Probably a bit late to the table with this, but for people who were drawn to Worm specifically for the Cape stuff and disappointed by Worm's handling of queer characters or the bleakness/etc of Worm, I can highly recommend Dreadnought and Sovereign by April Daniels. Very, very different stories from Worm, of course, but both engaging with cape stuff and the second book especially has some interesting ideas about some of the same questions Worm and Ward tackled… albeit in much shorter, much more optimistic stories.
(seriously, the ending of Sovereign was a real ball to the face of just how different Parahumans-verse versus Dreadnought/Sovereign view humanity as a whole :rofl: In a good way, but a jarring reminder nonetheless).
Main character is teenage Danny Tozier, who is a closeted trans woman, but a hero named Dreadnought dies nearby her and passes his power's 'mantle' onto her. Which makes her super strong/flying/also some kind of telekinesis type thing but also transitions her body into what she wants to be. And now has to struggle with what this means but also has the responsibility of being a superhero.
There are a lot of queer characters, but also several transphobic and queerphobic ones - all antagonists. but still, worth noting they're there and they're pretty awful about it. Really good stuff though.
I didn't come to Worm for the cape stuff, and I didn't come to Dreadnought for the cape stuff (I went for the trans and gay MC) but I have a feeling a lot of people on tumblr who read Worm would enjoy both books.
Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.
Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil
Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT AHEAD. polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, physical insecurities, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), voyeurism, some light choking
A/N: Much thanks to @pigwidgeonxo and @venusofthehardsells for having a look just to check if I'm even making any sense. Also, hi @its-my-little-dumpster-fire. Do you still like Billy?
No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.
Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
2:3 Roast Beef
Waking up after finally facing someone connected with your purpose didn’t feel like anything you expected. You had been actively chasing after the people responsible, purposely unearthing information that could lead you to your goal. Killing the man who had left his signature permanently all over your skin and even deeper wounds in your soul was a victory. You should be celebrating. This was a win for you.
But all you felt was cold rage.
His death by your hands had awakened a hunger inside your already unstable psyche. A hunger for blood. It was ironic that the first time in years that you had felt in control, not as a victim of shit circumstance, was when you let loose the turmoil inside you.
The constant crippling ache of grief in your chest was all at once replaced with an echoing hollowness and a reinforced determination. Instead of relief, it only burned with more fury begging to be unleashed. And why shouldn’t you? The sorrow and trauma you had kept under tight control released and burned brightly in that last encounter. It consumed you, propelled you to kill with no remorse. This was a path of retribution you chose afterall, you reminded yourself. There was no relief, but there was a faint sense of accomplishment. You were a step closer to your goal and at the very least the decimated body you left would send a clear message.
You were coming for him.
You could be patient in your vengeance, but Billy and Frank were right. You needed to be ruthless. You knew that more than once blood would stain your own hands. You knew, but it was only now that you truly understood and now you have accepted it. There was one thing you didn’t count on and you weren’t sure how to feel about it yet. When you hurt your torturer, when you felt his life leave him by your hands, you liked it.
More than you expected.
More than you wanted to admit to yourself.
Frank barely recognized you when he saw you conscious again. His whole body went rigid as he felt the palpable shift in your demeanour. Your eyes now held a coldness that sent a shiver down even his spine; bitterness, resolution, and a calculating awareness now dominated your gaze. It filled him with apprehension and it only worsened as he saw you continually push yourself during training.
“She’s gonna kill herself with exhaustion if she keeps this up,” Billy muttered as he stood beside Frank, joining him as he watched you from a distance as you completely destroyed a sparring dummy with your bare hands.
He was going to have to order a few new ones along with cases of bullets and new targets for the range. It wasn’t just your hand-to-hand you had been working on. There was a notable difference with how you fought now too. Where all your past training with SHIELD and the Avengers moulded you to be more on the defensive, to take measured and careful actions to disarm or disable efficiently, now you were taking more of a relentless offensive. You were a war dog off your leash. You were either preparing yourself to face Goliath himself or you were trying to work out all that aggression inside you. At this point it could be either one, but they both knew all too well how destructive this type of hyper focus could be.
Especially when murder was the goal.
“Or she’s gonna get herself killed on a mission,” Frank grunted, shaking his head. “She’s bound to get reckless.”
“Speaking from experience?” Billy teased.
Frank glowered at him, but he was too worried about you to put any real threat behind it. The only thing that gave him a sliver of reassurance was the fact that you still continued to crawl into bed with him. The mindblowing sex aside, he was glad that you still came to him to ground yourself from the nightmares that now plagued both your sleep and your consciousness.
That meant you weren’t totally lost.
But Frank was. He didn’t know how to help you aside from holding you through the night. This was a problem that couldn’t be solved with his fists. You needed more. You needed something else.
“What she needs is an outlet. I have an idea,” Billy said as he started to stroll toward you. He turned back to Frank for a second to throw him a wicked grin that pulled at the Punisher’s nerves. “You’re not gonna like it though.”
Frank jogged after him, wanting to discuss this idea between the two of them first but Billy was already smiling down at your curious expression. He looked far too pleased with himself.
“Do we have a new lead?” you asked as you tugged at the wraps on your hands. There was a hopeful anticipation in your eyes and a hard set on your chin as you waited for Billy to respond.
“Not yet, but I have something else for you. I may have a way for you to repay my generous hospitality.”
“I’m not sucking your dick, Russo.”
A laugh erupted from his lips as you rolled your eyes at him, but the small lift at the corner of your lips said that you weren’t too bothered. You were used to him propositioning you on a regular basis by now and it had grown to be part of your regular banter.
“Just to be clear, I’ve been asking you out to dinner,” he said while wagging his brows, which didn’t exactly support his claim to innocence. “But if that date happens to end with your pretty mouth making a meal out of me then I’m not about to complain.”
You shook your head, silently chastising him for his filthy mouth despite the small thrill that ran down your spine. The charm on Billy Russo should be classified as a weapon. It was downright lethal.
“So what did you have in mind then?” Your brow raised as his grin grew wider. He was definitely up to some trouble.
“I need you to shoot up some gangbangers for me.”
“Fucking what?” Frank yelled, his scowl speaking volumes on his disapproval.
"I'll do it."
Frank turned his scowl over to you at your easy agreement. You shrugged and he just kept shaking his head.
"I need something to do."
Something to kill.
“Now now, Frankie. Just because you’re parking your dick in the pretty girl doesn’t mean you can make her decisions for her,” he clicked his tongue as he playfully scolded his best friend.
Your head tilted in thought at that. Billy apparently knew, it appears for a while now, that you and Frank were sleeping together and yet he still kept pursuing you. It wasn’t a secret, but neither of you had been advertising your new closeness either. Unless he was completely joking about asking you out, but you knew that he would follow through the moment you said yes. Very curious. There was also no malice in his teasing. A part of you had been a little worried about how he would react when he found out, but all you heard in his voice was something like intrigue. You pushed that aside for another time, having no mental capacity to unpack all that right now.
Right now you have a mission.
Billy was smirking down at you, completely ignoring Frank’s grumbled protests and his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. It wasn’t a hard decision. The moment he mentioned the task, the bloodlust that was resting just under your very skin roared to life and you couldn’t help your own lips curling into a wider grin.
“Let's go paint the town red, pretty girl.”
“It’s a date.”
--------------
“I still think this is a bad idea, Blackbird” Frank grunted, scuffling could be heard over the comms coming from his end followed by a thick silence.
A row of unconscious bodies lined the back alley wall by the dumpster he was crouching behind. The night covered him as well as the narrow alley behind the local bar that was the known hangout place for this gang. Frank had been blitz attacking every sorry patron that came out the back to smoke or piss. It would take them out of the equation for a while and allow you a clean opening for your targets.
You understood why he didn’t like this idea. It meant more blood on your hands, blood that wasn’t even connected to your vengeance. It meant you were getting deeper and deeper into this life, but goddamn it you were itching to pull the trigger. Sure this time it was a few low level gangsters who had attempted to kidnap the child of one of Billy’s clients, a senator and his family he had been tasked to protect.
But what about next time?
“It’s just some anger management, Raven,” Billy chuckled from his rooftop perch three streets away, the faint sound of him tinkering with his sniper rifle travelled through the earpieces. “Two coming out. Last ones.”
Frank scoffed, knowing damn well that he offered this task for his own gain and he would probably continue to offer you similar ones in the future. Billy was a businessman and he saw an opportunity to please a client, help your growing agitation, and gain a new asset in you. Win-fucking-win. Frank could hardly do anything about it when you had so easily agreed so he resigned himself to doing his part.
"It's so cute how you two have pet names for each other," you said, teasing but lacking the previous sunny playfulness in your tone.
"They're not pet names," Frank snorted, huffing as the last one fell limp under his choke hold. "They're our old Marine code names. All clear, Blackbird?"
"Confirmed, Raven. Bartender should be moving to the backroom in five minutes as instructed," Billy said, his scope trained on the remaining three inside the bar. "Feeling left out, pretty girl? You can call me whatever you want."
You swear to god he winked. You couldn't see him, but you were sure of it. You rolled your eyes under the low hood of your jacket as you continued to pretend to be busy on your phone. You were sitting on the bus stop right across the bar as you waited for your cue to enter. You were leaning back and relaxed, looking just like any other civilian waiting for the bus but inside you your blood was roaring and your nerves were jumping in anticipation.
"We should give you a code name too though," Billy added, biding the time until he could signal you to go in.
"Hummingbird because you're a restless little shit," Frank suggested, the smile evident in his tone.
"Dead dove," Billy said to which both you and Frank snorted. "What? She is presumed dead."
"What about something cheesy then like Phoenix?" Frank snickered.
"Hedwig," Billy said and Frank hummed his agreement. "The fluffy snowy white owl in the wizard kid movies."
"Why can't I get a normal badass one like you guys? Why do I have to be a fictional bird?"
Because you weren't tainted like them.
At least that's what Billy thought. The code names that they carry weren't just a reminder of their brotherhood, but the darkened path that they previously walked together. He saw a spark of idealism and innocence in you when you first met. The world was still black and white to you, not the sickening variety of grey that Frank and Billy knew it to be. Even now your wrath was in the name of something good. Naming you something with humour was, to him, hopefully a reminder for you to hold on to your remaining light and for him to help preserve it. A snow white owl seemed appropriate.
"We can call you Pigeon instead. Your choice, pretty bird," Billy chuckled, far too pleased with his play on words.
