant coming and going had started to feel different to you. That you’d stopped being so open to it.

You slipped a hand up out of the sheets, rubbing the heel of it against your eyes. That nagging feeling was back again. It was the same one that had you feeling restless and like there was something missing whenever you thought about Frank lately. With a sigh you shifted in the sheets, carefully trying to maneuver your way out of the bed and away from him without waking him up. Though you knew he was usually completely exhausted whenever he turned up on your doorstep and would sleep through just about anything.

Quietly you made your way down the side of your bed, sneaking past Lucky who was contentedly passed out in her dog bed, curled up in a tight ball. You continued to tiptoe towards the door, exiting your bedroom before continuing to make your way down the short hallway and into your kitchen. You could feel that nagging, unnamable feeling eating away at you again as you stopped beside the kitchen counter, reaching a hand up and opening a cabinet before pulling down a glass.

Silently you made your way over to the sink, filling the cup halfway with water before you turned, resting your back against the counter. You drew the glass to your lips, sipping on the cool liquid as your eyes focused on the dark hallway nearby. Despite the stillness of your house, if you listened closely, you could hear Frank’s even breaths drifting out of the bedroom. The sound of it brought a faint smile to your lips.

And that’s when it hit you.

Your hand tightened around the cold glass as the realization came crashing into you all at once, nearly drowning you in the revelation. You wondered how you’d been so blind to what had been right in front of you for so long.

You had fallen in love with Frank.

It had happened somewhere between all those phone calls and text messages you’d shared with him these past eight months, along with those impromptu camping trips he had brought you and Lucky with him on. Somewhere between the nights he’d cooked you dinner and taken you to bed, showing you just how much he’d missed you while he was gone. All those times he’d shown up on your doorstep–sometimes with a bouquet of flowers or with breakfast and coffees in hand–you’d fallen for him.

There was no denying it.

Though you immediately became terrified of the realization. You knew about Frank’s past. You knew he’d been married and he’d had two children. You knew that all three of them had been brutally murdered right in front of him. And you damn well knew he still thought about them everyday–he still had nightmares some nights when he was with you. Horrible ones that made you feel useless to help him in any other way besides offering him comfort as he wept into your shoulder in the middle of the night.

How the hell could you tell him you loved him? Did you even tell him that?

A nervous churning began in your stomach as your eyes dropped down to the almost empty glass in your trembling hand. You were in love with a man who wasn’t a physical constant in your life. Sure, Frank kept in touch with you on and off throughout the day every single day that he was gone, but he wasn’t here with you every day. And that’s what it was you’d found yourself wanting lately. But with what he’d lost and how he seemed to keep spending his days searching for something out there on the road, could he ever even be here with you?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you turned and dumped out the last bit of water in the sink before setting the glass on the counter. With a quivering exhale, you wrapped your arms around yourself before quietly tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Though the moment you entered, Frank began to stir in the sheets. You stopped instantly at the foot of the bed when you saw his head rise from off the pillow, his brows furrowing together.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Frank’s groggy voice asked.

Nervously you tucked some hair behind your ear, continuing back towards your side of the bed. You shook your head as you pulled the sheets further back, aware of Frank’s eyes following you through the darkness.

“No,” you answered quietly. “Just needed a glass of water.”

You slipped back onto the mattress, laying on your back this time as you turned your head along the pillow. You sent Frank a tight smile as you pulled the sheets back over yourself. A moment later you felt his hand sliding its way carefully up your neck, coming to cradle the side of your face. He carefully drew it further towards his, his thumb absently stroking your cheekbone with such tenderness that your heart stuttered in your chest. You swallowed hard, that tight band of nerves that had formed at your recent revelation in the kitchen a minute ago twisting noticeably in your gut.

“You sure?” Frank asked.

Your brows twitched together briefly at his question. “Yeah, why?” you asked him cautiously.

“You seem…on edge,” Frank pointed out, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “Did I do somethin’?”

Instantly you shook your head, though your immediate denial only seemed to further pique his interest. He shifted on the mattress, drawing himself up onto an arm as he gazed down at you, brushing some hair from your face.

“What’s goin’ on.”

It wasn’t a question. You heard it in the tone of his voice, he knew something was wrong. Internally you cursed that Frank was such a perceptive man.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head again as your gaze dropped down to his bare chest. The marks from your nails were still visible along his skin in the dimly lit room and your cheeks heated at the memory of your time with him in the shower earlier. But that heat quickly gave way to your nerves under Frank’s heavy stare.

You knew Frank had only ever been with you after the passing of his wife. He had never let anyone else in–he had never even slept with anyone else besides you after Maria had passed. And he’d opened up to you about a lot of the pain he carried over these past few months, too. But what you didn’t know was how he would react to this thing between you both suddenly being something more than what it had been for the past eight months.

“Tell me,” Frank ordered.

“I just–”

You stopped, biting your bottom lip as those knots in your stomach from earlier twisted tighter and tighter. Fingers curling around the bedsheets, your eyes snapped shut. You weren’t sure if you could get the words out.

