frank needs a nap

[professionallyunwell]

Frank’s Favorite Nicknames Headcannon

MASTERLIST

🩷 Mama- Frank's most favorite to call you; your actual name sounding like an offense. The circumstances had no effect to when or where he would beckon the sweet name. "Come on Mama, time to eat," heat dancing across your cheeks, embarrassed with Frank's endearment, your relatives in mere ear shot. Frank catching the shift in nature, the trivial details that often went unforeseen by the naked eye. A shit eating grin reaching his eyes as he watched you stumbling to the nearest seat at the table, like a newborn deer taking its first steps. Frank's boot covered feet carried him to the vacant chair beside your own, sitting with a grunt as his knees reminded him of the physical demand he forced upon them daily. "What's wrong Mama? Don't want me showin' yer parents how much I love their girl," Frank breathed, mere centimeters away from your ear, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You loved how loud and outspoken Frank was about his love for you. But in front of your family it felt....awkward like they weren't allowed to see that a strong man cared for their girl. Flustered as you piled mashed potatoes on your plate before taking the responsibility to do the same with Frank's. "No Frankie, just feels....awkward. Not that I don't like it because I love when you call me anything. Just I don't know weird in front of my family," rambling as Frank wholeheartedly laughed at his girl fearful of offending him.

The name taking even more meaning as you carried Frank's children. A big round belly as you strategically held a toddler on one hip and balanced another two foot tyrant on the other (Frank stay off of her). Frank appearing as the front door opened, a saving grace from eventful morning. Thinking it was a great idea to set up a crafting table for your toddlers, beckoning it would proclaim a few minutes of undisturbed peace. Oh how wrong you were, as baby girl came flying around the dining room corner covered in blue paint and scribbles of marker. Frizzy ringlets of chocolate brown curls matted to her head, various hues of blue decorating her small bubbly stature. As if things couldn't get worse, baby boy took initiative to redecorate the dining room walls; adding his own expensive taste of dinosaurs and sharks. And somehow, someway, you ended up covered in their specialized art work. Their own art studio you may say. "Woah! Looks like a leprechaun could find his pot of gold in here," Frank joked, setting down his lunch box, reaching out his arms to grab the twins. "Mama a dinosaur," baby boy proudly gleamed settling into Frank's grasp, his tiny finger pointing at the green brush marks on your arm. Making a sound that resembled a roar, only cuter and less scary.

"Well, lets let Mama take a bath while we clean up...Jesus Christ the walls?"

"Dinosaur daddy!"

🩷 Sweetheart- used when the weight of the world settled upon your strained shoulders and basic health became an exhausting chore. The dark clouds that forecasted your brain didn't occur often, but when the time came? It poured. Your shared bed with Frank becoming your fortress of solitude as the outside world grew scary. Hair rustled into a matted bun while you remained in Frank's (yours) sweatshirt and sweatpants from days ago. The spaghetti sauce you accidentally dropped took precedence as an orange tinted stain on your chest.

"Sweetheart let's get some fresh air yeah? Jus' you an yer Frankie. I'll take you to that ice cream place you like," Frank pleaded, heart crushed at the sight of his girl raveled in blankets staring off into space, aching to see your smile or even a glance in his direction. It wasn't that you didn't want to do anything, you just couldn't, the despair becoming too strong. An elephant of depression weighing you down, trapping you in the stained sheets for days.

But Frank refused to watch his breath of fresh air slowly rot away.

🩷 My girl- Ugh the sweet name that you wished Frank had called you more often as it made you a mushy puddle of mess. You raved in complete awe, brain fuzzy, suddenly mute whenever the name left his lips. Often times taking place in the bedroom with Frank's strong hand grasping your neck, fingers imprinting themselves into your delicate skin. His other hand lost between the depths of your thighs, his thumb rubbing agonizingly slow circles around the bundle of nerves. Teasing your soaking entrance every so often, like an endless routine of pain stricken ecstasy. Your body writhing under Frank's touch, hips thrusting for more as he continued his treacherous pace.

"My girl want more yeah? Wants her Frankie to make her cum?"

Lord....he had you wrapped around his finger, figuratively and literally.

🩷 Little lady- you loathed with deep hatred whenever Frank referred to you as 'little lady'. The offensive name only spewing out during heated disputes between the two of you. It lit a forrest fire within you and Frank knew it. Too enraged with whatever insignificant problem unleashed between you, long forgotten. Purposely striking your nerves like targets with the name resembling a bullet. The last straw consisting of coffee grounds covering the counter, endless hours you spend cleaning, him not being considerate...blah blah blah.

"Listen little lady, there ain't enough time in the day for me to sit here an' listen to you bitch and complain. I told yer ass I was sorry hours ago." Eyes darkening with anger as his words like ammunition fueled your wrath. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, your way of giving up, throwing your hands into the air signaling you were finished. Heavy patters of footsteps stomping off into wherever they took you, as long as it was miles away from Frank.

[luvmwoi]

𝜗ৎ the morning after with frank castle

Sheets clung to your body, wrapping you up while soft sunlight poured into the room. Frank never liked mornings like this—or at least, he always pretended to hate them. He would wince at the idea of this type of slow intimacy. It was the type that made his heart swell, only for it to sting immediately after, plagued with every moment where he thought he would never find himself here again. 

“G’morning,” you mumbled, rolling over to your side, voice still a little caught up with sleep. Your eyes stayed shut, trying to hold onto every last ounce of sleep left in your body. You were warm, and cozy, and the weight of his body next to you gave you all the reassurance you needed. 

Frank sat up against the headboard, patched up skin on full display. He didn’t worry about it, though—the scars and stitches weren’t important now that his attention was on you. 

“Hey,” he replied, voice equally groggy. There was a roughness in his tone, one that could only be shaken by speaking. He swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t sound as rough, wanting you to enjoy the comfort of these early mornings. 

Without saying anything else, he reached out his hand, his fingers a little bit hesitant. They waited over your skin, like he would allow himself to give in to this domestic temptation. They nonetheless found their way to your naked figure. He traced up your arm, letting it sooth you back asleep. 

His chest rose and fell, finding a steady rhythm in his actions. Slowly, his hand migrated higher, finding your head as he gently pet your hair, making sure to not let his fingers get caught in any knots. 

“Didya sleep well?” He asked, knowing you weren’t fully away yet. Dipping into your scalp he tenderly scratched, watching how you pushed yourself into his touch. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, cranking your neck just the slightest, letting him catch a glance at the love-bites that he shamelessly put there the night before. 

“Good,” he grunted, content. “Good,” he repeated, this time quieter, letting his eyes close and letting the morning light sink into his skin. 

And while he wasn’t a man of many words, you knew he loved you, even if he couldn’t find the right words.

[professionallyunwell]

A cute little drabble based on this ask.

MASTERLIST

(Frank Castle x Reader)

summary: What was meant to be a peaceful walk in the park lead to bumping into a tall dark mysterious man.

Golden hues shined through the curtains as the sun began to set, proliferating small specks of dust in the air. A peaceful aura encased the small apartment as you lazily sat in a recliner, face smooshed into a book. The traditional ruckus of New York City mere background noise, residing here long enough to learn to ignore the chatter outside your solitude.

A soft imprint of your figure in the cushions underneath mirroring your approach to the mundane evening. The impending doom of returning to work tomorrow a vacant fear in your mind. Wishing you could spend your days cuddled into a soft blanket as your focus drifted into the lined pages of whatever fantasy book captured your attention. Oh to be the princess saved by her knight in shining armor.

Your daydream abruptly interrupted by the fur ball jumping anxiously at your limbs. Setting your book down as you glanced towards the clock loosely hung on the wall, 6:45pm. Your retriever puppy, Bruce, right on schedule for your routine walk in the park. A way for him to eliminate pent up puppy energy, instituting the habit quickly after too many nights listening to whines and barks. While the walk allowed yourself to mitigate conflicting thoughts concerning the start of a new week. Grocery shopping. Getting the presentation finished for upcoming meeting. A vet appointment for Bruce's vaccinations. All conjoining together for another busy schedule.

"Wanna go for a walk," cheerfully asking, his four legs racing to the front door with speed, retracting on his hind legs as Bruce jumped with excitement. Giggling as you grabbed the dark blue leash, hooking the clasp to his collar with ease.

Engulfing the fresh air with a deep rooted inhale as you opened the door. The familiar ambiance of New York City coming into full effect. Construction workers lined the streets working away at yet another project, pertaining to the abandoned complex across from yours. Conversations from the people around you diluted from distance. It was the perfect evening to relish in the beauty of Mother Nature, or so you had thought.

Bruce pulled with all his puppy might as the park appeared in the distance, tugging on the leash slightly as you scolded your furry friend. "Stop that, we're almost there just be patient." As if his conscious could fully comprehend the reprimands tossed his way. His focus was fiercely hooked on the female poodle that chased after the rubber ball her owner threw.

Your thoughts replayed the events of your current story, the impact of storytelling remaining complacency after the book is set down. Before you could have time to react a loud rip echoed into the air, with an odd shift in lighter weight. Looking up to see Bruce sprinting towards his poodle friend at the speed of light. His legs a mirage as they blended in with the grass. Your breath hitching as your paced attempted to match Bruce's. Chasing him relentlessly as your muscles burned with ache.

"Bruce get back here! Right now or no Oprah tomorrow morning," bellowing out useless bouts of discipline. The fuzzball didn't care about watching Oprah, he cared about the left over yogurt he'd lick clean when you were distracted.

You came to a slow stop, legs hurting from the unplanned sprint, lungs burning from lack of oxygen. Your chest heaved heavily as you doubled over, putting your hands on your head. A tiny white flag of submission; Bruce= 1, You= 0.

Well you assumed Bruce was running to play with his friend, only to stop in front of a tall man who nonchalantly sat on a bench. Outstretched legs with a guitar in his hand, plucking the strings softly. Bruce nudged his furry head against the man's naked calf before jumping like a bunny. Scared that he would get hurt or rudely brushed away you quickened your pace.