"I hate you both."
"Lies," Billy laughed before his tone dropped to something more serious. "You're clear to enter, Hedwig."
You huffed as you rose to your feet, pocketing your phone while discreetly checking on your weapons. You placed your hands inside the pockets of your hoodie, a casual gesture but also meant to hide how your hands were slightly shaking. You forced yourself to take two steadying breaths before you opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit bar.
Three pairs of eyes immediately followed you as you made your way to a seat by the empty bar, consciously not making eye contact with your targets. Your fingers tapped on the sticky countertop, looking like you were just impatiently waiting for the bartender but you were waiting for someone else entirely.
"You wanna party, girlie?"
Predictable.
You turned on your seat and watched the small shock and slow satisfied grin grow on the man's features. Even mostly hidden by your hood, it was evident that you had a beautiful face and he was thanking whatever god he subscribed to for his luck as the corners of your lips lifted in what he thought was flirtatious amusement.
"You say that to all the girls? Even underaged ones you plan on kidnapping?"
His smile dropped immediately, confusion replacing it followed by anger as his fists clenched. His hand snapped out to grip your wrist tightly, pulling you close to him until you could smell the stale beer on his breath. Disgusting. You frowned at the stench of him and the proximity of his ugly face to yours, an expression he mistook for you feeling intimidated.
"What the hell are you on, bitch? Who fucking sent you?"
The nervousness you felt earlier eased out of your body. In its place was a sense of calm and focus. Here was a target. A bad man. A man who needed to be punished because who knew whose child they would try to kidnap next. What if next time they succeeded? The reasoning was sound in your mind. The logic justified what you were there to do. The small smile playing on your lips widened as the bloodlust rushed through you.
"The senator sends his regards."
He was too slow to react, too slow to process the shock and confusion as he registered your words. Your free hand slipped into the pockets of your hoody, pulling the trigger of your pistol immediately and shooting through the fabric. It hit him right in the gut causing him to stagger away from you, releasing your wrist in favor of uselessly trying to clutch at his profusely bleeding stomach. He stared at you with horror before his eyes faded and he dropped to the sticky floor with a loud thump.
If the silenced gunshot didn’t get their attention, then their companion dropping to the ground lifelessly in a pool of his own blood certainly did. The other two shot to their feet, chairs scraping loudly and bottles crashing to the floor with all signs of inebriation vanishing from the sudden threat.
They returned your shots as you made a jump to take cover behind the bar. Furniture went flying and clattered noisily. Your mind buzzed through the chaos as you calculated your next move, almost relishing the adrenaline pumping in your veins.
Their bullets continued to rain down on the front of the bar, the thick wood splintering loudly on impact but they didn’t sound like they were making any move to come closer. Fucking pussies. You rolled smoothly out of the other end of the bar, your gun poised and a sick grin on your face as you shot precisely at one of them.
Two shots to the back of the head.
You slid across the floor closer to the last man standing, grabbing a broken off chair leg along the way before lifting yourself to your feet fluidly while effectively knocking out the gun from his hand. One of your hands kept his arm hostage while the other shoved the sharp broken end of the chair leg through his throat.
You kept your gazes locked, unflinching even as his blood spurted from the wound and splashed across your face and neck. You watched the life drain from him, a cruel satisfied smirk on your lips as he slowly slid to the ground. You shoved his hand away from your grip as he went completely limp.
Suddenly all noise ceased in the bar and an eerie quiet filled it along with the unmistakable smell of blood and gunpowder. The room was in chaos. Gunshots decorated the bar and the furniture was thrown in disarray. Three dead bodies. You felt a little of the weight on your chest lift and that sense of achievement and satisfaction tugged at you.
You felt good.
"Not gonna lie, that was hot," Billy said with a whistle. "But you missed one."
"What?"
A bullet whizzed right past your ear, freezing you to your spot before it found its home in the forehead of a rather large brute who had just come out of the men’s room. His pants were still halfway done up, haphazardly held up in his rush to investigate the ruckus outside. He had his gun in his hand, but Billy had already gotten to him before he could even turn off the safety. You tilted your head to the side as he also fell dead to the floor before you raised an eyebrow toward your sniper, knowing he could see you through the scope.
“Seriously?”
“What? I always have your back, pretty girl, and I never miss.”
You shook your head as you came to the plain realization that despite your better judgment, you trusted him to have your back. Just like Frank and Curtis, you trusted Billy Russo with your life. They did bring you back from the dead afterall. You nudged the nearest bloody body with your boot, satisfied that they were all indeed dead. The other members of the gang will wake up in a couple of hours to find their comrades.
Your work here was done.
-----------------------------
The sound of idly dripping water from the recently turned off shower punctured through the silence of Anvil's locker rooms. Normally you wouldn't use the baths intended for the trainees and staff. Billy had given you his private quarters with an en suite in the facility that he used to occupy whenever he worked late. It kept you close to them and also hid you from the public while still allowing you to use the training amenities when everyone cleared out.
You were supposed to be a ghost. You only wanted one person in your past to know you were alive and that was only so he could know you were coming for him. You wanted him to know death was going to be visiting him. You wanted him to be terrified. The rest couldn't know you had survived.
Not yet anyway.
After the adrenaline had worn out, a sharp searing pain bloomed on your side. It was only then that you noticed a bullet had grazed you just on the upper part of your ribs and that the blood on your hoody wasn't just from your enemies tonight. It wasn't too bad. Maybe a couple of stitches, but it did hurt like a motherfucker.
You were much too tired to make it up three flights of stairs and the medical kit down here was more readily stocked than the one upstairs anyway. Billy had excused himself to his office to make some calls and Frank grunted his need for sleep. You were alone. You were standing in front of the sinks, using the mirrors that lined the walls to aid you in stitching the wound. You huffed in frustration and shook your head at the difficulty of twisting your aching body to reach.
A low chuckle and softly padding feet pulled your attention and you fumbled with the towel draped loosely around your hips to cover your half naked form. Fresh from the shower and intending to take care of your injury, you were only in your black panties and bra but you might as well have been stark naked with the predatory way Billy was looking at you as he approached.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, his voice low but with genuine concern.
"I'm good. It's fine."
You quickly stammered out your reply, flustered at the sudden company and desperately trying to cover up as much of your skin as possible. Billy noticed. It wasn't as much the fact that you were barely wearing anything, but more on what was laid bare because of it. He noted how you were particularly covering one side of your neck, a part of your torso, a space around your thighs. He noted how you were trying to keep your arms beneath the towel and how you were angling your body so your back wasn't seen by him or reflected by the mirrors. He noted how you refused to meet his eyes.
You were covering up your scars.
Billy knew firsthand how fierce you were. How powerful. How strong. How fearless. How terrifying. Just tonight alone showed that you were a force to be reckoned with. Right now you looked so vulnerable and small. So unsure of yourself. Ready to tuck tail and run. It pained him and his heart clenched for your sake. He realized then how you had always been in long sleeves and hoodies. Even when you were sweating during training, you remained covered up. It knew now that it wasn't about modesty, but more of shame.
You had no reason to be. Not about this. Not about anything. Not if Billy had any say in it. He made a snap decision and before you could even give in to your instinct to bolt out of there, he had whipped his own shirt off himself. Your mouth dropped open as he revealed broad shoulders, lean muscle, chiseled abs, and a tapered waist. He looked like he stepped out of a goddamn romance novel. Heat flared on your face and somewhere much lower, your eyes darkening with inappropriate desires. You shook your head before they could fully take form in your mind.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Instead of answering you, he grabbed one of your wrists. He pried it free from the death grip you had on your towel, the fabric falling freely and now only held up by one hand. He held your palm low on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans. You were too shocked to really react, surprised by how hot his skin felt.
"Gunshot wound. A militia in the Middle East ambushed us. We didn't know they had snipers waiting for us. I survived."
It took you a while to register his words and the raised discolored patches of skin beneath your fingers. You looked up at him, your expression morphing to angry confusion but he kept his own neutral and gentle even. He guided your hand upwards to his toned chest, his heartbeat feeling as quick as your own.
"Ka-Bar knife. Russian spy. I survived."
He moved your hand again and your entire arm felt like it had been electrocuted. He rested it just below his shoulder, a breath away from his collarbone. You swallowed and grimaced at how dry your throat felt.
"Metal pipe. New York mafia. I survived."
He went on for a while, dragging your hand across parts of his body and telling you stories of each earned scar until your expression had softened and the tension in your body relaxed. You chose to focus on his words instead of the steady heat building at your core from each touch.
"What happened to the one who gave you this?" you asked after one particularly gruesome scar on his bicep.
"Dead. You're not the only one who likes to settle scores,” he said, a small smug smirk on his face before it turned more serious again. “I killed all of them. Except this one.”
He raised your hand toward his face, running it along his hairline from the top of his forehead to just behind his ear. You winced at the long raised scar that was just hidden by his thick black hair. It was a horrid scar and it felt like his skull was almost cracked wide open. For all the time you’ve spent with Billy, it was only now that you even noticed this part of him. You felt a twinge of guilt at never really taking the time to get to know him.
“Who did this to you?”
“Frank,” he said with a sad smile as he refused to meet your shocked eyes. “I deserved it.”
You didn’t ask questions. You knew part of this story of theirs from Frank and though you were curious, this didn’t seem like the right time. You smiled gently at him, your hand falling to cup his cheek.
“Why are you telling me all this, Russo?”
“Because I survived,” he said simply, meeting your puzzled look this time. “Just like you did.”
Heat crept up to your face, embarrassed at how he was basically calling you out. It was subtle. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. What he was saying was that you were a survivor. The scars were a testament to your resilience. The marks were proud battle scars. They were trophies.
You willed yourself not to look away from his darkening gaze as he tugged the towel off you, the corner of his lip curling as the air sizzled around you both. The towel fell with a heavy plop on the floor, leaving you in only your underwear and your breath caught as he lifted a finger to trail along the marred skin along the side of your neck. He took his turn to touch you slowly, leaving a blazing trail down your collarbone and leading down one arm.
He smiled lazily down at you, his eyes hooded as his hand moved to graze along your hip before winding to your back. Your body went rigid but his eyes were softly reassuring and coaxed you to relax back against his featherlight touch. Your back was where the worst of your scars were, spiraling and crawling all over in a mesh of broken skin. Here under the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom and with all the mirrors lining the wall, there was nowhere to hide from his perusal. You had never felt more naked in your life.
It scared you.
It thrilled you.
