summary: frank castle doesn’t beg, and he certainly doesn’t cry. for you, he might.
warnings: language, so much language. mentions of canon-typical violence.and angst. this is one big ol’ emotional sucker punch.
has this been proof read? no. enjoy.
-jazz xx
Sometimes it felt like Frank Castle kept your heart in a glass case.
He had it there, just to look at. He was scared to go near it and consequently, the man protected it with his entire life.Stood beside you 24/7 with a gun in his left fist, free hand gripping yours. There were seven wonders in the world, and to Frank, you were the eighth. Maybe a little more corrupt and short-tempered than Alexandria or Rhodes but hell, you were a beauty nonetheless. The way you walked the lines between holding your morals and holding your own was something The Punisher had never quite managed to grasp himself.
So, he had your heart in that glass case.
And sometimes he took a hammer to it.
Smashed it to pieces; left your most vital organ damaged on the floor, splintered by shards of glass and pulsing justenough to keep you alive. He always picked it up and repaired the best he could but after ten or twenty or even thirty fucking beatings, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. It didn’t beat quite like it used to. Didn’t feelthe same way it used to.
This was gold! And you got Frank’s Speech pattern down to a science! Not many can get that down pat. Unlike @foggywells who is amazing next to @kteague.
Absolutely amazing and inspirational as I am working on a series, so this helps me get his speech pattern down a bit better for me.
summary: Frank comes back. and you missed him. You just try not to let him know that. warnings: blood, injuries, angst a/n: cannot get enough of frank castle…….. pls give me a break <3
Warnings:Language.Smut. Just a lil finger bangin, ya know?
Monday, April 18th
I’ve met someone. Arrogant. Flippant. Self-interested. They too, have plans for Gotham. An unshakeable need to play a hand at Gotham’s Rebirth. Her methods are radical, riot inciting, dangerous.
The city’s big. Enough for her to mold parts of it to her liking where my influence hasn’t yet touched. Too rough. Too sharp. My reach can’t remedy the damage. Should she continue, Gotham herself can only hope to be disfigured.
Something pulls me to her.
There you are. Sultry and intense. A bright vision for eyes accustomed to the darkness.
Bruce leans forward and hears himself emit a throaty grunt. It’s just the bruised ribcage he tells himself, knowing it’s a lie.
You’re passionate, as you always are, but being on camera ignites a chromosome in you that makes you magnetic. Anyone watching will be pulled by your words. Like mind control, your message will become theirs. You’re a north star in an empty night sky. You’re the way home. It’s dangerous, the type of power you carelessly wield.
“Now’s the time to reclaim what never belonged to them. Take back the city and let freedom ring!”
The climax to your speech has the crowd cheering with intense
A low vibration rumbles within Bruce like an old bell. “Incredibly dangerous,” he speaks aloud. Or in his head. He can’t tell which. He can only decipher that he needs to see you.
Not deep in the depths of the bat cave on a screen that flattens your visage.
He needs you in the flesh.
You’re washing off the day. Extra hot showers are good for that. The anxiety of being on TV, running back every word you stumbled over or important points you missed, isn’t something you want to keep with you.
So you let your mind drift. It’s a meditation technique your mother taught you. A very basic one, but one nonetheless. All thoughts are welcome. Your mind is free to bring up any memory it wished, so long as it’s business related. No self judgment or hatred of the thought is allowed — a crucial component of the exercise. As your mother had told you, “Allow your mind to freely roam for 30 minutes, and for the entire day you will know where your heart is.”
Suddenly, you aren’t thinking of better plans for Gotham. You’re thinking of hot cocoa and marshmallows during a winter storm. Extra, extra marshmallows. Extra cocoa too. But could you afford the carbs? Wait. Is that you judging yourself? This zone is judgment free. So you release the thought back into the void from which it emerged.
For a moment you’re just enjoying the feeling of being in the shower. But the mind takes over and strangely thinks of weightlifting competitions. Men and their bulging veins.
The thought doesn’t last long.
He arrives.
Of course he does.
The Batman.
It starts as the image of Gotham alight with the signal. We need you Batman. I need you.
The thought travels. What must it be like beneath all that heavy armor. Bulging veins? What kind of man was hidden behind the cowl?
Does he fuck as good as he fights?
You definitely judge yourself for that thought. You rather think about Gotham again than a man or a bat.
Finished with your shower, you dry off and throw on an oversized tee. In your head you’re mapping out your speech tomorrow: Something something like a lost soul, Gotham must find the light. Something something men with dark hearts have ruined this city. We have to fight back or find ourselves in hell.
You don’t realize the light in your bedroom is off until you’re already in it. That’s not how you left it. And before you can move to the lamp… you see him shrouded in the shadows. The silhouette of his thick frame. It frightens you, but not in a way that makes you run for cover.
“Your speech today —”
You give him no chance to finish. “What gives you the right to break and enter into my apartment? That’s the problem with men. Especially men like you. You think you own Gotham and everything in it.”
“Your speech today caused a 5% increase in crime.”
He approaches and hands a handheld device to you. The screen of which is cracked, but you can still make out the ticker.
“Looting has increased significantly in the East End—”
“Correlation doesn’t imply causation.”
“Swipe right.”
As you do so a picture pops up. A vandalized convenient store. A man wearing a mask of the president holds a banner with a man wearing a mask of the Vice President. Let freedom ring scrawled in blood, nearly illegible. A bludgeoned store clerk sits
Batman, in his typical monotone whisper, asks, “is this your idea of Freedom?”
You push the handheld into his chest. “A version of it.”
“Your words have power,” he says, “the things you say could be used for good.”
A thought enters your mind and you don’t pass judgement on it. Here is The Batman. In your bedroom, in the dark. It’s enough to make you bite down on your bottom lip. “That’s what you came all this way to tell me? That I have a naughty mouth?”
He’s silent. As still as the night that coats your apartment. You take the reigns, hoping his lack of a protest is a sign of approval. Lips pressing against his, you groan in approval when he kisses you back. It’s soft, fragile, nothing like the brutal way he’s bludgeoned petty criminals. Makes you think either he doesn’t do this often, or he doesn’t want to hurt you.
His device drops from his hand. It startles you, makes you want to jump from your skin, but his fingers against your waist keep your form flush against him. The kiss breaks and there’s just breathing. Heavy breaths regaining composure.
“Don’t,” he warns as your hand runs along the smooth plating of his cowl. You make no fuss about it, no forcing things. You have every intention to drop the lust, but he’s forcing you back first onto your bed. You flowing with the ebbs of the mattress and sink into the weight Batman forces against you. “Just lie still.”
You do as you’re told. Cold fingers, hard and metal, untie your towel. You’d forgotten that was all you had clothing you. And barely recognize that the hand reaching between your legs is gloved until -
“Shit.”
His fingers slide inside you. You’re not sure how many. You just feel full. To the brink of it burning. It’s just the right amount of stretch.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs, all soft in the darkness. It makes you moan harder when he pushes back inside you. A little rougher and you roll against his finger’s thrusts. “So wet.”
“Does it feel good?” he asks, fingers swirling around your clit. You wrangle out an answer between pants. Yes. It feels so fucking good. With your head thrown back and legs wrapping around either side of his waist.
You come, in the black void of space and he’s kisses you through it. Something he wants to taste for himself.
And then he leaves. Picks up his device and leaves. No trace of him ever being there.
Steven chuckled nervously, his right hand rolling over his left hand soothingly as he stared up at Frank. After a few seconds, he stopped cradling his own hand and stood up a little straighter. Intrigued, Frank raised an eyebrow and took a step back from Steven, wondering if he was finally going to see Marc. Instead, he was met with a slightly more confident Steven.
“Ha, you can’t intimidate me,” Steven said proudly after turning away from one of the display cases. “Marc says you’re a, and I quote, ‘fucking sap.’ You won’t hurt me unless you have to, and considering I’ve done nothing wrong — “
“Did he also tell you that I would snap someone’s spine with my boot if I need to because they keep talking instead of giving me straight information?” Frank inquired.
Summary: As a teenager, you had a crush on your attractive neighbor Frank Castle. You were there on that horrible day and never thought you’d see Frank again - until he turned up right next door.
Warnings: Smut (Frank is actually a pretty gentle gentleman in this), Age Gap, Death, Mentions of pedophilia, Teen drinking
Word Count: 8.2k (I got a little carried away… there’s probably a bit of unnecessary backstory here lol)
Frank noticed the stumbling young woman on the side of the road and his brows furrowed in concern. Even though he couldn’t see your face, only your back being illuminated by his headlights in the night as he drove up the dark street that eventually led to your homes (two miles away), you were familiar. His foot pressed the brake, drawing the car to a crawling pace beside you.
Panicked when you realized an unidentified vehicle was stopping beside you in the middle of the night, your eyes darted over there and you looked like deer in the headlights. That is, until a familiar gruff voice called out your name questioningly.
“Frank?” You hiccuped, taking steps closer to the open passenger window but tripping and stumbling over your own feet.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah, it’s me kid. What’re you doing out here? Are you okay?”
It was clear that you weren’t okay. Mascara had smeared under your eyes from a wild night at a crazy party. Your hair was a messier version of what he assumed had looked nice a few hours ago. You also reeked of alcohol.
At first you nodded assuredly before shaking your head and then nodding again. Finally, you pointed down the road, “‘m just tryn- *hiccup* tryna make it back home.”
“Home’s a long ways down the road. Why don’t you hop in? I’ll give you a ride,” Frank offered, motioning for you to get in the car.
You shook your head and waved him off dramatically, almost falling backwards, “No, no, no. I got this.”
Frank couldn’t help the amused chuckle that fell from his lips. He remembered being in your position. Sixteen years old, drinking with friends, testing your limits. He had done the same stuff in high school at your age. He didn’t fault you one bit but he did want to make sure you were safe and considering he lived across the street, this was really no inconvenience to him.
“C’mon. Get in. Can’t have you walkin’ alone drunk at night.” Frank insisted, now getting out of the car and walking over to you. He opened the passenger door and held his hand out to help guide you inside. It didn’t take long for you to submit to his persistence, the idea of walking home not being very appealing anyways. What began as an attempt to slowly lower yourself into the seat resulted in your foot slipping off the edge of the curb and your butt hitting the soft seat with a thud.
“Oof!” You grunted dramatically before giggling uncontrollably, “Whoops!”
Frank ignored the fall and leaned over you, pulling your seat belt across your chest, “Geez, you smell like you drank the whole bar.”
You giggled, “I certainly tried.”
He shut the door and got back into the driver’s seat before peeling back onto the street. “Yeah, I remember those days. Just be careful. Don’t hurt yourself. And always make sure you’re safe. There are some terrible people in this world that would see a pretty drunk girl and see an opportunity,” he said sincerely, “What were you doin’ walkin’ alone at eleven o’clock at night anyways?”
At first you burned hot. Did Frank Castle just say you’re pretty? Then you shrugged and cuddled back into the seat, the alcohol beginning to make your eyelids heavy. “Was at a party at some girl’s house,” you began before you found yourself having to swallow hard to keep the storm in your stomach at bay, “Me ‘n some friends all went but the cops busted the place. We all ran but we got separated. I don’t know where they went but their car was gone so I just walked home.” You didn’t sound upset by this - more like it was just a matter of fact.
“Some friends you got there,” Frank grumbled, “You know, friends don’t leave other friends to get arrested.”
You just sat silently, guilt beginning to settle in. Then realization hit you, “Shit! My parents are gonna kill me.”
Frank laughed, “Maybe you should have thought of that a few shots ago.”
“I was gonna stay the night at Becca’s house!” you whined in defense and although Frank had no clue who Becca was, he assumed it was one of the friends who left you for the cops.
He just shook his head as he drove down the dark road. “What were you doing out so late?” You tried to poke at his arm but it came off as a weak attempt.
“Lisa is sick. Just had to run down to the drug store and get some of that baby Tylenol. I’m glad I did though otherwise you would’ve had a long walk ahead of you.”
You just smiled and lolled your head to the side, looking at Frank with all the admiration in the world, “You know you’re perfect right?”
Frank looked over to you with brows furrowed and a chuckle of disbelief, “Oh please…”
“No really! You’re like perfect. I mean you just picked me up to make sure I got home safe because you’re like really nice,” you hiccuped, “And- and you’re getting Lisa those special baby medicines cause,” hiccup, “you’re a really good dad. And you’re tough and strong. I mean really strong. I really like your muscles a lot. And you’re really handsome.” You babbled endlessly, all of your deepest most secret thoughts spewing out of your mouth uncontrollably.
Your older neighbor had no clue how to handle your kind albeit inappropriate confession. Frank had never been good with words, “Uh look,”
“I think I’m in love with you,” you confessed suddenly. “I know I shouldn’t be cause you’re old and I’m only sixteen but I see you every day being all perfect with your perfect house and your perfect baby and your perfect wife and I secretly wish it were me instead of her.”
Frank swallowed hard and exhaled heavily. He almost wanted to pull over so he could look you in the eye but even from the glances at you he took away from the road made the lovestruck sparkle in your eye glisten apparently. While flattered, Frank felt criminal just hearing it. “I-I appreciate that, kid. I really do. And you’re a really sweet kid but-”
“You keep calling me kid.”
“Cause you are a kid,” Frank said firmly, “Look, you’re growing into a fine young woman and one day, you’re gonna make some lucky boy a happy man.”
You sighed heavily, “So you don’t love me?” It was a ridiculous question and Frank could tell even you knew that. He knew it was just the alcohol talking, making you admit things he was never meant to hear. Frank felt guilty now knowing these things that he was sure you’d be embarrassed about him knowing.
“I’m married. I have a kid. And I’m a lot older than you,” Frank explained, turning onto your street.
“You’re old but you’re not that old. You’re like, what? Ten years older than me maybe? Fifteen max!” You tried to reason with him one last time before sighing in morose resignation, “It’s okay. Why would you like me back anyways?”
Frank pulled the car into his driveway and shook his head. He didn’t want to hurt you but he couldn’t enable these feelings either. He just hoped the alcohol would erase the memories of tonight so he could pretend like it never happened and could spare you the embarrassment. Without a word, he got out of the car and opened your door. He nodded towards the lawn, “C’mon. You’ve had a lot to drink. We should get you home.”
*
Years had passed. You’d graduated high school and spent a few years on your own. Despite struggles, life had been going relatively well as of late. You had moved to Hell’s Kitchen which, while not ideal, held a promising career opportunity and a surprisingly affordable apartment compared to some other parts of New York.
Your abode was humble to say the least, just a studio with brick walls and a stove from the 1960s. It was yours though and it definitely was better than a lot of other options, all of which were thousands of dollars a month for an apartment more comparable to a shoe box than a living space. But that was the price of living in New York, you supposed. The city of dreams and rats.
It had been a long day at work. As you exited the elevator to your floor, a tired drag in your step, you stared down your front door like it was a target and you refused to miss. You needed a drink. Or two. Alone or with friends, you couldn’t care less, you just couldn’t wait to take these dang heels off.
After the long trek down the hall, you reached the door. You fumbled through your bag to find your keys when the door to the next apartment opened.
You startled, used to it being empty for the last several months. The stranger’s back was turned to you but you could tell he was a middle aged man, towering and muscular with a commanding presence, even without trying. His black t-shirt was loose over his denim jeans and a black duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.
“Uh, hi-” You started awkwardly, feeling obligated to at the very least introduce yourself to the new neighbor, “did you just move in?”
The tall man turned around to face the unexpected voice behind him and you both shared mutual looks of dawning surprise when you saw each others’ faces. “Frank?” You asked in utter shock.
Frank’s eyes widened and he looked like he was looking at a ghost as he said your name questioningly. This could be bad, living next to you. You even knowing he was alive was a risk.
“What the hell is going on?” You stammered, knowing full well his past. Knowing full well he was supposed to be dead. You had grown up right next to the Castle family. Granted, you had moved out by the time Lisa was four but you had been home visiting the day Frank’s family was murdered. You had been there. It was horrible and traumatic and you remembered every second of that day.
*
It was a pleasantly chilly day when you got a knock on your front door. You skipped down the stairs, happy to be home for the week, and opened it to find the Castle family standing in the doorway. Immediately, Frank Jr. and Lisa threw their arms around your waist. “We missed you so much!” Lisa squealed.
Maria laughed at her kids, “I’m sorry! We saw your car in the driveway and the kids just had to come say hi.”
You squeezed them both tightly and a beaming smile spread across your face, “Don’t be sorry! I haven’t seen you all in forever!”
“We’re going to Central Park!” Frank Jr. jumped up and down excitedly, “We want you to come with!”
You looked at Frank and Maria questioningly, “Oh, well, I don’t know. As much fun as it sounds, I know your dad just got home and I’m sure you probably want to spend time as just a family.”
Frank’s face distorted like the very thought was ridiculous, “Ah, come on. You’re practically family at this point.”
“We’d love for you to come,” Maria added with a kind smile.
You thought for a moment but once you realized that your parents both worked and you’d just be sitting at home alone all day, you decided to go. “Okay, you talked me into it. Let me grab my coat.”
You stood beside Frank and Maria, watching the kids ride the carousel. Every time you looked away, they made sure to yell your name followed by “Look at me! Look at me!”. The love you felt from and for this family had always astounded you. And to think, all it took was one drunken night in high school to form that close bond with the family that you’d always been friendly with but never this close. You didn’t even remember most of it but you’d been grateful for Frank picking you up that night and even more grateful for it making the two of your families more comfortable with each other.
Billy saddled up beside you, between you and Frank, and looked at you with those eyes that were absolutely lethal. With a face like his, he could get whatever he wanted and he knew it which was why despite his incessant flirting with you, you refused to give him it. “Hey, sweetheart, my sweet tooth is actin’ up,” he commented, looking you up and down, like you were an ice cream and he was licking you with his gaze.
Frank rolled his eyes and shoved Billy’s head, “Easy tiger. Touch her and I’ll cut your dick off.”
You gave Billy those innocent doe eyes that held restrained falsified lust behind them and cooed, “Well, if you’re that down bad for something sweet…” you got closer to him and Billy’s brows raised, sure he was about to get what he wanted. Frank looked over at you, cocking his brow with something between vague disgust and surprise. “There’s cotton candy over there,” you dropped your act and patted his shoulder in a brotherly way, “Don’t hurt yourself.”
You glanced between the two men and watched Billy laugh and shake his head, trying to play off the rejection. Frank chuckled at his brother’s failure and gave you a tiny proud nod meant just for you.
Billy was attractive, undeniably so. He looked like he was straight out of a novel with debonair danger. Still, it was Frank that had your heart. It was silly to still like him after all this time. Maybe it was the fact that you could never have him that made the flame impossible to extinguish. But still, it was always these little moments, like a tiny gesture like that nod, meant only for you, that had your heart racing. You just hoped it wasn’t obvious. If Frank ever knew, you’d probably die of humiliation and never be able to look him in the eye again.
It took you a moment to realize that your gaze had been lingering on Frank for much longer than was appropriate. Billy kicked your foot slightly, just enough to silently earn your attention. Your eyes shot over to him and he only wiggled his eyebrows once, lifting his chin towards Frank enough for only you to know what he meant and then he sent you a knowing cocky smirk. “I see,” he mused, a wicked glint in his eyes.
You tried to shake your head casually and roll your eyes as if the mere insinuation was absurd but Billy saw right through it. Paranoid, you side eyed Frank and Maria, who were watching their kids still go around and around on plastic ponies.
“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself, gesturing to the restroom that was not too far from here. As you left, you held eye contact with Billy. As much as you despised his perceptive abilities, you had a feeling that he would enjoy holding this over you too much to actually tell Frank. Then, he lost leverage.
Turns out, going to the bathroom was the only thing that saved your life that day.
As soon as you finished and were washing your hands, gunshots boomed through the park. Your blood ran cold as ice as your knees instinctively buckled, your autopilot guiding you to partially duck behind the porcelain sink. Many more rang out with the speed of an automatic weapon.
What were you supposed to do? On one hand, you wanted to rush out to Frank, Maria, Billy, and the kids, make sure you were all safe and could leave together, alive and well. On the other, you felt like this might be one of the safest places for you and that, even in the open, Maria and the kids were safer with Billy and Frank than with anyone else.
And so you hid. You climbed into a stall, shut the door, and crouched on the toilet seat so your feet weren’t visible. With your heart pounding in your ears, tears streaking your face, and strangled muffled hiccups of sobs, you texted Frank first: Are you guys okay? And then your parents: I love you. And then Frank again: I’m in the bathroom. Please can we meet up? And then one final text: Thank you for everything.
By the time the police found you and ushered you out of the bathroom, the FBI had already had the scene under surveillance. Between the officers milling about, you caught glimpses of the Castle family on the ground, lifeless and bloody, blocked off by caution tape and being photographed by the forensics team.
Your heart plummeted, “Oh my God! No!” You screamed, trying to rush over to them but the police officer held you back. “Let me go! Frank! Lisa!” The legs you were trying to use to force your way through the officer’s gave out and you crumpled to the ground in a sobbing heap.
That was the last time you saw any of them.
*
Frank’s vigilante rampage as the Punisher had been all over the news and you had followed every story with immense investment. It was Frank, after all. In all honesty, you never agreed with the horrible things said about him on the news. You had known Frank for years and while you knew he had an undeniable violent streak, you knew he would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Despite his crimes, when news of his death broke, you were devastated. Yet here he was, standing right in front you, apparently your next door neighbor now.
Frank knew he needed to sort things out with you and fast. He put his hand out towards you and you flinched back instinctively, not because you were afraid of him but because this didn’t feel real. This couldn’t be real. He retracted and put his hand up to show he wasn’t gonna hurt you. “Look, I can explain, but you need to come inside. I can’t talk about it in the open,” he explained, gesturing towards the door of his apartment.
You looked at it cautiously, wondering if this was really the wisest decision. You had always trusted that Frank hadn’t really been in the wrong in his excursions but there was still gnawing anxiety as you thought about going through that door. But you needed to know. “Okay,” you nodded shakily and Frank opened the door again, leading you inside.
He clearly had just moved in. The pre-furnished apartment was practically as empty as it had been before a tenant moved in. Aside from the single duffel Frank had shouldered, there was one other bag on the kitchen table. You sat down on the old couch that had been worn down from the previous tenants and Frank sat beside you.
His brows seemed to be perpetually furrowed, a staple on his handsome face that showed the years of torture he had endured. He leaned forward on his knees and he ran his large hand through his hair in distress, “I know how crazy this looks-”
“Yeah,” you scoffed, “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I know,” Frank sighed, “Look, I got a new identity now okay? You can call me Frank behind closed doors but if you see me in public, I’m Pete Castiglione.”
“Okay?” you looked at him expectantly, “That doesn’t explain anything. You were dead, Frank.”
Frank shook his head. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need you getting involved with his bullshit and he certainly didn’t need someone who knew him to screw up his chance at having a life again. “There were some bad people. The ones who- who killed my family,” there was a small pause as you both remembered that day so vividly, “I took care of it. But once the world found out I was still alive and being publicized as doin’ the things I was doin’, I had to disappear again.”
You took a moment to absorb the new information. Frank Castle, your long time neighbor turned vigilante (or mass murdered, depending on your outlook), was alive. You didn’t think too far into what ‘I took care of it’ meant. It was obvious.