“You just what?” his gruff voice gently pressed.

Inhaling a trembling breath, you tried to find the courage to answer him. You knew he wouldn't drop this now. Maybe he’d surprise you–you hoped so–but if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to reciprocate your feelings. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that, either. Could Frank ever even love you? Maybe not now, but possibly someday? Would he ever even let himself feel that way for someone that wasn't Maria? You admittedly weren't sure about the answers to those questions, and you weren't certain Frank himself even had the answers. And that scared you now more than it ever had in the past.

“Talk to me,” Frank urged when you remained silent.

“I don’t–don’t exactly know how to say this,” you whispered, the words falling out of you in a rush. “I guess I never really let myself think about it before so I–I didn’t realize it until…just now. I mean, you’re always coming and going so I’ve never really–really let myself think about the possibility that I–” your voice broke off mid-sentence. Even you could hear the tremble in your words. Closing your eyes tighter, you tried to push the words out, unable to look him in the face as you bore your heart to him next. “I love you, Frank. And I–I don’t expect to hear you say that in return to me. But I–” you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as you repeated the confession aloud to him, “–I love you.”

Silence met your ears. You felt the way Frank’s thumb paused its repetitive movements along your cheek as he stiffened beside you in the bed. You kept your eyes clamped closed, too afraid to see his reaction. But the longer the silence dragged on in the bedroom, the worse that feeling in your stomach grew. Maybe you should have lied and not said anything at all. Even if you didn’t expect to hear him say it in return, you still expected something .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–”

You were cut off by Frank’s hand on your cheek pulling you towards him before his mouth was suddenly on yours. You rolled over onto your side, your right hand snaking its way around his waist and up his back, fingers digging into his hard muscles. His hand held you to him, firm but gentle, as he kissed you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before. You’d barely had a chance to register much else before he sharply broke away from you.

Your eyes flew open at the abrupt end to that passionate kiss, confusion written all over your face. Though seconds later Frank was pressing his forehead to yours, his own eyes closed. He remained silent, not saying anything in return as his thumb began its affectionate path along your cheekbone again. For now, you took that as a positive response, one that briefly quelled the rising nerves in your stomach as you brushed your nose up against his.

Frank pulled away from you after a moment, his lips placing two long, lingering kisses along your forehead before he settled back on his pillow. His hand released your cheek to instead wrap around your waist, drawing you further into him. Easily obliging, you snuggled up against the front of him, relaxing into the heat and comfort of his body as your eyelids briefly lowered.

He may not have said it back, but you figured that kiss meant something good, at least. You figured you had tomorrow to talk to him about it all. You’d make sense of things then. For now, you just wanted to curl up against Frank and drift to sleep in the safety of his arms.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucky’s high-pitched whine met your ears first. You rolled over, burying your face into your pillow and trying to block out the sunlight seeping past your curtains and hitting the back of your eyelids. You groaned, throwing a hand out to your right and hoping to pull Frank closer to you–but your hand hit the cold mattress. Instantly your head rose from your pillow, your eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to adjust to the bright light in your room.

The space beside you was empty.

Frowning, you pushed yourself upright on the bed, your eyes surveying the bedroom. Lucky was sitting beside the bedroom door, her dark gray ears drooping as she ducked her head. She whined again as she looked back at you.

“Frank?” you called out.

When you didn’t get a response, you kicked the sheets off of yourself and hurriedly threw your legs over the side of your bed. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you stood up and made your way out of the bedroom and down the short hallway with Lucky following after you. Though you immediately came to a stop in the living room. Frank’s boots were missing from where he’d set them last night by the front door.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes flew to the couch next. His duffle bag wasn’t where he’d tossed it on the cushions before his shower last night, either. Your heart began to pound in your chest, the beating of it uneven and erratic.

“Frank?” you called out again.

No answer.

Lucky walked past you, making her way to your front window. She nuzzled the curtains out of her way as she looked outside. Feeling like you were moving in slow motion, you made your way to the window after her. Reaching a hand out, you pulled the dark blue curtains back.

Frank’s truck wasn’t parked out front where it had been last night.

A sharp gasp fell out of you, your hand dropping the curtain and flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled a couple of steps backwards. You could feel the burn of tears building in your eyes, a tightness forming in your chest.

Frank was gone. He must’ve slipped out of bed sometime last night or early this morning and just left without a word. A strangled noise slid out from behind your hand at that thought and you pressed your lips firmly together, trying to keep from crying.

A desperate, hopeful thought ran through your mind next. Maybe he’d run out to grab breakfast and didn’t say anything because he thought he’d be back before you’d woken?

Hurrying back down the hallway towards your bedroom, you headed straight to your nightstand and practically ripped your phone from the charger. You unlocked it, noticing there weren’t any notifications from Frank. Opening up your contacts, you quickly found his name and dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear with bated breath.

Though it didn’t ring. Not even once. Instead, your call had gone straight to Frank’s automated voicemail.