"I'm so sorry! He's never done this before," you pleaded, gaining the man's attention. A grin spread across his face, eyes gleaming with joy, reaching down to scruff your puppy's golden fur.

"Ah he's okay. Ain't hurtin' nothin'," the deep gravelly tone of his voice shaking your core. Bruce laid down on the grass, exposing his tummy for rubs, which the man cheerfully accepted.

"What's this little guys name?"

"Bruce," you answered, eyes raking in the handsome stranger's appearance. Dark loose curls hid under a black beanie, only the ends exposed. A sheer shadow of facial hair spread across his jawline. A tight black t shirt encompassed his upper half, sleeves strained around his biceps. Dark blue shorts embraced his lower half, black combat boots to finish the aesthetic.

"Like Bruce Springsteen," eyebrows furrowing at the obscene name, unordinary for a dog.

"Yeah...my Dad was obsessed with him growing up. So after he passed I named this little heathen in remembrance," heat cascading across your cheeks at your sudden rambling of personal information.

"Oh...M' sorry," eyes flashing with sympathy, a pure response you grow to love in the future.

"God...that was weird. I'm sorry again. Don't do too well with handsome men or stranger-" face resembling a tomato, stumbling over words, slinging a distressed hand through your hair. A thinly lined smile as you continued, "Name..like what's your name?"

You wouldn't be surprised if this man took off running in the other direction. Looking crazed as random debacles spewed off your tongue from unease, a nervous habit yet to be broken.

"My names Frank. Frank Castle," he laughed out, enticed by your goofy nature.

"Well, Frank, it was nice to meet you, but we should be getting home. Work an all that fun stuff tomorrow." Bidding your goodbyes as you reached down to pick up Bruce, slumped below Frank's feet. If only he slept like this at home.

Bruce wiggled out of your grasp, falling with a thump as he took his previous position under his new friend's boots. A exasperated sigh left your lips as you battled with your furry heathen, questioning why you got him in the first place.

"Hey. Wanna grab some food fore' you go? Let the little guy sleep yeah?" Nervously rubbing the nape of his neck, awaiting an answer.

A sheepish grin spread across your face, nodding your head in submission before your brain processed Frank's question.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

It's not always a knight in shining armor. Sometimes it's a curly headed stranger with questionable attire playing a guitar in the park.

[lifeofanogirl]

Can you write a fic of Frank x female reader

Reader’s love life is horrifying. She has only ever had men pursuing her sexually until she met Frank Castle. Frank shows reader how a woman should be treated, like a gentleman, like a person. He takes her on a date, he’s attentive, he opens her door, he holds her hand, he puts his hand on her lower back he woos her honestly. When they talk he’s genuinely trying to get to know her, Frank makes her shy but they’re having a good time. By the end of the night they share a kiss and reader asks him does he want to come in, Frank being the gentleman he is says not tonight and they can build up to that. Somewhere during the night, reader can open up to Castle and tell him She’s never been on a date before, she’s never been with a gentleman, she’s only been involved with guys at night time because that’s all they wanted from her and she’s never been with a guy willing to put her first until she meets Frank Castle.

Okay: I got kind of carried away with this. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Standing behind the bar she was frying glasses as she watched him walk in and take a seat at the bar. Grabbing one of the clean glasses, she made her way down to him. She smirked and set a glass in front of him. “This is the third night this week you’ve been here Frank. Gonna make me start thinking you’re coming here just for me.”

“What if I am?”

She grabbed the whisky bottle from the shelf behind her and started pouring. She looked up at him from under her lashes as she poured and turned back around to put the bottle back.

“When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Busy?”

“You asking me out, Frank?”

“Yeah. I am.”

She felt the blush rise in her cheeks as she heard someone banging on the bar top. “Yeah, I’m coming.” She looked back at him, meeting his dark eyes and held up a finger making her way down the bar. She thought about accepting his offer, but her history with men hadn’t been the greatest. No one had wanted to take her out on a date, they all just wanted one thing from her. As she took the order of the bar slapper, she was thought about it. As she was making the drinks, she glanced back down the bar and noticed Frank subtly watching her, sipping his whisky. She slid the drinks across the bar and murmured to herself, ‘fuck it.’ She grabbed a napkin scrawling her number on it and headed back in his direction stopping in front of him to slide the napkin at him.

“Text me.”

“So is that a yes?” He looked up and noticed her heading away. She nodded her head and turned, heading back to work.

The next night, she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. She was on her fourth outfit and still wasn’t convinced that it was the one. “Are we sure this is it?” Her best friend stood behind her looking into the mirror, “babe this is it. Trust me.”

She groaned and went back into the closet to pick out shoes.

“Who is this guy anyway?”

“Guy I met at the bar.” She held her hand out of the closet with a pair of shoes waiting for approval.

“Absolutely. But a guy at the bar? Feels weird for you.”

“You’re just saying that because no guy I’ve met at the bar wants to take me out, just take me home.”

“Exactly.”

“I know. I know. And I’m nervous enough, okay? No need to make it worse.”

“I’d say calm down it’s just a date, but that means nothing to you.”

“Back to the whole rubbing it in thing?”

Before her friend could answer the doorbell rang and she froze. Her friends face lit up and she looked out of the bedroom. “Can I get it? I wanna see this mystery bar guy.”

She sighed and nodded, looking at herself in the mirror one more time making sure everything was perfect.

A minute later she made her way out of the bedroom and to the front hall where her friend and Frank stood. They both heard her coming and turned to look at her. Her friend mouthed to her “oh my god” with wide eyes.

Frank looked her up and down and smiled lightly, “you look great.”

She returned the smile. “Thanks.”

He opened the door, “ready to go?”

She nodded and headed out the door, giving her friend a quick bye, knowing full well she was going to be staring out the window until they were gone. He followed her around the truck and she watched him over her shoulder wondering what he was doing. Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, his hand was in front of hers, pulling it open.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, thank you…” she didn’t know what to do, how to act, no one had ever opened the car door for her before. He chuckled as she slid in and shut the door behind her.

The pair ended up at a quiet restaurant not far from her house, and again Frank opened the car door for her, this time though he held out his hand and she cautiously accepted it. She was not used to this at all, she thought to herself as the Frank led them towards the restaurant.

Dinner went great. At least in her perspective it did. He pulled out the chair for her, asked her tons of questions, got to know her; really just made the night feel all about her. Something she had never experienced before.

When the evening was done she almost felt sad walking back out to his truck, she didn’t want the night to end.

They pulled up to her house and Frank stopped at the curb, shutting the engine off. “Thank you, for tonight.”

“No need to thank me, doll.”

“No. I do. Really.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly at her, taking in the serious look on her face.

She sighed and turned her body towards his. “What the hell, if I’m going to scare you away might as well do it now. She crossed her hands and flopped them in her lap. “I’ve never actually been on a date before.”

“Bullshit.” He said incredulously from his place in the drivers seat.

“Seriously.”

He stares at her for a minute, “but you’ve…”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“But never been taken on a date first?”

She shook her head slowly. “Dates weren’t exactly what guys were looking for.”

“Well that pisses me off.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She shrugged. “Sorry?”

He gave her a look. “Well, I’m honoured that I get to be the one to take you on your first date.”

She smiled at him across the console, “I’m glad it was you.”

He held her gaze as he turned his body towards hers, slowly he closed the gap between them, moving his hand to tilt her head up towards him gently pressing her lips to his. She brought her hand up to rest on his bicep. They broke apart and Frank rested his forehead on hers. “Me too.”

After a moment, even though she didn’t want to break the spell they were currently in, she took in a breath, “I should get…”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Her hand moved towards the handle and he caught it out of the corner of his eye as he was exiting the truck, “don’t even think about it.”

She held her hands up in the air, chuckling to herself. “I should know better by now.”

“Yeah, you should. Doors are my job.” He smirked at her holding out his hand for her. She started towards the house and he fell in step beside her, his hand resting on her lower back. She’d be lying if she said her skin wasn’t tingling where she felt the warmth from his hand. They got to the door and she turned to him, immediately his other hand came up to rest on the back of her head as he pulled her in for another kiss. She moaned into the kiss, loving the feeling of his lips on hers.

“I had a great time tonight Frank.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He moved his hand from the back of her head to rest on her cheek. “Not tonight, doll.”

“Oh.” Her smile dropped, but she tried her best to recover.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’m not saying never. Just not tonight.”

“Okay. So that must mean you want to do this again?”

“If I didn’t make that clear enough, absolutely I do.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. She pulled the keys out of her purse begrudgingly and unlocked her door stepping in, turning around to see him still standing on the porch.

“Good night, Frank.”

“Night, doll.”

[olivearie]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒 – frank castle, "punisher" x fem!reader

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄, "𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑" – WC: 4,6K

set during spider-man : brand new day (so obviously, SPOILERS AHEAD!)

summary: you're used to staying at frank's old boat that he call his place. it's his home and it's yours too. but waking up to spider-man and his girlfriend in your little tiny kitchen is a crazy sight to wake up to.

warnings: SPOILERS FOR BRAND NEW DAY! swearing, kissing

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 . . .

It’s dark and cold. Not cold enough to sleep with covers up to your neck. It truly wasn’t cold as it usually gets in the boat. The air was just holding this particular feeling, a little chill to it.

You woke slowly, not having plans ahead of you, not having to get ready for anything particular that you need to get done today. Just laying around, enjoying the moment of quietness.

Your eyes closed, listening to the faint knocking of water from the outside. Quiet and distant. Soft sounds bring you completely awake. Get you to open your eyes and notice the surroundings. Notice what there is and what there isn’t.

There was no light on. The dark wrapping around you. Holding itself in the small room of the boat that you and Frank call the bedroom.

Then, barely awake, your eyes fluttered a few times, adapting to the dark like usual. Watching the dark ceiling above you, you shifted slightly closer to the other side of the bed. Closer to the warmth that should be beside you. That usually rests next to you, that usually clings to you.

Only there was no warmth.