“Well… you picked a hell of a place to disappear to,” you weakly attempted a joke, gesturing around the small apartment that had clearly seen better days (like, several decades ago).
Frank looked over his shoulder at his new residence, “Yeah, well, I just needed somewhere cheap. Don’t need nothin’ fancy.”
Silence settled over the two of you as you both mulled over what this now meant. In all honesty, you didn’t know what it meant for you. You were just glad Frank was alive. “Why don’t you come over for dinner?” You offered, nodding towards the wall that was shared with your apartment.
Frank shook his head, “Nah, I don’t want to put you out.”
“It looks like you haven’t had the chance to get any groceries yet and I’m telling you now that that Indian food place across the street is not worth it, if you know what I mean. I have to cook anyway so why don’t you just come over and not make me eat alone, yeah? Besides, there’s probably a lot to catch up on…”
Frank knew he couldn’t argue with that little smile you gave him, not that he wanted to. The thought of having something that resembled his life before all this pain was a glimmer of happiness that he tried to hide away because he knew it was only a matter of time before it was extinguished. But he really did want to catch up with you.
“Okay,” he agreed, “I’d like that.”
With a satisfied smile, you stood up and reshouldered your bag, “Good. Well I’m gonna go get started cause I’m starving. You’re more than welcome to come over now if you want.”
You stood beside the stove, stirring the components of the dish you’d been craving all week. The scent wafted through the air deliciously and you hummed in satisfaction when you sampled it. Frank stood opposite the little bar that also served as your counter. “You sure I can’t help with anything?”
You hummed, “Mhm! It’s almost done anyways. If you want a drink or something though, there might be wine in that cabinet.” You gestured to the cabinet to his right with the wooden spoon in your hand.
He pointed at it to double check that that was the one you were referring to and opened it, lifting down the bottle of rosé in there. He smirked at the label, “A friend of mine loves this one too.”
With a chuckle, you pulled down some plates and began to dish them up, “It’s a good one!”
“Yeah it is,” he smiled, remembering Sarah Lieberman, “Strong shit.”
Your brow quirked, “Didn’t strike me as a rosé kind of guy.”
Frank put a hand on his chest in feign offense, “Hey, I like more than beer and whiskey or whatever box you have me in in your head.”
Carrying a plate in each hand, you brought them over to the dining room table. You hustled back into the kitchen to retrieve two wine glasses and Frank joined you at the table, using the wine opener in the cabinet to uncork the clear glass bottle. His large hands poured the pink liquid with delicacy and he took his seat across from you.
You dove right in, your rumbling stomach ready to make itself a third party in this conversation. Frank took a bite too and his eyes widened. “Wow…”
“What?”
“That’s good,” he said amazed, pointing at the plate, “Definitely better than the take out I eat most of the time.”
You smiled, “Well now that you live next door, you don’t have to eat take out all the time.”
Frank covered his mouth while he chewed, brows furrowing as he shook his head, “I don’t want to bug you.”
You scoffed, “Please, you couldn’t bug me if you tried. It gets lonely anyways sometimes.” You reoccupied yourself with the food, an unexpected comfort having already settled over you and Frank.
Frank couldn’t help but watch you and wonder when the hell you had become a woman. He and Maria had bought the house next to yours just after she had had Lisa. You had to have been around fifteen when he first met you but it hadn’t been until about a year later when the two of you had had any significant interaction beyond a neighborly wave if you crossed each other in town. It wasn’t until that one night he found you drunkenly stumbling home after a party that the two of you ever really spoke more than pleasantries. After that, you babysat his children and practically became part of the family. Even after you graduated and left home, you’d stayed in touch. He knew he technically knew you as an adult but this was the first time he ever realized that you were a real woman.
“What?” You questioned, cheeks burning under his gaze that had been on you for a few too many seconds for comfort.
He shook his head and reached for his glass of wine, “Sorry just… you’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you.” Frank felt like such a creep. He had known you since you were in high school and had never felt anything more than friendship for you but now he looked at you and he felt a magnetism, like his heart was pulled towards you even though every fiber of his being told him it was wrong.
The memories of the last time you saw him threatened to slip through the wall you had it hidden behind but you quickly covered it with a chuckle, “It wasn’t that long ago. I was like 19 or 20 last time we saw each other.”
“There’s a lot of growin’ that happens in your twenties,” Frank defended before cautiously continuing, “But, uh, you look good.”
You smiled sincerely, “Thanks. I’ve definitely been trying. I had to redeem myself from that terrible haircut I had in high school.” You both laughed but Frank looked confused.
“Aw, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”
“I can guarantee it most definitely was,” you insisted, “I look back at my old yearbook photos and cringe.”
Frank sipped his wine, “Well, I never thought it was all that bad but I guess I’m not exactly model material myself.”
You mirrored his drink and set it down with a sigh, as if you already regretted what you were about to admit but something was still compelling you to confess anyways. “Nah…” you started with a slight concealing chuckle.
After the exhaustion of the work day and the high emotions of seeing Frank again, the voice in your head that monitored your words stood no chance against the minimal wine you’d ingested. “You know, speaking of high school, I used to have a kind of a crush on you.” You saw how his eyes widened a little at your admission so you continued, waving the idea away, “It was silly, really.“
Frank couldn’t believe you told him. For years, he’d harbored your secret for you, one you yourself were unaware of sharing. He’d never expected you to tell him. "Y’know, I feel bad admittin’ it but I actually knew,” he confessed with a gruff clearing of his throat.
You rolled your eyes, totally not believing him, “What do you mean you knew? How could you have possibly known?”
He crossed his thick arms across his chest and leaned back, eyes locking on a spot on the table, finding it easier than seeing the impending embarrassment that was sure to fall on your face. With an awkward chuckle, he started explaining, “You remember that night back in high school when I found you stumblin’ home drunk ‘n gave you a ride home?”
You nodded along to his story, hiding behind your wine glass while looking over the rim at him once you realized where this was going, “Yeah. I mean no, not really, but yeah.” You chuckled, the majority of that night having been a blur of patchy memories. He gave you a look that you knew meant that you must have done what you had always fought to conceal and your face fell, “I didn’t…”
Frank chuckled but gave you an apologetic look, “Yeah… yeah you did.”
Your eyes squeezed tight and you lightly bonked the mostly empty wine glass against your forehead, wishing it could conceal how absolutely mortified you were. Suddenly, you leaned forward, both hands twisting the stem of your wine glass. “So you’re telling me you knew all these years?”
He wiped his hand across this face, concealing the heat in his cheeks and the goofy smile on his lips, “I did.”
You groaned and plopped your forehead onto the wooden table, “Ugh, I’m gonna go crawl in a hole.”
Frank rolled his eyes, “Nah, don’t worry about it. It was actually kinda cute.”
You laughed, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp. You wiped your mouth, swallowing hard, “Well, I’m glad you thought so…” This was humiliating. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if you didn’t still have feelings for him. It was just socute.
“I always had an ugly mug so I can’t lie, I was a little flattered when you said it,” Frank chuckled, trying to cushion the embarrassment he hadn’t intended for you to feel.
You shook your head, “You’ve never been ugly, Frank. I could never figure out why you always seemed to think so.”
Your fingertip traced lightly around the rim of your glass as silence befell your conversation. The two of you sat in the new quietness but still, all you felt was the awkwardness of this new information lingering over the two of you. Although, technically you supposed it was just new to you… Frank had known for years.
Unable to bear the tension any longer, you stood up abruptly and made your way to the wine bottle on the counter, your back to Frank at the table. You refilled your glass, probably a little too full, and sipped deeply from it. Behind you, Frank’s chair scraped against the hardwood floor and the wood creaked beneath the shift of his heavy weight.
“Did you want some more?” You offered over your shoulder, turning towards him with the bottle in your hand only to be taken aback by Frank’s large body already towering over your frame. You jumped back, hands gripping the countertop out of instinct, “Wooh! Sorry,” you chuckled, his close proximity making butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach, “Didn’t expect you there…”
Frank’s eyes were lowered towards the ground as he fidgeted the wine glass between his large hands but his brow was furrowed, something heavy on his mind. “Look, uh, I don’t want you feelin’ weird or nothin’ about what you said to me all those years ago. I know that was then and things have probably changed after everything that’s happened. But, shit, this is probably so fucking wrong of me to say but you are beautiful. And I don’t know if sayin’ that just makes me some creepy old man but…” He stopped, unable to find the right words to say next. Maybe there were no right words. Maybe he’d already said all the wrong ones.
You gawked at Frank and his confession, your brain struggling to comprehend his words. There was no way Frank was saying those words to you. There was no way he was looking at you like that, with wide desperate eyes, hoping you would say anything to dispel the disgust he felt now towards himself.
After a few moments had passed, his face fell for just a moment before he replaced it with that mask he wore so often. He cleared his throat and set the wine glass on the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything,” He turned to leave before muttering, “Thanks for dinner.”
You panicked when you saw him head for the door and chased after him. “Wait!” Your hand fell on his shoulder from behind and when he turned his large shoulders to face you, you quickly stood on your tiptoes and leaned up to press your lips to his. Your eyes were squeezed shut but you felt his surprise. Frank’s firm muscles tensed beneath your hands. He stumbled backwards from the unexpected weight of your body against his, before catching you around the waist with his broad hands. For a moment, he moved his head back but only in shock. He never pulled away.
His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, moving in better unison than you ever could have imagined in your teenage fantasies. Frank’s hands smoothed down your body respectfully, landing on the junction between the small of your back and your waist. When your calves began to quake from standing on your toes, you regretfully pulled yourself away from Frank.
You looked up at him, wide nervous eyes waiting to see his reaction. Waiting to watch him head for the door again because maybe he’d made up his mind already. Waiting to hear him tell you this was wrong and you couldn’t continue. Waiting to hear him say you had somehow misinterpreted what he had said.
But he did none of those.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, a surprising gentleness behind the desperation of his touch. Your hands came to the side of his face as your lips met again, deep and passionate. Years of affection for the man swelled in your heart, overwhelming your senses with nothing but Frank. Your brain short-circuited and you almost lost track of the world around you.
Frank’s large body pressed into yours, his weight pressing you backwards as he pulled your waist into his body deeply and throwing you off balance. He walked with you, supporting your stumbling weight before you butted up against the counter. Frank’s hands snaked under your thighs, encompassing the flesh tightly and lifting you with ease, so much so that it surprised you even with his incredibly muscular build. He set you on the cool countertop but you clung to him tightly still, pulling him in by his shirt and feeling his muscles ripple beneath your touch.
At this new height, Frank’s pelvis now rutted against your core with every shift and rock of your bodies. Frank groaned when you rocked your hips against his impressive bulge but then he stopped moving, his hands gripping the tops of your thighs like he was restraining himself. His forehead rested against yours and his eyes squeezed shut tight. Frank shook his head and he panted out, voice deep and gruff, “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”
You pulled back and looked up at him confused, “You’re not gonna hurt me.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he clarified, his fingers coming up to brush your arms so softly, careful as if you were porcelain that would crack under the slightest pressure.
“I’m an adult now. I have been for several years. If you feel uncomfortable doing this, I understand and we can stop but…” you paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath, “I’ve liked you for a long long time Frank, and I’d like to continue… if you’ll have me.”
He exhaled sharply and glanced at the ground with a smirk of disbelief, “If I’ll have you? I’d have to be stupid to say no.”
“Then kiss me,” you looked up at him through thick lashes that did nothing to conceal the way your doe eyes bore unapologetically into Frank’s own. You were done hiding your feelings for him. There was no reason to anymore.
Frank tilted his jaw, pressing his lips against yours with so much care, so much reverence, so much respect. Like you were the most important thing in his life. It was different from your last few kisses. Before it was hot and sudden and wrong. Now Frank saw a beautiful woman whom he cared about so deeply and who he knew understood him and his pain because she was the only other person who had been there that day that was still alive. And this beautiful woman who deserved so much in this world was begging him to kiss her.
The way Frank gently slipped his tongue between your lips knocked the wind from your chest. Never had you been kissed like this before. Never had a person held you with so much care. Your fingers scrunched against the short hair on the back of his head, pulling him close and never wanting to let him go. As you did so, you leaned your body back, using your soft hands on his face to gently guide him along but a large hand slid up your thigh and splayed across your back, supporting your back.
“Uh-uh,” he hummed in protest against your lips and shook his head, pulling back and looking down at you with furrowed brows.
“What?” You asked with concern, propping yourself up with a hand on the counter behind you though it was unnecessary as Frank had you fully supported.
His hands slipped down to your ass and used it to pull your body off the counter. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and you clung to him as he carried you off to your bedroom, knowing where it was as your apartment mirrored his. “I’m not just gonna fuck you on the kitchen counter,” Frank said, his voice pure gravelly sex.
Expecting to be thrown on the mattress, you braced yourself but instead you were set down gently only to be crawled over slowly. Frank’s lips graced the bit of skin that showed from where your shirt had come untucked from your pants. His fingers released the buttons one by one, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed until your bra was exposed.
You propped yourself up and shrugged the cloth from your shoulders. You reached down and lifted Frank’s shirt up, only to be assisted by Frank pulling it up and over his head. Your mouth fell as you saw the scars that decorated his body. Large misshapen islands of flesh, some raised, some sunken, were scattered across his chest and his arms.
Your fingers gingerly traced over what you could only assume was a bullet wound on the front part of shoulder. Just as your middle finger made contact with his skin, Frank’s hand encompassed your much smaller one with ease and pressed your palm flat onto an unscarred part of his pectoral. The weight of his hand pushing yours deeper into his skin made the thumping of his heart vivid against your palm.
He looked down at where your skin met and then to your eyes that were admiring his body, muscles and scars and all. You looked at him like he was worthy of being loved and not just like a murderer.
With your hand staying in place, you shifted up onto your knees and you pressed your lips to every disfigurement in sight, starting low and working your way up to a final peck on his forehead. Frank’s eyes slid closed, no longer familiar with such a gentle touch and desperate to feel it in its entirety because otherwise he’d convince himself it wasn’t there.
With Frank’s eyes still closed, you pressed a final kiss to his lips. He breathed you in, his hand on yours holding you tight while his other scooped your lower back to press you back down to the mattress. His knees pinned you between his legs as his lips assaulted yours. Slowly, his calloused fingertips ghosted over the tops of your breasts, goosebumps pebbling in their wake. His short nails gently scratched your soft skin as he pulled the cup of your bra down, grazing your nipples as he did so.
Frank’s lips moved to your neck, short stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin. While two of his fingers gently twisted and rolled your left bud, his other hand groped the other with expertise. A high sound of ecstasy slipped from your lips.
Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, finding it too short to be satisfying so you pulled at the broad muscular expanse of his back. “Frank-” you moaned breathily.
The more your hands explored each others’ bodies, the more Frank rutted his hips against your core. It was close but not quite enough for you.
You lifted your body, keeping Frank close as you did so. At the angle Frank rose with you, you were able to twist and lift your leg over the backs of his own. In actual combat, Frank would have easily stopped the action but he flowed with your movement, allowing you to roll the pair of you so that you now straddled his body.
The bulge restrained in his jeans was clear, although you didn’t need to see it to know. Your hands moved to his belt, undoing it and pulling it free from the loops of his jeans. You slid his zipper down and he sighed as some of the pressure was finally released. He lifted his hips to help you pull his jeans from his body, leaving him in black boxer-briefs that left little to the imagination.
You stood from the bed and shimmied your own pants and underwear to the floor before crawling back atop him, running your hands over his growing erection and back down again. You squeezed him through the cotton and his hips bucked into your hand.
Frank watched you in pure bliss as you reached behind you and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the side. You sat over him, core glistening wet and ready to be adored, breasts perfect and free. Your lips were swollen and your eyes were dark when they flickered from his dick to meet his burning gaze.
Finally, you released his member, hardly surprised at his impressive size. Frank was a large man and this part of him was no exception.
You crawled up his body, knees resting on either side of his hips. As you lowered your lips to his neck, you ground your hips back, your slick rubbing along his length. Now that you had skin on skin contact, small jolts of pleasure began to spark when his smooth head bumped against your clit.
After a few minutes of grinding against his length, you reached between your bodies and took his erection in your hand. A coat of wetness that had dripped from you made it easy for your hand to glide along his skin as you pumped him. Carefully, you guided him to your entrance, rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing your own clit before lowering down onto him.
Frank’s fingers dug into the flesh of your back and it took everything in his being to keep his eyes from closing - he just needed to see the way your face contorted in pleasure as you sank down. After a few test movements, you leaned forward, bracing yourself on your elbow beside Frank’s head while your other held his face. His knees bent behind you, your ass slapping against his thighs as you picked up pace.
A low moan rolled from your throat. At this angle, he stimulated every delicious spot inside of you and your clit rubbed against his lower stomach in a way that caused your muscles to spasm around Frank.
He grunted animalistically every time your walls fluttered around him. Frank was lost in you. Your body was so soft and delicate in comparison to his, encompassing him physically and emotionally in a cocoon of warmth he never wanted to leave.
Your body began to ache. Your thighs burned but the coil inside of you had just begun to wind up and you were not about to lose it. Frank felt the quake in your legs and rescued you when his hands gripped your hips and started moving your body.
Your face twisted in pleasure and your head fell in the crook of his neck. Your hot breath came out in pants as you bit on his shoulder to restrain your high pitched squeals of pleasure. The way his calloused hands squeezed your soft ass just augmented the pleasure in your core.
“Frank,” you whined loudly, toes curling.
Frank knew exactly what your whine meant. He could feel how close you were getting and he was right there with you. “You close?” He asked, his growl breaking down any barriers you had in the way between you and your orgasm.
“Mhm!” You squealed, nodding against his skin, “‘M so close, Frank.”
He began to thrust up into you, meeting your hips as he pushed them back. All that could be heard was skin on skin, heavy breathing, and desperate sounds of pleasure. You clenched around him, driving him close to the brink himself but he held back, wanting to prolong this moment. “Let go, sweetheart,” he growled in encouragement in your ear, the vibrations of his voice in his chest resonating through your own chest that had collapsed him.
“Oh my-” you were cut off by your orgasm crashing through your body. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked through your body and if your arms hadn’t already given out, they would have now.
Frank stroked you through your orgasm but knew he needed to pull out of the vice grip that became your body if he had any chance of not busting inside of you. Once your body began to relax again, he used minimal effort to roll you over, supporting your weight as he did so, and slipped out of you. He stroked his length hard and fast, squeezing tighter at the head.
One more look at you, breasts rising and falling with each breath, your hair messily muttered across the pillows, your thighs shiny with drying wetness, your lips plump and moist, was all it took. Frank busted in his hand with a restrained groan, painting your stomach in warm white ribbons in spurt after spurt of his release.
The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, his hands coming to rest on your splayed thighs and your hand in your hair as you tried to slow your breathing. Without warning, Frank stood up, the true glory of his broad muscular body coming into full view, shining with a thin layer of sweat. He disappeared into the bathroom just outside your room and returned with a warm damp washcloth. “‘M sorry,” he apologized as he wiped his cum from your skin.
“Why?” You propped yourself up on one elbow and watched with fucked-out curiosity. You flinched a little when the rag got close to your still sensitive core but also because this tender act of cleaning you off was new.
“Because,” he started before wiping his hands off on the same rag, “I don’t know… it just felt rude to do that… y’know, on you.”
You giggled, “Well, I’d rather you do iton me thanin me or on my sheets. It’s a lot easier to take a shower than it is to fix those other two problems.”
Frank tossed the rag into the pile of clothes on the floor, a problem better left for later. You scooted up to the pillows and folded the sheets down on his side of the bed, signaling for him to join you beneath them. He did without hesitation, sliding beside you and facing you. You lied on your side and looked up at him, head resting on your arm.
Gosh, he was beautiful and he treated you so well. Your teenage jealousy had been right: if he treated Maria this way, she was such a lucky woman.
“Well this is certainly not how I saw today going…” you commented with a small chuckle.
He inhaled deeply and nodded, “Yeah, me neither.”
There was a pause before you admitted quietly, “I’m glad you’re okay, Frank…. When I heard that you’d died, I was devastated.”
Frank watched as your face fell at the mere thought of losing him and he instinctively wrapped his arm around you. “‘M not going anywhere,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head.
You burrowed closer into his body, not realizing how starved for his touch you still were. Frank’s body radiated heat, warming your bare form. The scent of his cologne swirled with his own musk and the detergent on your sheets to dance around your senses, making you want to curl up in this spot with nothing but Frank and never leave. The two of you had been through so much together that, far beyond your immature teenage fantasies, it felt natural that it would come down to the both of you like this, holding each other tightly as you drifted off to sleep.
: this idea came from an ask i got that was just so good i couldn’t help but write a little something for it! this does have major dom/sub-elements- this might get another part because daddy frank makes me wanna whore out lmao
Even on his best day, Frank Castle was a man of few words.
Before his morning coffee, you were lucky if you received more than a grunt or two, and after… Well, even then he didn’t exactly turn into Shakespeare. So whilst Frank didn’t always tell you things, he still managed to show you.
It started with small, simple things.
He’d pick you up from work to save you waking home. He’d cook you dinner in hopes that you’d stop ordering so much takeout. He knew you didn’t always have the time, nor the energy to cook a half decent meal, but he liked to know that you’d eaten at least one portion of vegetables during the week.
He’d take your bins out, fixed your coffee machine – which may have been for selfish reasons more than anything else – and he’d sit and watch ridiculous films with you, even though he knew you’d fall asleep within half hour, leaving him to watch the remainder of the film alone.
And he’d buy you flowers.
So often, in fact, that eventually you had to buy more vases just to house them.
So yes, Frank Castle wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions certainly made up for that.
It was a bog-standard, normal day.
You had awoken next to to Frank’s warm body, pressing your cold feet into his calves, causing him to hiss, but remained where they were, allowing you to steal the heat from him.
He’d been awake for a while, as he always was when he had to formulate a plan for later. Except this time, he wasn’t mapping out a dangerous gang’s headquarters, nor was he plotting any type of recon, assassination…. No. He was planning something much more terrifying. Something that put the living fear into a lot of people, himself included.
Frank Castle was planning a romantic, valentines day.
He and Maria had indulged in only a few valentines, but with two young children and him a military man, it was never something either were particularly fussed over.
You were a romantic, and you didn’t try to hide it. And Frank loved that about you.
Sure, you’d bemoan the commercialization of the day; the expensive cards that would be thrown away after a few days, and the expensive gifts and expectations, but what was wrong with showing someone you loved them?
Sure, you should hold that same amount of love every day, not just one day of the year, but it wasn’t realistic, was it? You couldn’t shower someone with love and attention and affection every damn day of your relationship. Life didn’t work that way. Love didn’t work that way.
So what was wrong with having one day where you went above and beyond?
The morning continued with soft kisses and gentle caresses. His stubble scratched over your thighs, your breathy giggles quickly dissipating into sensual moans, fingers combing through the short hair atop his head.
A shower – where curious hands continued to wander, mapping out each other’s bodies as if you didn’t know every inch of each other’s bodies – followed by the both of you lazily moving around the kitchen in an attempt to make pancakes.
He didn’t have much planned for the morning, you had to pop into work and sign some documents, and he intended to head out to the shipment yard, he’d been given information about a possible new arms dealer in the area, and he intended to – at some point that week – intervene. He’d checked every day so far, and yet nothing had come up, he was just hoping his source hadn’t got it wrong.