Slowly you lowered the phone from your ear and down to your lap as you blankly sank down on the edge of your bed. Your finger ended the call as your vision began to blur from the tears quickly welling in your eyes. It wasn’t long before they began to spill forth, hot and wet as they raced down your cheeks. Lucky’s head gently lowered to your left knee as she softly whined again. Almost instantly you crumpled in half, throwing your arms around her neck as you sobbed into her fur.

Frank had left you. All because you’d gone and fallen in love with him.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #frank castle #frank castle fanfic

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 3 months

Text

That Summer, Chapter 1

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

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

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

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

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

Word Count: ~3k

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

Title from the Garth Brooks song of the same name.

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle

BangBangBangBangBang!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing, hon. Coming right up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind giving me directions?”

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

“Can I take the flyer?”

“Go ahead.”

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

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

“Thanks, you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank nodded. “Sure thing, ma'am.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Frank.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“New York.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a ladder?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank shrugged. “No problem, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

There it is. “Was?”

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

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

“I'm sorry for your loss as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

You opened it. “Come on in.”

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

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

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

“Not at all.”

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

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

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

“Yes, ma'am.”

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

“I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No problem. Where we headed?”

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

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

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

“No problem.”

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

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

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

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

Frank nodded. “Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank nodded. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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1-800marvelqueen · 6 months

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11:15

Frank Castle x reader (Peter Castilglione x reader)

Part Two

WC : 3K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Reader is gender neutral! but is implied to be AFAB. Mentions of drinking, violence, physically assault (groping), reader is attacked, knives, blood - canon typical violence.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

You hated your job so fucking much.

So far today you had been yelled at, groped, catcalled, had drinks spilled on you, and you were pretty sure someone just threw up all over their table. Working in a 24-hour diner as a waitress is as shitty as it sounds. But you were tipped well, mostly by people on road-trips, or those coming back from a late night's work who needed a coffee to stay awake long enough for the ride home. You had your favourites, sure, but none of them compared to Pete

He came in almost every night, always ordered the same thing, and always tipped you very, very, well. He was also an extremely quiet guy who valued his privacy very much, the only thing you knew about him was that he worked construction.

There was literally no one in the diner except for some shady looking drunk that had already made several inappropriate comments towards you in the 30 minutes he’d been here. You sit in one of the tall chairs at the bar, your foot tapping anxiously as you wait for 11:15 to roll around, knowing that Pete’ll walk in the second it hits. You ignore the drunken man staring you down, focusing on the clock, hoping that if you don’t engage he’ll leave you alone.

Your efforts pay off when you hear the obnoxious ringing of the door behind you, the chime of the bell signalling the arrival of your favourite customer. You put the biggest smile you can on your face, spinning around in the chair to throw your arms up in the air, “Petey!” Hopping down off the stool as he gives you a lazy smile and a return of your greeting. “Your order is already on the griddle and here is your drink,” reaching back behind you to grab the freshly made to-go cup off the counter, “a coffee with the smallest splash of cream, no sugar, just for you.”

He gives you that rugged smile as he plops down at his usual seat in the darkest, furthest corner of the diner. “Thank you sweetheart.” Blood rushes to your cheeks and you feel your heartbeat pick up at a monumental rate. Squeaking out a quick ‘you’re welcome’ you turn and briskly walk away to go find something to keep you occupied until Pete’s food is done. You feel his eyes on you, as you bus tables, count the register, make cutlery sets, and so on and so forth. When you hear the quiet ding of the order-up-bell you run up to the serve window, utter a small “Thanks Benny” to the line-cook slash owner of the diner.

You carry the plate to Pete’s table to find him still looking at you with that same rugged smile on his lips. His foot pushing out the chair next to him at his table for you. At first your friendship with Pete was a little rocky, you’d try to engage in conversation but would just be brushed off. But if you were one thing it was a persistent little motherfucker and you eventually cracked that tough exterior of Pete’s and slowly became his favourite person - not that he would ever admit that to you. Your friendship got to the point where if he came in and you weren’t working, he’d leave, and now everytime you dropped his plate off he’d invite you to join him and tell him all about your day.

If Frank was being honest with himself this was the favourite part of any of his long and tiring weeks. Even though every ounce of his body ached terribly at the end of each day, he’d drag himself to the diner, for shitty coffee, greasy food, and you. And if Frank was being extremely honest with himself, he was in love with your voice, your face, your personality, he was in love with the way you got so excited to see him each and every time he walked through the door, overall he was completely and irrevocably in love with you.

But at the same time he was deeply afraid of you. Of what he felt for you, afraid of the fact that the last time he was in love, the last time he started a life with someone, it ended in death and tears. He was so afraid that if he revealed to you who he truly was, if he showed you that simple Pete the Construction worker was really the Big-Bad Punisher, you would run or get taken because of who he was. Or worse, hurt or killed.

So he kept his affections deep under wraps, buried. With hopes that one day he could sweep you off your feet and pretend to be the good guy in his own made up fairytale.