His palm came to rest low on your back, pushing you flush against him and trapping you against the counter. His body felt hot against yours, his lean muscles pressing on your softness and his jeans rough on your skin. He tilted his head and leaned in, your lips now inches apart and your breaths mingling in the tiny space. Your heart raced with anticipation as your eyes alternated between his smoldering gaze and his tempting lips.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
His head swooped in then, halting any further thought with a searing kiss. You shuddered against his lips, a soft sigh escaping you and allowing him to slip his tongue in to taste you better. He held you with a hand to the back of your neck, ensuring you can’t escape. As if you wanted to. As if you had any capacity to think of anything else except how electric his lips felt.
Your body arched toward him and his free hand roamed your skin, this time with more pressure. He pressed. He gripped. He squeezed. Each heated touch stroking the fire inside you and shooting straight to your core. More. You wanted more. The frenzy built between you and soon your hands grew more desperate to touch more, your body aching to press harder against him. Your arms wound around his neck, your hands burying in his hair and tugging.
He growled into your mouth and lifted you onto the counter, ripping your remaining clothing off your body. Large hands cupped your breasts and squeezed, making you gasp. He pulled his mouth away from yours but kept his face close, carefully watching your expressions with blown eyes. One hand tweaked your nipples while the other traveled down your body to test your folds, lifting one of your legs along the way and propping it up on the counter to spread you open for him.
“Been dying to taste you, pretty girl.” He kissed you quickly before dipping a finger inside you. Your hands gripped tighter around his shoulder as you squirmed. “Can’t wait to feel you strangling my cock with your pretty little cunt.”
Your pussy clenched at his words and he chuckled. “Yeah, just like that.”
His movements were deliberately slow, torturous but with just enough pressure to have you panting for more as the pleasure built inside you. His mouth came down to nip at your lips, trail his tongue along the skin of your shoulders, and bite at the column of your neck. A hazy cloud of lust enveloped you and lulled your mind, pushing your insecurities away and leaving room only for all he was giving you. Everything else in the room faded away and the sudden closing of the locker doors jarred you to alertness.
Your eyes widened as they snapped toward the door. Frank. You panicked as you looked at him standing there in a wide stance and an unflinching stare, your heartbeat now racing for a whole other reason. Guilt bit at you as you tried to grasp at anything to cover your nakedness up with, your hands doing little to shield you but Billy wasn’t having any of it. He gripped you by the thighs, spreading you even wider and flashing you a grin full of deviance. You shook your head and tried to hiss at him, switching between looking at the two men.
“Don’t mind me,” Frank said, his voice coming low and raspy. It sent delectable shivers down your spine as he began to undress. “I just came for a shower.”
You sat frozen to the spot, conflicted between leaping to a hasty exit or grinding your pussy against Billy’s fingers. Your eyes though couldn’t help but follow Frank as he walked toward the showers, taking the area just to the left of the one directly in front of you. You had a perfect view of him and that meant he had a perfect view of you.
“You’re gripping me so tight right now, pretty girl,” Billy whispered next to your ear. You grabbed his wrist, but it did little to stop him from stretching you open in front of his bestfriend. “And so fucking wet too. You like Frankie watching you, don’t you?”
You opened your mouth to deny it, but all that came out was a sharp moan as he thrust his fingers hard and curled them. He chuckled as he watched your hesitance slowly drain away to be replaced by that desire again. He kissed the side of your jaw and kept his lips there, keeping your head turned toward Frank.
“Don’t worry. He likes watching you too.”
His words registered late, the tightening in your core distracting you from Frank’s presence. Frank had water pouring down his head and trailing down his body in the most erotic water show you had ever seen. You couldn’t help but follow the streams down until you saw something that made your breath hitch.
Frank was rock hard.
Your eyes traveled up and met deep brown eyes that were already watching you. If his proud hard on wasn’t enough to convince you then the feral lust in his blown eyes certainly did.
“Told you,” Billy said with a breathy laugh. “Let’s give him something to really watch.”
That was all the warning you got before he dropped to his knees and latched his mouth over your aching clit. You yelped in surprise, your hand flying out to clutch onto his dark hair. His free arm banded over your hips, keeping you in place as his mouth and fingers worked in tandem to drive you to insanity. In no time at all he had your thighs shaking around him and harried panting was all you were capable of.
“Billy,” you whined, all your reservations thrown to the wind in the face of your burning need to cum. “Please.”
He groaned and the vibrations made your toes curl. He picked up his pace, scissoring into you rapidly and sucking on your bud with purpose. You chanced a look at him and the intense hooded look in his eyes, commanding you to let go, was enough to push you off the cliff you were teetering on. You came with a scream, your hips rocking against his face and your hand pulling his head closer to your core. Your release came wave after wave, his attention still not letting up until you were cumming again. He held you as you convulsed, drinking up everything you had to offer until you fell back against the mirror limply.
Billy crawled up your body and pulled your head to crash his lips against yours, your taste on his tongue in your mouth was making you delirious. He kissed you hungrily, impatiently, as he fumbled with the opening of his jeans. Your hands clung to his chest, his neck, his shoulders. Anywhere you could steady yourself on. You felt his rapid heartbeat match yours and his obvious eagerness sent another wave of wetness to your core.
“You can choke on my cock later, pretty girl. If I don’t get inside you right now I might just kill someone.”
You shrieked as he pulled you off the counter, setting you on your feet and spinning you around to face the mirror. His long fingers wrapped around your neck, tipping your chin to look directly at the reflection. He bent you over just enough to lift your ass at the perfect height for him, wasting no time and sheathing himself in your heat. You gasped at his length, deliciously curving and reaching places you didn't even know a cock was capable of. He groaned as he felt your walls grip him, his other hand digging into your hip.
"Fucking hell. You feel even better than you taste. Fuck!"
Your eyes started to flutter close as he started to pound into you, immediately punishing as if he just couldn't hold back. As if the feel of you was too good for him to exercise any form of restraint. It felt too good. It felt so fucking good.
"No," he snapped, his hand on your neck tightening to get your attention. "Keep your eyes open. I want you to watch."
He lifted your knee up on the counter, spreading you wider and giving you a view of how your pussy kept sucking him back in desperately. Each time he pulled out you saw his shaft coated in your slick. God, you were so wet.
"I want you to watch how beautiful you look taking my cock."
He jerked your head when your eyes threatened to close again. Your eyes flew open as he snapped his hips, jolting you forward and making your breath catch. Each forceful thrust broke you, taking apart all your doubts and pushing you toward another orgasm.
"I want you to watch how much of a rabid fucking animal I am for your pretty little cunt."
Your gaze focused on him and fuck it if he didn't look exactly like he said. His hair was a mess and falling in front of his handsome face. A light sheen of sweat covered him, adding to the menacing feral look in his black eyes. His lips were curled in a half sneer, half smirk that was pure masculine arrogance.
"I want you to watch how crazy you're making Frank."
Frank. You had completely forgotten that Frank was bearing witness to Billy completely defiling you. You froze as you searched for him and what you saw almost made you cum on the spot. The shower was still running and beneath the stream Frank was furiously fucking his hand, mirroring the way Billy was ramming into you.
Billy's hand coming around to thrum on your clit had your legs almost giving out. Your body relaxed once more in his arms, forced to submit to his unrelenting pace. You could feel your orgasm wind tight in your core and Billy groaned as he felt you start to clamp tighter around him.
"Come on. Nearly there," he said between ragged breaths. "Fucking give it to me."
Tighter and tighter. Higher and higher. Your eyes went to Frank again just in time for you to see him throw his head back, his jaw clenched tightly as white streams of his cum spurted onto the tiles. God, he looked damn good cumming.
You screamed as your orgasm hit you like a truck, your whole body shaking as your hands clawed at the counter. Your vision blurred with white spots but you kept them open, greedily wanting to watch Billy finish too.
"Fucking hell!" Billy growled, slamming sloppily into you.
He fucked you through your orgasm, not giving a damn that you were oversensitive and wrecked. A few more hard thrusts was all it took to have him grunting loudly as he spilled inside you. He collapsed on top of you, pressing you onto the cold counter as you both tried to regain control of your breathing. His weight and the feel of his heated sweaty body on yours felt oddly comfortable. You were both going to need another shower.
Frank stalked toward you, still fully naked and with water still dripping down his body. You were still sensitive from your release, your senses still buzzing and now laced with nervousness at how he's going to react to all this. He grasped your chin to turn your face toward him, planting a firm kiss on your lips while his best friend still had his softening dick inside you and his cum leaking around your pussy. His lips curled at the corner when you parted.
"Don't forget to turn the lights off when you come to bed," he mumbled before winking at you. "No rush."
He left you shocked and speechless as he sauntered off, leaving you with a rather nice view of his firm ass as he grabbed a fresh towel from the racks before exiting through the door. Did that really just happen? You had so many questions racing through your mind and it was Billy's breathy laugh filled with amusement at your struggle that pulled you back before your brain could overheat.
"So I was thinking that we needed a new strategy about Salvacion."
Your brows furrowed at the sudden change of topic, badly disorienting you given what you had just shared and who witnessed it. You shook your head to focus.
"You're really bad at pillow talk, Russo."
He laughed and you found that you liked the sound of it. You always had it seemed. He bent down to kiss you, tongue swiping for a moment against yours and his hips thrusting just that little bit.
Tease.
"Pillow talk is when we're done. I'm not even halfway done with you tonight," he mumbled against your lips, punctuating his words with a playful bite. "But stop distracting me. Whispers of the incident at the bar are already making the rounds and people are asking questions."
"What kinds of questions?" you asked, trying your hardest not to push your hips back against him. Your back was arching against him and your neck craned to the side as you looked at him through the mirror.
"They're curious to know who ordered the hit and who took it. The mercenary business is a tight community. They wanna know about the new female player on the board."
"Somebody saw?" you asked. It wasn't ideal that news would reach Jill or the Avengers about you. That was a complication you didn't want to face yet.
"Not enough to identify you," he said, brushing off your worries with a soft kiss on your shoulder. "The most they can possibly dig up is that you would have taken the request from Anvil or the senator. Either won't be a problem."
You nodded, a small frown forming as you thought. Anvil was known to employ more discrete security for special cases. Frank would sometimes take some of those assignments as The Punisher and hardly anyone would be surprised to think that the senator had sent someone to clean up after they had hurt his child. You gnawed on your lip as you worked through your worries before staring up at Billy with curiosity.
"You mentioned a new strategy?"