Your hand raised up from under your ear, then moved across the mattress, fingers stretching apart.

Expecting to find Frank.

Trying to find that solid shoulder of his, bruised and so full of memories. Or at least the sleeve of that ridiculous chequered grey robe he insisted on wearing on the boat.

Your fingers met nothing.

Empty space on the mattress.

And that stopped you. You frowned faintly, your eyes slid from the dark ceiling over the whole room to the other side of the mattress. And you finally met the sight on the other side. The space beside you is empty. No sight of the man.

The blanket was thrown completely over you, rumpled at your feet. Definitely put over you when he stood from the bed and left. But Frank was gone.

He had been there a little while ago. Before you went to take a rest. He had been there snugged against you beneath the dark blanket, his body pressed against yours with the familiar warmth and the comfortable weight he dropped over you when he was slightly resting over your body. One of his arms is thrown over your waist, head on your chest or sometimes shoulder. Then sometimes, you are on his shoulder or on his chest. Even his arm too. The slow rhythm of his breathing raises up his chest against your body.

Maybe, he had a nightmare.

And that’s makes you sit up. Far too quickly.

You pushed yourself onto one elbow, the blanket slipping down your shoulder as you let your gaze settle towards the other side of the bed. Your palms spread over the mattress as you’re sitting up. With a sigh, you let one hand up and rubbed it over your eyes. Hard, making tiny colourful shapes swim around your vision for a few seconds. Then they’re gone. Eyes adjusted to the dark, faint outlines of the familiar world now smooth in your eyes.

You looked towards the doorway, the door was shut. With furrowed brows and a tiny yawn to let the tiredness go away, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Dark socks rolled up on your feet. Frank always told you to keep them on, you tried to keep the boat clean. Both of you tried. But it just felt like the floor was never clean even if you scrubbed it for hours.

Now standing up, you move towards the door, open it and slip through. The sleep is still clinging to your legs, forcing you to walk slower than you had intended. Moving through the small metal boat hallway, you move straight down. On one side are the cramped doors leading to the toilet, bathroom and the little supply rooms that stayed there from the last owner. At the end of the hallway is the spare room with its old, but still very nicely kept bunk bed, the room that you mostly call the guest room. A funny thing. You call it that jokingly. Just because there is the very real fact that you never really have guests over.

So, where the hell is Frank and why is he not sleeping?

You pass the bathroom, the light is not turned on. He is not there.

Then you pass the toilet, the light is as well not turned on. So, he is not there either.

Then in the few supply rooms, you open the first door and peek inside, dark and no sight of Frank in it. You don’t bother to check the other supply rooms, if he is not in this one, he won’t be in the other ones. Maybe, he’s outside. Watching the water, the cityscape and the birds fly by. It calms you both, it’s a nice view from down there.

You push through the heavy doors of the guest room and he is not there either. But the lights are on, though. So, he must have been there. You barely glance at the bunk bed as you slip past, your thoughts already moving towards the only room of the boat you can imagine him now being in.

You reach the kitchen door and wrap your fingers around the handle, pulling it open. You then push the door open by your palm. The light spills onto you and you catch the sight of a person in the kitchen. But almost immediately as the door opened, something snapped against the back of your hand. Or stuck up onto your hand. A weird sensation, a weird material.

You freeze instantly and look down.

You try to instinctively pull your hand back from whatever had landed onto your hand, it glues over the back of your hand, on your skin and the door’s metal surface. Caging your hand on it like it is supposed to be holding it together.

What the hell is that?

Your head snaps back up quickly, eyes widening a good bit.

“Who is–” a very unfamiliar voice yelps out, a younger voice.

“Woah!” a woman’s voice rings out just then too.

You jerk back as another thing of whatever you have on your hand flies towards you. You dodge it. Finally, the white thing flies past your face and attaches itself to the metal wall of the tiny kitchen beside you. You stare at it. And you finally realize what that thing is.

A white web.

You snap your head back up towards the kitchen so quickly. And then you finally see what is going on in your tiny, cramped kitchen beyond the doorway you’re standing in.

A figure in red and blue with a mask on.

One hand raised up, fingers bent in that very familiar position you saw too many times on the news, pictures and kids doing when you were in the city.

It’s Spider-Man.

And beside him is another figure.

A young woman, visibly confused and nervous. A coat on, hair slightly pointing to all directions as if she had flown here.

You have no idea who that woman is.

And there is a smell. A quite familiar one. Warm one, spicy one. Chilli. Frank mentioned that he was planning on cooking it throughout this week. Coming from where the burners are still going, steam coming up and smell flying around.

And next to them, is the only person you wanted to find in this room.

Frank.

He is standing there in his chequered grey robe, one hand holding the pot that he is making chilli in and his eyes wide, fixated on the sudden chaos at the doorway in his own kitchen at his own boat. His house! Your house!

His expression changes the instant he sees you. Eyes softening, a small smile coming up. But the second he sees your expression and then the web on your hand, the soft eyes disappear as if they weren’t there before and the smile turns into a strong frown.

A mad one.

“Shit, kid!” you finally hear the man’s voice. Loud and angry.

Frank moves immediately towards you, dropping the hot pot back onto the burners.

“The hell you doin’ with those fuckass webs in my fuckin’ kitchen?” he yells out angrily, storming over to you with a loud hit of his boots against the metal floor of the boat. He looks at Spider-Man with an expression that makes him want to crawl away and before he can do it, Frank barks out and points angrily with his pointer finger at him, “don’t do that again!”

His voice fills the tiny kitchen like a loud storm and thunder. It’s sharp, and makes everyone shut up very quickly. Frank is already crossing the kitchen in stern and quick steps.

He shoves past Spider-Man with enough force to make him stumble and the younger girl steps aside to not get hit by the angry man. You barely have time to register what is happening before Frank reaches you. You literally just woke up.

“Frank—” you don’t get a chance to ask a question. Only his name makes it past your lips.

“What the hell is goin’ on with ya’, kid?” the older man snaps once again, words meant for the masked person in his kitchen. He looks over his shoulder again and then looks towards you. His wide eyes search you up and then he ends up grabbing your shoulders. His hands gripping both shoulders as if he needed to see that you were real.

Pulling you closer and looking you over as if you had been shot. Not webbed by the kid in the mask that is somehow standing in your shared kitchen.

Spider-Man stares at you, the white eyes wide. The woman nervously looks, arms crossed over her chest. This is all so confusing. A fever dream, maybe you’re just sick and this is a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

“Who—who is that, Frank?” the younger voice demands out, high pitched and surprised. The masked boy starts pointing at you with the same hand from where he shot the webs at you.

Frank quickly turns his head and pulls out another grimace on his face, “none of yer damn fuckin’ business, kid.”

“Woah, okay,” the other woman quietly says under her breath and nods her head a few times, leaning her hip against the counter in the kitchen.

There is a brief silence.

Then he stares at the masked person for a few brief seconds before he turns towards you. His face easing up, the furrow leaving and eyes softening at the sight of the only person he wanted to have in his kitchen tonight.

“Man! You never told me–” the loud voice of the masked boy started to boom across the kitchen before getting cut off by a yelp and the sound of a hand hitting something. The younger girl slapped the masked hero on his shoulder, shutting him up. The man in robe starts to turn his head over his shoulder, but he quickly gets stopped.

“Frank.”

The tone of your voice makes the man in the robe stop from barking out something at the kid. Anchoring him in the spot.

“Listen–” Frank starts to say, but you cut him off.

“Why the hell is Spider-Man in our kitchen?”

“Listen to me–” he tries again, his voice dropping, trying to softly explain the situation. But he does not get a chance to continue again. His words are cut off by your own ones.

“And why is my hand webbed to the door?” you cut off the man again, moving your gaze down to where it is still stuck to the metal door.

His eyes drop to your hand and then he groans out loudly that it makes Spider-Man turn around awkwardly, moving further away from the angry man and you.

“Okay, in my defense—” the masked boy starts to speak again, defending himself and his little webbing problem that he threw in this tiny boat kitchen.

“No,” huffs out the older man. Not turning around to face the masked boy.

“You never even told me you had someone else here! What was I supposed to do?” the masked hero throws his hands up in the air, voice raising up.

“Ehh–definitely not shoot a damn web, kid!” Frank then finally, but pointedly looks at him over his shoulder, his hands ripping off the sticky web that holds your hand and the door together. Clinging stubbornly to his own hand, disgusting little thing.

The web sticks to his fingers and he makes a disgusted grimace, lips turning down and nose scrunching, throwing it into the opened garbage bin next to the door. Frank then exhales sharply through his nose, warm breath fanning over your face when he turns back towards you, rubbing a hand over his face in a manner that makes his emotions very clear. It’s an utter joke. This whole situation is one big joke. Spider-Man once again mentioned the stupid Staten Island and that’s what made him accept this favour, according to the spider’s words, he owed him for that. Even though he and you knew it was bullshit. The guy wouldn’t get Frank in any possible scenario and the spider is exaggerating it all.

You stare up at Frank and it feels a bit awkward with the two new additions in your kitchen. Frank shakes his head and his hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your wrist and he pushes you backward. Pushing you towards where you had come from, the spare guest room.

“I’ll go put some pants on,” he huffs out with a low voice to the guests in the kitchen. Irritated as ever. He was afterall still wearing his stupid grey robe. Then he continued, “and gon’ explain this bullshit to ya’,” he looks down at you at the second part.

He guides you back to the room and shuts the heavy metal door behind him. His hand unwraps from your wrist, but before he completely lets go off you. He raises it up to his mouth gently, his head bending down and plants his lips against the skin of your knuckles. Soft, gentle like he was holding something precious. The big, bad Punisher, kissing your knuckles like a piece of an angel.

Frank whispers out against your knuckles, muffled with another kiss that he gave your hand, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Then he follows you into the bedroom. You lead the way, him trailing right behind you. When you enter the room, Frank reaches for the light switch and switches it on with a faint click, it flickers a few times before a familiar, yellow-ish light fills the small room of the boat that you both share as a bedroom. Frank then walks straight towards the closet, opening it and reaches for the pair of pants that he is not currently wearing. Black, like always.