Gently setting Pete’s plate down on the table surface before you promptly all but throw yourself down into the seat he pushed out for you. Letting out a deep sigh as you bang your head against the table a couple times for dramatics before finally resting your head on your arms, facing towards him. He gives you a raised eyebrow, a smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“That bad, huh?” “Like you would not believe,” “Tell me about it baby.”

Pushing down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach you proceed to go into a long-whirlwind explanation of how your day went, all the assholes you dealt with, the spills, screaming children, and everything else. Pete sits quietly, giving his input and reactions with different sounding noises from the back of his throat as he munches on his eggs. “And that guy over there,” lowering your voice, leaning in closer to Pete, making a small gesture to the drunk bum still in the diner, “He’s been here for almost an hour and a half, Pete. He’s been watching me the whole time, making comments and gestures and it’s really starting to freak me out.”

Pete’s eyes darken immediately, so quick it almost scared you, he brought a hand down to the side of your chair. You try not to pay attention to how close his hand is to your thigh or how the muscles in his forearm move as he slides you closer to him, you could cry at the thought put into the gesture. No matter how rough around the edges Pete was, he cared for and about you, and while he’d never verbally admit it, you knew he showed it through other things.

Like making sure you felt safe.

He keeps an eye on the guy for the rest of the time he’s there. It’s almost midnight when Pete scoots his plate away and goes to dig his wallet out of his pocket. You quickly get up and take his plate to the back, coming to find his money for the food on the counter next to the register in exact change, along with your hefty tip, having ordered the same thing so many times he had its amount memorised. He waits by the door of the diner, eyes glancing worriedly between you and the man in the corner. “You gonna be okay with… that, or do you want me to stay until you get off?” Your lips automatically pull into a small smile - one that makes Frank’s heart do flips - as you place your hand on his shoulder.

“No Petey I don’t get off till’ 4 AM. I can't ask you to stay that long when I know you’re tired, and besides, Benny’s still here so I’ve got him if I need anything” squeezing his shoulder gently before you pull away and turn to go back “Go home and get some sleep Pete, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You’re stopped in your walk away when he grabs your wrist and ever-so gently pulls you back to him. “You know if you need anything to come find me right? I’m just a yell in the night away, okay?”

Your brows furrow at what his statement could possibly mean, but you inevitably brush it off. Giving him reassurance and a wave as he leaves the diner. Bumbling around the diner for the next couple hours, having a few more customers come in, mostly weary travellers in need of a cup of coffee. The strange man had left around an hour after Frank did, watching you as he left with that strange look in your eye. At a little after 3 Benny tells you to go ahead and take off, which you gladly do, in need of a good shower and some sleep.

Once you hang your apron up and grab your bag you’re out the door. Cold automatically hitting you as you slide on a pair of gloves and a scarf, breath puffing into a cloud in front of you. Your shoes quietly tap against the pavement. Humming a little tune to yourself as you walk the dark and desolate streets. It feels strange out tonight, something making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. You look all around you, slightly picking up your walking pace, hurrying to get home.

Your efforts are futile though, when someone comes up behind you, cupping your mouth before you could scream, and pulls you into the nearest alleyway.

Frank always felt awful doing this. He felt like he was some sort of stalker.

But he had to make sure you were safe, that no harm would come to you on your way home. So he’d wait, everynight after leaving the diner, waiting for your shift to end so he could make sure you were safe on your 10-minute walk home. He’d follow along, normally on the opposite side of the street, sometimes along the rooftops, but always far enough away to not arouse your suspicions.

He watches the drunk man walk out and stumble his way down the street until he turns to where Frank can no longer see him. He watches you walk out a few hours later, immediately recoiling at the cold. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face at your actions, always finding anything you do absolutely adorable. He watches you bundle up to try and fight off the chill. He comes away from the corner of the building as you begin to walk, following behind on the other side of the street. He stops when you stop, confused as to why you quit walking. Ducking behind the building he’s next to the second he sees you turn your head around. That confusion immediately turns into concern when he peeks back around and you’re no longer there.

Without a second thought he immediately begins to run to where he last saw you, feeling his heartbeat begin to go faster and faster, the fear taking over every ounce of his body. He won’t let anything bad happen to you, he has to keep you safe no matter what. The Irrational and scared part of his brain thinks that you’ve disappeared into thin air when he gets to where you were previously standing and there’s no sign of you anywhere, but the more rational and lethal part of his brain knows you’ve been taken. His saving grace arrives in the form of a scream, a yell of his name.

Just a yell in the night away.

Running in the direction of your scream all he sees is red. He promised himself that he would never do this again. That Frank Castle and the Punisher would stay dead, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and right now it was all about saving you.

The man’s hand feels so grimy against your skin, the urge to bite him is overwhelmed by the fear of whatever diseases he may carry. He shushes you like you’re some sort of crying child, “There, there, why don’t you stop fucking squirming now, huh’?” pulling you further into the alleyway, and it’s only on your next struggle away do you feel something prick you in the side.