He beamed at you as he nodded. "We've been playing it safe this whole time, waiting and chasing down small leads. Backtracking and retracing what we know so far is not getting us closer fast enough."
A chord struck in you at how he was referring to all of you as a team. You had always been independent and so self-reliant. From supporting yourself and your sister to even when you were with the Avengers. You never felt like you were part of a team. Even with Frank and Billy by your side, you had still remained in that mentality that you were doing this all on your own.
You decided to change that.
Billy was right. By now, you all knew that Salvacion was too careful to leave any breadcrumbs for you to follow. It was irritating the hell out of you and it made you even more restless. He was just as much a ghost as you were and he knew far more about this world than you did. It was easier for him to hide. He might not even be aware that you were alive or if he did then he couldn't care less about you.
He didn't see you as a threat.
Yet.
"What are you suggesting?"
"We get his attention. We use you as bait."
“How?” you said, raising a brow.
"By rebranding you." You rolled your eyes as he talked to you all business, but with that mischievous smirk and glint in his eyes. "You'll take more hits, establish your reputation as a merc. It will open opportunities for you to access people and information that deal with the shit he does."
"You think we'll find something this way?"
"Or he might get curious and come out himself," he added. "We can set you up for some gear. Cover you completely so you can remain anonymous if that's what you want. I don't think a big ass spray painted vest with a skull on it is your style."
You snorted a laugh at the small dig at Frank. No, it wasn't your style. Your lips curved into a decided smile, your eyes now dancing with excitement.
"So where do we start?"
Billy smiled widely at you, pleased that you were happy with his suggestion. He kissed the side of your head and breathed in.
"Well every brand needs a name and I think you've outgrown Y/N."
Your smile flashed with sadness for a moment. You had outgrown your name. You weren't that person anymore. When Lily died, Y/N died with her. At the very least, she wished that she did. You spared a moment to mourn your younger self before you steeled your resolve. This was a new chapter. You were a new person. This was your rebirth, your reformation.
"Any ideas?"
"Yeah. How about Nemesis?"
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We have discontinued tag lists. For chapter and fic updates follow my side blog and turn on notifications: plaid-sav-armsfics. Only new chapters and new fics will be posted there.
So some people know but I haven’t made a formal announcement that I’m writing the third book in the Nemesis Trilogy, colloquially referred to as Dreadnought 3. The final title is yet to be settled on.
I do not know when it will be available. My hope is sometime in 2022, but I can’t promise that for certain right now.
The reason this is taking so long is that I had a huge mental health meltdown shortly after publishing the first book, and then I had to roll right into editing the second book (and I wasn’t fully happy with the final result but ran out of time) and then I fell apart and lost my day job and entered into an odyssey of serious disability.
Throughout this time, I never gave up on writing, but I did find a repeated pattern of writer’s blockage cropping up whenever a project began to mature past a few scribbled notes. Every time I got to the first major “turn” in the story, I’d come down with a severe case of choice paralysis.
There were ten thousand bad ideas I had for Dreadnought 3, and it feels like I worked through all of them. Hopefully, the ones I’ve settled on are the good ideas I knew must be down at the bottom of the pile somewhere. This book, if I can pull it off, is going to be amazing.
I have started to recover. I am starting to write again. Dreadnought 3 is on the way. Thank you everyone for your patience.
Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.
Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil
Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT AHEAD. nightmares, explicit descriptions of trauma and torture, mentions of character death/s, angst, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language
A/N: HA! It took a while but I'm finally happy enough with this chapter to post it. Chapter 2 of Part 2 is here! It's all Frankie all chapter. Special thanks to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire and @pigwidgeonxo for beta reading like absolute pros. All mistakes are mine.
No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.
Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
2:2 Chicken Noodle Soup
It took nearly a year for Frank to agree to let you out on missions, even then he was very reluctant. Training was more physical therapy than anything else, Frank paying close attention to regaining and increasing your strength and endurance. Your training with the Avengers meant you were already highly agile, but the mission you were insisting on yourself would require you to be vicious and not just cunning.
Counseling with Curtis was awkward at first, but there was just something about the big man that was trustworthy. He didn’t rush you and he didn’t ask any questions that you weren’t comfortable with. He allowed you to go at your own pace, mostly just chatting with you like he was getting to know a new friend. It wasn’t hard for you to consider him a friend, his genuine and gentle nature was unnerving at first and you were instinctively suspicious of his kindness coming from months of captivity with Hydra but somehow you saw yourself allowing him to tear your walls down.
With Billy, you had developed a banter that surprisingly put you at ease. It was refreshing to have someone not walk around on eggshells with you. It was sharp, witty, entertaining, and increasingly flirtatious the way you went back and forth. He did not go easy on you during training even at the beginning when you could barely lift a gun, pushing you relentlessly in a way that pulled all of your focus so you could momentarily forget about the trauma you were struggling with. Training and counseling with the three of them ensured that by bedtime you were too drained to do anything other than shower and pass out.
Finally, Frank had relented and took you with him to chase a lead. Strictly recon only for now. The best logical course of action was to follow the path he was going on that led him to you.
Find the drugs.
Find the syndicate.
Avenge your sister’s death.
“She looks far too happy to be going out on a boring recon mission,” Billy snickered as he watched you lace your boots up with the biggest smile on your face that he’s seen on you so far. “You sure you don’t need me to come along?”
“We don’t need a babysitter, Bill,” Frank scoffed. His eyes suddenly widened as you grabbed an automatic assault rifle with the intention to pack it for the trip. “Hey! We don’t need that. What part of recon don’t you understand?”
Billy was chuckling in amusement at the small pout on your face as you sadly put down the rifle. He’s seen your skill during training and he found your accuracy impressive. You were already a deadly weapon, it was only a matter of sharpening your edge but he would be lying if he said that the small remaining idealism you still had didn’t appeal to him. There was something about that small light still in you, the one that was nearly drowning with the darkness you were struggling to mask, that he wanted to preserve. It was something that he constantly tried to coax out with his jokes and light teasing.
Frank sighed and rubbed between his eyes, the migraine already building and you haven’t even left yet. He relented though when he saw the disappointed look on your face. “Fine. Take the pistols. Only the pistols.”
He couldn’t help the slight lift on the corner of his lips when your expression brightened before you hurriedly strapped the pistols onto your holsters, sneaking a few knives in when you thought that Frank wasn’t looking. The two Marines shared a look, one already exhausted while the other highly entertained.
“I’ll put her on a leash,” Frank groaned. Billy raised his eyebrow but bit back the dirty joke on the tip of his tongue at the warning look Frank shot him.
Frank did put you on a tight leash. He kept a close eye on you and he kept to his word of keeping things strictly recon. At least for you that is. You quickly learned that being on a mission with Frank was incredibly different from what you were used to in SHIELD. There was very little finesse in how Frank would just walk into a gang hangout disguised as a laundromat and start punching information out of people. It wasn't the most polished of methods, but you had to admit that it was damn effective and you couldn’t help the spark of appreciation and awe you felt.
"What are you smirking at?" he asked, wiping his bloody fists off on the end of his shirt as you walked back to the car.
You chuckled as you shook your head. "Just amazed at finally seeing the Punisher in action. You really are a fucking tank, Frankie."
He rolled his eyes and smiled as you patted the back of his shoulder, worried for a moment that he might have scared you with his violence. In his mind you were still the young woman he pulled out from a hellish torture and he couldn’t help but worry for you. The instinct to protect you was still strong despite knowing now how capable you were, but it was also just nice to see you smile and be playful. He liked that look on your face.
"You've been spending too much time with Billy."
"Yeah, that's true," you laughed. "But he did give me some tech before we left and I tapped into all their phones while you were busy fighting. I should be able to dig up something from that."
He stopped in his tracks and pulled you back by your arm, looking at you with disbelief on his face. “Are you telling me you could’ve just done that and spared me the trouble?”
“We needed a distraction so I could hack them.” You shrugged and smirked at him, clicking your tongue as you continued walking. “Besides, I wanted to see you beat up a few thugs.”
His jaw dropped open for a moment before he shook his head and followed after you. “Billy really is rubbing off on you.”
“Not exactly who I want rubbing on me,” you doubled over laughing at his horrified expression. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for that to sound so suggestive.”
He laughed now too, more relaxed as you both entered the car. “Yeah, you did.”
“Yeah, I did,” you snickered.
Frank let you help out a bit more since then, your espionage training with SHIELD came in handy with breaking locks and hacking into surveillance. It made it easier for Frank to catch a group unaware when he had you whispering the blueprints in his ear. You both went from lead to lead and hideout to hideout, Frank charging in with you kept at a safe distance. He still refused to let you get your hands dirty, always saying you weren’t ready yet for that but really the image of you captured was still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t live with himself if it happened again under his watch.
“Jesus fuck! Are you trying to make it hurt more?” he growled, looking down at you with as much indignation as he could muster when his bloody ass cheek was out and close to your face.
“Stop whining. It’s your fault you got shot in the ass.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unfortunate placement, but it did somehow distract you a little from being so close to a mostly naked Frank with blood marring his perfectly sculpted torso. He really was a sight to behold, all hard rippling muscle that could easily crush the life out of anyone but was trying to hide the shiver he felt whenever your warm breath fanned across his skin. You grinned to yourself as he continued to mutter above you, carefully stitching up the wound on what you decided was a very adorable butt.
It didn’t feel awkward though. It never did with Frank, you realized. Your automatic trust in Frank had allowed you to be as unembarrassed as one could possibly be from the moment you word vomited your life story to him to now when you're sewing his skin back together. There was no shame in just being your raw selves with each other and after years of having to live up to expectations with your family and then with the Avengers, it was liberating.
“It would have been better if you shot the guy before he shot me,” he grunted as he took a long drag of whiskey.
“It would have been better if you had let me enter the warehouse with you instead of keeping me on lookout,” you said, purposely pinching him a little too hard in retaliation. He jumped and glared at you. “You’re lucky I didn’t listen to you and brought the sniper rifle anyway this time.”
“Where the hell did you even hide that thing anyway?”
“A lady never reveals her secrets.”
He shook his head as he let you finish up. He had to admit that you were getting craftier and he noticed just how quickly you adapted and learned with each mission. You had quickly found a way to get more involved with tech, stitching him up, and even sniper support. He appreciated that you had his back and he found himself easily trusting you with his life too.
You were his partner.