Then without turning towards you, no sly remark, he pulls the black pants on with a huff of breath. Then he unwraps the grey robe from his waist and hastily throws it onto the bed without turning around.

“You let Spider-Man and his friend into our boat because he claimed that you… owed him for Staten Island? I guess?”

Frank’s silence answers you. He told you about it multiple times, the kid kept mentioning it whenever he’d run into him. Your eyes narrow at the silence that the man gives you.

“Frank.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“He’s dang annoying and wants to keep his girlfriend safe. I was… gon' tell ya’,” he speaks with that rasp in his voice and rubs a hand over his jaw, still turned with his back to you, staring at the opened doors of the closet. Looking at the shelves and hanging clothes.

“When?” you ask the man, stepping closer to the doorway. Leaning your shoulder against it, finding a comfortable stance.

Frank looks up towards the ceiling with a long sigh, “...soon.”

You chuckle at that. He turns at the sound of that and sees your stance. Arms crossed over your chest, shoulder resting against the doorframe as you watch him closely and Frank pauses. Genuinely pauses, life stopping in his chest. Breathing stopped too. And for a good few moments, neither of you speak up.

Then he comes towards you, crossing the room in a few steps. The space between you and Frank shrinks until there’s barely anything left between the two of you. Chest touching chest. Then, his arm slides around your waist, going from your stomach to your back and to your side, his firm hand pulling you closer to him. The other hand comes up under your jaw, fingers slipping over your skin until his hand holds your jawline the way he wants, the familiar way you know. With his hand, he then softly tilts your face towards him, making you stare up to his brown eyes, rough with memories and soft with your presence. He pulls your head up with a gentleness that doesn’t match the sight of him. The sight of how they called him, the Punisher.

Your own arms unlock from where you have them crossed over your chest and loop around Frank’s neck, fingers settling at the back of it. Hands holding the nape, the hairs shuffling between your fingers. Then you rest your weight on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Even closer, if that’s possible. Frank exhales and then he dips down. Down against your mouth.

He kisses you.

Lips slotting against lips.

He tilts your head up to his, adjusting the way your mouths move. His hand at your waist tightens a bit more as he leans into it. Down into the kiss. The hand under your jaw slides slightly up, the palm of his hand now covering your cheek and his thumb rests under your eye. Pulling you in, deepening it like his lips and your lips were the only thing holding him up.

Frank shifts you back without breaking the kiss you are having. He slowly starts guiding you backwards until your entire back meets the doorframe behind you, not just your shoulder. His hand at your waist slides up and then down, hunching your shirt up and then letting it down back down. Then he tilts your head to the side, your neck moving and your ear nearly touches your shoulder. He goes the opposite way, moving the kiss without your noses colliding. It wasn’t messy, just passionate and a good heat involved. Sweet, warm and delicious. Like a dream. Mouth opening, lips wet and hands wandering.

Then his lips fall from your, now the tips of your lips touching. A small, warm feeling.

The man then pulls a bit away, your lips far for another kiss to be done. He doesn’t step away though, keeping you against the doorway, body facing the hallway. His back turned towards the guest room.

“Now,” Frank says with a deep voice, his hand moving slightly higher at your side. The other hand drops from your cheek, moving to the side of your neck, “...’bout the kids in our kitchen.”

He glances briefly towards the guest room, his warm breath fans over your face as he looks over his shoulder and then turns his head back towards you.

Frank does that noise of his before he speaks, “eeeh–kid has been talking ‘bout that goddamn Staten Island shit and how I owe him for tha’,” he chuckles out with a disbelieving expression, “his girlfriend is in danger, apparently needs my fuckin’ help for tha’.”

“Isn’t he already sick of that story about Staten Island?” you chuckle a bit louder, a smile forming on your face.

“That’s exactly what I asked him!” he barks out loudly, shaking his head. His head dips down and he lets his lips fall upon your cheek, planting a kiss there. Warm and gentle. Then he raises his head back up, staring down at you with a hint of a smirk that lays on his lips.

“Listen, sweetheart, he bothered me in the city too. I told ya', ya'know. At that fuckin’ tank. Jesus. The kid’s gon’ tell me what he really needs me t’ do and then I can figure—” the man’s words get once again cut off. This time differently. You pull his hair again, the tiny strands at his neck that aren’t buzzed up into that fade he has on, and he instantly shuts himself off and drops his head down. Lips falling onto yours, slotting to the position like they were before.

His hand instantly slides from your neck back up to your jaw, pulling your head up and making you stand up higher than before as he deepened the kiss. His hand settles against your cheek and jaw, his hand big and heavy on your face. He leans further down, trying to enter himself into your mouth with his own lips.

You pull away, a catch of breath trying to be made, but then Frank, like the man he is, goes back down. Lips finding yours messily, first falling on the corners and wetting them up. Then he moves to the lips, fitting together with a heavy push of his lips against yours. Your fingers grip, tighten up in his hair, pulling.

His name escapes your lips.

Making the sound against your lips, somewhere in between a whine and a prayer. His name is a whisper, a soft and debilitated pronunciation of his name.

His lips turn, pulls slightly from yours into a faint little Castle smirk. And then he pushes further, another kiss and another and another. His lips pull your top lip, his nose nudging your closed eyes. He was so pushy, so full of want and love.

Frank’s hand moves to your side in a different way. With a push, he guides you out of the doorway of your shared bedroom, he turns you towards the wall of the hallway. Not the bedroom. Then neither of you is blocking the doorway, now standing sideways in the boat’s hallway. Your back is against the metal wall and you realize it after he pulls away again, for a breath that fills his mouth.

“Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank,” you manage out, voice not delivering the right tone for the words, voice a bit uneven, “we have—Frank. The kitchen—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he flaps out. No care in his voice.

He continues with the mess, his grip tightens. Fingers dig to your sides, head turns from side to side, tongue swipes and wets. Lips move in a dance that can’t be performed any other time. It’s almost impossible to describe the utter feeling inside your chests, it’s everywhere. Frank is everywhere. His lips, especially. His hands, too.

The guest room doors at the end of the hallway swings open.

Fucking hell.

Then Spider-Man steps out first, mid-sentence, still talking with that high voice of his, gesturing vaguely with his hands in the air, waving and doing shit. Your and Frank’s heads snap towards the sound, both eyes wide.

“—I’m just saying, his whole boat will get burned down because of–”

“–won’t burn because of a chilli!”

Both Spider-Man’s and the girl’s voices stumble over each other, overlapping each other. Louder than every other word they say, trying to get themselves together to form a good sentence to let each other know about the kitchen’s awful smell. The girl steps to the view too.

Spider-Man’s head snaps upward the hallway.

He sees you.

He sees Frank.

And sees the position at the end of the hallway.

The girl looks later, still talking about the chilli that Frank had been cooking. Her eyes snap wide open when she sees the pair of other wide eyes staring at her from the end of the boat’s hallway. Her entire body turns on instinct. Fully away.

“Oh my God.”

And then she is gone.

“Cool, cool, cool! Very cool, so sorry. Sorry–” the younger boy stumbles over his own words, holding his hand out in front of his eyes as if it would cover whatever was happening. It’s not like you and Frank were naked or having a brutally intimate situation in the middle of the hallway, just a slight kissing with a sprinkle of something deeper. Spiderman follows the way of his friend, moving away from the hallway.

Frank’s voice is loud. Very loud. Deep, but loud.

“I swear to God, kid, I’m gonna kill you!”

Spider-Man’s voice comes right back, “your chilli is burned!”

“I don’t give a flying shit about the damn fuckin’ chilli!”

He yells back, his voice rising. His hand leaves your cheek, the other one still rests on your side, the grip no longer the same. Somehow, the boy in the mask continues, “you were cooking it, Frank! I thought you–” he doesn’t get the chance to continue as the older man practically yells out like a soldier back at him.

“Why the fuck can’t you leave me and my wife alone for five fucking seconds?”

And then it’s quiet.

But then you hear muffled voices, hushed. Trying to talk quietly. The girl’s voice and the boy in a mask. In your kitchen with that stupid, burned chilli that Frank was making before he brought two guests onto your boat. Their voices fade farther away, they’re probably shutting the door to let you two have a moment to compose.

You look at Frank, gaze moving from the end of the hallway.

Frank is looking down the hallway. Furrow between his heavy brows, frustration filling his face.

A small chuckle escapes you. You can’t help it. Then he turns and Frank’s eyes slowly move towards you, looking down from where his frustrated face is.

“Eeh–it’s goddamn funny, huh?” Frank nudges you with his voice. He doesn’t find it as funny as you do. You shake your head, disagreeing with the man, even if there is a small smile on your lips. Trying to cover the truth.

You slide your hand from his neck to his chest and smile up at him, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Nope.”

He gives you a long, exhausted look that says too many things to you. As if he is reconsidering every decision he has made today, he hates this entire day and night. The moments with you fill the blanks with good parts, other than that it's utter bullshit and a waste of a day. Spider-Man and his nonsense. Then a kiss, on your lips. Tiny and gentle before he pulls away and lets you stnd back up from the wall of the bot, moving slowly down the hallway with a blush in your cheeks that you could feel on your face and with a special feeling in your chest that sits there right now.

Behind that closed door, behind the guest room and another closed door is the kitchen. And in the kitchen are two guests who seemed to get quite updated on the life of a certain someone. Specifically Spider-Man who has known this man for a good while. He just did not notice, that’s all. MJ is making it a big deal.

“Wife? Wife?” Spider-Man throws his hands up, his voice is loud and high-pitched, “Frank is married?”

“You didn’t know that Frank had a wife?”

“No, I didn't! How was I supposed to know?”

“The ring on his finger?” MJ’s face is full of disbelief.

“What?

“What what?” she shakes her head so swiftly from side to side, wide eyes staring at him.

“He has a ring?”