He has a knife.

The thought makes you immediately stop wiggling, and the man behind you chuckles at your realisation. “Yeah that’s right, you make one wrong move or don’t obey me and this knife is going somewhere you don’t want it to go.” Breathing heavily against the side of your head you can smell his breath wafting into your face and it makes you want to vomit at the pungent smell of decay and alcohol. It’s only when the man asks for all the tips you made for the night do you realise it’s the dirty man from the diner.

The one who was obviously into you in a more sexual manner.

With this in mind you make one more attempt at a great escape. Slamming the heel of your foot down as hard as you could onto his the man lets out a short scream, loosening his grip just enough for you to wiggle your way out and try to run to the mouth of the alley. Your efforts are futile when a grimy hand wraps it way around your waist to pull you back.

So as a last effort you do the only thing you can think of, even if it won’t work, you can’t say you didn’t try. You pull in as much air as you can and scream for Pete.

Your scream is cut off when the hand reslaps over your mouth and the man begins to hurl curses at you. “You really think that freak from the dinner is going to come and help? Huh?” You zone out of his words at the feeling of something wet dripping down your side. When you look down you realise that you can see his hand and most of the knife, but not the end of it. And it’s only when you focus on it do you feel the searing pain emanating from that general area.

The man must have noticed where your line of sight had gone when he began to chuckle. “Yeah bitch that’s right. This is what happens when you don’t listen.” You feel more blood begin to ooze out when he begins to slowly push the knife in further, but he never gets the chance because something rips him away from you.

You can hear the sounds of a struggle, the sound of someone screaming and the distinct sound of someone's skull cracking open on the brick of the alleyway. It’s only when the familiar sound of a gruff voice yells out do you realise who came to save you.

Pete.

Slumping against the wall from relief and blood loss you bring a hand to your side only to find the knife still wedged in your skin. Making a move to pull it out you’re stopped by a rough hand wrapping around yours. “Don’t.” words a hushed whisper. “I don’t want you to possibly hurt yourself anymore.” You find yourself nodding, looking at the man crouched in front of you, his chest heaving, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He’s got blood spray on him, covering most of his hands but there's a few drops across the side of his head and neck.

You look from Pete over to the man who attacked you, only to find him unmoving. Not even a rise of his chest. You find that you don’t really care when Pete brings one bloodied hand up to your chin to pull your face back to look at him.

“Can you stand sweetheart? I need to get you somewhere so I can fix this.” With his help you try and get up, only making it a few inches off the ground when you stop, yelping in pain. He shushes your whines and whimpers of pain as he lowers you back down, a hand moving to smooth your hair back in a soothing gesture, blunt nails gently raking across your scalp. “It’s okay sweetheart I got you, don’t worry I’m gonna take care of this.”

He moves from in front of you to the side of your body that hasn’t been stabbed, the hand in your hair moves to cradle your middle back. He brings your arm up to wrap around his neck, and then moves down to gently slot his arm under your knees. “How did you find me, Pete?” words partially slurred as your world starts to turn blurry, he ignores your question and instead settles for quietly telling you to try and hold still while he lifts you up. He carries you quickly and quietly out of the alley and into the street, going the opposite way of your apartment. You can tell he’s not walking at his usual gait, his steps are calculated, more precise in an effort to not jostle you too much. He looks straight ahead, jaw clenched so tightly you think it might break at any moment. Through your blurry mind you remember he never answered your question, so you ask again. “Pete?” bringing the hand around his neck up to gently thumb at his hairline. “How did you find me?”

His steps falter slightly, eyes quickly glancing over to you before he snaps out of it and continues walking. You can see his jaw unclench, lips parting as if to answer you before they close again. “Pete,” you try in your most pleading tone, “Please.” You can see his inner resolve cracking away as he looks down at you. Eyes losing that darkened look, his face moving into a more relaxed look, lips going from a thin, stretched, line to an almost unnoticeable smile.

“I’m only a yell in the night away baby.”

Originally posted April 23rd, 2022.

#frank castle x reader #pete castiglione x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle #1-800marvelqueen #mywriting

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shiorimakibawrites · 8 months

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Shiori's Fan Fic Masterlist

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

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

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

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

My work is also posted on A03.

My fan fiction recommendations can be found here.

MATT MURDOCK

Now has his own masterlist which can be found here.

FRANK CASTLE

Series

A Vigilante and a Gentlemen

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

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

Port in a Storm

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

One Shots

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

MICHAEL KINSELLA

Series

Rhapsody

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

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

A Brand New Ending

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

One Shots

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

PETER PARKER / SPIDER-MAN

Series

Legacy

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

Adrift

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

OTHER

Events

Flightless Angel Wing's Kinkotober 2023 - Personal Masterlist

Castlevania (2017 - 2021)

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

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lifesabe-ch · 4 years

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all of the stars - frank c.

request: Can I get "Under the stars." and "Confessing feelings" from the Kissing Prompt list w/ Frank Castle? @pensysto

pairings: frank castle x reader

warnings: none

a/n: i love this. and frank. and you, thanks for requesting :)

The roof of your building was deserted, save for a broken lawn chair left behind and the small radio you had brought up with you. You sat on the chair, careful not to weigh it down too much in its already broken spot, eyes simply wandering the sky.