Either way, he intended to meet you after work, and take you to a very expensive, Italian restaurant later that evening. He hadn’t told you much, only to dress up.
He was nervous, but for the first time in so long, Frank was also excited about something.
Which was why he should’ve known everything would go to shit.
Turns out, his source was accurate. Or at least, half accurate.
Yes, there was – finally – a weapons shipment. But there was also a huge drug shipment, too. One that Frank knew he couldn’t just leave for another day.
The distributors, a Russian gang that had so far evaded him – were known to be violent drug pushers, using disadvantaged kids to run their products all over the New York Burroughs. Frank was also certain they had a prostitution ring.
Either way, despite the day, he couldn’t let these pieces of shit live a moment longer.
Keeping his eye on them as they strolled around the shipping yard like they owned the place, Frank slid his phone from his pocket, using speed dial to ring you, unfortunately however, it rang and rang and rang, eventually sending him to voice mail.
Huffing, Frank pushed his phone back into his pocket after turning it off. He’d have to just try you again later, or at least hope you wouldn’t be too mad.
He’d watched them for a while,waiting until they began their drive before hopping in his own van and staying two vehicles away. They may have had bravado, but they will still a little paranoid. Once he’d reached their warehouse, he laid in wait, watching them through the sight of his sniper.
He’d have to be smart, his usual going in guns blazing wouldn’t work here. There were a lot of them, spread throughout the two story building. It brought back to use a lot of his Marine training, but also meant he’d spend a lot of time waiting. Checking his watch, he only had just under an hour before you’d be finished.
Shit, he really hoped you were in a forgiving mood.
Sitting on the wall outside of the clinic, you pulled your phone out for what felt like the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes. You could feel Patricia’s eyes on you through the large glass window, but you refused to turn around and acknowledge her.
Pulling up Frank’s contact once more, you wanted nothing more than to throw your phone at the sidewalk when it diverted straight to his answer phone.
It wasn’t like Frank to be late. He was a Marine for practically all of his adult life, he knew how to be on time.
Which meant one of two things.
He was either busy, or injured.
Either way, if he wasn’t already dead, you’d be sure to kill him.
Deciding to just make the short walk home and get changed there, you set off hoping the weather would hold out. February in New York could be unpredictable and if your hair got wet, well, you simply would not be going at all.
You tried your best to give him the benefit of the doubt, and hoped – for his sake – that he would turn up by the time you’d dressed and got yourself ready.
Frank was sweating, ducking down behind a large wooden crate that wouldn’t offer much protection.
He’d managed to infiltrate the warehouse pretty stealthily, taking out a fair amount of guards from his perch on the rooftop a few buildings away. The guards outside weren’t too difficult, either. They’d become complacent in their security, lazy even, and he was able to finish them off quickly face-to-face before they alerted anyone. But inside the building was a different story.
A rogue guard who had definitely left his post walked through the hallway, passing a large look out room and managed to spot the dead guard on the floor. Notifying the rest of the gang via his radio, the whole warehouse was suddenly on high alert.
Frank had to duck and dodge into dark, hopefully empty rooms as he made his way through the top floor, killing whoever he could find on his way down. By the time he’d made it to the main floor, he’d left a trail of dead bodies in his wake.
But they were clearly keeping the hard hitters down here, protecting their stock.
Taking a deep breath, Frank popped his head over the top of the crate, firing another shot before rolling away, dodging the onslaught of bullets that followed closely behind.
Frank – without telling you where he was taking you – had told you that your reservation was for 8pm. He’d repeated the simple fact a few times before he’d dropped you to work, and twice more in the car ride there.
Yet here you were, dressed to the nine’s in a beautiful, red satin dress that hugged you in all the right places, hair and make up looking, dare you say it, damn near perfect, and stomach growling viciously as it awaited Frank’s arrival.
He hadn’t even rang you.
There were not many things in this world that scared Frank Castle was scared of.
An angry, hungry woman, however, was most definitely top 3.
The door swung open before he’d even had the chance to knock, reminding him so much of the first time he’d come to your house to bring you flowers. You didn’t quite have the blaze of absolute fury behind your eyes back then, though.
He knew his demeanor resembled that of a kicked puppy, his dark brown eyes looking at you through his even darker eyelashes as his adam’s apple bobbled.
Watching you silently for a moment, he tried his hardest to keep his eyes on you, but your penetrative stare made him feel all of 5 inches tall. Your arms crossed over your chest, and he used all of his past military training to keep his eyes focused aboveyour neckline.
The whole mission had turned to shit, and a smack upside the head would only be the shitty cherry atop his equally shitty cupcake of a evening.
He waited, ready for your anger to bubble over, as he held out his hand and produced the large bouquet of cherry red roses, the shade almost matching your dress.
Taking one look at them, your brows pushed together and nose crinkled, “Is that your blood, or someone else’?”
His own face contorted as he pulled the flowers closer to him, looking over the rose petals that had blood splotches. He simply shrugged and held them back towards you.
“I’m so, so sorry.”
When you’d slammed the door back in Frank’s face, he didn’t know what to think. What to feel. What to do, even.
He remained on the doorstep until the door flung open once more, your heels clicking as you passed by him, bag now on your shoulder and made your way towards his van, snatching the bouquet as you passed him.
His head snapped around at your 4 simple words, “You comin’ or what?”
Now, here you both sat, in a booth in Pete’s diner. Frank’s clothes speckled with blood stains, cuts and bruises beginning to blossom across his handsome face, and you, sat opposite him in your expensive, red satin dress and sickeningly expensive heels, happily chomping down on a cheeseburger. Plainly put, you both looked ridiculous.
“It good?”
You nodded, licking at the ketchup that had dripped onto your lips. You’d sat in dead silence the whole way to the diner, only speaking to place your order, but now you’d all but ravaged the food in front of you, you were at least a little friendlier.
“I am really sorry, you know? Sorry I was so late and we missed the reservation-”
“Do you really think I care about a fancy restaurant, Castle? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever cared about something like that?”
“Well… No, but-”
“Frank, if this is going to work, I need you to understand one thing, alright? I might not agree fully with what you do, but I respect it. I get it.I don’t need fancy dinners and expensive gifts and so much hassle. I just need you.Alive, preferably. Just please, in the future… Let me know what’s happening.”
Feeling his cheeks warm up, he pulled the cellphone out of his pocket and waved it a little, “I would’ve but uh… My phone got shot.”
You bulked at his admission, eyes widening in worry before he interrupted you, “It uh, it wasn’t in my pocket. Don’t worry.”
“Then where the hell was it?”
He looked uncomfortable, shifting for a moment or two on the squeaky seat, “It was uh, in my back pocket.”
“Wait… Wait. What? Does that mean-”
“Yes. I was shot in the ass.” He sighed, eyes darting around the diner to make sure nobody could hear you.
Glaring at you as you cackled, Frank almost wished he’d saved himself the silent treatment and led with that information.
“Does that… Is it still in there?”
The look on his face – especially when he shifted in his seat once more – told you everything.
The bullet was definitely still lodged in his ass cheek.
“It’s really not that amusing.” He tried to shush you, the tips of his ears turning beat red.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He simply shrugged, grabbing a fry and dunking it in some ketchup, “I didn’t think it was that important.”
Once your laughter had calmed into a small smirk, he turned his attention to the flowers sat on the table, squashed from where he’d landed on them as he dived into the van in his escape, blood covering some petals as he checked them over with his cut hands,
“I’m also sorry about the flowers.”
You merely quirked an eyebrow, the cheeky smirk never leaving your lips, “Don’t worry about it. Can I uh, can I tell you something?”
He watched as you fiddled with the broken petals, “Of course.”
Your smirk was finally replaced with an almost bashful smile as you looked at him through your lashes.
“I have hayfever.”
Frank watched you for a moment, the clogs in his brain churning slowly before he got it, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
He tried to snatch the offending flowers away from you, as if the soft, beautiful bouquet was a threat to your life, but you were quicker. Holding them close to your chest, you smiled,
“I didn’t think it was that important.”
A/N: So this is just a super quick note to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of the love I’ve received for this mini-series.
This started as just a cute little idea, and I really didn’t expect the amass of followers, likes and re-blogs I’ve gained for it.
I have honestly never smiled so much when I’ve loaded up the website to see that little lightening bolt appear.
So whether you reblogged, liked, followed, or even just read the series, thank you so much for your support. It means so much to a small writer like me, and I really hope to do more of these smaller series with other characters from different TV shows/movies in between writing my full length fics, because it really is helpful sometimes to just get away from a 8,000 word chapter and spent a couple of hours writing something totally different.
So thank you once again, and please remember, requests are open if there is something specific you would like to read by me.
Whilst I am still currently writing my full-length Frank Castle fic (Into Hell and Right On Through It) as well as my full length Steve Rogers fic (The King and the Lion-heart), the next mini-series fic I have planned is a Fezco (Euphoria) x reader, and a Frank Castle x Assasin!Reader, so please stick around if either interests you.
about. frank is hoping to keep his vigilante life a secret, but it’s hard when reader asks questions that brings that wish to risk
warnings.lying? nothing really
ricky rocks. ma man
scars on the back of his neck.
that’s it. that’s what you thought about a lot. especially when night rounded around the corner and you were having a hard time finding sleep. so, instead of counting sheep, you counted his scars by memory.
you wondered how they surfaced on his body and who made the execution to create such deep cuts on his body in hopes to hurt him. frank was a scary man. you understood that. but who was scared enough to hurt him?
or not scared at all?
you thought about frank a lot more than you’d like to admit. you knew he’d tease you and you already had a hard enough time dealing with that—it would be a field day for him if he knew what went on in your head.
“you alright?”
“yeah, i’m fine,” you smiled softly to the concern that erupted through franks voice as he looked up from the book he read. you adjusted your place next to him, sinking deeper into the couch and deeper into his side, cuing him to go ahead continue reading with the nod of your head.
but he didn’t look back down to his book like you hoped, “what’s going through your mind right now, sweetheart?”
you smiled at the name and your cheeks began to grow warm when his hand reached and clasped your cheek sweetly.
fuck.
he always got you, if not with his words, then his affectionate actions.
“i don’t know, i just think, frank,” you mumbled, not wanting to finish your thought.
his brows narrowed, struck slightly confused, “yeah, well i hope so.”
“no, i mean, i think about you,frank,a lot,” you were hesitant with your words, not sure if you should speak them aloud, because the thing was, you felt it shouldn’t be that way.
you met frank on the subway station after he saved you from tripping onto the tracks before never really seeing him again until a month later at a coffeehouse—accidentally spilling coffee on him before recognition kicked in and the two of you sat down together.
it felt like talking to your father—scolding you for being so clumsy with both encounters you two had and telling you, you should really study your surroundings more. and then the cell phone thing—
“can i get you number, you know, just to thank you some other time, more properly.”
he had froze from putting his coat on, a hesitant look immediately overcoming his face causing you to cringe, wondering what had gone wrong despite everything going so smoothly for you two being strangers.
“oh, i mean you don’t have to, i just—“
“no, i just don’t really have a phone, at the moment,” he finally had his brown coat slung over himself, giving you a sympathetic smile. “i recently moved into the area, lost my cell in the process and really haven’t found time to replace it.”
what a lie,was what you thought.
“i’m not really a good with a phone in the first place,” he shrugged before pulling out a pen he had in his pocket, sitting back down. “this is my p.o. box, write me a letter sometime.”
he winked, before getting up and walking away.
but it seemed since day one, frank was never one to track, someone who didn’t want to be helddown.
he didn’t get a phone until five months after you sent your first letter, but he still couldn’t keep track of thing for the life of him.
“you want to tell me what it is you think about?” his finger tips teased the side of your face before tucking some strands of your hair behind your ear.
“i feel like… i barely know you,” you pause, feeling uneasy about your words, “i mean, i worry because i don’t know who you were before we met.”
“same person as i am now,” he smiles.
“yes, but,” you sigh, taking a step back in your head, attempting to recuperate. he studied your face with a sudden hard frown, studying the emotions that were crossing your face. you suddenly set your hand on the back of his neck, your finger tips finding one of the many scars easily and tracing it back and forth. “this. i want to know about this.”
his lips twitched upward, “my scars?”
he seemed confused as to what was so fascinating about them, making you feel dumb by the way you couldn’t help but nod eagerly.
“okay…” his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he thought while his eyes strayed from yours. “i had a bit of rough childhood, i’d come home almost everyday to my mom screaming at me, for no reason.”
he shook his head, a look of distress coming across his face as he spoke, almost reliving that moment, “one day, i had came home a little bit later than usual for whatever reason—maybe i saw a dog, i don’t know—but it just wasn’t her day,” he tsked, his head slightly shaking, “threw a glass vase my way, shattered and sliced my neck all up. one of many, many marks,” he slid his sleeve up, brining light to the small scars that tore up his arms. “she had a short temper.”
a lie. frank was full of lies, but it was better if you didn’t know the truth. and it was good that you ate it up, because he couldn’t imagine how you’d react to the real reason half his body was full of scars and hidden wounds.
“frank, i’m so sorry,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you had practically thrown yourself to his body, a feeling of remorse overcoming you as you held him as close as you could. “you didn’t deserve that.”
even if it was true, he probably did. he deserved every little mark of pain on his body, even more so for lying to you about it.
A/N:god that belt scene. right now i’m working on something completely unrelated to these two but i couldn’t focus until i got this little snippet down because it kept playing in my head like a fucking primetime movie. i’ve been playing around with Frank x f!reader x Matt for a while and this is a cheeky taste of a poly series i’ve got planned for the future.
Summary: Frank dishes out his punishments. (even though he’s giving it all that in this little drabble, i’m absolutely certain he would still melt like butter for these two every now and again)
Word count: tis but a filthy drabble, just over 500 words.
Warnings:SMUT 18+ ONLY. It’s filth right off the bat. Rough handling, rough p in v sex, purposeful finger gag, use of restraints, dom!Frank, illusions to a bratty!reader and softdom!Matty.
A/n: This is inspired by the song Pale Rider by the Heavy Horses. I completely recommend it! It literally is a song about Frank I kid you not. But yeah, please enjoy. Also tagging @peculiarpenman because they always inspire me to write more poetically. <3 I love you!
Summary: There’s a man with no name who comes in the night, who sits in the same booth and orders the same black coffee. He reeks of violence and yet you feel safe, but you never break the silence. Until one night. Just make sure you don’t fall in love with the pale rider.
Warnings: Afab! reader, SMUT (p in v), language, kissing, angst, some violence, panic attack, depression, but then back to fluff I promise
There’s a song that plays when you’re drying the clean glassware. There’s a song that filters from the small speakers echoing through the empty booths and freshly mopped tiles.
There’s a song that becomes your only company when no one is in the small diner. There’s a song that plays when there’s no one but him.
He comes in the off hours, when the highway outside is bare and lonesome, when the other servers have left and it’s only you and the sleeping cook on the kitchen stool.
He pulls up in a black van, parks in the same spot, a little far from the entrance, but close enough he can watch it from his booth three shy from the door.
You know he’s passing through, he never stops for more than an hour. Ordering simple black coffee, no cream, no sugar, in the same mug with the chipped handle. The same booth, the same unreadable expression, the same scrunch to his nose with every sip.
You don’t know why he stops every few weeks. There’s nights where he’s seemingly normal, hood pulled high over his head. But then there’s nights where he’s covered in dirt and bruises and blood. You’d have to be pretty dumb to not notice the handgun tucked in his waistband.
He always leaves without a word, just a wad of cash that doubles the price of the coffee, and a simple nod towards you.
It’s enough to buy your silence and hush your pressing questions.
Until one night.
It’s a Friday night, a couple teenage couples share milkshakes while pressing up against one another. But they leave good tips so you don’t have the heart to imagine what’s going on underneath the table.
There’s two guys that spare you no thought after you only politely smiled at their not very work friendly comments. Especially after you accidently spilled scalding coffee onto one of them. They grumble and order a breakfast meal while silently conversing with one another.
It’s late enough the regulars have gone home, the only customers being the ones the road brings in and maybe just maybe you’ll be able to use the mug with the chipped handle.
The bells chime above the door, a familiar sound making your head rise to find a familiar face.
A small smile unconsciously works onto your face as the hooded figure nods towards you and heads to the booth three from the door. You practically drop what you’re doing to get his chipped mug, stashed away in a safe space.
Grabbing the coffee pot your motions halt for a second. Questions ringing out through your head, asking why you’re so happy to see him, why he makes your heart flutter, why you feel so safe with him.
Shaking your head and shushing the little voice that echoes insecurities, you walk over to him.
He shrugs his hood off, brown eyes lifting to meet your own. Your breath leaves your chest at his gaze.
Eyes that are soft and warm and somewhat sorrowful. Eyes that have lived and seen and felt. Eyes that have fought and conquered and lost.
You smile and set the mug down, pouring the hot liquid into it.
“Freshly brewed.” Winking as you add, “just for you.”
His lips pull into a grin and you turn to walk away but then he utters, “Thank you ma’am.”
His voice thunders through your soul, shaking your bones and sending lightning through your veins. It sounds just how you thought it would, deep and timbre, yet gentle and as if scared he’s too loud.
You’re not sure what noise leaves your lips, but it definitely wasn’t human. Heat licks up your neck, thoughts running haywire as the corners of his eyes crinkle, amused at your response.
Simply nodding, you rush away, your voice failing you as your heart hammers.
Things go back to normal. The teenagers leave. Sticky strawberry milkshake left on the table, but at least they stacked the plates.
You can feel his eyes on you, watching as you wipe away crumbs. Gazing as you sweep the floor. Studying as you flash a smile his way before vanishing behind the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“Some dishes.” You alert on reflex, but fall quiet when you remember you’re by yourself.
The older cook left about an hour ago, after you repeatedly told him you have everything under control and that his wife must miss him, plus it would be best if he slept in his bed rather than on the stool.
It’s the same fight every night. He hates to leave you even as you usher him to his truck. He reminds you of the pistol underneath the register and you smile and hug him. He always looks at you with wisdom and a hand on your shoulder, “Be safe mija.”
There’s a bang from the diner like someone hit a table and then voices start speaking. Your back straightens and you rush towards the swinging doors.
One of the men from before is approaching your hooded figure. Your heart drops. Your eyes scan towards the gun beneath the counter. He reaches into his jacket pocket, your feet start to move to the counter. He starts to pull out-
An arm wraps around your waist, a hand thrown over your mouth before you can scream. You frantically fight his hold, turning in his arms as much as you can. Throwing your weight side to side in any attempt to be freed.
He marches you through the swinging doors and the hooded man’s eyes meet your own, fear washing over them like ice water before snapping back to his cold calculating stare.
Tears start to build as you notice the gun being shoved towards him. You fight against the hold again, no’s muffled and desperate as you try and plead.
A hand slaps across your face, a ring biting into your skin and bursting your eyebrow.
“Be quiet bitch.”
Everything stops. No one moves.
And then it all happens at once.
A shot is fired, the hooded man strikes, the hands around you tighten and then fall away.
You stumble forward, blinking away tears, and suddenly you’re in another pair of arms.
Instinstics run wild, you start fighting and shoving and “hey hey it’s me sweetheart.”
Relief crashes over you as you recognize the black cotton before you, the spicy deodorant, the large hands rubbing up and down your back.
You look up and are met with the most beautiful brown eyes.
“Are you okay?”
His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, running up by your ear, and wiping the blood away from your eyebrow.
Silently, you nod, transfixed on being so close to him; your nerves still trying to figure out what happened and where you are.
“Yeah? You got a first aid kit?”
He lets you lead him slowly towards the bathroom. Lets you fist the cotton of his shirt as you look down to the two men. Lets you scan his face as you try and gauge what he is while he wipes his hands of blood.
You let him wash and bandage the cut on your eyebrow. Let him hold your thighs as his eyes dance over your features. Let him wordlessly care for you.
“Are you okay?” He repeats, this time not willing to take silent nods for an answer.
What is he? Why were these men after him? Is he dangerous? Are you in danger?
You know you should shy away, should flee from his hold, should escape while you can. But you can’t stop seeing the look of fear in his eyes when he saw you.
He holds you with such tender care, tough and worn skin now gentle and soft. His eyes gaze into your own, searching for something… anything.
That terrified look that he flashed your way is enough to tell you he’s okay. Enough to tell you he can be trusted. Enough to tell you that he’s human.
“I’m… I’m okay… are you?”
His eyes shift away, his tongue darts out to wet the corner of his mouth, “Yeah,” his right hand flexes on your thigh, “I’ve seen worse.” It’s softer, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to ask.
You reach out and press your right hand against his cheek, it looks miniature holding his head.
He’s strong. He’s powerful. He’s safe.
An intense want… need washes over you, like big swells crashing along the sandy shore, abrupt and deafening.
Maybe it’s the frazzled ends of your nerves, the frightened and heightened aire to your movements. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve imagined this very scenario a thousand times before.
Your lips collide to his, like magnets being pulled to one another.
There’s a half second, an hour long half second where he does nothing. Silent and still and stoic. A half second that’s long enough for the insecurities to bubble up, the thoughts to start ringing like tsunami sirens.
What are you doing? You forced yourself on him. He doesn’t even like you. No one does.
A strong hand cups the back of your head and he breathes into you, lips melding to your own.
His nose smashes against your cheek, his lips smear across your mouth, his breath seals away the little voice. Thoughts washing from your mind as it’s flooded with him and only him.
“Do-” your breathing is loud in your ears, your eyes stay shut, your hands can’t leave his form, “do you want to come back to my place?”
***
Sheets crumple at the base of your bed, clothes strewn across the room, the black van parked in your driveway.
It’s overwhelming. He fills your senses, fuels the fire raging throughout your veins.
His fingers dance over your skin, pushing and pulling at your flesh. His lips map out every curve and blemish on your body, teeth scraping as his breath fans across you. His dick slides in and out, punching something vital inside you, something that makes you curl up and scream out.
Your voice sounds small in your ears, begging and whining and gone dumb for him. Your fingers dig into his flesh, your legs wrapping around his hips and pushing your heels into the strength of his butt. You want him closer, want him to put all his weight on you, want him to crush you beneath him.
He grabs your chin, holding it firm and gentle. His eyes stare into your own, commanding you to look at him, to give yourself to him. It’s intimate and suddenly a different type of overwhelming… something allconsuming.
You know it strikes him too because those deep eyes soften, looking far into your soul, searching for something you’re unsure of. Then they shift down to your mouth, lips parted and coated in him, claimed by him.
His forehead touches yours and he stops.
It’s still.
A calm in the raging waves. The center of a pond’s ripple. The hush of a single falling raindrop.
He breathes in as you breathe out, surrounding himself in you, tying an invisible knot between your souls.
Then his hips move again. Knocking a gasp from your lips.
He leans down, lips pressing against yours no longer in a fierce hot-blooded need, but rather a gentle and almost loving caress. A kiss that slows everything down, coats your movements in molten honey, makes your heart bloom with warmth. A kiss that tells of passion, intimacy, and something akin to love.
Stars burst behind your eyelids, his nose nudges into your neck.
Flames build within your heart, his voice calls your name.
Ecstasy floods your nerves, his lips press against your own.
Just like that sweetheart. There you go. Come for me. Sing for me.
All for me. Just for me. Only for me.
***
It’s comfortable and safe.