“Oh my God, and you call yourself–”

“Well, sorry! I don’t notice rings on people’s hands when they’re shooting at me and others!” he exclaims loudly, throwing his hands up into the air as if he is throwing out some confetti.

“He had it on his hand right now! And you never even asked him–”

“No, I didn’t! Forget it, MJ. I did noooot know.”

And he knows that he is going to have an amazing conversation with Frank himself the next time.

୨ৎ feedback is very appreciated!!!!

i LOOVEDD spiderman brand new day, i saw it twice and i need to rewatch lol!! also obsessed with frank in this movie he's so silly! a bit diff in the show iyk lmfaooooo hope u enjoyed this!! <3

also first post on here hiii

[iwritefanficx]

Who’s that for? - Frank Castle

“We just need to stop on the way there kid” Frank mumbled to Spiderman who was currently sat in the seat next to him, in his van “what why?” “I just need to get something” he didn’t elaborate on what he needed just pulled up to a little bakery not far from his hideout

Peter watched Frank leave the van, enter the bakery smiling oddly, which was unsettling and come out again holding a bag and an iced coffee and Peter knew Frank didn’t drink iced coffee, so this confused him.

“Who is that for?” Peter asked when Frank opened his door “not for you” is all he answered, setting of back to the dock where you would be waiting hopefully still asleep, so that Frank could atleast warn you before Spider-Man walked in the place you both call home.

“Just stay in the kitchen kid” Frank whispered not wanting to wake you “I’ll be back” taking the coffee and leaving Peter alone wondering where he’s going.

Frank, creeped back into the room you both shared, smiling at you still wrapped up in the sheets, taking this opportunity to climb under too, for a few sleepy morning cuddles which he would never admit but they were his favourite time of the day, the little kisses you would place on his chest while waking up for the day “baby” he whispered “you’re home” he nodded wrapping an arm around her “I brought coffee and breakfast that is in the kitchen” she nodded “the coffee is right here tho” he lent over to the table at the side of the bed, passing it over to her as she sat up “we also have a guest” “who?” “The kid” you knew he meant Spiderman, you had never met each other but you knew Frank helped him out when he came to him for help “he’s in the kitchen, probably eating the food I got so hurry up” he slipped out of the bed again, knowing that you were two seconds away from being fully awake and shout at him for getting in the bed in his what you would call outside clothes that should never enter the bed “I’ll meet you in the kitchen” he pressed a kiss to your forehead leaving shutting the door behind him.

“Who was the iced coffee for Frank?” Peter pressed the subject “because you drink it black” “for y/n” he said in the end knowing you were most likely five minutes away from joining the two “who is y/n?” Peter asks “that would be me” she entered wearing one of franks shirts and a pair of jeans “Frank, how could you keep from me that you have a girlfriend?” Peter is surprised “you never asked?” Frank said like it was the most casual thing in the world “your acting like you would of answered his question anyway and I’m not his girlfriend I’m his wife” y/n spoke sending more of a shock through Peter “wait what?” “Five years” y/n said showing her hand “so when you agreed to keep MJ here to keep her safe, that’s because you knew it was really safe aye?” Frank nodded, no one knew he had a wife, you went about your life and had a life outside the boat but you were always safe “who’s MJ?” “The kids girlfriend” “she’s not my girlfriend, she doesn’t even know who i am” “whatever man, just go get her” they watched Peter run off “so am I on MJ babysitting duty?” She asked leaning into her husband “do you mind?” “No, I’ll keep her safe” “I know, but promise you protect yourself first” she nodded “always Frankie”

[honeybeechestnut]

bearded Frank Castle x wormie

“Frank.”

“Nope.”

“Fwank.”

“I’m serious, sweetheart. Quit it.”

“Fwankie.”

“Jesus Christ. For the last time, no! You’re not ‘bedazzling’ shit on my beard. Quit it.”

“But it’s cute. Everyone’s doing it.”

“I don’t care.”

And there you are, straddling Frank “I don’t have time for that shit” Castle’s lap, accessorizing his thick scruff using the new bedazzle kit he absolutely should not have bought you!

Frank is reading. Or maybe trying to, because every now and then, you catch him looking at you as you press another rhinestone onto the corner of his mouth. Curtis gave him this book weeeeeeks ago, but thanks to a certain someone, he’s still on the first chapter ;P

When you stick another shiny stone on his jaw, he grumbles. “Everything goes in the trash later, you hear?”

His thumb never stops tracing lazy circles against your waist even when that ridiculous ear-to-ear grin he claims to hate so much is pulled across your face. You just seal his lips with a glittery sticker.

“M’kay. Now zip it. I’m working.”

[reveriecodydex]

Order Up!

Anythin' for My Girl

Neighbour!Frank x Neighbour!Plant lover!Reader

SUMMARY: You had so many plants and flowers in your apartment it soon became far too overfilled. And getting gifted some new ones only made you upset you had no good enough windows. So you ask your neighbour Frank if he has a window to spare...

Ingredients: 18+ MDNI, fluff, more fluff, established relationship (friends but crushing hard on each other), Frank calling reader 'his girl' because yes please, pet names (sweetheart, sunshine), Frank seems grumpy but internally he is melting, he sorta kinda flirts for a moment, not proof read

Calories: 1.4k

Chef's Note: Requested by the lovely @ih34rtunicorns , I hope this is delicious!!

FIND THE ORDER HERE!!

"Hmm... Nope you can't fit there. Too much shade from the building across. And you definitely can't go into the living room. All the Monstera and Peace Lillies are in there." You then pouted at the two pots in your arms. Two gifts from your mother for your birthday and you didn't even have anywhere to put them.

You felt terrible.

But then... an idea, of sorts struck you.

You have a wonderful neighbour you see, his name is Frank. Frank Castle. And lately he has been well... waiting on your hand and foot. It was sweet, really. He would help you with your groceries up the stairs, he'd give you some leftovers of any meal he 'accidentally' made too much of.

You would return it by baking little things for him or even just doing his load of laundry along with yours. You helped each other out, because that's what friends do. So asking if you could put two of your plants into his apartment because yours was full wouldn't be an issue, yeah? Yeah. No issue.

So that's what you did. You put the plants down and started your morning routine. Once that was done, you decided to also bring some left over cupcakes from the birthday festivities you had last week. You did invite Frank, but he had something last minute come up. He still sent you a present though, that was nice of him.

"Oh for the love of..." You pulled your front door shut with your foot before going down the hall to your left. Frank's door instantly is in front of you. Now... how the hell were you going to knock? Your hands were full, you didn't want to use your foot in case someone came out of the elevator and saw. So you opted for the only thing.

You lent forward and knocked using your forehead. Crazy? Possibly. But if it brought the needed outcome then it was all worth it. And in the end, it was all worth it as soon as Frank opened the door.

He looked... well you've never seen him so tossed up. His eyes were droopy from sleep, he had tiny hairs peeking up at all angles and he was still in his casual sleepwear. You won't admit how good he looks in black sweats. Never.

"Good morning Frank." He grumbled slightly as he yawned before then responding to you.

"Mornin'... Or should I say what a wonderful dawn." You snorted.

"It's 7:15. That's not dawn."

"Fuckin' feels like it. Now, why do you 'ave your arms filled?" You really did try to hide the grin, really, you did. "...I ain't likin' that look."

"I need a favour... And I brought the payment of cupcakes for it."

"Done. What'dya need?" This man... one mention of food and boom. Favour accepted. Or maybe because it was just you and your baking. You weren't sure.

"I need a windowsill. Preferably with indirect sunlight for my pretty calla lily and orchid here. I'm uh, fully booked." Frank glanced at the flowers in your arms before he opened the door fully and let you in.

"Well uh, you pick the window. All are open to you..."

"Why thank you Frankie." You handed him the container of cupcakes before going around his living room. Looking out to the sun and then the windowsill. You were so lost in your analysing that you didn't even notice the eyes watching every move.

Frank had always been... well, a little interested in you doesn't even scratch the surface. From the day he met you, he tolerated you. He was polite, you were the kindest ever. He got more comfortable, and you opened up. That's how the friendship bloomed really. It went from neighbourly things to having dinners with each other at times in each other's apartments. Small hello's in the hallway to then going on walks around the city together.

Then it struck him. He'd have two of your things, in his apartment. Most likely for the rest of eternity. Unless you get rid of some of your plants and take those back. A part of him wishes that never happens. He'll take care of them, he promises. He'll make sure they get watered every day for just what they need. Enough sunlight, enough nutrients in the soil if needed—

"This'll do perfectly." Frank quickly pulled himself out of his trance and saw you had picked a window right near his favourite chair. The white and pink was a stark contrast amongst his browns, reds and blacks, but fuck did he find it pretty. Your lives slightly blending together, he did wonder if you felt it. The little spark here and there.

You did, that's why the idea popped into your head in the first place.

"So uh, did you want me to water 'em?"

"What?"

"...Did you want me to water 'em?"

"Oh— I was just going to come over to do it. I think you giving them a little spot is okay enough."

Frank scratched his neck, a habit when he was thinking or slightly nervous. Which it wasn't the latter very much. But it was right now. You were... going to come over more. To water the plants. Should he give you his spare key then? So you could get in if he wasn't home? Or is that too much? Maybe that's too much.

"Unless you'd like to water them at times? The orchid needs to be watered every 6-8 days with room temperature water. Well, that's what is recommended. And the calla lillies need to be watered practically every day depending on the soil. It needs to stay moist, not drenched, just moist."

"Okay... and uh, which is which?"

"The pink is the orchid. And the white is the calla lillies. Just remember it like that." Has anyone ever told you that your smile is so bright it makes his heart melt every now and then? He hopes not, as he wants to say that.

"Right, yeah 'kay." He cleared his throat and came over to you. You felt the heat radiating off of him as he stood behind, looking at the flowers. He had to admit, they were very pretty. Suited you well. He's sure the relentless teasing he'd get from Curtis will likely make him throw him. But, that can wait until the moment.

"Such a grump you are. Maybe these will bring a smile to your face."

"I ain't a grump."

"Oh yes you are."