It was quiet where you were, with none of the normal hussle and bussle of the streets below. Even those sounds felt like they were miles away, muffled by the thoughts whizzing through your own mind.

Coming up here quickly became a part of your nightly ritual, on warmer days. You sat, and you waited. You watched the stars, the people, even the buildings and the lights that shone.

You watched, and you waited.

Frank Castle didn’t live with you. Not by any loose definition of the word. He was merely a visitor, and he never failed to remind you of just how short lived his visitations could be. Nor how long his time in between them could last.

As time passed, the longer your little meets got. You spent more time getting to know the man the city was calling The Punisher.

At first you were hesitant.

The way you met hadn’t left the best impression on you.

You had been up on your roof, in a similar way, watching the foot traffic below you. You hadn’t expected someone to catapult themselves onto your building, and much less into you. The sentiment was mutual.

The interaction was short lived, with him running away almost as soon as he had gotten up.

While brief, this was enough to keep you off your roof for a few days. You spent them inside, but something kept drawing you back up. Begrudgingly, you obliged.

You found the same man from earlier in the week sat there, using the same broken chair you were now sat on. Although, it hadn’t been broken yet.

He had apologized to you. He felt bad for knocking into you like he did, even more so for doing it on the roof of your own apartment building, a place where you were meant to feel safe.

You didn’t trust him, you had no reason to.

But soon, you learned to.

It had been almost a year since this encounter. You spent every evening you could waiting for him. Whenever he did show up, the two of you would talk for hours on end, often resulting in your low energy in the morning. But you didn’t mind.

When nights grew colder, you would wait for him inside. On the day you caught him, you invited him down to your apartment. For the rest of the chilly season, Frank would alert you of his presence by a knock at the door.

And you would let him inside.

But now, you were waiting again. It had been weeks since the last time you saw him. You never questioned what he did or where he was, but you wondered.

You didn’t know if the next time you’d see him would be here, or on the news, wanted for the charge of something or other.

A noise behind you makes you jump, and when you turn, you notice you’re not alone anymore. Frank’s stocky frame has stumbled over something, ever the picture of grace.

As you stare back at him, you watch as he sets the can he had knocked over back upright, before sheepishly looking up at you.

“Like what you did with the place,” he quips, in a poor attempt to play off his failure.

It’s not funny, but you force out a chuckle to make him feel better. And it seems to work. He makes his way over and leans against the ledge across from you, a small smile on his lips as you hand him a beer.

“How’d you know I was coming?”

You shrug, a small smile on your lips, “I had a feeling.”

He chuckles as he pops the cap off the bottle, eyes never once leaving yours as he takes a swing.

You take a moment to appreciate their color. Brown wasn't a descriptive enough word for them. Each time you saw them, they changed. Sometimes, they resembled honey. Other times, like tonight, they were dark, glistening against the lights.

“What’ve you been up to?”

The question is a dumb one, but by the time you come to that realization, it’s already left your mouth.

“Been flirtin’ with the idea of going full man bun,” he jokes, immediately causing a laugh to bubble out of you.

“What? You don’t think it’d look good?”

On the contrary. You thought it’d look very good. Anything Frank did would suit him, you were certain of it. But you didn’t say that.

“I don’t know… If you’re not careful, people might start thinking you’re a hipster. It may already be too late.”

It was his turn to laugh now.

“You don’t mean that.”

You grin, “I think I do. It’s the beard. I told you you should’ve shaved it.”

“When’ve I ever listened to you?”

“You should start!” You challenge, shaking your head at him playfully. “I only say these things because I care about you.”

In an instant, the mood changed. Frank wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't even smiling. The longer you watched him, the more you saw his expressions morph into something else. It was like you had offended him.

“Hey, I’m sorry… did I say something?”

“No.”

Great. Glad he was being specific.

You take a sip of your own beer before standing and leaning against the ledge besides him. You don’t say anything at first, instead just looking out at the night before you.

“Where are you going after this?”

“After what?”

He’s looking at you now.

“This,” you gesture vaguely to the air around you. “This talk.”

“I don’t know.” He says, grimacing off into the distance. He peels at the label on the beer.

“You know, if you need… if you ever need a place to stay…” you trail. He sighs.

“I’m not looking for someone.”

“Uh, what?”

“Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m not it. I’m not someone you should care about.”

You scoff slightly, “Okay? I was offering you some place to stay, Frank. I wasn't asking you to marry me.”

He shrugged, his gaze meeting yours, “I’m not good for you.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Your response shocks him, his eyes searching your features for any hint of playfulness. There was none.