Sometimes your chasing for leads meant you would go days in a certain place or have to travel further from New York. Sometimes it required you both to find the nearest dingy motel or safehouse to crash. It was in one of Anvil’s safehouses in an out of the way town that the nightmares resurfaced.
Salvacion.
A name. A curse. A mission. A promise that you carried with you since that day you left Jill crying alone in the cemetery. Your only purpose in life right now was finding the bastard that killed your sister and make him pay. It was consuming you.
The first time Frank heard it, he wasn’t surprised. He was jolted awake, but he wasn’t surprised. He had his fair share of trauma and truthfully if you weren’t having any nightmares at all after the hell you’ve been through then he would be more worried about you. This was normal to him. He expected your blood curdling screams to pierce through the night followed by loud racking sobs. It alternated, going back and forth between tormented thrashing to agonized wailing.
He stared at the ceiling as he listened to you, sighing deeply and biting the inside of his cheek as your suffering made his own heart clench. He had to hand it to you for keeping it together this long though. The level of strength you had to endure was something he deeply admired about you from the start, but all strong things have a breaking point.
Perhaps it was the silence of this rural town compared to the constant chaos of the city or the fact that you were no longer too physically drained to just pass out. Perhaps it was the fact that you were now actually pursuing your mission, the possibility of facing the cause of your nightmares at any moment keeping you on edge. Perhaps it was the prospect of needing to kill on the offense and not as a defensive strategy this time. Whatever it was, it would take a while before your screaming stopped.
He closed his eyes again and tried to will himself back to sleep. He knew trauma all too well and each person dealt with it differently. He was on the brink of sleep when he heard the door of his room hesitantly push open, even if he knew who it was his hand still slipped under his pillow to grasp at the pistol hidden there.
“Frank?”
His chest constricted again at the sound of your voice. You sounded so small and so frightened, nothing like the cheeky little shit you’ve evolved into. You sounded much more vulnerable now than you did when he pulled you out of that Hydra base. For the first time in the few years that he’s known you, you sounded as wounded as he knew you were. He kept his eyes closed but consciously softened his usually surly tone.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“How bad?” he asked even though he knew and the whimper you tried to suppress nearly broke him.
“Really bad.”
There was a beat of silence as you struggled to get your next words out and Frank didn’t want to rush you or insist on anything for you. Curtis told him that if you wanted help, he had to give you the chance to ask for it yourself but damn it he didn’t know it would be this hard to resist the obvious sorrow in your voice.
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
He made a rough noise that he hoped you understood as an affirmative as he rolled over on his side, but when he didn’t feel the other side of the bed dip with your weight he cracked open his bleary eyes in search of you. He frowned when he found you on the floor fluffing your pillow and spreading out your thin blanket.
“You’re not sleeping on the goddamn floor. It’s cold.”
“Well aren’t you gonna get cold on the floor too?” you sassed and he couldn’t help the fleeting smile on his lips, reassured you were still somewhat okay despite the obvious evidence of tears on your cheeks.
He scoffed as he scooped up your pillow and placed it beside his own before shifting back to a comfortable sleeping position. “Just get in. I’m tired.”
You clutched your blanket to your chest, staring silently at him with fresh tears edging your vision and a grateful smile on your face. You crawled in next to him, keeping a careful distance because you didn’t want to intrude on him more than you already had. You stared at his large back, the muscles taut but his breathing relaxed.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just for tonight.”
It wasn’t just for that night. The nightmares continued to plague you and the only way you could seem to get any form of sleep was if Frank was next to you. He himself would fall asleep hours later, once he was sure he heard your breathing even out and each time you jerked as you struggled with your dreams his eyes would shoot open to wait until you had fallen back to sleep.
“Just come to bed after you shower.”
You paused at the doorway of your room, looking back at him in confusion. He had never directly asked you to share his bed and he didn’t know it, but you struggled with yourself each time before you knocked on his door. A large part of you felt guilty for putting even that on him when he has already done so much for you. You had already caused him so much trouble. You were afraid you had become a burden to him.
“What? You’re just gonna wake me up anyway when you come in,” he grinned, trying to ease the guilt that was written all over your face. if he was being honest, he didn’t mind having you next to him. He liked it even and he took selfish pleasure out of being the one you chose to be with you in your vulnerable states. He took pride in knowing that you trusted him in that way. “I can’t sleep without your snoring now. I got used to it.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled sheepishly at him. “Thanks, Frankie.”
For the first time, Frank fell asleep before you did with the weight of the day’s sleuthing taking a toll on him too. For the first time, it was Frank’s screams that disturbed the peace of the night. For the first time, it was Frank who needed company.
“Frank? Frank! Frankie, wake up!” you said urgently as you shook his shoulder. His eyes were squeezed shut as he shouted in angry gibberish, his body twisting as if something was burning him from the inside. His arms started to swing aimlessly, his elbow catching you sharply on your lip.
“Fuck!” you hissed as you touched the sore spot, feeling the small split and the blood seeping through.
You would have spent a bit more time being annoyed but his thrashing quickly grew more violent with his hands clawing at his chest and his legs kicking beneath him. You let fly a few more curses before you lifted yourself to straddle him, pinning his lower half down with your hips and grabbing his wrists to stop him from hurting himself.
“Come on, Frankie! Wake up for me.”
Perhaps it was entirely the wrong approach to try to subdue a six foot tall, 200 pound, ex-Marine who was having an unconscious fight response. The next thing you knew you were flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you, a large hand wrapped tightly around your throat, and blazing dark brown eyes boring down into you. You gripped at his muscled forearm, trying to pull him off of you as you wheezed his name.
You saw the murderous expression on his face quickly shift to recognition and then to horrified guilt as he realized what he was doing. You expected him to pull away, put as much distance between you as possible and probably kick you out of his room. You were close to Frank, a special bond was shared between you but you also respected how he tended to be more reserved and subtle with his affection.
You didn’t expect for him to pull you up and crush you to his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing in heavy gulps of air as he tried to calm himself. Your body soon sagged against him after the initial shock, settling in more comfortably on his lap as his arms wound tighter around you. You rubbed his back slowly, kneading the knots on his tense muscles until they released. Your free hand was used to hold his head in place, a silent way of telling him this was okay and he could take his time.
“I hurt you,” he muttered against your skin, a small shiver running down your spine at the feel of his lips on your pulse.
“You didn’t hurt me.” You felt his muscles tense again as he prepared to argue, but you beat him to it. “You didn’t mean to. You were having a -”
“Nightmare,” he finished for you. You nodded your head as you continued your lazy massage.
“It was the kids today wasn’t it?”
His silence was louder than any words he could have said. He’s told you before of the bloody brutal past he carried and the vengeance that followed that birthed the Punisher. When he shared his story with you was when you understood why you felt a different kind of closeness to Frank. It was then you understood why he didn’t want you on this path and why right now he was adamant on seeing it through with you. Retribution was a lonely path.
And he didn’t want you to be alone.
The warehouse you had been observing today shocked you both, discovering that the manpower used to pack drugs were all children. Orphans probably or homeless children. Runaways and strays. All around the age that Frank’s children were when they were killed. It triggered his ghosts to haunt me once more.
It was a while before Frank slowly pulled away from you, still holding you close but now frowning at the obvious cut on your lip. He cupped your face and ran his thumb gingerly over it, stopping immediately when you winced at the sting.
“I’m sorry,” he gulped.
“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him again, placing your hand over his and nuzzling your face against his rough palm.
The tense silence stretched between you, his intense eyes following the movement of his thumb that now was tracing along the corner of your mouth. Your own eyes roamed his face, relishing the rare chance to actually study his handsome features from this close until you became fixated on his lips too. You were so close now that you could feel his breath on your face and the electricity buzzed around the small space that separated you, pulling you unconsciously closer to each other.
“Y/N,” he whispered, struggling to hold himself back.
“Don’t you fucking dare apologize.”
“I’m not gonna take advantage of you.”
“You’re not,” you said, laughing nervously. “If anything I’m the one taking advantage of you here.”
“You’re not,” he blurted out, his firm tone settling your nerves.
You smiled softly at him, locking his gaze with your own. “I want you, Frank. I want this.”
Instinct took over from there. His hand slipped to the back of your neck and pulled you close as his lips swooped in to capture yours in a messy kiss that was more a desperate tangle of tongues than anything else. You sighed against his mouth and it was all he could do to not just rip your clothes off, the need to feel your bare skin against his growing urgent. You did it for him, whipping off your sleep shirt and pulling him closer to you as he hurriedly took a pebbled peak in his mouth. You arched your back and grinded your rapidly soaking core against his prominent bulge, moaning his name as he growled against the soft flesh of your breasts.
“Please, Frank. No teasing,” you panted, whining sharply as he gripped your ass in both hands and pressed you down harder against him. “Not tonight.”
He pushed you down onto your back, tearing off the rest of both your clothes before slotting himself between your thighs. He almost lost it when he felt the heat and wetness of you rubbing on his bare length, coating him in preparation. He kissed you again and squeezed your breast, already addicted to how you tasted and felt. You were so soft, so pliant beneath him, so raw and vulnerable.
In an odd moment of coordination in your lustful frenzy, you both reached for each other and groaned in unison. You felt each other shudder, his fingers spreading around your slick and toying with your aching bud while you pumped and squeezed his generous length. He was going to split you in half with the girth on that thing and you could hardly wait.
“Frank,” you gasped, biting into his shoulder. He cursed sharply as he speared you with his fingers, your back arching and your hips pushing forward for more.
“Gotta get you ready first. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Goddamn, you’re wet.”
He watched with pride as you writhed beneath him, gradually losing parts of yourself as your whole body began to answer only to him. Your skin felt heated and the coil inside you was tightening with each stroke of his fingers against that tender spongy spot inside you.
“Yeah? Right there?” he asked, pressing the heel of his palm hard on your clit. Your eyes fluttered close, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensations. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”
You did. You let go and the relief you felt was freeing. It wasn’t just the shaking orgasm that he gave you, it was the surrender of everything that has held you so tense for the past years to someone you unconditionally trusted. It was the much needed respite from everything that had been weighing you down.
When he pulled his fingers out of you to drive his throbbing cock into your welcoming heat, it felt more than just sex. It was more than just a physical thing, it was the joining of two fragmented souls where the scattered pieces sought each other out to form something new. The handful of times you’ve been intimate with boys before didn’t even come remotely close to how it felt to be pleasured by this man. It was bliss. It was comfort. It was protection.
It was a beginning.