"Nah sweetheart. You just happen to be a ray of fuckin' sunshine." You bit back a comment for one moment, before ultimately deciding to say it.

"Well fine then. I shall just be your personal sunshine." Frank tensed, not that you noticed. He swears his heart stopped, can it do that? He'd be dead. So why did it just- nevermind. It's racing now. Full on.

"I—Uh... o...kay." You turned around to him, an eyebrow raised.

"Huh?"

"Do that. Be uh... be my own personal sunshine." You laughed, a full on, genuine laugh. That didn't help his heart at all. Maybe it was a heart attack at this point.

"And what would I get in return?"

"Anythin'. I'd do anythin' for my girl."

It slipped out. Not intentionally, but it still came out. He was now hoping you didn't think he saw you and thought of you as property. As a product he could pick up off of the shelf at the corner shop and buy and own. He just, finds it a really nice idea, a dream even, to just have you as more than a friend.

"... Anything huh?" He cleared his throat again now, awkwardly. His grumpiness from earlier completely melted away and it was now just an awkward swirl that kept him. But he still nodded slowly.

"Yeah..."

"Well... watering them would be nice. Especially if I'm busy at work..."

His heart dropped slightly, fuck, this went all wrong. You didn't feel the spark, you probably now thought—

"And a date would be nice. Then there is a reason you can fully call me that."

"Wait, huh?"

"A date."

"A... date. Listen, I'm sorry if tha' made you uncomfortable—"

"Frank." The tone. That tone that meant you weren't waiting around much longer for your point to get across.

"A date it is. Gio's."

"Wonderful. Now remember, moist soil for the lillies. Room temperature and 6-8 days for the orchids. Just call me if you think there is an issue." You then gave him one more sickly sweet smile before going back to your apartment. Calling out behind you,

"Can't wait for our date!!"

These flowers will now forever hold a memory that will murder Frank one day. Definitely.

If you enjoyed, please reblog to help this reach a wider audience!! All types of support are welcome as well! Likes, comments or even a request sent in!

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Tag List (open to join!): @hellilovedit

[nickygalitzine]

check the source link OR HERE for #231 gifs of JON BERNTHAL as FRANK CASTLE in netflix's THE PUNISHER season 2 episode 1. all gifs are 265px by 168px and made entirely from scratch by me for roleplaying purposes. please REBLOG this post if you found it useful and check my rules for more information.

[aerispilled]

frank castle, fem, peter cameo, 0.4k — reader's implied to work nights, bc who takes naps at dawn

Frank’s just about to tuck you in for a nap, kneeling by the bed and cooing at you, bringing the blanket up to your chin. You snort when he groans at a voice calling him from outside.

“Frank? Frank! Anybody home?” Peter knocks (more like pounds) the door of his boat, shouting for all of New York to hear.

Frank kisses your head and stands, muttering to himself while he closes the bedroom door behind him. He climbs the stairs and lets Peter into the makeshift living area.

“Would you lower your voice, kid? I got my girl sleeping in the other room.”

Peter scoffs, incredulous. “You don't have a girlfriend.”

Frank goes to the counter and pours a steaming mug of coffee without a word.

He stills. “No way.”

While Peter gapes beneath his mask, Frank sips on his coffee. “Did you need something? It's early.”

“How'd you two meet?”

Frank sighs roughly, shaking his head and closing his eyes in annoyance. “Christ.”

“Can’t I know? We're supposed to be friends!” Peter rounds and sits at the table eagerly, like a child cozying in bed for a bedtime story.

“What is this, like a wellness check?” Frank grumbles and takes another chug. “Kid, it's early. Go home. Sun’s barely up.”

Peter whines, “Come on!” when Frank pulls him by the ear and drags him out. He asks, quickly, “Is she nice? Does she eat your chili? Can I meet her—”

“Yes, no, and no,” Frank answers in rapid succession. He pushes Peter out the door. “She's a well-kept secret and it’ll stay that way.”

A slam from the front door rattles the bedroom. You yawn when Frank comes back to bed moments later, shrugging his robe off and slipping under the covers with you.

“Who was that?” You ask, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Frank clicks his tongue and settles on your pillow. "Just the kid.”

You throw your arm over his waist and nuzzle into his chest. “What’d he want?”

He grunts, rumbling his chest under your ear. A hand smooths down your hair while the other keeps your arm close. “Don't worry ‘bout it. Just sleep.”

“He should come over for dinner.”

“Baby.”

“Alright, alright,” you concur, dozing off and him with you.

(A well-kept secret, Peter grumbles to himself, when he spots you and Frank kissing and sharing meals at a diner while on patrol several hours later.)

[storiesoferoda]

Frank castle is the type of man to buy you the biggest ring ever. And it’s exactly what you want. Perfectly designed to you because he knows you. Watches, listens for every like and dislike you could ever have.

But once that ring is on your finger, forever tied to him, in sickness and in health snd everything else. He’ll just grab your hand while your laying together, in the car together, eating together, just whenever and kiss the ring.

a/n: Is that sexy? I think its sexy. This came about because I’m about to finisher punisher season one and Maria has the FATTEST rock ever

[marcidstars]

thinking about having frank castle as your neighbour...

──⬩➤ neighbour!frank, SFW, he has a soft spot for your dog—and for you, of course.

note: i wrote this in one sitting and didn't proofread a single word. just the purest of brain farts. 1.8k words.

you wholeheartedly thought his apartment was empty, when you first moved in. not once did you hear the rattle of his lock across the hall, or the open and shut of his door. he never rattled the floors with bass-boosted music, never cranked up the volume of his TV, never had obnoxiously loud sex in the middle of the day—all things that neighbours of yours had done in the past; all things you had learned to expect no matter where you went.

in new york, nobody gets undisturbed peace. unless you won the lottery, bought yourself a house with a garden the size of a football field, noisy neighbours were just something you had to get used to.

frank castle stood out, in that regard. your first month in that apartment passed in near absolute silence, broken only by the occasional thudding of footsteps from a less considerate upstairs neighbour. it was weird; you'd grown so used to constant background noise that your life felt a little hollow without it.

so, you created your own background noise: constant music, played at a socially acceptable volume, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to bed. it worked a charm, or so you thought; you had found a way to fill the silence, and you left your neighbours undisturbed.

and then you ran into him in the hall.

you were fumbling around for your keys, standing among a small gaggle of grocery bags, when the lock turned in the unit across from you. frank stepped out, not even sparing you a glance, and promptly closed the door behind him before your curious eyes could steal a glimpse into his unnaturally silent apartment.

he would have walked straight past you, if you hadn't been so quick to introduce yourself. you gave him your name, told him you'd moved in recently, and he nodded like he already knew.

"frank," he had said before gesturing to your apartment with a raised brow. "you got madonna waitin' for you in there?"

by the look on your face, anyone would have thought he'd just sworn at you.

"...i didn't know you could hear— oh my god. i'm so sorry!"

madonna didn't bother him, or so he said, but you turned your music down all the same—and you stopped singing along entirely. the last thing you wanted to do was terrorise your mysterious (and hot. very hot) neighbour with your rendition of "like a virgin" that sounded more akin to a dying seagull than it did the queen of pop.

you baked him cookies (don't ask why; you were panicking) and presented them to him with your best neighbourly smile. you made it out like it was tradition, something you did every time you moved into a new place, and not a frantic attempt at an apology.

a few days later, he returned the empty tupperware with a curt nod.

"thanks," he said, flashing you this barely there smile that, in all honesty, could have easily been nothing more than a trick of the light. "you're a damn good baker."

you met his compliment with a shrug, trying to play it off like it hadn't made your chest swell with pride. "i try."

his smile widened, turned a little lopsided in a way that made your whole world feel as though it had tilted with it—because fuck, he wasn't just hot; he was cute.

he looked you up and down once, amusement simmering behind his dark eyes, before turning away.

"just wish i could say the same about your signin', material girl."

he started to pay more attention to you after that. whenever you passed each other in the hallway, he'd greet you with a nod and, sometimes, a smile; he'd hold the elevator for you whenever he saw you coming; he even helped you with your shopping when you overestimated how much you could carry in one trip—but not without commenting on your spending habits first.

"how you have any room left in that place is beyond me. i swear you're luggin' about two dozen bags of crap up here every week."

"are you stalking me, frank?"

"you think i can't hear you huffin' and puffin' through the door?"

"i don't huff and puff—"

"you were out here callin' your damn brandy melville bag a 'useless piece of shit' after it broke on you the other day—or was that someone else?"

"and you didn't think to come out and help? real gentlemanly— how did you even know it was a—"

"not my bag, not my problem, madonna. maybe you should start pickin' your battles a little more wisely; don't buy what you can't carry."

your bag of groceries thumped the back of his thighs as you huffed, turning your nose up at his words. "maybe you should stop judging people, castle."

"oh, yeah." he nodded, a sardonic smile forming on his face. "i'll become a priest while i'm at it, yeah?"

shrugging, you lifted your chin to look at him. "hey, father castle has a pretty nice ring to it."

"in your dreams, sweet cheeks," he muttered, dumping his share of the bags at your door. "you know, i better be gettin' cookies for this."

"oh, please—"

"soft-baked, with dark and milk chocolate chips," he continued, talking over you without apology. "if they aren't still warm when you hand 'em over, there'll be trouble."

"how about i throw in a tiara, too?" you asked. "since you wanna act like such a princess?"

the subtle raise of frank’s brows had you rolling your eyes before he could even respond. you may not have known him well, but you knew that look; pure, unfiltered smugness. the look of a man who was about to call your bluff and take way too much joy in doing it.

"deal," he said simply. "cookies and a tiara, at my door, tomorrow. you probably own a dozen of the things in that apartment of yours, right?"

"you're a bitch."