“You don’t think I know that I could be with someone who isn’t literally wanted for murder? I picked your stupid ass! Actually, no, God picked your stupid ass for me.”

“You don’t believe in God,” He corrects, watching you curiously.

“Exactly, Frank. You have me believing in a god. And now you want to tell me that you’re no good for me? That I shouldn’t care about you?”

He nods.

“It’s too late for that. It was too late for that the day you took me out on my own roof.”

He laughs now, the memory resurfacing between the two of you.

“I didn’t take you out… I just bumped into you.”

“You did not just bump into me! I couldn’t breathe for a whole minute after.”

“Well there’s never anyone up here.” He replied sheepishly.

“It’s my roof! Don’t blame me.”

“If you go on roof’s you’re just asking for trouble.”

“We’re on a roof right now.”

You found yourself closer to him than you realized.

He ponders your words, and bites his lip.

“You askin’ for trouble?”

You smile at him.

“Trouble’s my middle name.”

“I was serious before,” He comments, unmoving as your hand finds its way to his chest.

“What about?” You hum, looking up at him through your lashes as you spoke.

“I’m not good for you.”

Your movements pull the two of you closer together, lips hovering just mere inches apart. You hesitate, running your finger along his cheek, your words soft.

“Let me take care of you, Frankie. I don’t care about all of the bad stuff.”

He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed as he contemplates what you’ve said.

“I just want you.”

There’s no hesitation in his actions as he closes the gap between the two of you, lips covering yours in an instant. His kiss is soft, gentle, but it holds just enough pressure to let you know that he’s there. With his hands sliding down to your waist, you move yours around his neck.

You weren’t sure how long you two stayed like that. Even after you had pulled back from the kiss, you kept your arms where they were, resting your head gently against his chest. You listened to his heart beat. Felt his chest rise and fall beneath you.

The stars twinkled in the night, lighting up the Earth beneath them like they had countless times before. Yet, for some reason, this time was different. The darkness that fell upon the sky was a special kind of blanket, the kind that only wished to hold the stars and help them to shine brighter. It’s warm black remained tightly wrapped around all that surrounded it, enveloping them like a hug. Within its safety, the two of you found your solitude.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t have to.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castiglione #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #frank castle imagines #the punisher s1 #the punisher #the punisher series #pete castiglione #pete castiglione x reader #frank castle x reader imagine #frank castle x y/n

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negansdoll · 5 years

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You’re inviting Frank/Pete to your house

Sitting at the bar, you were looking at the mysterious brown haired guy standing next to you.

He was really, really good looking and you decided that he’ll be more than just a stranger to you.

You : Hey.

He turned his head and looked at you, kinda smiling at him.

Him : Hey.

You : What a pretty boy like you is doing all alone like that ?

Him : This pretty boy is just looking for some beer and good music.

You : The beer’s not as good here as it is at my home.

You said that with a little smirk.

The guy turned, once again, his head to you as he started to laugh.

Him : Wow, really ?

You smiled at him and laughed a little.

You : Yeah really, you should try it. I’m Y/N, by the way and you ?

Him : I’m Pete.

You : So... Pete, what’s your answer ?

Pete laughed again while shaking his head.

Pete : I don’t know kid, I think I...

You : I have good music too.

You said quickly before he ended his sentence.

Pete : Alright.

You : Alright ?

You asked a little surprised.

Pete : Yeah, how can I refuse this ?

He laughed as you winked at him before standing up and walking to the door, followed by him, determined to do more than just listening to music and drinking beer with him.

#castle #frank castle #frank castle x reader #imagine #jon bernthal #jonbernthal #punisher #the punisher #thepunisher #jon bernthal x reader #pete castiglione #petecastiglione #pete castiglione x reader #shabe walsh #shane walsh x reader

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pitaparka · 5 years

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band-aids and bullet wounds

summary: frank comes home with bumps and bruises. you sing him a little tune to brighten his night.

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: general frank castle injuries :(

a/n: back to posting! although it’s still irregular, i have a break from school on the horizon in which i may or may not have some prompts lined up. in the mean time, i love writing for lovable trash men, so please send in requests!

She woke to the sound of jangling keys in the doorway. Shuffling feet, and a clang of them falling to the floor had her up and out of her uncomfortable position on the armrest. Her feet patter against the hardwood floor of Frank's apartment, and behind the bed she hid, her eyes peeking out from above the comforter. She groped the floor for a gun she knew was there. There was a grunt of pain, the keys jangled again, and watched with baited breath. She sighed in relief as Frank walked through the door. Then furrowed her brows in panic as she quickly surveyed his bruised body.

Before she can do, or even say anything, he collapses into a chair near the door and bends down in pain, wincing as he attempts to undo his large combat boots.

"Frankie..." She criticizes, almost pouting as she makes her way over to his seat.

"Oh, don't start," He begins in an attempt to comfort her. He's hunched over, breathing shallow, yet laborious.

"What did you do, Castle?" She asks quietly, getting down on one knee to undo his boots.