His fingers drift across your shoulder, soft and not fully there. He’s lost behind his thoughts, mind somewhere else.
You’ve melted into him, back pressed against his naked chest. Your heart beats strong, still calming down and somehow you know it never fully will. Your own gaze misted and taken by thought.
You take his free hand into your own, turning it over and tracing the lines along his palm, scratching at the permanent scars on his knuckles.
His breath hitches, quiet and barely noticeable. It’s intimate and soft and makes you wonder if you stepped too far.
But you’ve already gone this far.
Laid yourself bare for him. Cracked open your ribs one by one and let him prod at your heart. Torn the muscle out and gave the pulsing pieces to him as a gift, an offering.
All for him. Just for him. Only for him.
You tilt back, head leaning against him so your eyes can find his features, find his eyes already on yours.
There’s something startling in the way he looks at you.
Skin scared and telling tales of pain, a strong nose that’s been broken multiple times, sharp jawline growing dark scruff. His cheeks are dusted with a light pink, his heart beating strong behind your back, deep brown eyes that seem to look into your soul.
They speak silent words, words that you’re unable to translate, words that mean millions to him.
His eyebrows furrow, only slightly. You’re learning that little tells weigh heavily into reading his thoughts.
Those brown eyes leave your own, trailing down your form to where you still have his hand, large and strong and worn in your hold. After a second, his thumb moves, featherlight and almost afraid as he traces your fingers. His eyes cloud over, lost again to thought.
Neither of you speak, too scared to break the silent spell.
You stay like that for what seems like both years and seconds.
All too soon and too delayed, he leans over and turns the light on your nightstand off, a kiss pressed to the top of your head.
You fall asleep like that, pressed against the chest of the man with no name.
Safely secured between the thighs of the man with no name.
Hands still wrapped around the big paws of the man with no name.
***
The next morning the only trace of him, the only evidence besides the memories is the note with scrawled letters left beneath the light next to the sweating water glass.
Stay safe Sweetheart. - F
***
You tried to not think of him. Tried to forget the stab in your chest when you woke up alone.
But the thought of him, the memory of his lips trailing up your spine, his hands tugging your ass, the hushed praise, it echoes through your head.
Gnaws away at your will power.
A fierce hunger that feasts at your soul.
You’re not sure why you’re so hurt about it. Not sure what you were expecting or wanting from him. It’s the classic one night stand leave before they wake up. So why are you disappointed? Why did you expect more? Why did you so easily give yourself to him?
Why do you desperately want more?
***
You’re softly humming along to the radio when the cook turns the television on to the news. Voices flow through the small diner about the weather and then the voices turn more hurried.
“… multiple gangs being hunted down by precise and strategic hits. Many of us are wondering just what army or gang could be doing this, but the answer is not whom but rather who.”
You set the broom to the side and frantically reach for the TV remote, the voices growing louder and lighting up the walls from where it sits in the corner. Pictures flash across the screen, some blurred, some not.
A gasp leaves your mouth.
“That’s right, this is being done by one man. Is the ghost of the Punisher back to torment us all once again?”
A fuzzy picture of a hooded man overtakes the screen and your eyes widen, the remote falls from your grasp.
It’s him.
It has to be him.
Suddenly the dots connect, the scars, the gun… the men.
He was on a mission.
You were just a simple stop along the way.
“Mija… you okay?” The cook asks in his heavy Spanish accent, worry overtaking his aging face.
Looking at him, your head nods but no words can leave your mouth.
Your heart already shattered on the floor.
A red and orange map pops up, showing pins as to how far he has covered the country. The story continues, detailing his committed crimes.
The TV goes dark, forgotten remote in the cook’s hand as his eyes scan over your frame.
“No more mija.”
He nods and trails back to the kitchen, black doors swaying after his departure, the radio soon turned back to the normal channel.
Familiar lyrics flood the diner, never ringing truer than now.
Ride to town, shoot ‘em up, and keep on going. Cause I got a job to do and I don’t stop for no one.
***
Days pass and each time the bells chime above the door your breathing stops, waiting for that hooded figure to walk through, but he never does.
You know it shouldn’t, but your heart drops in disappointment. He became part of your routine, you expected to see him, kept his mug tucked away for when he did show up.
A flickering hope that he might be on your doorstep when you return home each night.
An even smaller want for him to return to your sheets and touch you like he did, full of desire and as if the night would never end.
Maybe it’s for the best, he is dangerous after all. Best to get him out of your head. Yet even as hard as you try, you can’t break free of the invisible knot. Each attempt at running only tightens the link, let’s it dig harder into your soul.
A constant ache that mercilessly reminds you of what once was.
Rumors spread through the local town, it’s small and overly friendly, word traveling as easily as sickness. His name is whispered through lips, as if scared he’ll appear if they speak it too loud.
“Did you hear he killed over the Mexican border?”
“It’s one more killing to the man that has no name.”
“I think he’s doing good, wiping the land of those gangstas that think they’re all that and a bag of chips.”
“He’s unforgiving.”
“It’s one more bullet to the man that has no name.”
“Who says he won’t come here and clean us away?”
“Jerry, is there something you’re trying to tell us?”
“I’m just one more life, for him it’s all the same.”
“Just get your gun, and kiss your wife, and lock up your daughter.”
“Yeah… don’t let her fall in love with the Punisher.”
***
You’ve watched the news, listened to the customers, ears perking for anything related to him. Something inside you wants to know he’s okay, but something else wants to make sure he’s far away.
You can’t deny the hurt you felt the morning after, the stabbing force that still throbs. The tears you shed and wipe away.
What would you even do if he showed up? Flee? You’d probably not make it that far to be honest. Question him? Yeah, as if he’d answer. Kiss him? What the fuck?
Shaking your head you clear the plates on the table, grabbing the few dollar bills left on the table for you. It’s not much, not nearly as much as he would always leave. You’ve had to cut back on spending a little bit.
Your heart tugs at the mention of him. The invisible knot tightening and starting to choke.
Late nights are filled with scavenging for anything related to him.
Court cases, police reports, mugshots pop up with seemingly no end. Your breath lodges in your throat as your eyes scan headlines, eyes tracing the features of your hooded man.
You watch videos, conflicted between anger and sorrow. You learn his story, the warrior he was, the father, the villain, and finally… the ghost.
Minutes turn into hours and into sleepless nights as you ponder, wondering why he chose this path, why he chose you, why he left.
His scrawled handwriting untouched on your nightstand all these days past.
***
Everyone knows he’s alive. A dash cam of him sliding over a car’s hood playing across all channels.
You knew first. Heart rigged to him like an addict to a drug. Any small piece of knowledge to fuel the insatiable desire.
He looks the same. You don’t know if you’re happy, angry, or repulsed.
Your fingertips run along the hem of your dress. The man across the candlelit table passionately talks about his business and the next big thing in the stock market. You were interested in the first five minutes, but thirty more and you’ve tuned out.
Smiling when prompted, you sip at your wine, wishing it was something stronger. Your eyes run along the man’s face, watching as his eyebrows raise with every hard syllable.
His didn’t.
What no, stop, you’re not here for him. You’re here to forget.
“So tell me, what tickles your fancy sweetheart?”
It doesn’t sound right from his lips.
***
One little date turns into a few and suddenly you have a boyfriend.
Part of you knows it is wrong. Selfish and cruel to lead him on and let him be a sad replacement for your hooded figure.
But he takes you out for dinner each week and lets your heart be distracted from the booth three shy from the door, lets your eyes drift away from the road in search of a black van.
He visits the diner, ironed work clothes wrinkled from a hard day’s work sitting in a chair and talking about golf. A chaste kiss to your lips and a harsh pat to your butt.
It makes your stomach churn. But the sight of the mug with the chipped handle reminds you that it could be worse.
Stay safe sweetheart. - F now crumpled and thrown from your nightdesk.
Rejected like garbage in an irate rage as you screamed into your pillow, mascara painted along your cheeks like a Monet. Your voice horse from cursing him and then softly pleading with the universe and finally just quietly sobbing, alone.
The wrinkled paper mocking you from the corner, rejected just as you were.
“How about a beer for your man sweetheart?”
It’s vile and repulsive and completely wrong.
But the disgust covers the loneliness.
***
Days start to melt together. The Punisher no longer in the forefront of the news, his story old and no longer the talk of the century. Merely a story told to children to frighten them out of sneaking candy in the night.
The disgust washes away into annoyance.
It builds. Slow but steady, each time you’re called the hated nickname is like another drop to the ever filling bucket.
“My girl.” Drip.
“Darling.” Drip.
“Sweetheart.” Drip drip drip.
The flow you once had to your motions now muddled and thick. You used to always have a smile, but now you can hardly fake one. The cook watches with concern as you slowly clean the diner. He offers you toothy smiles but you can’t return them.
“Fuck, I need a beer, long day today.” Your boyfriend sits down in the booth three from the door.
He can’t sit there.
That’s not his spot.
“C’mon sweetheart, chop chop.”
No.
Don’t call me that.
You can’t call me that.
I’m not your sweetheart.
“Sweetheart?”
No.
You can’t breathe.
Stop.
You can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t fucking move.
Get out.
Get out.
Sirens ring in your head loud and piercing and overwhelming.
Get out.
Get out.
“Get out.” It’s a whisper.
“Get out.” It’s a yell.
“Get out!” It’s a command.
His eyes are wide, startled, “What do you mean sweetheart?”
“Don’t fucking call me that! Get out!” You point at the door, you’re yelling and screaming, and you still can’t breathe. Sucking in air and yet it does nothing to give you oxygen.
“Get out! Get out of here! Get out of town! Get out of my life!”
“Sweetheart, I don’t understa-”
“I’m not your sweetheart! I never was!”
He leaves the booth three shy from the door, his gray convertible leaving the parking lot, the radio soft in the background.
Your chest heaves, finally able to suck in air.
Tears stream down your face, the bucket tipped over and empty.
The crumpled note rests in the strength of your palm, clenched safely between your fingers.
The cook brings you into his arms, holding you for as long as you need while you shake and sob.
“Go home mija.”
Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.
***
Weeks pass, you feel better.
Things go back to how they were. Before your boyfriend, who you haven’t seen since.
The regulars compliment you on your refound smile, happy to have you back in high spirits. It fills a void in you.
The teenagers with their sticky milkshakes and shared fries. The old men who talk about their day back on the farms. The old ladies who gossip and try to set you up with their grandsons even though they know your heart belongs to someone else. The cook goes back to sleeping at his stool.
The note, now wrinkled and worn, rests back on your nightdesk. Where each night you trace the letters and try to remember his voice in your head.
It’s the last part of him you have and you wish had thrown it out. You know it’s the final thing holding you back. Like a recovering smoker with the last cigarette in their breast pocket. A sick reminder of what pleasure once was, what happiness felt like.
But now you can’t. Emotionally attached and still holding onto the sliver of hope. Maybe you were enough. Maybe your memory could entice him back. Maybe he feels what you do.
The invisible knot which once choked and suffocated now a craving, a part of you.
The booth three shy from the door empty in waiting, the black van nowhere in sight, the chipped mug set aside and untouched.
Until one day.
Sunny and bright, with a fresh breeze in the air. Your skirt flutters beneath your apron, your smile a little wider, your heart expecting for something you’re unsure of.
The bells above the door chime.
Your heart stops.
“Hey sweetheart.”
You’re wrapped into a safe embrace.
Don’t let your daughter fall in love with the pale rider.
Summary -(Y/N) Is a Matt Murdocks 14 year old daughter who is just entering high school and is really struggling. She doesn’t have a regular life having a blind father. He can’t help with homework, Can’t give her a have a ride to school, He can’t see how often her face falls when she lies to him. Of course she has her Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen but (Y/N) feels like to much of a burden until the one and only Frank Castle comes into her life and seems to be more of a father figure then her own father.
“Only for emergencies” - Frank
You have kept this note with you for a long time. After everything that happened last year you weren’t sure if you would ever need it again. Everything has spiraled out of control now. You need some guidance. Your bag is packed and you are near The Punishers last location. You dial the number.
Ring… Ring… Ring… “Kid?” You smile at Franks voice. It almost brings tears to his eyes. “Hey Frank…” You say slowly. You felt like this wasn’t even happening. But the past 48 hours have been nothing but hell. So you hope to god that this is real. “What’s going on kid?” He asks concerned. You haven’t contacted him in a little over a year thanks to Matthew.
“Matthews dead and I need to leave Hells Kitchen…”
Summary - (Y/N) Is a Matt Murdocks 14 year old daughter who is just entering high school and is really struggling. She doesn’t have a regular life having a blind father. He can’t help with homework, Can’t give her a have a ride to school, He can’t see how often her face falls when she lies to him. Of course she has her Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen but (Y/N) feels like to much of a burden until the one and only Frank Castle comes into her life and seems to be more of a father figure then her own father.
You haven’t left your room in quite some time now. Most of the time you wait for your father to leave for work before doing anything. Occasionally he would come to check on you but it seemed like you were dead to the world.
Foggy would come visit and sit with you and read. That was something he use to do when you were younger. Karen would visit and give you updates on how Frank is doing and that he wonders about you. You would nod and respond to her more then anybody else. You are currently laying in bed ear buds in and eyes closed. You feel the vibrations of your door opening but don’t move. There is a comforting hand rubbing your back. You undo your ear buds and turn around. “Hey Auntie…” You mumble. “Hey Honey… It is time to get ready.” She says in a soft tone with a smile on her face. “Get ready for what?” You ask looking up at her. “We are going to go out and have a little girls day. I think it will be fun.” She says rubbing your shoulder. “I am not taking ‘No’ for an answer. You have been here for a long time and I know you are missing assignments for your online classes.” You let out a huff. “I have been working on them… Just when no one is around.” Karen smiles and nods. “You get a nice outfit and take a good shower and we will head out okay?” She asks and you nod. You get up and look in the mirror seeing your greasy hair and pajamas you haven’t changed out of since that night. Karen walks out to let you get ready. You put your phone on the charger then grab your clothes.
After a good thirty minute shower you come out dressed in a comfortable outfit. “You ready sweetie?” Karen asks and you nod holding your phone close to you. “So I was thinking we could go out for lunch and maybe catch a movie then head back to my apartment.” You give a small smile. “You can spend the night. I talked to Matt and he said it is okay. Only if you want to.” “I want to.” You say as you both exit the apartment. “You still have clothes from the last time you were over so don’t worry about it.” You link arms with Karen as you both travel to her car. Getting in the passenger seat you turn on the radio. “So where do you want to go first? Movie or Lunch?” You pause and say “How about lunch. I don’t really want to go to a movie… If that is okay with you.” You say looking out the window. “Of course honey we can watch a movie at my place.” Karen frowns slightly starting the car. "So where do you want to go for lunch?“ Karen asks and you shrug. Karen sighs and continues to drive. "Would you like to cook instead? We can go to the store and grab something.” She says and you just nod. Karen begins their journey to the store and continues to glance over at you. You can feel her stare and it was annoying but you wouldn’t tell her that. “So how have your online classes been hun?” She asks and you shrug and mumble a small “fine.” Karen pulls up to the grocery store and sighs. “Honey I want to help but I can’t if you won’t talk to me.” She says and you groan. “I don’t want to talk about it Karen. Please just drop it.” You say exiting the car and starting toward the store. Karen was shocked by your response. You have never been snappy with her so whatever happened between seeing you last and now must be very upsetting. She decides to drop the subject and get inside to find you.
Gathering food seemed to be a bit of a hassle since you didn’t have any appetite. You felt like you were in a daze for a long time and suddenly you were in the car again heading to Karen’s apartment. “I’m sorry…” You mumble and Karen looks over. “For what hon?” She asks and you sigh. “I snapped at you. I didn’t mean to it’s just everything is so stressful…” Karen nods. “There is no need to apologize. We all have those days.” Karen gives a small smile as she pulls up to her apartment building. “Come on. We have ice cream that can’t go to waste!” you nod and give a small smile getting out of the car. You help collect the groceries and make the journey up the stairs and to the apartment. Karen fumbles getting the door open and giggles. “Don’t judge me. My hands are full.” You smile some more as the door opens and you both stumble inside. You walk into the small kitchen area and set the groceries down. “Now we have a whole lot of ingredients so what do you want to make?” Karen asks as you are unpacking the groceries. “Can we make (Y/F/F)?” You ask and Karen nods. “Of course! Lets get this party started!” She says throwing the grocery bags into the recycling bin. Karen looks at you as you shuffle your feet. “Honey?” She asks and you look up at her. “Yeah Auntie?” You respond. “You know you can talk to me right?” You nod and go up and hug her. “Everything is just so hard…” You say burying your head into her shoulder. “I know sweetie… Everything will be okay…” You shake your head. “It won’t! I feel like my dad isn’t my dad anymore.” Karen leads you over to her couch. “What do you mean?” She asks looking at you. “It’s like… It’s like I don’t know him anymore… I feel like a burden most of the time.” “Honey you are in no way a burden. You are an absolute angel!” Karen exclaims but you shake your head. “He tells me that as well. He tells me I’m not but he does things that make it seem like I am.” You clench your fists. “He isn’t how I remember him but I get that people change. It is just hard to adjust… All I feel is anger towards him and I hate feeling that way…” You sigh. Karen nods along with what you are saying. “How about we not think of your dad and just have fun.” You nod and stand up heading to the kitchen.
It is later in the evening as you both are watching TV snacking on sweets and other junk foods after dinner. You both are laughing at some weird show when there is a crash from the bedroom. “What was that?” You whisper and Karen looks at you. “I don’t know…” She whispers back. Another crash resonates from there and Karen quickly stands up dragging you with her. She takes you to the hallway closet next to the bathroom. “Stay here okay?” She says opening the door. “What no!” You whisper. “I want to stay wi-” Karen shoves you in before shutting the door. “Call Frank or Matt okay?” She whispers through the door before speeding to her purse in the kitchen. All you hear is her scream and some crashing sound before there was silence. You quickly dial the first number in your contacts which happened to be your fathers. You hold the phone to your ear silently praying that Karen is okay. When he answers you quickly say. “Someone broke into Karen’s place and I don’t know what to do!” You whisper. “What? (Y/N) are you ok-” “I’m fine and I am hiding. I’m just scared dad… I need you. P-Please come here and see if Karen is okay!” You whimper. “Okay (Y/N) stay calm I am right here. I need to get dressed and I will head right over. Stay on the phone okay?” You nod and say a quiet 'Okay’ “I am coming for you okay? I will be there soon just stay quiet.” You nod as tears make there way down your cheek. “Is she going to be ok-” “(Y/N) I know you are scared okay? I know but you need to be quiet. We don’t know if anyone can hear you. I love you so much okay? Just stay quiet I am right here.” He says you sniffle and try to keep your sobs as small as possible. “I see her apartment okay? I am entering now.” He says and you can hear footsteps walking across the apartment when suddenly the door open. You let out a shriek and cover yourself when suddenly you are embraced. “Hey, hey, shh it’s okay I’m here now…” Matt says petting your hair. You look up at him and see that he is in his Daredevil outfit. You feel slightly intimidated.
“Now tell me what happened.” Matt says and you nod trying your best to calm down. T-There was a huge crash in her room and then she told me to hide!“ You say moving from his embrace and look around. You see that there were definite signs of a struggle. "Is she here?! Where is she!” You cry and Matt comes up behind you. “The Hand took her… That is the only possible explanation.” He says tilting his head and listening to the surroundings. “Then we need to go after her!” “ 'We’ are not doing anything! You are staying here!” Matt says. “I-I can’t stay! They could come back here! I am safer with you.” You say firmly. “No you aren’t I need to go after them but you are right. They could come back.” He says and paces for a few seconds. “Okay so here is what you are going to do.” You nod and walk closer to him. “You are going to go home. Straight. Home. No detours.” “Bu-” “You are going to stay out of sight, take alleyways and stay away from large crowds.” “But da-” “No buts!” Matt shouts. “This is to keep you safe. I know it might be a long walk but you have to do this for me.” You sigh and nod. “When you get home you are going to lock yourself in your room and barricade the door. You will call me once that is done.” You nod “Dad… I’m scared…” Matt walks up to you and hugs you again. “Look at me…” He says and you look up at him. “I promise everything will be okay. I will come back to you. Now you need to go.” He says letting you go and you nod. You go toward the door but he grabs your wrist. “No take the fire escape. We don’t know if there are people waiting for you outside that door.” He says and you nod. “I love you dad…” You say walking up to the window. “I love you too Sweetpea…” He says as you exit.
You have never felt this much fear in your life. You try your best being as quiet as possible and trying not to attract any attention. When you see your apartment building in the distance you make a mad dash to the fire escape leading into the living room. You rush to the kitchen and grab a knife before going to your room and slamming the door closed. You push your dresser against the door before climbing underneath your bed. You take in a few deep breaths before calling your dad. The phone rings for a few seconds before you hear a voice. a mutter of someone saying “goddammit there are to many to count.” As you are listening you hear what sounds like your dad and Elektra. “Wait, wait .Wait for one second. One second. So, what if What if from now on, if if we make it wherever you run, I run with you?” You hear your dad say and your eyes widen. “You’re not serious. You have a daughter Matthew.” Elektra says with some mix of annoyance and shock in her tone. “I’ve never been more serious. This, Elektra, this is a part of me that I need and you’re the only one who gets it.” Your eyes begin to tear up. 'Why is he saying this?’ You ask yourself as he continues to say “ Without this, I’m not alive. I’m not. Not really and I know that now, thanks to you.” Suddenly your fears of abandonment resurface. He just said not to long ago that he would come back to you. You have always assumed that you would be his first choice. Your his daughter for Christ’s sake. You place a hand over your mouth to keep quiet as you listen. “I don’t know what we are together, and if we have any chance in the future I don’t… But I do know that I’m free with you. Like with no one else.” You can hear from his tone that he is being genuine and you don’t know what hurts more. That he has with-held this from you or that what you actually thought was a nightmare is coming true. You space for a moment as you drown in thought when you are brought back by the sound of Elektra’s voice. “Uh, I say let’s go to London. Yeah? Madrid. Tunisia. There are sexy places to hide. "Hey, I’ve never been further north than 116th Street, so…” Matt says with a light tone. A tone he hasn’t had in a long time it seems. “Because you love New York and you love your daughter. You are really willing to give her up for me?” Elektra asks and there is a pause on Matts side.
That pause tells you enough and you hang up before letting out a sob. The fact that he had to think about tells you that you are not much of a priority. You have never felt so much pain before. You were sure you were having a heart attack. You look at your phone and go to another contact on your phone. “F-Frank…” You sob into the phone when he answers. “Kid? Kid what’s wrong. You know this is only for emerganc-” “Frank!” You sob again as you try to form coherent words but fail miserably. “Hey, hey, hey… Calm down for a second… What’s wrong?” Frank says in the best calming voice he can muster. “I-I-” You cut yourself off with a sob. “Okay kid listen. I am going to be at the sandwich shop in 12 minutes you meet me there and we can talk okay?” He asks and you let out a croaky 'Okay’ and he hangs up. You crawl out of your bed slowly holding the knife to your chest. You toss it aside as you push your dresser out of the way of the door. You go back to the window with the fire escape and crawl out. It is well into the night as you look up at the starless sky. You try your best to keep to yourself hiding your tears from on lookers. You make your way to the Alley way and do the usual routine of getting on the industrial garbage can and climbing up the ladder. As you get to the top you see that Frank isn’t there yet and sit against the ledge in front of the stools that were already present. You bring your knees to your chest and hide your face in them. You don’t know how much time has passed but you hear someone climbing up the ladder. You just sigh. You don’t have the energy to fight. If you die now you wouldn’t care. Neither would your da- Matthew. You look up to see Frank crouching next to you. You lurch forward and latch onto him. Frank grunts at the impact. “Hey… What’s going on?” You begin to speak but he stops you and pulls away from you. He places your hand on his chest and says. “Take some deep breaths with me okay?” He asks as he does deep breathing. You follow suit letting out small sobs in between.