"who deserves a pretty little crown, don't ya think?"

pushing open your door, you gathered up your small ecosystem of bags and hauled them inside. "a bitch!"

one time, you asked him to dog sit for a few days. more out of desperation, than anything; your usual sitter had flaked on you, and you had a plane to catch.

frank, thankfully, had agreed without question, but the self-proclaimed "dog person" had looked nothing short of horrified when you presented him with your pomeranian, spooky. as unfortunate as it was for him, he dutifully accepted his fate—it was too late to back out—and you thanked him with the sweetest, most irritating smile you could muster.

three days later, after abandoning your suitcase in the hall, you knocked on frank's door to no answer. silence, and not the usual kind. this was hollow. vacant. he wasn't home.

so where the hell was he?

more importantly, where the hell was spooky?

your texts went unanswered, your phone calls went to voicemail and, for a good five minutes, you genuinely found yourself worrying that frank castle had done something to your precious dog. maybe he left poor spooky in a shoebox on the side of the road, or took him to a shelter, or—

princess castle: relax, madonna. princess castle: we're in the park.

you weren't sure what you were expecting to find when you made it to the quaint park just around the block from your building, but it certainly wasn't frank castle rolling around in the grass with your puppy.

spooky was licking his face like he was some kind of treat, pawing at his stubble as frank—honest to god—lay there laughing, telling him to "get off" and calling him "spooks" in this tone so warm it made you breathe a little funny.

the second he saw you staring, his smile vanished. and that only made you smile even harder.

but the second spooky saw you staring, he lit up. came bounding towards you and jumped up, paws digging into your jeans, as you crouched down to greet him.

"ohh, there's my boy. there's my spooky boy," you cooed, lifting him into your arms so he could nuzzle your face. "i missed you too, buddy, yes i did."

clearing his throat, frank stood up and dusted himself off, but the dirt stains covering his cargo pants refused to budge.

"one hell of a dog," he muttered. "almost took my fuckin' eye out."

"aww, and he should've. isn't that right, bud? yeah, you should've mauled him, shouldn't you?" after giving spooky a few more kisses, you looked up at frank with a smirk. "i don't know, you two seem to get on pretty well to me."

he scoffed, crossing his arms, but he didn't try to argue with you. instead, he pivoted. "what kind of a name is spooky, anyway?"

shrugging, you set spooky down and stood up. "i named him after some guy from some show."

"some guy from some show?" he repeated. "you gonna elaborate, or is this some kinda secret?"

"have you seen the x-files?"

"the detective show with the aliens?"

"yup," you said, smiling.

his lip curled in mild disgust. "...you named him after mulder, seriously?"

"careful there, princess. you're starting to sound jealous."

it wasn't long before you ran into him again. he was returning home, carrying with a rucksack that looked as though it was filled with bricks; you were heading out, carrying with a very restless spooky.

"hey spooks," he grunted as he walked past.

you clicked your tongue. "ouch."

"hey madonna," he added.

the sound of his keys rattling brought you to a halt in the hallway. you turned, slowly, trying to keep spooky from escaping your hold and announced, "we're going for a walk."

"uh huh."

he was opening his door now, your window closing by the second, so you stepped forward.

"wanna come with?"

frank glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, once, twice, before turning to you with a sceptical look. "you want me to walk your dog with you?"

"i think spooky would appreciate the company," you said, feigning indifference.

"sure he would." frank nodded, the motion slow and exaggerated, before huffing out a sigh. "jus' let me drop my shit off inside, and i'll be with ya."

"...cool." a smile hijacked your face before you could stop it, leaving you standing there cheesing like an idiot, but it didn't stop you from calling out after him:

"feel free to grab your tiara while you're at it, princess."

// i'm throwing this out there in the hopes it'll be enough to scratch my neighbour!frank itch, because if i let frank & madonna (& spooky) camp out in my brain any longer i'll end up with a whole bunch of ideas that'll inevitably turn into a series and..........we all know how that ends. that being said, i might wind up writing about these guys again because they've already grown on me......

[frankneedsanap]

big and scary frank would slay with a pomeranian 💅

[elirydoll]

// after dealing with another hit, franks available and his first thought is to come apologize for missed calls and absence

“Aye,” He called over loud enough to grab the shopkeeper's attention.

“You’ve got any mixed bouquets? Got someone m’ visiting.” nodding along to the foreign words, he quickly checked the time on his phone, still indirectly watching the owner pack the assortment of flowers.

Handing a twenty for it blindly, he didn’t care to stay and collect the change and instead walked straight.

Reaching three blocks down, he turned a corner to the apartment’s entrance. A few floors above, he noticed a familiar dimmed lamp. “C’mon, pick up…”

Finishing inspecting photographs and files, you huffed irritably. A total of five hours sitting at a stationary position opening and closing tabs, and occasional business conversations. Everything else remained untouched, food items set out for dinner preparation sitting in a pile on the kitchen counter. Even when working remotely, the urgency of finishing tasks before tending to your own needs was a problem. A little one, but a bad one.

Slumping back into your office chair, pushing away from the desk, your gaze drifts up to the ceiling. In slow blinks you attempted to rest your sight from the laptops moderately high brightness. Right beside, your phone suddenly buzzed. Stretching out with a tired yawn, you picked it up, chest instantly tightening at the contact name. Castle.

You perked upward halfway at the sight of the unexpected call. Last time Frank came, he was in desperate need of suturing his bicep from a dagger stab. It was terribly rushed. Only bits of memories were remembered, the rest being foggy. Frank would bite down on a rag as you removed shrapnel from the open laceration while the only antiseptics lying around was a half pint of vodka.

Giving yourself a few seconds grace, you bit your bottom lip in contemplation before giving in. Pressing the accept button, your tongue grazed upper teeth in a discreet smile.

“Frank?” You answered, gentler than intended.

“Thought I’d call before disturbin’ your peace,” He hoarsely started, “I owe you one.” putting it clean and simple.

Swallowing your anticipation, you scoffed.

“You know you really don’t… C’mon, Curtis has fixed you up many more times before me.” Realistically, he trusted himself with you because of the closer proximity. At least that was the reason in your mind.

“Eh, he’s dealt with me for years... Done me too many favors to count. I don’t do drop off delivery either.”

Eyebrow quirking at his comment, you shut the laptop, pushing the curtain out of frame to peer outside. Frank was already fixated on your window, giving a small gesture. You watched as he slowly lifted the bouquet in the air enough to see, a silent invitation.

“I suppose I can buzz you in.”

“Atta girl.”

Counting the seconds nervously, you paused at the familiar knocking pattern. Unlocking the chain latch and knob, he stood on the welcome mat, a satisfied smug growing. Leaning in closer as the door opened, you both maintained eye contact before he cleared his throat. "Put these in a cup for me, daffodil." He murmured, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely with a light kiss to the forehead. Gaze wandering to your lips momentarily, he eventually let you entirely slip from his grip. Closing the door behind, Frank sighed as you looked back concerned.

"You worry me, Frank... I haven't heard from you in days, and you're bloodied... and is this really your way of making it up?"

He shook his head at the expected scolding, going in to scoop you up.

"I'm here now, n' I'm all yours, yeah?” He cooed, jaw tightening as he stared intently, expression unreadable. “I know, that wasn’t right. Be mad at me all you want,”

Ignoring his prior request, he nabbed the bouquet from your fingers, placing them firmly onto the countertop.

Hand caressing its way back down, hungry for a longing feel, his calloused fingers rubbed circles around your wrist. Carefully, he lifted your arm, spreading kisses down your hand to forearm.

The space quickly closed in, Frank's temple touching yours asking for permission. A fervent desire. It tore through your anger, subsiding and replacing it with need. Surrendering, your hands flew to cup the sides of his face, lips crashing into his, almost too eager. Taking in the faint whiff of cologne and sweat on him made the feeling all too intoxicating.

Groaning at the sudden move, Frank moved to cup your silhouette, his other hand tangling in your hair. You both fought competitively over power, until he tugged your head back lightly.

“Still don’t forgive me, eh?” He rasped with a chuckle.

[vanillachapters]

caught.

one-shot

pairing. frank castle x reader

genre. secret romance, age gap, dad's best friend, drama, angst, possessive tension, caught

warnings. extreme verbal confrontation, angry shouting, heavy physical tension, protective themes, dark undertones.

word count. tbd

a/n. lowkey w the dad on this one, also can yall tell i hv a dads best friend obsession lollll

summary.

For four months, sneaking around with your dad’s best friend, Frank Castle, was an intoxicating secret. But late one rainy Tuesday night in Frank’s garage, a momentary lapse in caution leads to your worst nightmare: the light clicks on, and your father is standing in the doorway.

Four months.

Four months of hushed whispers in dark hallways, stolen glances across your family's dinner table, and late-night drives with Frank. Four months of knowing that if your father ever found out what his battle-tested, iron-willed best friend was doing with his daughter, blood would be spilled.

It was supposed to be a quick visit. Your dad was out cold on the couch, snoring loudly in front of a flickering television set after a long twelve-hour shift. You had slipped out the back door, barefoot and wrapped in an oversized hoodie, creeping through the rain-slicked grass to the detached garage where Frank kept his tools and vehicles.

Inside, the air smelled rich with motor oil, leather, and old coffee.

Frank had been under the hood of his truck, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick, scarred forearms, grease smudged across his jaw. The second you walked in, he had set his wrench down with a heavy metallic clink, wiped his calloused hands on an old rag, and pulled you straight into his arms.

Now, you were sitting on the edge of his heavy wooden workbench, your legs wrapped securely around Frank’s waist. His broad, towering frame was pressed flush against yours, his large hands buried deep in the back of your hair, pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss that tasted like rain and black coffee.

"Frank..." you breathed out against his lips, resting your hands flat against the warm, solid muscle of his chest underneath his black henley. "You're getting grease on my hoodie."

Frank let out a low, rough chuckle, a sound so rare and quiet it was reserved strictly for you. His thumb traced a firm, possessive line along your jawline, his dark eyes softening in the dim glow of the garage's single hanging bulb.

"It's my hoodie," Frank growled softly, his voice a dark, rumbling vibration in his chest. He leaned in, pressing a heavy, lingering kiss to the side of your neck that made your knees squeeze tight around his hips."Don’t think i didn’t notice you stealing it weeks ago, kid."