“Frank,” you choked out, your eyes starting to sting with tears. Everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough. Your nails dug into his back as his slow thrusts became harder.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
He held the back of your thigh and hitched it up higher on his hip, angling you to take him deeper. He rested one forearm beside your head, keeping you from hitting the headboard as he slammed into you. He pressed his forehead against yours, muttering praise against your parted lips. He wanted to give you more. God, he wanted to give you everything.
“You feel so good. So good.”
The kiss he gave you was gentle, a stark contrast to how his hips pounded into you now. Your breaths mingled, panting and shallow as the pleasure built between you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit that spot over and over, chanting his name as your mind grew hazy. Just a bit more. Your body twisted as you tried to reach your climax and he saw your struggle. He reached between you to thrum at your clit and with one more sharp snap of his hips, you went barreling into your release.
“That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”
Your whole body shook with the impact and he swallowed your screams with his mouth over yours. His thrusts became punishing, erratic now as he chased his own release while your walls still fluttered around him. The primal growl he let out as he came inside you sent fire across your skin and the sweet kiss that followed warmed your heart.
He pulled away from you slowly, just enough to look at your face, raising himself above you and cupping your cheek. You were both still out of breath and your pulses were still jumping out of your skin, but the smile you both shared was sated. He stared down at you with unmistakable fondness.
“You’re beautiful.”
Your relationship with Frank surprisingly didn’t change all that much after that night except for the fact that it was now expected that you would sleep in the same bed and that at some point one of you would reach out for the other for more than just sleep. He would kiss your pouting lips every time now as well before he charged alone into another hideout, firmly ordering you to stay in your spot behind the sniper rifle but that he would be back soon. For the most part it was fine, but word must have gotten around that the Punisher was making house calls.
“I’m coming in, Frank!” you yelled into the comms. The heavy gunfire was loud both through the earpiece and from your perch on the abandoned building a street over.
“Like hell you are! Just shoot them from there.”
“There’s too many of them, you stubborn idiot! You need back up.”
“It’s not safe goddamn it!” he growled, his irritation growing at his lack of control in the situation. He didn’t like the thought of you coming in. He didn’t like it one bit.
You could hear him grunting in frustration as he tried to fire off his own shots. You bolted out of your hiding spot, trying to keep your steps as quiet as possible as you rounded to the side of the warehouse where Frank was. You peeked through the windows, the chaos inside granting you an opportunity to go unnoticed. You carefully slipped in, pulling out two pistols at the ready as you positioned yourself behind the crowd that was preoccupied with hailing bullets at your partner.
“Deep breaths, Y/N. You can do this,” you whispered to yourself in an attempt to calm your racing heart.
This was the first time you were again in the middle of an actual fight and your hands were shaking, struggling to keep a grip on your guns. You swallowed the hard lump in your throat, willing away the horrid flashbacks that came unbidden. The last time you were in a fight, your entire team was badly overpowered and nearly beaten. The last time, Bucky had almost gotten taken by Hydra again. Last time, you were meant to die. You didn’t realize that you were hyperventilating until Frank’s pained cry pierced through the haze of your consciousness and shocked you back into focus.
“Frank?” you choked out.
The silence from the other end was deafening and the worst case scenarios ran through your head. All of a sudden everything became louder in your ears. The rapid gunfire. The shouting of the men, jeering at taking down the Punisher. The clinking of bullet shells as they hit the polished concrete of the floor. The fast shallow breathing weakly captured by your comms. The pounding of your heart in your chest.
“Get outta here, sweetheart,” Frank whispered harshly. “Get out now.”
Everything abruptly snapped into focus and the noise dissolved into the background. You cocked your pistols, raising them steadily as you stepped out from behind the crates. One quick sweep at where the enemies were and your plan was decided. Your eyes narrowed as a singular objective took over.
Get Frank out.
The first bullet you fired hit the target nearest to you square in the back of his head that was thrown back in laughter, celebrating their victory far too early. Your shots were still clumsy, a mixture of adrenaline and anxiety making you miss a few, but fortunately the enemy was too distracted to notice immediately.
It wasn’t until four more bodies had fallen that the enemy noticed you and redirected their shots to you. Your steps forward toward each man with a pointed gun at you grew more confident as you forced yourself not to falter, your eyes burning with murderous purpose. You had to get Frank out. You instinctively fell back on your training as you used the scattered crates to your advantage, jumping and rolling in and out of cover with each shot as they continued to drop dead one by one.
Your mind was concentrated on counting the bullets you fired, reloading smoothly with deft hands just as the last bullet flew off. Finally, the last man dropped dead and the warehouse floor was painted in a sea of blood and weaponry. It was eerily quiet now and relief washed over you when you heard the all too familiar grumpy voice.
You ran toward the sound, dropping to your knees immediately as you spotted him. He was leaning back on a large pillar with one of his legs outstretched, a long strip torn from his shirt was wound around his thigh as a tourniquet. His blood was bright and wet on his clothes. It was bad, but Frank was alive. He would make it.
“You just don’t listen, do you?” he said curtly, more mad at himself than you for your involvement. Something that looked suspiciously like pride glinted in his eyes when he opened them despite the disapproving frown on his face.
“You’re lucky I don’t,” you scoffed, thanking every god you didn’t believe in that he was well enough to still scold you for not following orders as usual.
“Did you just light up an entire warehouse of thugs on your own?”
“I learned from the best,” you chuckled before your tone became more serious as you saw his frown turn deeper with the discomfort. “Can you walk?”
“Just need a little help,” he nodded.
Hauling this beefy man up with his injured side draped heavily on you was a feat in itself and it was going to take a lot out of you both to get to the car. You were about to make a snarky remark about how he should lay off the pizza for a while when he shoved you hard, practically throwing you behind the nearest solid cover. Your exasperated complaints died in your throat as a fresh barrage of bullets fired behind you, sending fragments of cement and wood flying at the impact.
“Frank!”
“8 o’clock!” he shouted back and you understood instantly. You reached for your gun and slid across the floor, firing at the direction he instructed. You clipped the shooter on the shoulder, causing him to stumble back and giving you the chance to really look at his face.
His familiar face.
Your gazes locked, yours wide with the shock of recognition and his flashing with a smug amusement. You raised your gun again as the anger began to rise in you, but before you could fire he had turned to run. There was no thinking about it first. There was no consulting with Frank if this was a good idea. You ignored Frank’s furious screaming for you to not do it.
You chased after him.
You knew him. You knew his face. It was one of the faces that was unfortunately seared into your memory. He was there. He was there the first day you woke up in the hands of Hydra, looking far too excited to start carving into your skin. He was there when your sister was brought in, laughing maniacally as you screamed for them to let your sister go. He was there when you plummeted into a cold state of shock as they wheeled away your sister’s dead body. He wasn’t Salvacion but he was a closest lead you’ve got. He was sure to know something. You weren’t about to let him get away.
You chased him through the inner corridors of the warehouse, firing your gun at him until you hit him on the back of his thigh and sent him stumbling face first to the ground. You were on him before he could recover, flipping him roughly to face you and pressing the muzzle of your gun between his eyes.
“Where’s Salvacion?”
The smile he gave you was malicious and not at all deterred. “Looking good, Y/N. It’s good to see you alive after all these years.”
“Can’t say the same about you. Now where is he?”
You pressed the gun harder when he cocked his head to the side, smirking as he saw the scars running down one side of your neck. “I remember those. I had a lot of fun with that one in particular and if I remember correctly it runs all the way down your back.”
“Where is he?” you said through gritted teeth, your jaw tense with the flimsy hold you had on the rage that threatened to spill over.
“I’ve missed you, Y/N. You always were a tough one to crack. Even until the very end I hardly broke you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy trying,” he chuckled as your eyes narrowed and you growled down at him. “At least you always have something to remember me by. Well more than a few souvenirs.”
“Tell me where he is,” you hissed, digging at the bullet hole in his shoulder with your thumb. He yelled as he struggled beneath you, throwing you an outraged glare.
“You’re asking the wrong questions, little girl. This is bigger than just one hired hitman. It’s bigger than just you and your sister. You have no idea what we have planned.”
His laugh made your blood boil and you couldn’t help yourself when you raised your hand and slammed the butt of your gun to his nose. He groaned in pain, but the asshole still had the gall to smile up at you with blood gushing from his nose to his mouth.
“Listen here, you son of a bitch. You either tell me where Salvacion is or I’m going to make sure I repay every fucking scar you gave me.”
“Let me guess. You want to avenge your precious sister, right?” He licked his lips at your uncomfortable silence, taking pleasure in seeing your grip start to shake.
“Shut up,” you snarled, digging the barrel down harder on his forehead.
“I liked your sister, you know. She wasn’t like you.”
“Where. Is. He?”
“I wish Salvacion had let me have a turn with her. She was such a good girl.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Lily screamed so sweetly for him.”
“I said shut up!”
It was her name on his busted lips that finally made you snap. He had no right to say Lily’s name. None of them did. They had no right. Not after what they did. The blinding fury took over from there, each bullet fired accompanied by lashing words.
You let him murder her!
You let him torture her!
You made me watch her scream!
You made me watch her die!
You let her believe I didn’t care about her!
Frank dragged himself from the floor, leaning heavily on the walls to keep himself upright as he painfully struggled toward where you had run off to. The sound of a magazine hastily emptying pushed him to go faster and when he finally rounded the corner to where you were, it completely broke his heart.
Your voice, chanting accusations over and over, was broken by your sobs as you continued to fire the now empty gun. The trigger clicked with each pull, but you didn’t even notice it. You were too consumed by the grief that you had been trying to keep under control. The dam was open and you had no strength to seal it back.
Frank cautiously limped toward you, wincing at the state of the man beneath you. You fired all your rounds point blank at his face, leaving him virtually unrecognizable. He wrenched the gun away from your hands and threw it aside, lifting you off by the shoulder but falling to the ground with you in his own injured state. He held you in his arms and you curled into his chest as he scooted farther away from the dead body.
Even through the blur of tears and the tidal wave of emotion that drowned you, you recognized his touch. You recognized the safety of his embrace. He soothed you by crushing you closer to himself, the physical pain he felt was far outweighed by the suffocating heaviness in his chest at seeing you like this.
He heard you. Even faced with the very person who was responsible for permanently marking your body and tormenting you for what must have felt like a hopeless eternity, you were still thinking of your sister. Your anger was for your sister. Your vengeance was for your sister. Your life right now that you were begrudgingly living, was for your sister.
What about you?