“Now tell me what is going on…” Frank says concerned as he sits fully on the ground. “H-He is going to leave me! He promised he wouldn’t but he is!” You say in a whimper. “Who?” Frank asks. “My dad… He was talking to that woman you mentioned.” You say sniffling. “What did he say?” He asks and you take in a deep breath. “He was talking about running away with her. About going to London and other sexy places to hide. ” You say looking down. “The only time I was mentioned was by that woman and he would dismiss it completely!” “He… He wouldn’t say that…” Frank says seemingly trying to convince himself. You can feel the anger radiating off of him. “I heard him… Karen got kidnapped and he was going to go after the people that did it.” You say standing up and Frank follows suit. “He said to call him once I get home and I did. He must have accidently answered or something because I heard all of it.” “I… I’m sorry kid…” Frank says in a solemn tone. “He lied to me. He said that I was the best thing that happened to him and he lied!” You exclaim. “Now th-” “Don’t you dare say that, that isn’t true! He hesitated!” Your voice rising with anger. “When she asked if he would leave me here for her he didn’t say shit! He paused and that was enough of an answer!” You shout as tears start going down your face again. “Go and fucking leave. I don’t care anymore!” You shout and lean over the ledge. “Go and die you fucking asshole! You hear me! Go be with your college hooker and go DIE!” You shout at the top of your lungs. Frank yanks you away from the ledge and hugs you. He cradles your head to his chest muffling your cries. Your knees buckle and Frank follows you to the ground. Footsteps can be heard behind you both and Frank looks toward it. You look up and see Matthew and another sob rips from your chest. “D-Don’t make me go with him please!” You say hiding your face in his chest. “Kid yo-” “No! NO! I am not going back! He doesn’t want me!” “(Y/N) That’s not tr-” “Yes it is! I heard you on the phone… I mean nothing to you. You made that clear…” You sniffle. “Please let’s just go home and I can explain!” Matthew pleads but you shake your head. Frank shields you from him before speaking. “Is what she’s saying true Red?” He asks and Matthew pauses. “I didn’t mean i-” “I didn’t ask if you didn’t mean it I asked if it is true…” Frank says rubbing your back with soothing circles. “I said some things… But I didn’t mean it! (Y/N) I would never abandon you I-” You scream at the top of your lungs silencing him. “I don’t care what you have to say any more!” You shout and follow with a quiet. “I don’t care… It doesn’t matter to me anymore…"Matthew walks up to the pair of you and crouches. "What can I do to make this better?” Matthew asks. You take a few deep breaths before saying. “Nothing… You can never make this better. ” You say and remove yourself from Frank. “You have to live with that. You can’t do anything to make this go away and I hope it’s as painful for you as it is for me.” You walk toward the ladder. “See you later Frank…” You say climbing down and walking into the night.
warnings: angst, language, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective frank hehe, is this considered angst?lol
synopsis:Frank immediately knows something has gone wrong. he’s shoved into facing his biggest fear- losing you. maybe he realizes that you two have more in common than you let on.
reblogs/likes/comments are heavily welcomed!!!! do NOT steal or repost my work!!! that’s mean!!!
a/n:hi hello!! this is my first fic in 7+ years, and my first Frank Castle one!! I got a little carried away thinking abt how protective he would be and couldn’t help myself. there’s also a NSFW part 2!! just let me figure out how to work tumblr again lol
-also sorry abt the weird spacing? not sure how to fix that :-)
The wall shook as Frank closed the door with the back of his boot. “Hey sweetheart!” he called out, his voice booming through the small apartment. The plastic grocery bags were dropped carefully as he made sure to deadlock the door, and that’s when it hit him. Something was wrong- it was quiet. He held his breath immediately at the absence of your usual humming and sweet greeting. The thrumming of his heart beat flooded his senses as he immediately grabbed the base of his gun. His eyes shot to your usual lounging spots- the right corner of the couch, the blankets underneath the windowsill, the dining table littered with your mail- all missing your presence. “This can’t be happening again” rang in his head like a chant, but he forced himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. He had to- for you. The hallway was eerily quiet as he stalked through the corridor towards your shared room.
The door was left ajar, leaving only a sliver of light in Frank’s viewpoint. He held his breath while his trained ears listened for something, anything, to let him know you were alive. Silence. He said a silent prayer to whatever god he could think of and pushed himself into the room with his gun drawn.
Frank’s eyes flew to behind the door, the gun instantly following. He backed slowly towards the middle of the room, his back facing the bed. Completing a 360 degree scan of the small room, his body instantly froze as his eyes locked on the figure hidden under the covers. You weren’t one to sleep completely under the covers. Hell, you barely used them unless Frank was off doing God knows what for who knows how long. What the hell is going on?
Sucking in a deep breath, afraid of what he would find, Frank gently pulled back a corner of the covers to reveal a mass of matted hair. His eyes slammed shut and his hands met his knees as he bent over and let out a shaky exhale. His entire body instantly relaxed and he could feel his chest nearly cave in from the relief. He recognized that rat’s nest anywhere. Holstering his gun, he straightened and peeled back the covers to reveal your sleeping face, his eyes softening and lips upturning immediately. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. “Love at first sight, or something like that”, as he would remind you at any chance he had. It was love at first sight for you, too, and you would never deny it.
Frank stood there for a few seconds before realizing you were holding onto something he had only seen a few times before. Oh fuck. Oh fuck! You were nuzzled against your childhood stuffed animal. His eyes went wide as he realized that something was seriously wrong. That thing hadn’t seen the light of day since… well, since then. And even then, it only made rare guest appearances when his absence was too much to bare and you weren’t even sure he was alive. Something was seriously wrong.
Pacing the room with his hands behind his head, Frank replayed his entire day. Every word you said, every pause in between sentences, every laugh at one of his stupid jokes, nothing. He checked the time and date on his watch desperately racking his brain for anything significant. Anniversary is next month, date night is tomorrow, your mom’s birthday is in 4 months, your work schedule hasn’t changed, nothing. Absolutely nothing. He pulled at his growing hair wishing he could read your mind, but whatever it was, he was going to make it better. He had to.
The cool air hit your face first and your eyes automatically squeezed shut to adjust to the incoming light and cool temperature. You could feel the coolness tickle your face, then neck, then upper arms and you jumped, eyes fluttering open and scanning the room. Your hands scrambled to grab the covers and your legs flailed as your feet desperately pushed you into a sitting position. “Hey hey hey! It’s just me! Take it easy! It’s just me.” the familiar voice instantly grounded you. Frank’s hand caught your knee as he held one hand out in front of him to brace for a hit that would never come. You met his eye and softened instantly. Frank felt relief as he saw your figure relaxed into his hold and- what the hell was that?
As quickly as you processed who was sitting next to you, your gaze turned cold. Your body stiffened. Your jaw slightly clenched. And you grabbed (snatched) the blankets from him and rolled on your side- your back facing him. You hoped a nap would have brought you back to your senses, but seeing his face, his sweet, perfect face, only pissed you off more. But it wasn’t your fault, how could he have done that? you thought. Your stare could burn holes into the wall if you tried hard enough. You knew Frank was nearly pissing his pants afraid, and you almost smiled. Good. Serves him right.
And you were right, like most times. Frank had forgotten how to breathe. He has never seen you look so… scary? before. The absolute disdain in your stare, directed towards HIM….. man. “The fuck did I do this time?” he muttered to himself. His hands hovered above you, afraid to touch you. Afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid this was your way of leaving him. “Y/N…” he all but whispered. Waiting for a response that wouldn’t come, he tried again. “Sweetheart… I can see you’re upset.” He swallows his fear. A hand is gently placed on your hip and you scoot away from it. A sigh leaves his throat and you almost feel happy. almost.
“Honey. I want to help. Whatever it is, whoever it is. I want to make it better. Let me make it better.” You feel his hand return to your hip, his forehead dropping to meet it. Maybe you were overreacting…. maybe he didn’t mean it. You close your eyes gently and wait. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
“You left me.” His eyes jolt open and he lifts his head immediately. Left you? Left you where? You can tell that he has no idea what you were talking about, and so you decided to be the bigger person. Taking a deep breath in, you willed yourself to turn to the other side, but not yet brave enough to look him in the eye. “You left me here. Alone.” you mumbled into the pillow, only now realizing how pathetic you actually sound. Frank’s eyebrows practically melted together and he tried to control his face, but he was still in the dark here. “Sweetheart, I had to go to the grocery store. We have nothing to eat here and I gotta keep my girl fed, you know that.” he chuckled, braving a slight smile as his hand pushed the hair from your face. You weren’t budging. “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t think you would want to go with me. You looked too damn cozy on that couch earlier, I just didn’t want to bug you, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
God. Even when you thought you were mad, how could you be? Frank has only ever moved the world for you and then some. You should have known he wouldn’t have hurt you intentionally. But… it still hurt
Surrendering to the fact that you may have jumped the gun, you sighed and sat up, finally meeting his worried stare. “You just… you didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go.” You instantly looked into your lap at the confession, wanting to fold yourself in half. “You just…. you didn’t ask. That’s all.” You couldn’t look at him, not when you were basically laying your fear of abandonment at his feet. It was quiet for a few heartbeats. “Y/N.” Your chin was being lifted against your will to face the man who
holds your heart. “I’m sorry. I love you so much. I don’t want to- I won’t make you feel like this again. Swear it.” He crosses his chest. God damnit you can’t even be sad anymore. “I love you too. I’m sorry I kinda overreacted.” you rolled your eyes and grumbled, trying to hide your smirk quickly. Frank catches it, of course, and the tension in the air dissipates instantly.
“Yeah yeah, just shut up and kiss me” was the last thing you heard before your eyes flutter closed and your face is squished between two large hands and a toothy kiss.
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woohoo!!!! I feel accomplished having uploaded this. I’m gonna be embarrassed if this flops but oh well!!
⊹○ﾟ˖ you and frank started as everyone’s favorite on-screen ship but was that all you saw each other as, just an on-screen flirt?
Francis ‘Frank Castle’ Castiglione is an Italian-American celebrity chef, restaurateur, and reality television personality. Castiglione is the owner and executive chef of several restaurants and franchises, such as Frank’s Cookout and the Hotspot Grill. He has worked with Cook Network since 1995, which won him four Daytime Emmy Awards and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Y/N L/N is an American chef, television personality and former model. She appeared in the fifth and eighth seasons of Top Baker, Lavo’a cooking competition show. She was a cohost on The Bite, a one-hour talk show centered on food from all angles, which premiered on TBD in September 2011. She spent several years working as a model on the runways of Paris, Milan and London. During this time, she decided to pursue a culinary career.
warnings: religious symbolism/wording, oral sex, secret relationship
summary: as a knight, it’s sir francis’ duty to help you in any situation. is it not? it’d be pretty cruel of him to deny you pleasure. as your protector, is it not his duty?
As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal boosting them. Author is listed next to title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.
ClickHERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.
Please make sure you are reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.
Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.
Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil
Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)
Warnings:18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT AHEAD. polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, physical insecurities, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), voyeurism, some light choking
No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.
This chapter was phenomenal!!! The hit at the bar was excellent and I love how we see her start out. Then of course Billy freaking Russo being hot as hell with that sex scene Frank watching on top of it. I swear I need a cold shower just from reading this. Absolutely one of my favorite series
A/N: Punisher came right for my throat with this opening look god damn. He mentioned a man bun sarcastically in passing but could you imagine??? I love a good man bun.
Summary: After enduring a painful violent relationship, you suddenly find your life turned around, your quiet neighbour Pete soothing the sting of loss.
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: swearing, smoking, domestic violence, mentions of animal cruelty (nothing graphic), mentions of drug/dealing and murder, soft!Frank
Mature audiences only. Please be advised there are heavy themes throughout. Read at your own discretion. Do not continue if any of the warnings may trigger/upset you ❤️
———
Your lip falls victim to your anxiety, teeth nipping and chewing along the soft skin until the metallic twinge of blood hits your tongue. You swipe it away as you shift in your spot on the floor, jeans catching on the rough unforgiving timber.
The little body sniffing along the corridor perks up at your movement, little claws scratching lightly at the old flooring as she pounces over and into your lap, her little warm tongue lapping softly at your cheek. You take her affection with a smile, nuzzling into her short fur and placing a loud kiss on her head.
He hadn’t been happy when you bought her home, and the remnants of his annoyance sit above your brow, a dull throb hanging behind your temples, but at least you could keep her. She made you feel a little less isolated in the world.
“She’s your fucking problem, got it?”
Something easily agreed to with a quiet yes sir, and then it was over. He returned to the couch, lit up another cigarette and kicked his filthy boots onto the coffee table, and you slinked off to the bedroom with your new friend, pulling an old sock from your drawer and playing tug of war for the rest of the evening, ensuring to keep the noise to an absolute minimum.
The environment was still new to her, the sounds and smells so different from what she had been previously left in. She was restless, intrigued by her surroundings and making her discoveries known with a loud voice. You’d paid for that, too. It’s like she just knewafter the incident, her low whine soft as she crawled into your lap and licked away your tears, almost as if it were an apology. She didn’t make another noise after that.
“I see I got a new neighbour.”
You’re dragged from your thoughts when the familiar low gravel of your neighbour perks up from the end of the hall, his boots creaking along the floor as he makes his way to his apartment opposite yours. You stumble to stand and tuck the puppy against your chest, smiling shyly.
“Yeah. I’m sorry if she made too much noise last night, Pete.”
His dark eyes fall to the puppy, a small smile tugging at his lips beneath the thick beard—the most of a smile you’ve ever seen from the man who always seemed to have a deep frown dug into his strong features.
“Nah. I ain’t hear a lot when I’m here.”
He takes a step closer, holding his hand out and letting the pup sniff curiously at his fingers before scratching behind her ear. She takes the affection easily, tongue lolling from her mouth when he hits a particular spot along her neck. He huffs quietly in amusement, lips curling into a wider smile for a brief second before it smooths out and the usual passive press of his lips returns.
“She got a name?”
“Bullet.”
His brows twitch up in question and you shrug lightly, smile timid.
“You should see her run when she’s let off her leash. Shoots through the air—”
“—like a bullet.” He finishes for you quietly, giving her one final pat before stepping away and closer to his door, keys jangling as he digs them from his pocket. “She’s a little sweetheart.”
“Yeah, she is.” You beam at Bullet, grinning when she licks at your jaw. “I found her in a dumpster. Can you believe that? Someone just left her out in the cold. I couldn’t just leave her there, especially with the weather being what it is so I bought her home…”
It becomes obvious that you’re keeping him from entering his apartment with your quiet ramblings as he hovers in his doorway, dark eyes flicking between yours, and a flood of embarrassment washes up from your chest and along under your cheeks. Your head falls, gaze dropping with it, and you shift in your spot, hold tightening around Bullet.
“Sorry. I’ll just—I’m sorry… um, have a good night, Pete.”
“You fall or somethin’?”
“What?”
His eyes flicker to the noticeable swollen mass above your eye where a fresh scab builds along the split in your skin. Your hand automatically flies to cover the area, the pads of your fingers delicately tracing the tender wound, and Bullet shifts restlessly in your arms.
“Oh,right. Yeah, I—uh, I fell and hit my head on the door. New heels—haven’t worn them in yet so I’m still a bit shaky.”
He nods, almost as if he were expecting your bullshit answer. His eyes move to meet yours before he nods once more in goodbye, his door closing quietly behind him. You linger for a second longer, teeth once again gnawing at your lip as you study the chipped paint of his door.
Pete was… nice.
He goes by his days, sticking to the same routine developed from the day he moved in.
You had no idea where he came from.
He had moved in with practically nothing—no boxes, no furniture… only the one single duffle bag slung across his back.
Though he kept to himself and remained quiet, you knew it wasn’t born from shyness. He stood tall, looked everyone in the eye whenever they would cross his path, and remained unbothered when a few of the sketchier occupants tried to intimidate him. He brushed those who tried to initiate a conversation with him off, and they soon learnt to leave him be.
Sometimes you wonder why he didn’t do that with you.
There was nothing stopping him from slamming the door right in your face the day you showed up with a freshly baked treat and a gentle smile of welcome. He had stood there while you rambled away, stuttering over how you lived opposite and if he ever needed anything, you were only a step or two away.
He was slow when he reached out, almost cautious, a large hand curling around the base of the warm dish with a barely there nod of thanks. You had turned back to your apartment, only just catching his voice grind out a quiet ‘Pete.’ before the door had closed.
A couple of days later, the clean and empty dish had appeared in front of your door, and after that there was always a gruff hello in passing reserved only for you; the days and weeks passing slowly lengthening the greetings into generic comments about the weather, before morphing into questions he seemed genuine with, listening attentively to your answers each and every time—how are you, how’s work going, did you end up finishing that book…
It was nice to have someone to exchange a few words with every day. It made everything feel a little less isolating, like you weren’t actually alone in this big wide world. You slip quietly into your apartment, ensuring to close the door silently so as to not disturb Brad snoring on the couch.
—
The cold remained biting at Frank’s cheeks when he eventually enters the building after a long day at the site, the ache conjured by working that damn hammer all day stirring and settling deep in his muscles as he pushed himself to move.
It could drive anyone crazy, this same day in, day out routine bullshit, but it was the only thing keeping a lid on the carefully restrained pull of darkness creeping along the edge of his mind. He had left the Punisher behind, his quest for revenge now fulfilled and put to bed, but the shadow of the skull still lingers, threatening to break free with every piece of shit that crosses his path.
He hears it just after he slides his key into the shitty aged lock on his door, his attention automatically pulled to it. A tumble, maybe a chair or something falling and hitting the ground with a clatter in your apartment. He thinks nothing of it until the following sounds melt into his ears.
It’s barely there, muffled by the wall and door blocking the scene, but he knows the yelp of a dog in pain when he hears it. It cuts somewhere deep within him, having always been softer on those who are far too good, too innocent, for humanity and its constant ever growing bullshit… but it’s your following tearful pleads oozing through the old, cracked drywall that have him turning fully towards your apartment.
His frown deepens as you increasingly get louder, your pleads of noandplease don’t hurt her driving him closer and closer towards that inevitable edge of no return. He stands in front of the door, fingers twitching at his sides.
It would be easy, so fucking easy, to kick the door in and deal with that shithead you paired yourself up with. He doesn’t know your story, and doesn’t really care to know the ins and outs, all he knows is that you deserve much better than the woman beater taking up space in your apartment.
You were a good person, he could feel it flowing from you the moment he met you. A truly decent person, stuck in this shithole he refused to call home. All smiles and sunshine, even with a face that clearly had taken a beating. How many times did you expect people to accept the door story? He’d lost count of your excuses—I fell over, I slipped on the rug, I tripped over a chair, my heel broke.
Fury burns along his nerves, the muscle in his jaw straining as his teeth grind in aggravation with the more sounds of a struggle. He could have it over and done with within mere moments. He could make it quick—he wouldmake it quick, what with you as a witness.
But then what? Where would that leave you? He wouldn’t expect you to lie and cover for him, and he wouldn’t even bother lying if the cops came to his door—he’d own up to it without a twinge of regret. Nah. He wouldn’t make you witness it, not after everything you’d already been through. Your mind would be troubled enough without him adding witnessing a murder to it.
It takes every fibre in his being to turn his back to your door, to unlock his own and slip into the black of his apartment.
—
It was unusual.
It was normal for him to disappear from time to time, wrapped up in parties or clubs or deals, but to not come home at all? It was unlike him. You wait at the door, Bullet curiously sat at your feet, ears perking and dropping with every new sound echoing from the streets.
An hour passes, and still nothing.
Your phone remains bare of notifications, not even a single voicemail of him drunkenly slurring that he was busy. Something stirs in your gut, but you’re unable to identify just what exactly it is that you’re feeling. A mixture of curiosity and dread maybe, your mind caught up in wondering where he could be, but also worrying about what you’d be faced with when he eventually doescome home.
The end corridor door slams open and you startle slightly at the noise of it, braced for whatever was coming, but your eyes come to focus on Pete. No Brad. Your shoulders drop, a small shaky exhale blowing past your lips before forcing a small smile for your neighbour. Maybe he’d seen him somewhere?
“How’s she doin’?”
Your smile turns into something more genuine, your gaze falling to Bullet. Her small body shakes in excitement, her tail wagging through the air as Pete bends and drops at the knee to give her some attention.
“She’s good. She’s a snuggler.”
“I bet.” He replies quietly, delivering one final ear scratch before standing and digging for his keys.
“Hey, Pete?”
He grunts, turning before entering his apartment. You stand in your doorway, fingers tangling nervously.
“Have you seen Brad anywhere?”
He pauses, hovering at his door as his fingers subconsciously rub together.
He could still feel the ache in his knuckles, the chafed skin freshly scabbed and healing; could still hear the pathetic little begs for mercy ring in his ears, the lies that he had never laid a hand on you or ‘the mutt’.
Frank wasn’t an idiot—he knew what that prick was doing to you and the dog and made that fact known, voice hoarse with rage as he recounted the times he had heard you sobbing and crying out through the walls. He was damn sure the dick never showed you or the dog any mercy, never batted an eyelid to your cries, or gave his cruelty a second thought.
No more.
A piece of shit like that would never change.
He shakes his head with a look of disinterest. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
You smile softly, “Thank you.”
Brad doesn’t come home.
You toss and turn all night.
Sitting at the small table in a quiet apartment the next day feels surreal. No television roars through the room, no cigarette smoke hangs in the air. You cook breakfast—just in case—but it sits on a plate untouched for the day. You watch the door for a while, expecting him to come tumbling in and smelling of a bar, babbling about whoever he disappeared with… but the door remains shut.
You go to work, a shadow of uneasiness tugging at the back of your mind. Would he be home now, waiting for your inevitable return? Would you be walking into a lions den? Would he be in a bad mood because you weren’t there to welcome him home?
The apartment is as you left it hours before, Bullet welcoming you without a trace of fear. It’s the first time in a long while you don’t have to hand over your tips. You tuck the money into the small space behind your bedside table and go to bed.
He still doesn’t come home.
You stare at the ceiling for most of the night, almost too afraid to close your eyes should he return in the early hours of the morning. It’s like with every minute that passes, your body winds tighter and tighter, braced for the oncoming storm that would cross the threshold at any time.
The sharp knock on the door the next morning pries you from the warmth of your bed and confusion warps your mind as you stumble to the front of the apartment, legs tangling in the blanket in your hurry to answer whoever it was.
You wrench open the door, faltering only when the two police officers standing on your doorstep turn to greet you with sombre expressions. You welcome them in with a frown of concern, worried about the stashes of product Brad had hidden in various spots around the apartment, but they didn’t seem to be interested in searching anything. They didn’t slam a search warrant in your hands or slap cuffs around your wrists.