"Finders keepers," you hummed, tilting your head back to give him better access, your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. "You're just going to have to try and take it back- "

click.

The harsh, blinding glare of the overhead floodlights suddenly cut through the gloom.

The heavy wooden side door of the garage slammed open, banging violently against the concrete wall.

"Frank, you got that wrench- "

Your dad's voice cut off instantly.

The silence that hit the garage was sudden, violent, and absolute.

Your heart dropped directly into your stomach, the blood rushing out of your face so fast you felt dizzy. You froze, your hands still tangled in Frank's shirt, your legs still wrapped around his waist.

Standing in the open doorway, clutching a flashlight, was your father.

His eyes were wide, staring in complete, paralyzed shock at the scene in front of him: his twenty-one-year-old daughter, tangled up against the chest of his almost fifty-year-old best friend, buried in his clothes in the middle of the night.

For three agonizing seconds, nobody breathed.

"What..." your dad’s voice trembled, cracking slightly as the shock rapidly turned into a terrifying, toxic rage. "...the hell is this?"

Before you could untangle yourself, Frank moved. With practiced, lightning-fast instinct, he gripped your hips, set you down firmly on your feet behind him, and stepped forward, placing his massive body directly between you and your father.

"Dad- " you gasped out, your voice shaking uncontrollably as you tried to step around Frank. "Dad, listen to me- "

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" your dad roared, the sound echoing violently off the tin roof of the garage. He took two heavy, furious strides toward Frank, his face flushed red, veins standing out on his neck. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER!"

"Calm down," Frank said. His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a cold, low, immovable weight that instantly grounded the room. He raised both hands, palms flat, keeping his frame steady between you and your father's fury. "Look at me. Talk to me."

"TALK TO YOU?!" your dad screamed, shoving Frank hard in the chest. Frank didn't even sway, he absorbed the blow like solid granite, his eyes remaining stone-cold and focused. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! MY DAUGHTER, FRANK?! SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!"

"I know who she is," Frank growled low, his jaw flexing tight.

"Dad, please stop screaming!" you cried, tears finally hot and heavy against your cheeks as you reached out to touch Frank's back. "It's not what you think, well, it is, but it's not, we've been together for four months, we didn't mean to hurt you-"

"FOUR MONTHS," your dad spat, his chest heaving as he stared past Frank at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of profound heartbreak and white-hot fury. "Four months you've been lying to my face? Coming over for Sunday dinners, drinking my beer, looking me in the eye, staying over here, and all the while you were... you were sneaking around with her?!"

"Leave her out of it," Frank commanded rough, his tone shifting into something far more dangerous. He stepped an inch closer to your father, taking the full brunt of his rage. "She didn't lie to you. I did. Put it on me."

"Oh, you bet your ass it's on you!" your dad yelled, stepping right into Frank's face, pointing a trembling finger into his chest. "I trusted you! I brought you into my home! You were my brother, Castle! And you took advantage of my girl!"

"Nobody took advantage of anybody!" Frank snapped, his voice finally rising, dark and authoritative, ringing through the garage. "I care about her. I protect her."

"PROTECT HER FROM WHAT?! YOU?!" your dad shoved Frank again, harder this time. "You're old enough to be her father! You've got blood on your hands, Castle, you've got a trail of bodies behind you, and you bring that into my house?! Near my kid?!"

That hit a nerve. You saw the subtle, painful flinch in Frank's eyes before his expression hardened into an impenetrable wall of steel.

"Dad, stop it!" you sobbed, stepping out from behind Frank, standing directly between the two giant men. "Stop talking to him like that! I'm an adult! I made this choice! I went after him!"

Your dad looked down at you, his eyes wild and wounded. "You don't know what you're doing. You're young, you think he's some tough guy hero-"

"I don't think he's a hero!" you yelled back, tears streaming down your face. "I love him!"

The word hung heavy in the damp air of the garage.

Frank’s head snapped toward you, his dark eyes wide with a sudden, stunned intensity. It was the first time you had said it out loud.

Your dad looked like he had been slapped. He shook his head, taking a step back, wiping a hand over his face in sheer disbelief. "You love him... Jesus Christ. You ruined everything, Frank. Everything."

"I know what I am," Frank said softly, his voice dropping into that dark, quiet gravel that meant he was completely serious. He reached out, his heavy, calloused hand finding yours, wrapping his thick fingers securely around your trembling palm, anchoring you to his side in front of your father. "I know I don't deserve her. I know what my life is. But I swear on my life, I will take a bullet for her before I let a single bad thing touch her. You know me. You know what I do for the people I care about."

Your dad stared at the two of you, at your small hand locked tightly in Frank's large, scarred grip, at the way Frank stood like a shield in front of you, ready to take whatever beating came his way just to keep you safe.

"Get out," your dad whispered, his voice dangerously quiet, hollowed out by the sheer weight of the betrayal.

"Dad-"

"Get out of my garage, get out of my house " your dad said, pointing toward the open rain outside. "Both of you. I don't want to look at either of you right now."

Frank didn't argue. He squeezed your hand firmly, giving you a quiet, grounding look that told you everything was going to be okay.

"Dad,"

"Come on, kid," Frank murmured low.

He didn't let go of your hand for a single second. He led you out into the cool, pouring rain, shielding your body with his broad shoulder as he walked you straight toward his other truck, opening the passenger door for you.

As you climbed in, you looked back at the garage. Your dad was standing in the doorway, watching you leave in the dark.

Frank shut your door softly, walked around to the driver's side, and climbed in beside you. The engine rumbled to life, warm air blowing through the car as he pulled out into the street.

Without a word, Frank reached across the console, wrapping his large, warm hand over yours, pulling your hand to his lips to press a heavy, reassuring kiss against your knuckles.

"It's out now," Frank rasped quietly into the dark cab of the truck, his dark eyes fixed on the road ahead, heavy and resolute. "No more hiding. You're with me now."

thank you for reading ♡

reblogs and comments mean the world to me.

— written with love ౨ৎ

[frankneedsanap]

my fav part about the dbf trope is getting caught so this was delicious 😏

[unicornsparklespliff]

Older Boyfriend Frank Castle Headcannons

Asks are open!

⋆˚𖤓˖°Older Boyfriend Frank who never complains when taking you shopping. Almost a dozen shopping bag strap are digging into his arm but he makes sure to leave just enough space for you to hold his hand. At checkout he lets you think that you can pay this time but the second you get occupied with conversation with the cashier while pulling out your money, he inserts his card.

When you finally notice a pout comes across your face instantly, "Frank! you said I could pay this time!" Frank chuckles before grabbing both the bags and your hand and steers you out of the boutique, "I said you could pay, never said when, baby. Gotta listen."

⋆˚𖤓˖°Older Boyfriend Frank who comes home late at night and finds you waiting up for him on the couch, legs tucked into a blanket, the television plays old reruns of black and white movies. Frank sighs at the sight, walking up to you and running a hand down the side of your face. "How many times I gotta tell you to stop stayin' up? You needa get ya beauty sleep darlin'." You try to argue, but to no avail, a few minutes later he's grunting while picking you up and taking you to bed. "Next time I'm gonna teach you a lesson... you hear?"

⋆˚𖤓˖°Older Boyfriend Frank who wakes you up with the smell of his manly musk and the feel of his lips peppering across your face. A small whine leaves your mouth as the sunlight hits your eyes, "There she is... miss you, baby." "You've been next to me all night, Frank. You couldn't have waited for me to wake up?" Instead of answering you, Frank kisses down your stomach before pushing your legs open and sliding your underwear to the side. He kisses your sensitivity before pulling back and looking up at you, "Coulda woke you up from down here. You woulda liked that better, huh?" The seductive smirk on his face could kill.

[alisarchives2]

thinking about frank dancing in a bar

The lights were warm, and so was the beer you had been sipping from for the last hour. You and Frank had been sitting on the tall stools, his hand on your thigh under the table as he watched the band playing.

You recognized the first few beats of Soldier of Love almost immediately. You swayed to the beat calmly, still in your seat. Frank’s hand squeezed your thigh then reached for your hand.

“Care for a dance?” he whispered to your neck.

You blushed, a subtle smile taking over your face. “Really?”

You weren’t used to Frank taking initiative in things like that. But when you turned to look at him he nodded. The smile on your face grew as you took his hand and let him guide you to the dance floor.

He spun you around, making your arms cross across your body and your back press against his front.

“Loosen up” he whispered over your shoulder, shaking your arms.

You followed his lead, stepping and dragging your feet across the floor as his chin rested on your shoulder. By the end of the song he spun you back around, making you face him this time.

You smiled up at him as the singer started the next song Last Kiss. You rested your head on his chest, wrapping your right hand around his back as his left wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

You swayed to the song together, feet moving slowly as you hummed the tune against his chest.

“I love this song” you whispered when it ended.

“I know you do. Always play it around the house.” He mentioned and you smiled, content to know he paid attention to the things you did. You let out a yawn against his chest, relaxing deeper into him. “Home?” he suggested.

“Yeah”

[ruesworldd]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DWCQoSXCaxk/

I think this is veryy frank castle coded

oh my god yes i love this im gonna waffle

you and frank never argued.

if you were to have a disagreement it would always end with a swift "you're right, 'm sorry mama must'a knocked my head huh?", unless it was about your safety, or, on this occasion-

you were searching everywhere for your wallet (which was often lost due to lack of use) when you walked into the kitchen where frank was washing the dishes.

"whatcha looking for doll? lost your glasses again?" he asked, amused by your peeking into every draw and shelf. the amusement left his face when you distractedly explained what you were looking for.

"why'd you need your card? just use mine sweetheart, we been over this"

"i know frank but these earrings are expensive, i cant let you pay that much money on a whim"

frank levelled a stare that had you stopping your search as he finished washing up the last dish and dried his hands.

"go get ready, 'm taking you to that stupid designer outlet you love and buying you all the dumb shit you want. 30 minutes enough time?"

ugh i want him