Someone needed to think about you too. Someone needed to be on your side, enact a vendetta for you, protect you, make you see that life could still have value for you. Someone needed to be yours.
Frank decided that he would be that person, but he also knew that he alone wouldn’t be enough. As much as he knows by now that he felt something deeper for you, he knew that there was a part of him that he never would be able to completely give to you. He knew that you needed more. He knew that you deserved more.
Those same thoughts were swimming in his mind as he walked into Anvil in the dead of night, startling Billy at the sight of you both and making him almost drop his beer. He was alarmed and a dreadful sense of deja vu filled him with the image of you again unconscious in his heavily limping best friend's arms and covered with blood. Frank shook his head to calm him down.
“It’s not her blood. She’s just asleep,” he said, keeping his voice soft and low to not wake you when it had been so difficult to get you to sleep.
“What the hell happened?” Billy asked as he came closer, rubbing his thumb gently on your brow to smooth the frown.
“You still offering to come on missions with us?”
“Yeah, Frankie, of course. Why?”
“Because I’m gonna need a stronger leash.”
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Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.
Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil
Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. explicit descriptions of trauma and torture, mentions of character death/s, angst, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language
A/N: PART TWO OF THE TRILOGY IS HERE! Just in case it’s not clear yet, Reformation tells the story after Nemesis sacrifices herself to save Bucky and before she reunites with the Avengers. This is the missing 10 years in between that spent with our 3 wonderful Netflix men. Bear with me while we establish a few things before we run straight into the hurricane.
Much thanks as always to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire for beta reading, the chapter title, and for her great insight into these characters. All mistakes are mine.
No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.
Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
2:1 Mashed Potatoes
Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.
A slew of profanities was running laps in Frank Castle’s mind as he quietly turned the corners in a darkened base he just then realized he should have no business being in. He was following a lead on one of the syndicates after whispers reached him of a possible new drug being developed that was ten times more potent than the cocaine they were already known for. He wasn’t expecting to be led straight into a Hydra base.
Hydra was way above his pay grade and while his reputation as the Punisher was by no means an exaggeration, he wasn’t about to pick a fight with them outmanned and outgunned. Billy would argue that he was reckless, but he wasn’t an idiot. He decided to only risk 15 minutes, a nagging feeling in his gut telling him to stick around. He would find any information he could within that window and keep himself undetected. After that he would high tail it out of there.
The surprises just kept coming.
He kept low and stuck to the shadows, his steps consciously made lighter and his rifle close to his chest at the ready. He ended up in what looked like a large laboratory, messy and haphazardly setup but the beeping equipment let him know that this was a heavily used room. He ducked behind large crates at the sound of several voices ahead of him. Peaking around the corner, he saw several men standing huddled with their backs to him. One of them he recognized as the man from the syndicates he was tailing.
His better judgement screamed at him to get the hell out of there while he still had the chance, but one of the men stepped to the side revealing the one thing that threw all his logical reasoning out the window.
A captive.
You were made to sit on a steel chair, hands and legs bound though your body was limp and your head was lolled to the side. One of them gripped your chin tight and made you look at him, your hair matted with blood and sticking to your bruised face. The weak fluttering of your eyelashes was the only sign that you were still alive, barely any strength left to even open your eyes.
The tactical suit you were wearing was torn to shreds with barely any scraps left covering your blood-drenched body, revealing to him all the deep injuries inflicted on you that were obviously repeatedly aggravated and kept open. Frank knew torture when he saw it and he knew you had no fight left in you.
“What are your orders, Sir? We need to move again soon.” one of them asked the one clutching your face.
“We have no more use for her.” He turned your face from side to side, sneering down at you. “Kill her.”
“Goddamn it,” he mumbled under his breath.
Frank decided quickly.
The first shot he fired hit the man holding you at the back of his head. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and caused the other three to turn to him startled. The room was filled with the sound of loud gunfire and the blaring alarms soon rang in his ears. He steeled himself and aimed his gun precisely at the remaining men, rushing over to you the moment they dropped dead.
He hurriedly ripped at the ropes restraining you, your body falling onto his without the support. He hoisted your body up by the waist, your body nearly falling to the ground from the battering it endured. He grunted as you suddenly started struggling in his hold, kicking and punching at him weakly but with more strength than he expected from someone who looked a breath away from death.
“Let me go, you bastards,” you slurred with another kick at his shin, your hazy brain assuming he was one of your captors.
Frank couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up on his face. He was happy to be proven wrong. You still had some fight left in you. He took the butt of his gun and swiftly hit the back of your head, knocking you unconscious.
Frank Castle barging through the front doors of Anvil beaten and bathed in crimson was not a strange occurrence, expected even. Coming through carrying an unconscious and horrifyingly injured woman in his arms was, oddly enough, also not strange. Still, it alarmed his friends all the same. Billy Russo and Curtis Hoyle jumped to their feet, chairs scraping against the floor and drinks immediately forgotten.
“What the hell, Frank?” Curtis asked urgently, following the other man as he charged into the facility’s medical room.
“I’ll explain later. I need you to help her, Curt.”
Billy was quicker to fall in line than Curtis, his trust in his best friend prompting him to pull out the only surgical bed they had to lay you on. You were a grisly sight and Frank ripping your clothes off to reveal the full extent of your injuries made even the Marines wince.
“She needs a hospital!” Curtis protested even as he began pulling out supplies.
“Hydra was about to off her when I got there.”
“Hydra?” Even Billy was starting to hesitate, his hand nervously running through his hair. “Why the hell are you messing with Hydra, Frankie?”
“Bad lead,” he growled.
Any further discussion was interrupted by you convulsing, your body finally giving in to the shock of extensive torture. Curses flew around the room as the three men scrambled to stabilize you; one dousing you with antiseptic, another pressing on your gaping wounds to keep you from further bleeding out, and the last frantically employing every last piece of medical knowledge he had on you.
It took hours to get you to a point where Curtis was half confident you weren’t going to just drop dead in the middle of the night. By the end of it they themselves looked like they had been through a war; clothes drenched in your life force, sweat dripping down their backs, breathing heavy and ragged. The stench of death still hung in the air as the three men slumped on the floor exhausted.
“So who’s the pretty girl, Frankie?”
Frank chuckled and shook his head, a tired smile of amusement curving the corner of his lips at the question. He didn’t bother denying it. “You planning to put the moves on an unconscious girl, Bill? At least give her a chance to say no.”
Billy scoffed and lightly punched the other man’s arm, recognizing that he was trying to make light of an obviously bad situation. He stared at your immobile figure, strapped to breathing tubes and hooked to multiple machines as he ran a hand through his already messed up hair. You were covered in bandages, the evidence of your ordeal more apparent now after they had cleaned you up as best they could.
“I’m serious, Frankie. Did you see the emblem on her suit?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s an Avenger.”
“Looks like it.” Frank scratched at the stubble on his chin and shook his head. “You think I should have just left her there?”
“No,” Billy said immediately. There was no doubt that Frank did the right thing by pulling you out. “I’m just worried about what kind of trouble my best friend brought home this time.”
“I thought Billy Russo liked trouble?” Frank teased. The smile on Billy’s face as he stared at you again was boyish.
Yeah, he liked trouble.
It was four days later when you surfaced from the induced coma they put you under to help you heal. Your whole body felt like lead and even wiggling your fingers was a chore. You tried to move your head and your eyes struggled to open. The panic was creeping in your chest at the feeling of being completely out of control of your own body.
“Stop movin’ around so much.”
The command was firm and delivered in a low gravelly voice that should have made you feel immediately threatened, but strangely enough calmed your pounding heart. You tried to talk, but the coarseness in your throat felt like you swallowed broken glass.
“Goddamn it, just stop for a minute.”
You heard his heavy approaching footsteps before you felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders, lifting you to prop you up against the pillows. You whimpered from the ache in your body as you tried to open your eyes again. When you broke through the blurring of your vision, the face that greeted you took you by surprise.
He was handsome even with the fading bruises and healing cuts on his face. He was wide and built like a tank, apparent even underneath the loose casual clothes he wore. Everything about him was intimidating. You should be intimidated.
But his eyes were kind.
A part of you was certain he had never been called this before and he would surely think you had lost your mind, but he looked like an angel to you. You had always pictured angels as warriors, winged weapons of deliverance. That was what you saw in front of you; a ruthless soldier with kind eyes that had a permanent veil of deep pain that you somehow related to.
Wordlessly he held a glass of water in front of you, the plastic straw pressing on your cracked lips. He reminded you to drink slowly and patiently waited until you finished. You knew that you should be more on your guard, having woken up in another unfamiliar place with a stranger watching over you. Last time that happened it was a prelude to months of torture, but something about him made you feel safe for the first time in so long.
“You’re not Hydra,” you rasped, wincing slightly at the persistent pain in your throat. He was just as surprised as you that you were coherent enough upon waking to put two and two together.
Frank nodded. “And you’re an Avenger.”
“Not really,” you snorted, the bitterness seeping into your expression before a somber sadness settled in.
Frank recognized the defensive show of strength and he admired you for it. Though he could see that you weren’t hostile, he recognized that you were still partly on your guard despite your basically defenseless state. That meant you were smart. Good.
“I’m Frank,” he offered.
You regarded him for a long time before deciding to give him your name. He nodded again as an awkward silence stretched on between you until you decided to break it.
“Thank you, Frank.”
He gave you a small smile and reached over to pat the edge of your bed. He had a million questions he wanted to ask you, top of the list was how the hell you ended up half dead in a Hydra base but the haunted look on your face held him back.
“Rest some more. I’ll check on you later and bring you some food.” He stood to leave the room, but before he could walk out the door your small and hesitant voice stopped him.
“They killed my sister,” you said in almost a whisper, the struggle was clear in your tone. “They made me watch.”
After you managed to force out your first words, the rest just came tumbling out. You’re not sure exactly what compelled you, but you found yourself spilling your whole story to Frank. Maybe it was the exhaustion of having to resist under torture or maybe it was the drugs still swimming in your system. Maybe it was the months in isolation with no one to talk to, no one to cry to. Maybe it was the countless times you begged in your mind for anyone to find and save you as your tormentors tore through your skin over and over.
Whatever it was, by the end of it you were sobbing quietly as you stared blankly up at the ceiling. Your cries didn’t come in racking heaves; you were much too tired for that. They simply ran down your face and left a burning ache in your chest. Frank was rooted to his spot as you told your story, standing just beside your cot with gritted teeth and eyes that had turned murderous. He was looking anywhere but at you.