The words fill the air but they don’t quite penetrate your mind. You hear them, take them in, but don’t let them settle. Your eyes remain fixed on the coffee table, following the small trails of condensation sliding down their untouched glasses of orange juice you had offered as their voices fill the room.
Deal gone bad. Beaten. Shot in the head. No suspects. Sorry for your loss.
You blink, vacant eyes rolling up to the officer’s. “Thank you for coming by.”
They’re kind as you walk them out, offering to keep you in the loop should the case change and any suspects come up, but you barely listen.
The door is solid against your back when you close it and turn to rest fully against it, slowly letting yourself slide down the surface until you’re sitting on the floor. Bullet worms her way into your arms until they lock around her, settling in your hold and heaving a soft sigh of content.
Gone.
Gone.
He’s never coming home.
You’ll never see him again.
Your mind races, whirling through the last year of falling into the relationship—the first night, the quickly extinguished ‘honeymoon’ phase, the shouting, the guilt tripping, the money, the pain, the injuries and the excuses you conjured to explain them, hell—the excuses you told yourselfto justify it all… it was over.
Just like that.
Done.
Tears grow along your edges of your vision, bile rising along your throat as the whirlwind of emotion hits you. Grief, confusion, fear, relief. You cry well into the day, not moving a muscle from your spot on the floor as your sobs shatter your chest and birth an ache in your temples.
—
The cool evening air nips at your cheeks as you burrow into your jacket, the smoke harsh and heavy down your throat and bringing a soft nicotine rush to your mind. It tempers the race of thoughts, and gives you something to focus on, your fingers gently tapping the cigarette and watching the small bits of ash float to the ground.
It still hadn’t quite sunk in, but your mind was slowly digesting the fact that he wasn’t around anymore.
A sharp little whistle brings Bullet bouncing back to you from where she was sniffing along the empty street, her little tail whacking against your legs as she jumps to lick at your cheek.
“Good girl,” you whisper softly, scratching behind her ear.
“It’s late.”
You jump at the sudden voice, blinking up at Pete as he comes to stand behind you, hands buried in his jacket pockets. His face is void of expression like always, but something close to concern shines in his dark eyes.
“Everythin’ okay?”
“Brad’s dead.”
He doesn’t look surprised, and you don’t even bother to take notice, too busy turning back around and gently inhaling at the tip of your cigarette. He gives no words of sympathy and it doesn’t surprise you—he’d never been interested in holding conversations with Brad, instead fixing him with a glare and brushing past him.
“How’re you holdin’ up?”
You let his question settle, carefully deliberating your words and wondering just how honest you could be with him. You’d already gone through the various consolations from other neighbours, but with every new interaction, it felt more and more like an act, like you were forcing yourself to play the mourning girlfriend when in actuality you weren’t nearly as upset as you should be.
There’s no heartbreak, no sorrow. Any panic stems from suddenly finding yourself alone, overwhelmed with thoughts of what to do next. It was the first time in a long while you could think your own thoughts and make your own decisions without suffering punishments and it’s a shock to the system.
Does that make you a bad person? You frown at the ground, picking at the sleeve of your jacket.
“I’m devastated.”
The words hold no emotion.
Pete steps down the curb beside you, exhaling quietly when he lowers to sit next to you. He doesn’t say anything. He only gives you a look, a mere glance from the side of his eyes with a brow raising just the slightest millimetre and it’s enough to know that he’s calling you out on your bullshit.
You sigh, huffing in wry amusement. “Okay. That’s a lie. I don’t—I don’t feel anything. I feel something, but I’m trying to not acknowledge it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s not—I shouldn’t—” you sigh, frown deepening as you struggle for words. “It’s awful.”
Pete lets you work out your words, seemingly content to wait it out until you are ready. His arms open for Bullet, who jumps up against his chest and nips curiously at his beard.
“I’m not sad. At all. If anything, I feel… relief. And I know how that makes me sound—I’m awful, but I just—I get to come home and not worry about walking on eggshells. I don’t have to have my hair a certain way, I don’t have to watch my words, my breathing…”
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I know what he was doin’ to you both. I’m sorry you had to put up with that shit.”
A soft smile curls your lips.
“Thanks. Y’know, I used to believe the only way I’d leave that relationship was in a body bag—whether it was by his hand, or my own. That was my only out, and I made peace with that, but not anymore. I’m free.”
“Yeah you are.”
“He never used to be like that.” You crush the cigarette under your shoe, watching the remaining tobacco and paper smear over the ground. “He was nice—at the start. I suppose that’s how it always starts. I didn’t even realise what was happening. The first time he hit me, a few months in, he said it was because I drove him crazy, and that he loved me more than anything. You know what I said? I said sorry. Like it was my fault he hit me.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that. I’ve always known that deep down, but I don’t know… he just had this way of worming into my head. I made excuses. I said the wrong thing, I looked at him the wrong way, I breathed too heavily. He started taking my money, he kept me from my friends… I had no out. He always said he would find me if I ran. I just—I just lived with it.”
Silence fills the air and you breathe a sigh of relief at speaking your thoughts. It feels wonderfully freeing. You move your gaze to Pete, waiting until he turns his head to meet your gaze before smiling warmly.
“Thank you, Pete… for listening. I appreciate it.”
It’s barely there, but you see the way his face softens, his bearded cheeks creasing with what you expect is a small smile.
“I got you, sweetheart.”
—
It takes weeks, but eventually it happens. Your application for an apartment in the city is approved, and you buzz at the realisation that you’re leaving this all behind. You’ll be out of what you had called home for far too long, away from where you had cried and cowered and suffered. You’d be free of the shadow hanging over the apartment.
Thankfully your stuff doesn’t require too many boxes, so the trip can be made in one trip with just a cab. You’re packed and ready to go by lunchtime, Bullet waiting patiently in her new harness attached to the lead in your hand, and yet you wait. Your new keys rattle in your pocket, the promise of a new space free and untouched by memories of him swimming at the back of your mind, but you still wait, sitting on the curb with your few boxes stacked neatly next to you.
It’s Pete that keeps you hanging around your old apartment building. You didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. A propergoodbye, not some hastily scrawled note jammed under his door. You wanted to give him more than that, especially after all he’s done.
After that night, he made it a habit to check in whenever he was coming or going from his apartment. He stayed for only a few moments, but you were thankful for his efforts each and every time.
It’s when the sun starts to set that you see him coming, and you hurriedly stand, dusting your hands off on your pants.
“Hi,” you breathe, smiling as Bullet bounces around his feet.
“Hey,” he returns quietly, hands dug in the pockets of his jacket. “You get a place?”
“Yeah—an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.”
He huffs something close to a chuckle, chest briefly jumping with the force of it and he nods. “You’ll be safe there.”
“Because of that guy in a onesie? What’s his name? ‘Devilman’, or something.”
Pete snorts in amusement, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”
A bigger smile stretches his lips and the wide curve of it warms your chest. He doesn’t smile nearly as much as he should. It suits him. You find yourself grinning back, something stirring your stomach the longer he smiles at you.
“I wanted to say goodbye… y’know, before I left.”
His frown returns. “You were waitin’ for me? You didn’t need—”
“No, I know. I wantedto. I wanted to thank you, you’ve always been very kind to me. And I appreciate you being there for me these last few weeks. You mean a lot to me–I mean, everything you’ve done… it means a lot. I just wanted you to know that.”
Shifting on the spot, you drop your gaze to the floor and reach for the folded up bit of paper in your front pocket. The paper is smooth under your touch, and you brush a thumb over it before speaking.
“Uh, if you ever… I don’t know… want to talk, or catch up or something, this is my new cell number. I’d like to keep in touch. I—if you want, of course.”
You don’t know why, but you half expect him to ignore the small slip of paper you hold out to him, but instead he takes it carefully, dark eyes falling to cross over the numbers scrawled down before moving back to meet yours.
“Hey listen,” he starts, “I uh–I got a friend. He’s a real good guy. He does this group circle therapy thing—it’s for vets… but I can see if he knows anyone in the DV ring. It might be good for you.”
“Oh. Yeah, I’d… I’d actually really appreciate that. I wouldn’t know where to start with that kind of stuff.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. Um, well… okay. I guess I should get going.”
You take a small deliberate step forward, making your next move absolutely clear should he want to move away. He doesn’t. You curl your arms around his thick torso, breathing in the scent of his jacket and holding your breath when you feel him start to shift in your hold.
Careful arms wrap around your back, keeping you tucked into his chest and you hide a smile, enjoying the way your heart thuds heavily against your chest. You keep close, tilting your head back to place a soft kiss of thanks to his cheek.
The moment holds, and you can’t help but linger, lips ghosting the corner of his mouth. Your eyes shyly roll up to catch his, briefly wondering if this was too close or pushing any boundaries. His eyes move over your face, flicking between your eyes in uncertainty before he tips his head the slightest towards yours, his lips pressing carefully against yours.
A hand cups your cheek, his palm hot from where it had been stashed in his pocket, and it warms your cool skin, the rough feel of it sending a pleasant shock along your nerves. Thoughts dissolve from your mind, the worry at potentially ruining whatever close little relationship you had developed with him fizzing out with the brush of his beard.
The kiss is soft, hesitant, but slowly builds in pressure with the longer you stay pressed up against him. It lasts only a moment, Pete gently pulling away to break the kiss but he stays close, keeping his hand curled tenderly over your cheek as his nose brushes yours.
“Thank you for everything, Pete.” You whisper softly, fingers tightening their hold on his jacket.
“Frank.”
You frown in confusion, watching his eyes open and carefully meet yours.
“My name’s Frank.”
“Frank.” You murmur, feeling how it sits on your tongue. You don’t care to know the details. Maybe one day he’d tell you why. You smile, “It suits you much better than Pete.”
A slow grin pulls at his lips. “You think so?”
“Mhm. Well… don’t be a stranger, Frank. And take care, okay?”
His eyes roll over your face before he softly delivers one last final kiss to your lips, voice gruff as his words melt into your lips. “Yes ma’am.”
cw/tw: mentions of erection, explicit (18+), female reader
summary: some turn ons for some marvel men
ft. Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Bucky Barnes, (request more if you would like other characters)
Steven Grant:
Wearing your hair up.
There’s something about the way your nape and collarbones are completely exposed that ignites a burn of desire deep in his stomach.
The need to press his lips and run his tongue along the bare skin chews away at his sanity. The moment you walk out of the bathroom, a cute sun dress and hair up into a French bun, clipped back with the pastel butterfly clip he got for you last week, he’s stunned.
“Babe!” You squeal the moment you feel his lips against your neck, sucking gently on the skin as his hands anchor at your hips. “You’re going to leave a mark.”
“You’re so lovely.” Steven presses a few kisses against the harsh, throbbing mark, “My pretty girl. I can’t help it.”
And as he presses his hips against your own to feel just how pretty he really thinks you are, you soon realize you’re going to miss your reservations.
Matt Murdock
After the shower
Honestly, he really doesn’t know what it is about it. With his heightened senses he could practically hear the water droplets grazing across your skin, gathering in the crevices of your collar bones and dripping to the floor.
Not to mention the smell, behind the lavender and flowers is the natural scent of you. It could be the comfort it brings or the familiarity but he’s hard before you can even step out of the shower. He waits at the edge of the bed, facing the door as it opens.
“Hi babe,” he’s still dressed in his suit, tie pulled from his collar before answering, “Hi baby.”
But before you can move another muscle, his hand finds your towel and pulls it from your body before pulling you into the bed.
Frank Castle
Wearing his clothes
Seeing you in his clothes does something to Frank. Maybe it’s because is scent is all over them or the fact that you without a doubt are completely his.
No matter the case, he always leaves a shirt or pair of pajama pants out with the hope you’ll see it and decide to throw them on.
Frank had been away for a mission for a few days. It’s normal for him to cut communication for the sake of not only the mission but the safety as you. Typically he calls you before coming home but didn’t bother.
Imagine his surprise when he walks into your shared home when you’re stirring a pot of noodles in nothing but his shirt. He leans against the door frame, admiring as the hem of the shirt rises and rises as you bend down to open the oven and peak inside.
His throat dries instantly at the realization that you’re not wearing panties. Just like that you’re wrapped in strong arms, kisses pressing against your nape as you feel the line of his erection against your lower back.
Bucky Barnes
Your lips
Bucky loves your lips. The softness and feeling he gets every time he touches them or kisses them he is filled with more love than he ever thought was possible.
But now, watching as you smile and giggle at the ladies that surround you, he wants nothing more than to take you home and smear the plum colored lipstick you just bought.
He leans against the bar, ignoring the bartender who asks if he wants a drink. All he can do is stare at you. While it did take some convincing to get him to this party, the moment he saw you and that damn lipstick he suddenly didn’t want to do anymore.
He lets out a troubled breath as you make eye contact with him from across the room, sucking in your bottom lip and winking - you were doing this on purpose.
summary: Moments in which he calls you his sweet girl.
Ft. Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle
and currently taking requests for preference topics such as this one, please include characters you would like :)
Steven Grant (mentions of Marc)
Steve can’t help the way his heart pounds inside his chest. Along with the warmness that fills his cheek, makes his hand clamy.
So beautiful and unbelievably soft. Watching the way your chest falls into a shallow pattern of breathing. Mouth slightly ajar as you cuddle the pillow closer in your sleep.
After canceling your date due to business involving Marc, the last thing he expected was to find you in his apartment, asleep on his couch.
A slight frown fills his feature rather quickly when noticing your hair done up and more makeup than usually. A darker color lipstick slightly snugging at the corner of your lips.
With a guilty heart he sighs, all of this just for him to cancel? He licks his thumb before reaching forward to wipe the corner of your lips. The weight of his finger makes your eyes flutter, a lazy smile matches yours.
“Hi, you look beautiful.” Guilty eyes moving closer and closer until the warmth of his lips press into your cheek, “I’m sorry I canceled, you put so much effort in.”
“’S okay,” it’s cute the way your word’s slur, “Just wanted to see you.”
Steven smiles for what seems like the nth time this day, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into his chest. Nuzzling his nose against the smooth strands of hair, mumbling the words, “My sweet girl.”
Matt Murdock
Matt lets out a deep sigh, pulling his tie away from his collar but not before a certain scent catches his nose. He can’t help but tilt his head and breath deeply.
Almost instantly there is a rare smile filling his features. He texted you hours ago, it was nothing more than a 'having a horrible day, thinking of you.’
What he didn’t expect was you cooking his favorite meal of his day to cook. Ever since retiring and swearing the whole daredevil off, he began to find new ways to fill his time such as cooking.
And absolutely is terrible at, despite the lessons and following recipes but you always end up kissing his cheek and thanking him despite the fact it was burnt to bits and not edible.
“Tell me you did not spend all day cooking this for me.” Matt leans against the kitchen counter with a look of annoyance but he was anything but.
“It’s just lasagna, anyways, you said you had a bad day, I wanted to make it better.” Not bothering to look back as you continue to mix the salad but before you could even mutter another word, two large arms wrap around your waist. Matt hunches over but just enough to rest his head against the back of your neck and press a soft kiss there.
“I love you so much - you’re so -,” he pauses for a second before continuing, “My sweet, sweet girl.”
Frank Castle
The moment Frank turned the corner of the busy street and didn’t see you walking in front of him anymore, he of course, assumed the worst.
Heart beating a mile a minute as he surveys the area, looking for one glimpse of that red, winter coat to soothe his panic.
“Did you see a woman in a red coat?” He panics, asking every person who passes him but the majority deny or ignore him.
“Damn it,” he whispers under his breath, how could he even let you out of his sight? He knows how many enemies he has, how many people would crush you in order to get to the ex-punisher.
In a quick 360 around the block, there is a quick swish of red. Between his heavy breaths and the brutal New York winter he can barely make it out but catches sight of you rather quickly. Down a sketchy alley that smells of trash, footprint in the snow lead him to you.
Crouch to the side of the dumpster, talking softly but Frank doesn’t even give himself a second to think before grasping your shoulder. “Why did you run away like that?” He’s angry, voice raising with every word. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Frank, I’m sorry, I’m okay.” Heart filling with guilt as you find the bewildered expression across his face, he was scared. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was thinking straight, I saw this dog and it’s snowing and so cold and - puppies.”
He takes the time to finally realize what you’re petting; a blue nosed pit with a wagging tail, the mama dog having four little puppies suckling from her stomach. He watches as you frown, “I’m worried, the storm is only going to get worse.”
Frank can’t help but crack a smile at his pretty girl, “I’m sorry for yelling,” He reaches forward to press his fingers against your cheek, “My sweet girl, you have a beautiful heart.”
Frank turns his attention back to the mama dog, petting her head softly, “Hi girl, you’re a good girl huh?” He starts to pick the puppies up, handing them over to you one at a time before affectionately tapping the dogs behind, “C'mon mama, my girl is too sweet to leave you out here - thata girl.” He looks up at you with soft eyes, “Let’s go home, we have some babies to warm.”
Part 5 of the omega Fratt x alpha Reader fic! How does the pack react during ruts and heats? Also involving the formal inclusion of MK and Layla into the pack. And also, how does Hell’s Kitchen protect it’s beloved Devil? Enjoy <3
Heats and ruts weren’t necessarily sexual. It increased a need for intimacy- of comfort. And it amplified the inner secondary gender’s control over the self. Which meant alphas were typically more aggressive than usual whilst omegas were more needy in terms of affection.
Due to the previous effects of the drugs, you had suppressed your ruts for years- and you knew. You knew that you would hurt Matt and Frank- and Peter too if you were too close to them. You could have handled it if Matt didn’t go into his first heat- that was a completely unexpected turn of events- You were under the impression that omegas went into heat when they felt completely safe and that alphas went into ruts in situations of intense emotion filled situations.
But you should have known that Matt wouldn’t go down the typical route- his inner omega was probably as confused as he was-
The first thing you had done the moment the three of you arrived home was to lock yourself in one of the spare rooms- completely ignoring how the two of them called out your name, no matter how much it broke your heart.
“He’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks,” Bruce reassured you just outside the private room Frank was in. “The ribs aren’t broken but severely bruised can’t say the same for his nose; that’s broken pretty well. There’re several lacerations that I stitched up but he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, doc,” You whisper, patting his shoulder before slipping into the room. “Good news, you’ll live,” you tell Frank.
“I’m gonna kill myself if I have to stay here the full two weeks,” Frank snarls.
“I ought to chain you to the bed after the stunt you pulled,” You snarled back, pulling a chair up to his bed.
“You should have seen yourself, baby. You were downright miserable. I was doing everyone a favor by going to get him,” Frank shoots back.
“Only you didn’t get him. Did you?” You ask, tilting your head. “You got caught and had the shit kicked out of you. I still haven’t heard a thank you for risking the tide of the war to come save your ass,” Frank glass huffing and buffing like a child. “Fine, you’re not ready for that, I get it. You’d have to admit you were wrong for going by yourself and you’re too much of a child,” You snapped standing up. “I have a kingdom - no - I have two kingdoms to run now. So, maybe I should be thanking you for forcing my hand,”
You spun around and marched for the door. You didn’t want to argue with him, but Frank always brought out the fiery side of yourself. At this point it was like arguments was your personal love language.
“Thank you,” Frank whispers before you could reach the door. You pause. “And I’m sorry but please don’t leave,”
You took a calming breath before turning back to him. Just like that Frank’s big eyes pulled you back in. You gravitated towards him and took a seat on the bed by his legs.
“I appreciate what you tried to do,” You whisper, rubbing his thigh. “But for the love of God don’t ever do something like that again. I don’t care if you’re risking your life to save my omega. I won’t trade one for the other. You’re just as important,” You stress. “You’re not worth less then Matt. Don’t risk it again,”
“Matt’s pack,” Frank mutters. “It wasn’t just for you,” You smirked feeling your heart swell. “It was mainly for you but not just,” Frank adds, averting his gaze as his vulnerable side comes out.
“He’ll love you,” You whisper, leaning over to kiss his forehead. He wasn’t having that though. He grabs the back of your head and lowers you to his lips. You smirk giving him what he wants. “Get some rest, baby,” You whisper to him pulling back. He growls clawing at you, but you slip from his grasp. “Be a good boy and stay in bed,”
“I’m not staying here for two weeks,” He points at you. You doubted he’d stay there for two more hours.
“Good boys get rewarded,” You wink at him. His growl turns into a long groan. You laugh sliding out of the room. You walk up to Bruce. “If he gives you too much trouble send him to my room,”
“Of course, your majesty,” Bruce bows.
“Oh, and make sure he doesn’t try to climb out the window,” You add. Bruce raises his eyebrows at you, and you shrug. “He’s ornery like that,” You shrug.
“I’ll make Nat watch over him,” Bruce says. You hum thinking about it.
“That’s a confrontation I’d like to see,” You whisper. “Do what you will. I trust you,” You reassure him before leaving the hospital wing.
Before you go to find Matt, you decide to get some work done. You haven’t been back long, and you knew that after everything that’s happened, he would need time to adjust. Plus, you were nervous to see him.
“Ugh, we’ve been at this for hours,” Yelena complains.
“We’re ending a war, of course there’s a lot to do,” You mumble.
“Didn’t expect so much paperwork,” Yelena added grumpily. “Look, the war’s been going on for years. You really expect to finish all this in one night?” You sigh rubbing your face. “Go to Matt, my king, please,” Yelena pleads. “And let the rest of us get some down time,” You let out a soft laugh before nodding.
“Go home, Yelena,”
“Yes,” She hisses standing up. You smirk watching her practically sprint from the room. You clean up around you before tracking your mate. You had given him his own room thinking he’d like his own space but when you got there he was nowhere to be found and neither was his guard.
Growling you begin to search for him a little more frantically until you found his guard outside your room. You march up to them and they straighten up.
“Leave us,” You order before entering your room. When you close the door behind you spot Matt climbing in through the window. He drops to the floor breathing heavily.
“Hi,” Matt greets.
“Great,” You sigh walking over to your minifridge. “Now I have two escape artists to keep track of,” You grab a water and toss it to Matt. The blind man doesn’t flinch and catches it without worry. He sends you a sly grin. “I have a lot to learn about you, don’t I?” He lets out a small laugh and chugs his water.
“How’s Frank?” Matt asks. The subtle concern in his voice brings a smile to your face.
“He’ll live,” You promise. “Although, I suspect he’s anywhere but the castle at the moment,”
“You didn’t tell me you had bonded someone,” Matt brings up.
“Well, I was a little distracted when I met you,” you told him, slowly closing the gap. “I’m sorry if me bonding Frank hurts you,” You whisper softly.
“It doesn’t,” Matt shakes his head. “Surprisingly,” He adds with a small laugh. “I met him when Fisk took him,”
“Did you jump each other’s bones?” You ask, greedy for information. Matt laughs loudly.
“Didn’t get the chance but he smells…” Matt breathes in deeply. Frank’s scent wasn’t fresh in the room, but it was lingering. His plus your fragrance was a perfect perfume.
“It’s like we were all destined,” You smirk. Matt nods with a small hum.
You had kept some distance wanting to respect Matt, but he was tired of it. He nuzzled into your neck and your arms wrapped around him instantly. You purr holding him close.