He leans up slowly, allowing himself to relax into the shitty upholstery of his chair. He’s pretty sure he got it from a garage sale. It certainly feels like it. Frank gives no response. Instead he grimaces and sighs, closing his eyes and moving his hand to run it over his hair and face.

Without words, she's up off her knee, extending her hand to him. He mindlessly moves his to rest in hers. A gentle tug from her and a grunt of pain from him, and he resists, instead pulling her in towards him. She stumbles over his boot and whimpers as she accidentally bumps into his leg, her face planting straight into his severely bruised shoulder. He whimpers, but drowns it in her neck, letting himself lay idle there as she tried to figure out where to place herself in order to not hurt Frank. She settles for his knee, and for also wrapping her warm arms around his broad, tough shoulders.

"Frank," She murmurs into his jawline, her body rotated so that she could turn into him.

"What happened?" She inquires, running her hands over his freezing ears.

"Just a few bad guys, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. Nothin' I haven't handled before." He reminds, letting his frigid hands run under her shirt for warmth. He hears her sharp intake of breath, and her chuckle into his ear and he melts. All the cold from outside and the pain from a few hours ago just melts away and he lives in her breathing for a second, before she removes herself from his lap carefully.

"C'mon," she encourages, taking his hand and gripping it tightly. With intent.

He sighs and removes himself from the chair.

She drags him unceremoniously into the bathroom, and sits him down on the side of the tub. Frank closes his eyes and, seemingly, for the hundredth time that night, sighs. He watches her, and wonders how he got to be so lucky. These patch-up sessions happened so often now, that he just let himself be cared for. Maybe he was getting sloppy. Did he deserve the aftercare? Probably not. But he had resisted long enough to realize that whether he likes it or not, if he comes back home and she’s waiting for him, he’s getting stitched, bandaged, and iced.

“What hurts?” She asks. He doesn’t answer.

“Frank—” She begins, but he interrupts her.

“I’m okay.” He lies.

“Bullshit. You’re sitting there, looking like Barney the dinosaur and you’re just gonna, fuckin', lie to my face?” She jokes, halfheartedly.

“Sweetheart,”

“No—don’t even, don’t even pull that shit with me, Castle. God. You know—do you even know what you look like right now, Frank?” She says, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet wide, so that frank could take a good look.

The dried blood on his temple immediately stuck out to him. A large gash where the skin was frayed definitely looked like it would hurt tomorrow. Not to mention the bruises. The cut on his lip would make eating anything spicy a pain. Though he had to admit, he’s seen worse.

“Would you believe me if i told you I won?” He asks, grinning at her.

“Unfortunately, 100%.” She answers. She rolls her eyes and takes the first aid kit from the cabinet.

On the floor next to him, after he takes off his jacket and his shirt, and all other unnecessary clothing items, she spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to use on him. Band-aids, gauze, ice packs, and a small suture kit were intermittently attended to as she cared for Frank. Not before long, the gash on his head was closed as best she could, and the majority of the larger cuts were bandaged up. The only things left were the small thin scrapes, littered over his face and arms, and the medium sized laceration on his bicep.

In the middle of applying comically small band-aids to the wounds, she decides that the fastest way to get through the process would be to murmur a very relevant, catchy tune. She sings it proudly yet quietly, applying one of the sticky ends methodically to Frank's face.

"I am stuck on band-aid brand, ‘cuz band-aids stick on me,” she sings under her breath. Frank recognizes the melody. It’s the only commercial that came on kids television, apparently.

“What?” He questions anyway.

“I am stuck on band-aid brand ‘cuz band-aids help heal me,” She croons, looking up at Frank’s incredulous expression.

“I can’t deal with you,” he chuckles, and turns away to watch the wall, before his gaze falls back to her smiling widely on her knees, getting the alcohol to disinfect the scrapes. Without warning, she pours the alcohol into the gash in his arm. He growls.

“Ah, watch the fuckin'... thing, please.”

“I’m gonna put a band-aid on your mouth,” she mutters, “maybe it’ll fix your language.”

“Ah shut up,” he retorts, and tries to run his sticky, dirty, bloody hand through her hair.

“Nooo!” She whines, dodging it.

“I’m almost done, and then, ah shit—“ she cuts herself off, realizing she should’ve had him take a shower first. Too late now

“Well, we can have it sit for a while, then I’ll hop in the shower with you?” she suggests. He rests his hands on the edge of the tub.

“Sounds good to me,” he responds, listening to her hum and take paper off of band-aids.

He watches as she meticulously covers each cut with nurturing hands. He doesn’t mind the touch. The cheap whiskey stings a bit when first applied, but the pain become dull after a while. Like a tattoo needle. He only realizes he’s tired when he yawns, and then again when she reaches up to rub the back of his neck after she’s finished. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, and relishes in the undisturbed tranquility of the night. A clock ticking from somewhere inside his apartment. Nearly ancient walls creaking. A car driving by every now and again. He’s glad he’s not alone, is the only thing he can think of when his lips meet hers.

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