“You are an Avenger,” he growled lowly. “If what you did isn’t hero shit then I don’t know what is.”
It was strange to find comfort and validation from a man you had just met, but has already done so much for you when the very people he was insisting you were on par with had torn you down so completely.
At least one of them did.
You swallowed hard as you tried to reign in the weight of the emotions all at once hitting you like a truck. The salty tears had seeped into the bandages near your face and the wounds beneath were starting to sting. Frank assured you that you could lay low there and heal for as long as you needed to. He left you shortly after and as you drifted off to a dreamless sleep, you wondered what you would do once you were fully recovered. Would you return to your old life?
Was there even anything to return to?
It would be another week before Frank introduced you to Billy and Curtis. He didn’t want to overwhelm you so he had taken on the role of temporary caretaker during that time, patiently checking over your injuries and bringing you whatever you needed. When the other two Marines walked into your room for the first time, you practically cowered behind Frank.
He sat on the chair next to your bed, trying to look at you with reassurance and allowing you to grip onto his arm. Curtis introduced himself first and saw you flinch when he raised a hand in a friendly wave. He expected you to have PTSD just from the amount of injuries you had and he recognized it now in your reactions. He was quick to tell you of his counseling group and to offer you separate sessions should you feel up to talking.
Billy though was either oblivious or completely undeterred by your discomfort, stepping closer to you with that cocky smirk on his face. Your grip on Frank’s arm tightened and he shot a warning look at his best friend. You were the weariest of Billy. The almost analytical curiosity in his dark eyes as he watched you made you feel uneasy. You knew his kind, a charmer with a way with words.
“I’m Billy. I hope you’re getting everything you need in my facility.”
Frank had told you that it was a harried group effort from all three of them that brought you back from the brink of death. He also told you that you were essentially living under Billy’s roof. You were truly grateful, but just like with Frank you didn’t know exactly what prompted you to react a certain way to Billy. Maybe it was the meticulously smooth swoop of his hair or how his suit was perfectly tailored to his body. Maybe his ridiculously pretty face just simply unsettled you.
“I’ve had better service at a McDonald’s.”
Frank barked out a short laugh, unable to stop the reaction from your unexpected comment. Curtis, the big man that he was, desperately tried to stifle his giggling. Neither had ever seen a woman who didn’t immediately fawn over their friend. There was just something magnetic and compelling about Billy that attracted people. That made your reaction unusually refreshing and surprisingly caused Billy to grin cheekily at you after the initial shock had worn off.
“We can’t have that now can we, pretty girl?”
It sounded like a threat.
Despite the less than warm first impressions, you did manage to mutter a small thanks before they left your room. Surely they were good men for helping you, but more than that you trusted Frank.
He had grown protective of you, having been the one who found you he now felt like he was responsible for you. Behind that and the gratitude you felt, a friendship had developed between you and the usually gruff soldier. He never left you completely alone with Billy and Curtis. He also refused to tell them your story, always saying that it wasn’t his to tell. You would tell them when you were ready and only if you wanted to.
He didn’t expect you to tell him you were ready to leave so soon after only a couple of months of recovery. He stared at you with his mouth slightly open over the pizza you were sharing. After a long pause, he slowly started to chew again as he mulled over your words. Billy sat next to him, shaking his head and chuckling as he finished a slice before tossing the crust into the box.
“Sick of us already, pretty girl?” he teased.
“Can’t leech off you forever, Russo.”
“I’m not complaining. You can repay me somehow,” he winked.
You snorted. You were still mostly uncomfortable around Billy, but during your time there you had gotten to know him quite a bit at his insistence. You knew by now what he was saying behind his increasingly flirtatious comments. You didn’t have to leave. No one was making you leave.
“Something Curtis said yesterday stuck with me.”
“What did that idiot say?” Frank chuckled.
You gave him a small smile in return, enjoying their brotherly jabs at each other. “He said I shouldn’t just choose a path. He said I should make one. I can’t make my own path if I don’t even know where I wanna go, Frank.”
He studied you again, saw the determined set of your shoulders despite the fear flitting across your eyes. He didn’t like it. He didn’t think you were ready and he didn’t think it was a good idea. He had a bad feeling in his gut.
“Okay.”
Billy was surprised at Frank’s agreement since he shared the same hesitations he had about this. He’s only gathered bits and pieces of your story from overhearing your conversations and by observing you, but he knew enough to know that this was a big decision you made. He sighed.
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
They should have listened to their gut.
Your first stop was to see Jill. She was technically your only family left and you felt guilt weigh heavily on you for not checking on her sooner. She loved Lily as much as you did and you were feeling nervous. You didn’t know what you would say to her. What exactly do you say to someone after you got the love of their life murdered?
You expected your sister’s death to destroy her and for her to be resentful of you. You expected the anger. You wanted it even. You believed you deserved it. Why were you allowed to survive while Lily hadn’t? You didn’t expect to see an utterly broken person sobbing over your gravestone.
It didn’t even register with you until that moment that people thought you died too. It didn’t hit you until you saw the names on the gravestones, yours and Lily’s side by side. Jill had always been the steady cheerful presence in your lives, calm even in a crisis. You barely recognized the shell of a woman in front of you; eyes blank save for the overwhelming grief, face gaunt and lacking its usual color, and harsh words of denial spilling freely from her lips. Months after your deaths, she still couldn’t fathom the thought of you both gone.
What could you say?
There were no words. So you turned around and walked away before she could see you, the cold wind carried the sound of her crying as you left. Frank had stood beside you as you watched Jill and he saw how your whole body went rigid at the sight. He didn’t stop you when you retreated. He didn’t say a word as he followed you back to where Billy was waiting by the car. He halted only when he felt you tug weakly on his arm.
“I’m going to kill him, Frank,” you said, voice low and ominous. He noticed your grip tighten as your fist started to shake. “I’m going to kill all of them.”
“No.”
He knew that look. He knew that fury intimately. If he was being honest, he was actually surprised that you hadn’t made this decision when you first opened your eyes. If you had made it then, maybe he would have just let you but not now after he’s gotten to know you. You were too soft and kind for the self-destructive task you wanted to take on. There was good still in you and there was hope for a life beyond all you were put through. He knew there was no turning back once you started on this path.
He knew.
“This isn’t the path you wanna make for yourself. Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want this.”
You gritted your teeth and glared up at him. He knew that look too. It was the same one he had when his mind was made up and there was no stopping him. You weren’t asking for permission. This was happening whether he was going to get on board or not.
“You sure?”
You nodded. He groaned and ran his hand across his face as he made his decision.
“Fine. You’re going to start training with Billy and me.”
“I didn’t ask for your help, Frank.”
“Well you’re still getting it,” he said firmly as he started walking back to the car, Billy raising an eyebrow at your approach. “And you’re going to counseling with Curtis.”
You started to protest as you caught up to him, but he just held up a hand to shut you up. If you were really going to do this, then he was going to make damn sure that you were prepared and had backup.
He really should have listened to his gut.
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We have discontinued tag lists. For chapter and fic updates follow my side blog and turn on notifications: plaid-sav-armsfics. Only new chapters and new fics will be posted there.
How there are 1K of you on here, I have no idea but I am so very grateful to each and every one of you. You’ve made my journey back to my love of writing fun and feel worthwhile.
Time to celebrate! 🎉🎉
When I write it’s always driven by intense plot so when I get an idea my WIPs tend to spiral out of control.
Writing a one shot? Nope. That’s a series now.
Writing a series? Nah, let’s do a trilogy.
A drabble? A whole ass fic collection.
Plot is really what draws me to write a certain story and there’s nothing that gets me going more than talking to people and brainstorming about plot. My Discord gang and a few other mutuals know by now the brand of gasoline to throw into the inferno that is my brain.
Thank you, you beautiful enablers.
To celebrate I am inviting all my lovely followers to send me an Ask with your thots, ideas, scene suggestions, and whatever else you want for 3 of my current Work In Progress fics (Nemesis, dark!Reader Collection, Story Book Collection). I will write you a Drabble or at least tell you where my chaotic muse has taken it.
Just a few guidelines below the cut. I am so excited to celebrate and chat with you all! Thank you for 1K! 💕💕
NEMESIS TRILOGY
This has the most complex and ambitious plot I have so far attempted. It’s my baby and I’m glad that this series is getting some good reception.
What have you liked about it so far?
What more would you like to see?
There are 6 men in this reverse harem. What smut pairings/combinations are you wanting to see?
DARK!READER COLLECTION
I enjoy reading dark fics, mostly soft!dark (coz I’m a soft hoe). I don’t see a lot though with the fem!Readers taking on a dark role too. I love the idea of switching it up to have the men caught in a trap for a change.
What kind of dark!Reader do you want to see? A stalker type? A powerful mafia type who kidnaps? Maybe a manipulative Avenger?
Which character do you want to fall into that Reader’s trap?
STORY BOOK COLLECTION
Like a lot of you, I grew up with a love for fairy tales. Until now I’m drawn most to reading and writing fics that have an element of fantasy in them.
What’s your favorite story and what do you like about it?
Which character do you think fits that story and why?
Characters I can write for:
Steve Rogers
Bucky Barnes
Andy Barber
Ari Levinson
Ransom Drysdale
Billy Russo
Frank Castle
Pietro Maximoff
Matt Murdock
Charles Blackwood
Dean Winchester
Loki Odinson
Geralt of Rivia
I reserve the right not to answer an Ask that makes me feel uncomfortable. You can be very specific with your Asks even for smut, but please do not send DDlg, bathroom kinks, incest, and underage characters. Send as many Asks as you like, but limit it to one thing per Ask please.
Thanks again, loves. You don’t know how happy you have all made me. 🥰🥰
I’m writing more I swear. Just help me tie down my muse into submission. 😂😂
Chapter 6 will be posted in the next 24 to 48 hours. This is the last chapter for Part 1. This is the finale of the season, people. It just needs some more editing but it's running at 8k+ words so bring snacks. I just couldn't bear to cut it anywhere but we'll see after I edit it.
Please read the warnings and be in a good mindset as you read this chapter because it gets progressively darker as it goes on. If any of the warnings are not your jam, please skip this.
We'll be going on a little Season Break for Nemesis. Just for 1-2 weeks while I work on a request for Little Blue Ribbons.
I do have a surprise for Nemesis Part 2 next week though so stay tuned.
While you wait, here's some music to set you up for the last chapter. Enjoy!