“Did you not like the room I gave you?” You ask him. He hums but doesn’t give you a straight answer. “If you prefer this one, then it’s yours,” Matt smiles, rubbing his head against yours as he leans back. “Whatever’s mine is yours,”
“I just want to be wherever you are,” Matt whispers. You couldn’t stop the stupid grin from forming on your face even if you wanted too. “Is there anyone else in our pack?” Matt wonders, keeping his head pressed against yours. You frown your eyebrows and slowly shake your head.
“No. It’s just the three of us,” You mutter. You lightly run your fingers against his jawline. “What is it?” You ask softly.
“It’s just… My senses are more… enhanced than regular omegas. Smell, sounds, touch,” He whispers, gripping your hips. “Are all dialed up,”
“These are my chambers. I tend to have meetings here with some of my council. If this is to be your nest then I’ll move the meetings,” You promise him.
“This scent,” Matt pulls away from you, looking towards the closet. “I can’t describe it,” Your heart plummets as everything clicks. Matt’s head snaps back to you. “What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Nothing,” You whisper, grabbing his hands. “There used to be another member but… they’re gone,”
“Gone,” Matt mutters. You sigh hoping Frank wouldn’t be angry at you for sharing this.
“Her name was Maria. She was Frank’s wife when I met them,” You explain sitting at the table. Matt takes a seat on your lap making you grin and cuddle into him. “She was working in the castle. We instantly clicked and when I met Frank the three of us were always together. She was pack but I felt more for Frank. She approved of me courting him after I vowed to take care of her as well. I bonded with Frank and never once suggested Maria go somewhere else.
“We had to be careful. Nobody could know of our relationship because of me being the princess. Only a select few knew. I’m sure more people know now but they just have the decency to turn the other way.
“Maria eventually had two beautiful children. I loved them as fiercely as Frank and Maria loved them. They were our children. I couldn’t risk getting pregnant with his kids. A scandal like that while we’re on the brink of a war? It would destroy us.
“Things were tense but none of us expected a battle right here. A group of Fisk’s men breached the castle. By the time I found them…” You voice fades as tears come to your eyes. Matt rubs his head against yours while tightening his grip around you. “We lost all three of them,” You whimpered.
That night. The night Maria, Lisa, and Frankie Jr. died was the night your father declared war. You rarely had time to mourn before being thrown into battle strategy and the most intense political moves you’ve experienced.
“I almost lost Frank with them,” You added with even more vulnerability. Your heart was shattered when the three members of your pack died but you wouldn’t have a heart left if Frank didn’t come back to you. “He blamed me for their deaths. Being princess, I have power and recourses yet none of that mattered. I wasn’t there, I couldn’t protect them,”
“That’s bullshit,” Frank grumbles grunting as he climbs in through the window. Your head snaps over to him. You growl annoyed knowing he was deliberately annoying you by climbing through the window.
A second later Natasha bursts into the room. Matt’s growling defensively not knowing Nat nor liking her barging into the room he’s already designated as his nest. You huff already feeling a headache coming on. You settle Matt with some light purring and a couple of soft kisses before looking at Natasha.
“I’ve got it Nat, go home,” You mutter. She bows before throwing a fierce glare at Frank who just smirks and waves. You growl at him threateningly which wipes the smirk off his face and puts it on Nat’s. She throws a wink at him before leaving.
Matt reluctantly stands allowing you to walk over to Frank. You help him straighten up before promptly checking his bandages. Frank lets you for a couple of moments before grabbing your hands and kissing your forehead.
“I never blamed you,” He mutters against your forehead. You sighed not believing him. He pulls you into his chest and engulfs you in his arms. His scent surrounds you slowly helping you relax. “I was angry and sometimes I took it out on you but never once did I blame you,” He whispers.
It wasn’t the best time for you two. You couldn’t comfort him or be a good alpha due to your overwhelming responsibilities for the war and your own grief. Frank turned his grief to rage and took it out on the criminals and anyone who was affiliated with Fisk.
It was only when he spent three weeks in the hospital because of how injured he was did you step in. The two of you were just torturing yourselves. You needed each other. The bond was already fracturing and if it continued it would destroy both of you beyond repair.
A moment later you feel Matt pressing against your back. Frank’s arms adjust to hold him as well. The three of you move to the bed keeping Matt in the middle of you both. You and Frank had comforted each other numerous times over the matter but now you had Matt. With him the both of you were beginning to feel complete again.
Matt laid on his back with Frank on his side nuzzling into Matt’s neck. You were on your side as well pressed into Matt, but you kept your head up to be able to look at them both.
“What were they like?” Matt asks softly.
You and Frank had so many stories to tell. One after the other fell from your lips. The three of you laughed and smiled at most of them. You explained everything in vivid detail to help him visualize in his mind.
You knew if Maria was alive, she would have been right beside Frank in his decision to go get Matt. Only she would have clued you in and made it to where the three of you went on the mission. She always wanted what was best for you two and it was as clear as day that Matt was pack.
Slowly, the talking came to a stop. You and Frank both fell quiet basking in the comfortable silence. Before you knew it both of your mates were fast asleep. They both were nursing injuries and needed their rest.
You couldn’t bear to take your eyes off of them. You finally had them both together in the safety of your room. The war is over. Everything was falling into place.
You were trepidatious. If history taught, you anything peace never lasted. If Maria had taught, you anything it was that the people you love could always be taken from you. You could advocate for peace and fight tooth and nail for the ones you love but in the end it wouldn’t matter. War is inevitable and nobody could defeat death.
You wondered how long you would have them. Frank didn’t make it easy. He picked fights and never ran from one. Something told you that Matt was the same exact way.
Even though there is peace there is still tension. There are many in Fisk’s kingdom that aren’t happy with the change in authority. They’d hate it even more when you begin to break up the kingdom and spread the wealth to your allies. You are certain uprises would happen and prayed you’d squash them quickly.
To help appease the people you knew you needed to crown Matt quickly. He would be in the public eye - your male omega queen. A lot of people wouldn’t be happy about that just like they weren’t happy with a female alpha king. You didn’t have to please everyone, but you had to make them comfortable enough to not act against you.
Matt would make a good queen, you knew it. From the little you’ve seen of him you’ve seen his kindness and compassion for the people. You’ve seen his determination to bring law and justice in a corrupt kingdom.
If the people didn’t love him immediately then they would learn to love him when they see him in action. He isn’t the typical omega. He’ll be very hands on in every matter - not just matters deemed necessary for him.
You knew there was so much more to Matt than being prince, omega, and your queen. Where was he coming from when you entered earlier? What was he doing? And how can he seem to see so much despite being blind?
With your luck he probably has more in common with Frank than you realize. You shudder at the thought of having another quote unquote vigilante as your mate.
Having two vigilantes as mates isn’t good for your image. Everyone knows Frank is the Punisher, but the people don’t know he’s your chosen. Only some of your council and court members know who he is to you. There had been rumors of your relationship when Maria was alive floating around the kingdom, but they died with her. Once she died you and Frank were never seen together in public again. From then on, your relationship was strictly private.
If word gets out that you two have been together all this time, that you mated the Punisher and allowed him to commit those crimes while not only under your father’s rule but your own as well? There would be chaos and mutiny in every corner. Criminals would be crying for release; officers of peace would wonder what the point of their job is, and citizens might follow in the Punisher’s footsteps thinking that if he could get away with it then so though they.
Lord help you if Matt is found out as well (because at this point you almost certain that he is a vigilante). You’d be dethroned, arrested and most likely beheaded. If you weren’t killed then your mates certainly would.
You growled at the mere thought of everything collapsing around you leading to the death of your mates. You would fight to the death to keep them safe. You didn’t care if Natasha or any of your close friends stood in your way. You’d slaughter them all just so that Matt and Frank could breathe for one more day.
Soft lips on the underside of your chin brought you out of your spiraling. Only then did you realize you were still growling and had a death grip wrapped around Matt as well as on Frank’s arm. Your eyes glanced at Frank; your chosen was sleeping like the dead, his injuries taking more out of him than he’d admit.
Matt, however, was wide awake. His quiet purr was slowly cutting through your rough growling. The more you come out of your head the looser you hold your lovers. You take a couple of deep breaths. Matt’s perfume wraps around you like a comforting blanket.
Gently, Matt pushes on your shoulder. You let him push you onto your back and watch as he moves on top of you. He rests his weight on your body and nuzzles into your neck, his purring intensifying.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” You whisper, lightly massaging his back hoping you didn’t bruise him. Matt simply kisses your neck before lightly scenting you.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Matt asks, sounding a little groggy. You sigh slowly.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” You promise. “Go to sleep,” You urge.
“You need sleep too,” Matt mutters, sliding on the opposite side of the bed. You watch him, frowning your eyebrows when he starts pushing you only to realize he’s trying to get you closer to Frank.
Complying with his wishes, you move so you’re squeezed between the two of them. Frank instinctively wraps his arm around your waist and tucks you into his chest. Your eyes close and you snuggle into his chest. Matt slides up behind you pressing as close as he can.
“Sleep, sweetheart,” Matt mutters.
You knew you had a lot of work to do to dissect all the problems and find the solutions but as you lay there, in between Matt and Frank, you couldn’t help but to be lulled into a peaceful dreamland.
Summary: You take extreme measures to get your mates back.
Warnings: angst, death, a little fluff
Reader: Alpha Female Reader
Pairings: Beta Frank x Alpha Reader x Omega Matt
Word Count: 3021
A/n:Guess who’s writing a part four!!!! Let me know if you want to be added/subtracted from the tag list!
Also! I just want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for all the reblogs/comments. I love the compliments; it truly means so much to me. So thank you everyone for you support for this mini series. I love you all and I wouldn’t be writing this without your support.
“You know where he is,” You state, standing by the window in your chamber. Natasha is standing by the door shifting her weight.
“Surveillance shows that he was headed for Fisk’s kingdom,” Natasha informs you. “He would have arrived about four hours ago,”
“Fuck,” You grumble under your breath.
“I believe his reasoning was-”
“I know his reasoning,” You hiss cutting her off.
Never have you doubted Frank Castle’s love for you. He’s proven it a multitude of times. Now, the crazy man has entered Fisk’s territory by himself to get Matt simply because you were missing him.
Although, missing him is a bit of an understatement. You were showing signs of becoming feral. You’d never get to the point where you’d be fully feral - you knew this - but it seemed too much for Frank to just watch.
It’s been nearly a month since you met Matt. You needed him with you. Your instincts were on haywire. You were normally a balanced person but recently you were becoming more alpha than woman. You were starting to get reckless in your desperation to get your omega back. You weren’t thinking things through.
You were thankful to have a council you could trust. They helped you stay in charge. They helped you stay on the winning side of this war instead of throwing everything away for a quick battle. You had to be strategic. You couldn’t win with brute force, not against Fisk.
“What are the odds they’re out?” You ask her. Natasha is hesitant.
“With Franks skill level and knowledge… If we don’t hear from him in another four hours…” Her voice falls off with a soft sigh.
“My marks are all over him, Nat,” You whisper.
“I know,” Natasha says.
You marked Frank where he could easily hide them. If someone were to see them and inspect them, they’d quickly be able to connect the dots that he’s bound to you. Fisk knows what your scent smells like. One look at the mark and your fragrance mixed with Frank’s musk will be enough to paint a picture for Fisk.
Fisk might not know the level of desperation you feel towards Matt, but he will with Frank. If Frank’s captured, he knows you’ll do anything to get him back. Anything. Only you didn’t want to wait that long. You weren’t going to wait until Fisk had Frank and a plan to use him against you.
“Send Yelena,” you tell her. “Recon only. I want to know Frank’s status… and Matt’s. We’ll move behind her. I won’t risk losing them both. Within the next two days I want Fisk’s head on a platter and his lands as my own,” you snarl.
“I’ll put everything in motion,” Natasha bows before leaving the room.
You weren’t a king that allowed everyone to do your dirty work. Yes, so far, you’ve managed to stay out of the battlefield but now things were personal. You didn’t trust anybody else with the lives of your mates.
You packed your bag and prepared to infiltrate Fisk’s territory. You sent out messages to your allies warning them of what was about to go down but stayed on the vague side. You didn’t want someone blabbing your plan to the wrong people.
“Is this everyone?” You ask, Natasha standing in front of a line filled with men and women.
“I figured you’d want a small party. We’ll be able to sneak in with fewer numbers as well as keeping our forces here to defend the castle,”
You hum and step closer to the line. In front of you stood Scott Lang, Hope Dyne, Maria Hill, Sam Wilson, and Clint Barton. You would meet Yelena on the road.
“This will do,” You nodded. The seven of you then climbed into the long van. Clint put it in gear and began to drive towards Fisk’s kingdom.
While on the way you began to plan your attack. You put Clint and Sam on the perimeter. Clint would find his scouting point and call out routes while protecting the back entrance. Sam would fly around the building, and further out if he had too, and try to prevent support from coming to Fisk.
You assigned Hope and Scott as a search and rescue. Once you get the recon information from Yelena, they will use that to track down Frank and Matt. Whether they work together or separately you leave up to them. You made it clear that the instant they find your mates they’re to bring them directly to you so that you can see them safely to the car.
Natasha and Maria’s job is to take out as many of Fisk’s men as possible. You wanted all his true loyalist out of the way. You didn’t want any problems to arise when you relieved Fisk’s shoulders of his head.
When you meet up with Yelena, she’s to aid you in the finding, capture, and removal of Wilson Fisk.
“Any questions?” You ask. Scott opens his mouth. “None? Good.”
You meet up with Yelena about ten miles from the Fisk’s castle.
“Fisk has them both,” Yelena mutters to you. “I couldn’t tell where in the castle they are, but I would guess in the lower levels. They’re not together, Fisk is keeping them separate. If he hasn’t figured out about the markings then he will soon,” Yelena explains.
“Where’s the easiest point of access?” You ask.
“Honestly? The front door,” she tells you. “They get visitors, random people, all the time. All we have to do is walk right in,”
“Perfect,” You mutter. “You and I will go through the front. Natasha and Maria, I want you going in through the back in case we get stopped. You’ll take Hope and Scott with you. Immediately go to the lower levels then split to do your separate jobs. Where’s the best vantage point for Clint?”
“This building. It covers not only the back but the East wall as well,” Yelena describes.
“Clint and Sam, gather your things. You’ll depart first. Sam, stay with Clint until all of us are inside. I don’t want you spotted too soon. Once I’m inside and in place I’ll give you the signal,”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam nods leaving the table with Clint.
“Now, where’s Fisk?” You ask.
“He’s got a lot of heat with him. It won’t be easy, but he’ll be here. It’s his war room. I reckon there’ll be roughly six others with him; four I know will put up a decent fight,” Yelena states. “But we can take them, easy,” she says confidently. You smirk at her.
“What do you know about them?”
“What do I know about them?” Yelena scoffs. “And if I’m not your top informant,” You just smirk and wait for her slide show. She turns the computer towards you with a file pulled up. “Maya Lopez. She’s deaf but very skilled in hand-to-hand. She’s gone up against Clint and Kate a few times. I do think we can turn her against Fisk, her loyalty to him is already fractured. She suspects he’s killed her father but doesn’t have solid proof,”
“Do we?” You ask.
“Why do you doubt us?” Natasha asks, pushing an iPad over to you. You scroll through the evidence. “When do you want us to send it?”
“When we infiltrate the building. I want her to see it and wrap her head around it by the time Yelena and I enter the room,” You decide.
“The second woman goes by the name Elektra Natchios. She’s a skilled assassin. Has quite the rap RAP sheet. She’s the only one I would say we would struggle getting past. She has a weakness, however. One that might already have her on our side,” Yelena mentions.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” You ask, crossing your arms.
“Because you’re not going to like this,” Yelena states, swiping to a picture of Elektra and Matt. The two were too close to be friends. You couldn’t help but to growl and glare at the picture.
“Was he marked when you met him?” Natasha asks. Your growl becomes more vicious, and you send a glare her way.
“No, he wasn’t marked,” You snarl. Natasha bows her head and steps back. You huff and look back at the picture.
“I’m sure Matt told her about you. If she sees you moving against Fisk and she cares about Matt, she’ll join us,” Yelena says.
“Or she’ll try to kill me in an attempt to keep Matt to herself,” You snip.
“Stick?” You deadpan. She hums and shows him to you.
“Despite being blind he trained Elektra and rumored to have trained Matt as well. He’s another concern but if Elektra is on our side she can handle him,” she says confidently.
“And if she isn’t?” You ask.
“Really wish you woulda brought another pair of hands with you,” Yelena says giving you a sarcastic grin. You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.
“And the last one?” You ask.
“Someone I’m sure you’ll be happy to be reunited with,” Yelena says showing you, his picture. You snarl.
“Rumlow?” Natasha asks. “Didn’t we kill him like two years ago?”
“Apparently not,” Yelena states. “I don’t consider him much of a threat,” She shrugs, and you agree.
“Alright. I want to move in tonight. I don’t want to wait. Get prepared, we leave in three hours. Clint and Sam, you leave in two!” You shout toward them. The simply give you a thumbs up.
Three hours later you and Yelena are making your way to the front entrance. Everyone’s checking in through the coms. Clint and Sam are in their positions are the southeast building. Natasha and Maria were able to disguise themselves as staff to sneak into the rear entrance with Hope and Scott on their shoulders.
Two minutes ago, Maya received a text with all the incriminating evidence against Fisk. If you plan it right she’ll turn right when you make your entrance. You doubt she’ll move against Fisk on her own but with you and Yelena? Fisk is as good as dead.
“I want to be informed the instant they’re both found,” You mutter under your breath.
“Copy,” Hope and Scott reply.
“Alright, Yelena and I made it through,” You tell the others.
“Just like I said,” Yelena mutters.
“Maria and I are making our way to the basement,” Natasha informs you.
“Where’s Fisk’s war room?” You ask Yelena. She wordlessly leads you.
Without having to tell each other the plan, the two of you momentarily separate. You pick up a stumble as you head towards the door.
“Ma’am, you’re not allowed over here. Private access only,” The broad man warns.
“Oh! Silly me!” You giggle falling into his arms. “My mistake,” you whisper a moment before Yelena comes up behind him. She rips him away and down to her level. Into the adjacent closet they go. With a swift twist, his neck is broke. Nobody wanted to risk guards waking up. No prisoners tonight.
Yelena snatched his badge allowing you both into the private access. You both make it down two hallways before you’re stopped. Needing to release some energy you take the first one.
Wanting to move quickly you don’t bother playing mind games with him. You use his height and weight against him quickly taking him to the ground. You retract a small knife from it’s holster and slide it across his neck leaving him to bleed out.
You pick up a jog to reach Yelena - who’s handling two men. You slip past her and take the oncoming guards. You both work together to get to the war room quickly. You try to keep quiet, but someone blows the alarm. When surprise is thrown out the window you send Sam into action while the two of you pull out your guns and open fire.
“This way!” Yelena shouts and you quickly follow her. “It’s locked,” She growls, trying the access card but it isn’t a high enough clearance. Unwilling to check everyone for their cards you muster up your frustration, desperation, and anger before kicking the door off its hinges.
“Hello!” You greet sarcastically while entering the room. “Fisk, darling, you never responded to my proposal,” You smirked. “Figured I’d come to hear it for myself,”
By the time you’re finished talking Brock Rumlow had reached you. The dumbass never laid a finger on you. Yelena sprung from behind you and sent a bullet between his eyes.
The second opponent, Stick, wouldn’t be easily killed. You trusted Yelena with that, although you knew if she couldn’t put him down soon she’d need assistance.
You took a few steps closer but was stopped a third time by Maya. You didn’t raise your weapons nor try to fight her. You just stared into her eyes and waited. Apparently, she saw what she needed too and slowly nodded before stepping out of the way. She turns to stand beside you against Fisk.
Between you and him is a woman. It’s Elektra. You’re more tense when facing her. You don’t raise your gun but you’re gripping it and ready to strike should she move against you.
With a great amount of speed, Elektra raises one of her Twin Sai’s and launches it at you. You duck out of the way and prepare to shoot her when you hear a rough groan. Turning your head, you see the weapon lodged in Stick’s back. You look back at Elektra to see her marking past you and straight for him.
You straighten up and notice Maya moving to Fisk. The man has the decency to look nervous. He’s typing away on his pad but nothing will save him.
“Stop!” Fisk shouts, standing from his chair and moving away from Maya. Only when Frank and Matt are shoved into the room on their knees does everyone freeze. Guns are pointed at their heads. “Now, I am walking out of here alive,” He states.
You ignore him and take in the appearance of your mates. Frank is beaten up pretty good. You can hear him wheezing and struggling to stay upright. He’ll need immediate medical attention. Matt is a little better but not much. He’s still bruised and wounded but nothing that won’t heal within a couple of weeks.
“You got them?” You ask. Fisk looks at you.
Simultaneously, the two men holding guns at Matt and Frank begin to groan and crumble in on themselves before falling to the ground unconscious. A moment later Hope and Scott return to normal size.
“We got them,” Hope states, nodding to you. Your head then turns to Fisk.
“You were saying?” You ask, tilting your head. Before he could respond Maya went after him. You turned towards Yelena, Stick and Elektra allowing Maya to get her frustrations out.
Yelena gives you a small nod assuring you Stick is dead. You then look to Elektra wondering if you would have to continue fighting for Matt.
One look at you and Elektra knew you would fight her until death for him. You weren’t willing to share him. As hypocritical as that is it’s different when there’s more than one alpha in a pack. One of the alphas would have to submit to the other or else there’d be chaos. Neither you nor Elektra would submit to the other. It would destroy your pack.
You’re king and Matt is your true mate. You have a high claim on him than she does. Besides, you didn’t know it, but her and Matt hadn’t been together romantically for years. Even their friendship was strained. They’d always care and even love each other but their time was over. As much as Elektra would love to find out how skilled you are against her, she backs out of the challenge allowing you to have an open claim on Matt.
With that settled, you look back at Fisk and Maya. Fisk is on his knees and Maya is breathing heavily. She looks a little tossed about, but she was backing away from him.
“So, a house in the middle of nowhere it is then, huh?” Fisk asks laughing.
“That was before,” You stated calmly.
“Before?” Fisk asks. You pull your knife back out and thrust it into his throat. Blood instantly squirts over your arm and covers your hand.
“Before you laid your hands on my mates,” You whisper, twisting the blade before swiping it to the side. You lean back and kick Fisk to the ground. “I want this castle burned to the fucking ground,”
“We can arrange that,” Yelena smirks disappearing. You turn to Maya and give her a nod. She returns it before leaving as well.
You don’t acknowledge Elektra knowing she would most likely want to talk to Matt. You’d allow it but not before seeing him yourself.
When you look at them all the tension begins to seep from your body. You go to them like a magnet. Your left arm wraps firmly, yet gently not wanting to hurt his ribs, around Frank while your right arm does the same to Matt. Their heads instantly go to your neck. The rub their scents on you while you take turns doing the same to them.
“I’m so glad you’re both safe,” You whisper, tightening your grip.
“You came just in time, baby,” Frank huffs. You nip at his shoulder in annoyance.
“We’ll talk about your actions later,” You growled. He just smirks and nips your neck in retaliation. You roll your eyes and turn to Matt. “Hello, love,” He huffs before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get you,”
“You’re hear now,” He whispers.
“I won’t force you, Matt, but I’d like to take you home with me,” You mutter giving him the freedom to walk away should he want too.
“Keep me,” Matt whispers. You smirk kissing his forehead.
Summary: Frank reacts to Matt being your fated and you make plans to bring Matt to your kingdom
Warnings: angst, war, fluff
Reader: Female Alpha Reader
Pairings: Beta Frank x Alpha Reader x Omega Matt
Word Count: 2409
A/n: Ok, so with how well everyone seemed to enjoy the first one here’s the second one! There will be a third one, promise! It’ll most likely be the conclusion but we’ll see how it goes! I’m so happy everyone’s enjoying it!
I am sorry Matt isn’t in this one, but he is for sure in the next one!
Let me know if you wanted to be added or removed from the taglist! I didn’t know who wanted to be tagged, if anybody, so I tagged those who specifically asked for a part two… I’m sorry to those who couldn’t be tagged!
You were prepared for a fight. You and Frank both understood that when you returned, you’d smell like the omega… Like Matt. But this is different. You didn’t just smell like Matt. His scent was clinging to you. It was like an entire bottle of this mouthwatering scent was poured over you. It was obvious the two of you didn’t just talk. You didn’t fuck each other but there was obvious scenting and scenting could be just as intimate.
Frank was already struggling with the idea of an omega coming into the pack. He didn’t like the idea of sharing you. He was nervous about everything and had a lingering hope that the meeting would go wrong. But that obviously wasn’t the case.
You walked into the room prepared to come face-to-face with his attitude. You waited for him to lose his temper. You feared this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Matt wasn’t even in the castle yet.
Imagine your surprise when Frank took one look at you and practically jumped your bones. The kiss made you dizzy and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the wall. Your feet left the ground and crossed behind his back.
When he broke the kiss, he couldn’t stop breathing in your natural perfume. His nose ran over your hair and along your neck. You couldn’t help but to notice that he followed the trail Matt had taken when the omega instinctively scented you.
Your perfume was blended perfectly with Matt’s. Frank hadn’t smelled anything like it before. It was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“Is this him?” Frank grunts. Your eyes roll back as he rotates his hips into yours. You hum clawing at the back of his neck.
“I’m guessing you approve?” You ask, a confident grin on your lips. Frank growls nipping at your throat. “Frank,” You whisper, mildly (majorly) distracted by his rough kisses along your throat. “I have to tell you something,” He hums but doesn’t stop his ministrations. “Frank… he’s my omega,” You confess. He pauses before slowly lifting his head.
“Your omega? As in your omega?” Frank asks. You slowly nod, scratching the base of his hairline in an attempt to keep him from lashing out. You weren’t sure how he’d react to the news. “Congratulations,” He mutters setting you on the ground.
“Don’t,” You whisper, your hands falling to his chest. You grip his shirt trying to prevent him from moving away. “It doesn’t change anything between us,”
“It changes everything,” Frank says. “He’s your mate. Your destined omega,”
“And I choose you,” You stress. “I’ve met Matt and I’ve spent an entire afternoon with him. Not once did I think of sending you away or even consider a future without you,”
“That could change, you know it can. You know how omegas get. You saw how your mother could command you father. Anything she wanted, no matter how it affected him, she got,” Frank says.
You growl growing tired of his doubt in you. You grip his shirt and force him to spin around taking your place against the wall. You pin him back and look him dead in the eyes.
“Frank, I’ve gone through a lot with you and for you. If I didn’t run away because of your violent tendencies, murderous habits, and the fact that you had a wife when I met you then I’m not going anywhere now,” you tell him. “We’ve been through everything and have survived every trial thrown at us. The mere scent of him nearly threw you into a frenzy and omegas are much more sensitive to smells. If he reacts anything like that with you then I’m fairly certain you two will fuck before I get a piece of him,” You joke smirking.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Frank asks lightening up. Your grip on him loosens.
“Like what?” You wonder, leaning into him. “To watch my chosen mate, have his way with my destined omega?” You ask before promptly moaning at the thought. “It hasn’t crossed my mind before but…” You groan kissing the underside of his jaw. “Damn if the imagine won’t leave my head now,”
“When do you get him?” Frank asks. You growl as you remember the meeting with his uncle. You pull away knowing you needed to prepare for it.
“I have a meeting in two days,” you tell him. “If all goes well the war will end, his uncle will be left with barely any territory left, and we will have Matt,” You whisper.
“And if it goes poorly?” Frank asks as you round the table. You lean over it, your eyes scanning the multiple maps and documents.
“Then I will take Matt, every inch of his territory, and send him off to life on a farm in the middle of the ocean with no boat to reach the mainland,” You whisper, resting your hands on the surface of the table.
“Either way you come out on top,” Frank notes. You smirk, flicking your eyes towards him.
“Of course, darling. I always come out on top,” You wink at him.
The two days passed too slow. You wanted the meeting to be over with. You wanted the union to happen. You wanted Matt.
You were the first to arrive at the neutral site. It was in an open field where the closest place either of you could hide your guards is three miles in all directions. It would be useless to eavesdrop and stupid to attach each other since you both know that the people in the tree line have aimed guns with a guaranteed kill shot.
“Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you,” You watch as the king stands on the other side of the table with his hand out, but you don’t offer yours in return. You know it’s an insult and you hope he takes it personally. Not the most proper greeting - you knew your parents would scold you for it - but you aner and hatred for the man surpassed your need to be proper.
“Fisk,” You greet simply. You motion to the chair he’s standing behind. “Sit,” You offer. You hated him standing looking down on you. You weren’t below standing on your chair to have the high ground.
“Wilson, please. We’re both equals here I think we can go by first names,” Fisk says taking the seat. You remain silent. “May I just say that you’ve grown to be a beautiful woman,” Fisk states. “Very smart and cunning. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting such an… opponent when you took the throne,”
“Don’t work, Mr. Fisk, nobody took me seriously when I took the throne. They were ignorant of my skills but not anymore,”
“No, not anymore,” He shakes his head. “I also have to congratulate you. You’ve accomplished more than your father ever did. I understand you’re a strong advocate the comfort of your people. Even going as far as to give them more power over not only themselves but each other and especially over you,”
“They’re people, Fisk. Just like us. They deserve more freedoms and more say in their own lives,” you tell him. “They also deserve to live in a war free world. They should be able to live their lives without worrying about the battle being brought to their doorstep. I want to send husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, parents, and children back to their homes. I want this war to end,”
“As do I,” Fisk reassures you. “That’s why we are here. So, let’s get to negotiating peace,”
“Let’s start with your terms, shall we?” You suggest, motioning to him. Fisk nods politely.
“Firstly, let’s discuss the union between you and my nephew,” Fisk says, keeping a close eye on your expression. You school it to be neutral. “If I’m not mistaken, other than a couple of your brothers, he is the only royal male omega,”
“That would be correct,” You nod. Fisk waits for you to continue but you don’t. You want him to keep talking. You hope he gets nervous. A nervous talking man admits more than he means too.
“With the union would come an alliance. The alliance would cease the war and all those people you mentioned will be able to return to their homes. We’d all have peace.” He states.
“Just like that?” You ask. “No other demands,”
“Just like that,” Fisk nods. You hum eyeing him.
“No deal,” You state. Fisk is visibly surprised. “You see, if you haven’t noticed, I’m winning the war. I will admit that you’re an equally cunning and smart opponent. Mr. Fisk, you’re simply too powerful and smart to stay in power. If we just go back to the way things, where we might have one or two years, at the most, of peace. Your ambition will eat at you until your raising arms and attacking either my kingdom or someone else’s,”
“And what care do you have if I attack someone else?”
“You have two neighboring kingdoms. Me and a very strong ally of mine. I can’t allow you to move against them. You’d pull us into a war. If you march across their lands to attack someone further away, you’d be pulling everyone into a war, and I promise you we won’t be aiding you. War is inevitable while you’re strong,”
“And what are your demands?” He asks.
“I form a union with your nephew. With the union will come the alliance, an end to the war, and three fourths of your army. Should you rebuild that army to the point where it’s over half of what you previously had then I will step in and take all of them. I also understand how having so many in one army is nervous for any kingdom. So, I will distribute the men and women amongst my allies. I also require that three members of my council will be invited into yours. You will not meet with anyone alone without someone from my kingdom to accompany you. And when I find out about your secret meetings, because we both know they will happen, then I will take control of your entire council. If both things mentioned before happens then I will take your army, take your council, take your lords and ladies along with all your territory,”
“And what makes you think I’ll allow you to do this?” He asks.
“If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll notice that I’m not only winning the war, but I’ve refused to call aid from my allies. They’ve been waiting on the sidelines with fresh troops. I can beat you myself but with their help I will dethrone you within a month and leave you in the middle of nowhere without anyone to talk to. If it comes to that and I hear even a whisper of you returning to power I will find you and slit your throat myself.
“Take the first deal, Mr. Fisk. Give me your nephew, your troops, and take my council. Live peacefully without raising trouble and everything will be just fine. If you refuse, I’ll finish this war and you’ll loose everything,”
“You don’t leave me with much choice, do you?” He asks.
“You have plenty of choices, but I implore you to do what’s right for you people and not your ego,” You urge before standing up. “I await your word. My troops will be on hold for another week. If I hear nothing from you then I will move on with option two - the taking of everything you hold dear,”
“It was a pleasure meeting with you,” Fisk smiles, remaining in his seat. You send him smirk looking down at him.
“I look forward to hearing from you,”
You didn’t have to wait a week for Fisk to send a response. When you got reports of one of your camps being attacked by his men the message was clear.
“What do you want to do?” Natasha asks, standing in your war room with your council surrounding you.
“I want to take everything from him,” You growl hating the fact that he didn’t submit. Your temper flared at the thought of being apart from Matt.
“If we do this on our own it’ll take nearly a year,” Bucky warns you.
“Eh, I say nine months,” Sam counters. Bucky sends him a look.
“Nine to twelve months then,” Bucky sasses.
“It has to be faster than that,” You demand.
“Then you’d have to call on your allies,” Yelena warns. “I know you and your father were putting it off but if you want this to end you have to start cashing in favors,”
“Start with Valkyrie,” You state. “She’s the only other kingdom that border’s Fisk. Also, send out messages to Stark and T’Challa. They should be able to aid us quickly,”
“Stark?” Natasha deadpans.
“Yes, him as well,” You insist. “He may be flamboyant and a party boy, but his tech is nearly unmatched and he’s loyal,” Natasha grumbles but agrees, nonetheless. “I want this war done by the end of the month and I want the omega. If all else fails get me his nephew,” You demand.
The messages were sent, and plans were made. You were anxious to get this all over with. The longer you were separated from Matt the more anxious you became. Luckily, you had Frank.
“You need to rest, baby,” Frank mumbles in the dead of night. His bruised hand brushes the hair away from your ear.
“I’ll rest when we have Matt,” You whisper. Frank sighs and pulls your chair from the table. You let him, leaning your head back to gaze up at him. “I need him,” You whisper.
“I know,” Frank scoops you from the chair and walks you to the bed. You shamelessly gawk at his muscles. “We’ll get him, I promise,”
You sigh snuggling close to him. He pulls the blankets over the two of you and kisses the top of your hair. He hums quietly until you fall asleep.
“You’re gonna be pissed when you wake up, I know,” He mutters before breathing in your scent. “If I’m successful hopefully you’ll just forget your mad,” Frank jokes quietly before slowly slipping out of the bed.
He slips into his punisher get up before sneaking out of the castle. He climbs onto a motorcycle and hightailing it to Fisk’s kingdom.
Summary: You take your father’s place as King despite being a woman. In order to make peace and end the war you agree to meet the prince - who ends up being your fated mate. You can only hope your fated mate gets along with the mate had chosen before you met him.
Warnings: angst, grief, fluff, little bit of smut
Reader: Alpha Female Reader
Pairings: Beta Frank Castle x Alpha Reader - Omega Matt Murdock x Alpha Reader
The kingdom is in mourning. The great king is dead; killed on the battlefield. The Lords are doing what they can to keep the peace among the people. The last thing anyone wants is for panic to spread whilst in the middle of the bloodiest war known to history.
You buried your father today. Even the Earth seemed to mourn this loss. The rain poured with such vigor that it raised the creeks and flooded the paths the enemy army might have driven down to siege the royal castle. You knew that the first chance they got they’d march right here and attempt to take the throne. Your father had no male successor. The throne is vulnerable.
You stood beside the throne with your siblings as the people greeted your mother, the widowed queen. You were right beside her. Everyone turned to you directly after giving their condolences to her. You knew what everyone was thinking but nobody has yet to say it out loud.
You’re not the eldest child. You’re somewhere in the middle of roughly a dozen other siblings. Twelve children are a bit obsessive, right? Your parent must have loved making babies and raising kids. Well, not exactly.
In your kingdom, and all the kingdoms in the land, it is law that only an alpha could succeed the throne. While you had older brothers and sisters - and younger ones as well - you were the only one out of the liter to present as an alpha. Your presentation out ranked your older siblings who only presented as either betas or omegas.
So, the twelve siblings weren’t due to the fact that your parents loved children. They were trying to conceive a male alpha. It’s the only thing in their reign they failed in.
While the kingdom mourned the loss of your father - their king - you mourned the future you had planned. You mourned the freedom you could have had; the life you could have lived.
You knew tomorrow would be the coronation. They couldn’t afford to wait. If there was nobody on the throne when the enemy arrived, then it would be all too easy for them to take it. While your mother was still alive, she was only a grieving omega queen who didn’t truly understand the art of war and the politics of man. She played her own realm of politics. The king and queen had two very different jobs; she wouldn’t know what to do.
Your father, fearful that he would never conceive another alpha, taught you how to be king. He prepared for every possibility and knew that when the time came it wouldn’t matter that you were a female; the job would fall upon your shoulders. He needed you to be prepared; he needed to know the kingdom would be in good hands if he should fall.
Tomorrow you will be crowned king. Your mother will remain queen until you find your own omega to take her place. It wouldn’t be an easy task. The omega would have to be a male; they’re as rare as you are.
When the night was over, and everyone was dismissed you returned to your room. Your ladies helped take the pins from your hair and undress from your clothes. Despite it being modern times, you still found the corset to be a nice touch to pay homage to the past.
They asked you if you would need anything else; you declined and bade them good night. The instant the doors were shut the man hiding in the dark corner came to the light. When you looked at him the emotions from the day rushed forward. You didn’t have to put up a front with him. You trusted him implicitly.
“Come here, baby,” He whispers, beckoning you forward. With a few large strides you’re in his embrace. He holds you close, and you nestle into his shoulder. He doesn’t give you his condolences or give you false promises. The two of you are past such formalities.
The two of you end up in bed. You’re laying between his legs, your head on his chest. There’re no clothes keeping you from the skin-to-skin you desperately need. You close your eyes and listen to his steady heartbeat. He slowly combs his fingers through your hair; periodically massaging your head.
“We could still do it,” He whispers. Your heart drops instantly knowing what he’s talking about. “We could be across the ocean before they even knew you were gone,”
“They’d find us… Maybe not soon but they would,” You whisper back. “It would be a life on the run and when we’re dragged back how could I look at anybody knowing I left when they so desperately needed me?”
“How could you help them after they treated you?” He asks, the anger coming back to his voice as it always does when talking about this.
“Frankie baby, you know it doesn’t bother me how they treated me,” You whisper, lifting your head. “It doesn’t matter what my personal feelings are. It’s my duty, my responsibility to take the throne.”
“And what about us?” Frank asks. Your legs move over his to straddle his waist. You move up his body and hover over his face. “I’m not exactly good for your image, baby,”
“What?” You ask teasingly. You lay back down on his chest and move your head just to the side to rest on your palm. Frank’s head follows you, unwilling to break eye contact. “I think telling the world that my chosen mate is the famed Punisher is exactly the image I need,” You whisper only half joking. “Your reputation is world famous. Everyone would cower at the thought of you. Kingdoms would think twice about moving against us,”
“But I’m only a beta,” Frank whisper. You sigh. Your eyes fall shut and your head presses against his. He instinctively holds you closer.
“But you’re only a beta,” You mutter knowing it wouldn’t be enough to hold the crown. You needed an omega. Omega and alpha parings had nearly a large chance at producing an alpha offspring whereas alpha and beta pairings rarely conceived them.
“You’ll look beautiful tomorrow,” He whispers, gently changing the subject. “You’ll take the throne and kick ass. You’ll bring us back to peace, I just know it,”
If only he realized that in order to bring peace would to the kingdom would be to marry the enemy’s nephew - a prince who happened to be an omega. The rival king took his throne with much controversy. The previous king had died mysteriously paving the way for him to take it. It was supposed to be temporary until the prince was old enough. Only the prince is blind, and people are hesitant to put him on the throne.
However, you taking the throne is the perfect solution for them. With your marriage the war ends, an alliance if formed, and they hand off their blind prince. Your kingdom wasn’t crazy about having a blind queen, but they were desperate for an end to the war.
You were king. You wouldn’t be pushed into anything that you weren’t certain of. You agreed to a private meeting but guaranteed nothing more. It was enough to pacify the other kingdom into pausing the war.
“What’s his name?” Frank asks, watching you get ready.
“You know his name, Frank,” You mutter going your makeup. You refused to let your ladies help get you ready. You wanted as much time with Frank as possible.
“Tell me,” He demands. You bristle a little at the demanding tone, but you force yourself to calm. You look through the mirror and sigh.
“Matthew Murdock,” You whisper. Frank’s jaw ticks. “You knew this was going to happen,”
“Didn’t think it would be so soon,” He growls. Neither did you. You were only king for four months. Within those four months you were quickly proving to be an even harder opponent than your father in regard to the war. You were more ruthless and daring. The bloodiest war was becoming worse, but you were winning. If a truce could be made over marriage you would consider it.
You quickly finished your makeup before walking over to Frank. He was sitting on the side of the bed pouting. You gave him a small smile while gently taking his face in your hands.
“I love you, Frank Castle,” You whisper. He softens and grabs your hips greedily. “And no number of omegas will change that,” You promise.
“What if he doesn’t like me? What if he demands you send me off? I’m not supposed to be with you in the first place,” He mutter. You smirk resting your forehead against his.
“Every king has had their concubine,” You mutter teasingly. He lets out a quick laugh and tugs you into a kiss. “I’m king… I’m not going to let anyone chase you away or send you off,” You hand moves from his cheek to the collar of his shirt. He shivers when you pull it to the side. “I claimed you a long time ago, beta,” You growled possessively. He moans as your lips suck and your teeth nip at the mark. “You’re mine,” You growl reclaiming him.
Frank chokes on a moan, his fingers bruising your hips at the sudden rush of euphoria. He lets out a shaky breath struggling not to cum in his pants. Wanting him to do exactly that you nip at the fresh wound while suddenly palming him through his pants.
“Fuck-” Frank chokes again and cums in his trousers like a teenage boy. You hum approvingly and lap at the bite mark.
“Good boy,” You whisper. Frank couldn’t help but to preen at the praise as he rides through the blissfulness.
“You always pick the worst times to do that,” Frank grumbles, as you pull from his neck.
“Whatever do you mean?” You ask, tilting your head. He shivers again when his shirt brushes over the mark. “Just be happy I didn’t claim a new spot,”
“Then I’d never let you leave,” He growls.
You loved claiming Frank. He always made the sweetest sounds and produced the most intoxicating scent. He currently had four claiming marks. Every time you made a new mark the sex… damn, the sex was wild and insatiable.
“I’m sorry I can’t stick around to help you clean up,” You whisper, running your thumb over his lips. “I’ll make it up to you when I come back,”
“If you come back smelling like that fucking omega then I’ll fuck you all night,” Frank growls.
“Promises, promises,” You wink. “I’ll be back tonight,” You gently kiss his lips and pull away before he could pull you into the bed. “Feel free to stay messy until I return,” You wink at him. “I wouldn’t mind coming back and licking you clean,”
Frank groans loudly and falls back onto the bed. You laugh slipping out of the bedroom.
“Have your way with that sexy beta?” Natasha asks, smirking knowingly as she finds you and matches your pace. You growl warning her to keep her voice down. Your inner circle knew about Frank - only those you would trust with your treasure - but everyone else was oblivious, hopefully.
“Is the car out front?” You ask. Natasha hums nodding.
“Yelena had it brought around. You sure you don’t want us coming with you?” She asks.
“I don’t want to arrive with an army,” you tell her. “Things are already tense, and this is neutral ground. I don’t want to break neutrality,”
“You honestly think he’ll be alone?” She asks.
“No,” You shake your head putting on some sunglasses as you stepped outside. You send Natasha a quick look. “And neither will I,” You mutter before walking to the car.
Natasha, having heard the message (follow and protect from a distance), instantly springs into action. Once the car is on the way she grabs Yelena, Kate, and Wanda. The four of them follow your orders and protect you from the shadows.
“Your majesty,” A man bows before you as you reach the destination.
“Has the prince arrived?” You question.
“Yes, he is inside. As I asked his guards, I must ask that yours remain out here,”
“I only brought my driver,” You inform him. You motion for Jarvis to return to the car before entering the building.
You had different expectations when you imagined meeting the prince. But finding out that the man in front of you is your destined omega was not one of them.
The instant you entered the building his scent wrapped around you. It surprised you so much that you were frozen in place. You breathed in deeply and it simply consumed you.
“Alpha,” His whimper strained as if he didn’t want to make a noise but couldn’t help it. Your eyes snapped open and zeroed in on him.
“Omega,” You growled closing the distance between the two of you. You didn’t touch him, but you stood as close as you could. You knew your eyes were dilated but you help your desires back. You didn’t want to startle him.
You lifted your hand, and as if he could sense it, he flinched away. You were hurt but you shushed him softly. He doesn’t move again as you close in on him.
“You’re so beautiful,” You whisper, gently running your fingers along his jaw. Matt shudders and instinctively moves into your touch. The light graze of your fingers seemed to open a flood gate. Matt needed you to touch him. He hadn’t had a gentle touch since he was a boy. The two minutes you’ve been in this room have been the most time he’s felt safe since before his father died.
“Alpha,” Matt whines twitching. He wants to touch you but fears of crossing a line. Reading his body language, you take a leap and pull him close.
Your arm slips around his waist and he takes that as a sign to give in. His head finds its way to your neck. You don’ realize you’ve been doing it but you’re purring to calm his anxieties.
Your arm tightens around his waist while your hand threads through his hair. He snuggles closer to you. He doesn’t want to hope but he can’t help it. For the first time he hopes he can get out of his kingdom. His kingdom of corruption and murder. He wasn’t a helpless omega. He tried to bring peace and squeeze out the corruption of his kingdom, but it proved to be impossible. His own family was at the heart of it all. Maybe with you he could actually have the power to change things instead of running around in a mask at night.
“Matthew,” You whisper. Matt hums pleasantly and nuzzles into your neck. “We have to talk about this,”
“I know,” He whispers back, tightening his grip around you. You smirk and shuffle him over to the comfortable love seat. You laugh softly as he straddles your lap and continues to snuggle into your neck.
“How likely is it that your king is going to end the war should we marry?” You ask.
“He will,” He whispers. “He’ll end the physical war, but he has plans to infiltrate your court. He’ll take your crown from the inside,”
“Do you want this marriage?” You ask him. “To leave your home and come to mine?”
“I do,” Matt nods, lifting his head. You couldn’t help but to lift your hand to caress his face. He leans into your touch. “If you’ll have me,”
