♯┆FAITH .ᐟ ༉‧

summary ; Loving Frank was easy, that was until he came home late without calling. It sent your into a deep spiral. ( reader is deaf and experienced acute acoustic trauma )

warnings ; fluff, angst, not really many warnings for this one.

word count ; 2k

a/n ; not proofread. acute acoustic trauma is when the extreme forces from an explosion can cause an instant injury that can include hearing loss, ringing or buzzing sounds, ear pain or pressure, dizziness or trouble balancing, fluid or blood leaking from ears. It can be treated by therapy, surgical procedures, and hearing aids and other implants. Research was done before writing this chapter.

In the late of night, New York City still wasn't quiet, and neither were you and Frank. After he came home late, saying he was just catching up with a 'friend.' You couldn't help but let the jealousy bubble up in your chest. Like a flower blooming in the beginning of spring. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal if he called you, letting you know at least where he was.

"Baby, we just got some drinks, it wasn't anything like that." Franks voice booms through your cochlear implant, his voice impatient. Frank didn't know why you felt as strongly as you did. It was the first time he's ever did this. Forgot to send a text letting you know he was going to be later than usual.

"I know i forgot to text you, m' sorry." Frank ran a hand down his face, it was obvious he had a drink or to. The way his eyebrows furrowed, and almost unsettled. Only sending a wave of tears threatening to spill from your eyes.  "You were late," was all you could manage to say, your voice coming out weak and just above a whisper.

Frank knew it was about more than just being late, the way your voice shakes, eyes glossy and cheeks flustered. "What's really got you all worked up?" Frank leaned down slightly to get a better look at you, his hands coming to find your arms that crossed tightly against your chest.

You shook your head, dread tight in your chest. You didn't want to tell Frank what was really the matter. When he was gone, you sat on the couch staring blankly at the door waiting for him to come through it. When he didn't, your thoughts went straight to that he was hurt, or even dead.

You pulled back from him, hands coming up to wipe the tears that had managed to roll down your cheeks. The thought of saying of you felt out loud to him just felt humiliating. You didnt know why. You trust Frank with your life but being vulnerable, especially like that had always come difficult to you. 

"Baby, talk to me." Franks hands were too gentle, too perfect and real. When he felt you pull back his hands dropped back to his side in defeat. His chest rising as he took a deep breath. It broke him to know he hurt you, to see you like this. Crying and not knowing how to help you.

"I cant," you let out a choked sob, you couldn't for the words to talk to him. Your mind was so full but at the same time so empty. Every time you tried, every time your lips parted to speak, nothing would come out. Everything was suddenly too much for you take in all at once. The tears now streaming like a river down your cheeks, the sound of traffic outside, Franks voice, the distant tap of the water leaking.

You needed a break, a break from everything. Your hearing aids were a blessing, being able to have something you once lost. It could also be a curse.

When you first got them a year after learning your hearing, you got used to the silence. Then when sounds boomed through your ears after a long time, it was too much for your brain to take in all at once.

You took your hearing aids out of your ears, welcoming the familiar ringing back into my ears. Frank was shaking his head, saying the word 'no'.

You help your right hand in a palm, taking your left and making it into a L flipping it forward to sign 'later,' saying it out loud so Frank could understand too.

Frank has been trying to learn sign language. Ever since he's met you he started learning, taking classes on line from a deaf teacher. Watching videos and researching everything.

I rushed to your bedroom, embarrassed that you had broken down in tears in-front of him over something you probably shouldn't have.

Yes, you were worried that he was hurt or dead but in the end he was here in the flesh. Safe. It was silly. Why be upset over something that never happened.

You crashed down onto the bed,curling up into yourself as you indulge in the comforting silence. Your buried your head into the pillow greeting the darkness that came with it.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as your tears stained the pillow. The dark grey sheets turning black when it met with the wetness.

Franks presence was noted when the mattress filled under his weight, then his hands which slowly side under your stomach lifting you up so that you could see him and that he could see you.

Frank points towards himself, then brings his hand up to his head tapping so he could start to sign and speak "I know you are upset, I need to know what's wrong so I can help you,"

You watched his hands move slowly, remembering how to sign certain words and the placement of them. Franks face was laced with concern, his eyes squinting, brows furrowed.

Franks hands then move, they cup your face delicately. His thumbs brushing your cheek to wipe away your tears.

You pointed to your chest, brought your hand up to your temple, pointed at Frank, then place one hand palm up and another placed face down. Then flipped them so it switched. 'I thought you were dead!'

Your voice breaks a little when you spoke the word 'dead' and it made Franks heart sink. Frank never wanted to hurt you, it's what he's always been scared of.

Frank wouldn't leave you, he knew it hurt too much and he couldn't be alone again. Frank basically spent his whole life alone and miserable. Now finally, with you, he can rest.

Franks hesitated, unsure of how to apologize so that you know how truly sorry he is. Franks heart was breaking for you, unable to see you so upset like this.

" I'm so sorry, you know I'd never do that to you." His hands worked gently to sign his words out to you. Franks eyes stuck to his hands, worried he was going to sign something wrong and have it change the meaning,

"I forgot, I know that's not fair to you, but I need you to know I'd never leave you like that. I will always come back." his expression changed depending on what sign he used, amplifying his signs.

You didn't speak, you didn't know what else you could say to him. You loved him so much. That's why it hurt so bad. You couldn't stand the thought of him not in your life.

"I know what it's like to be alone, I've lived with that feeling all of my life. I never want you to feel that way, how I did."  Frank hands fell down to his lap to signal that he was done signing.

Your eyes moved from his hands to his face, reading every wrinkle and eye movement to try and tell what he was thinking. You moved quickly, practically jumping onto him as you cover him with a hug. Your head burying into the warm skin on his neck.

You breathe him in, the smell of gunpowder, the scent of pine from his cologne. You held Frank like he wasn't real. Like he was just apart of your imagination and he was about to slip away.

"I'm right here, baby." You could feel him mumbled into your shoulder, but you couldn't register what he was saying. You didn't care, you two could talk later, Now, you just wanted to be pressed against him. Wanting to make up for the lost time.

Franks hand ran up and down your back soothingly. Franks lips coming up to place soft kiss on your cheek, apologetic and completely devoted.

Frank pulled back, his hands leaving your back "where ever you go, I'm there with you. Even if I'm bleeding out, or ten seconds away from death." He signed, and your grabbed his hands as soon as he was done. Lacing your fingers with his as you put them over his heartbeat. The rhythm of his heart against your fingertips.

You fell asleep like that, tucked against him. A wave of peace and comfort washed over you. When you woke up, Frank was exactly how he fell asleep.

The sun shined down on him, casting a golden glow over the bare skin of his chest. You could look at him like this forever. Peacefully asleep.

There was no worry etched across his face, his shoulders were relaxed and at ease, his chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm.

Franks eyes suddenly fluttered open, a lazily smile painting his face as he catches you staring at him, his hand coming up to brush a messy strand of hair behind your ear.

You loved mornings like this, where it just seemed like it was the two of you in the entire world. The worlds silence and the only thing you could hear was each-others heartbeats.

'I love you.' Frank signed, huffing a breath as his eyes fluttered back shut. Running a hand through his hair, shifting so that he was practically laying on top of you.

summary ; Frank had found himself a well-known journalist wife. Sadly for Frank, You were always caught up in your narratives, leaving Frank a little more than just lonely.

warnings ; MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, teasing, minor needy frank and reader, oral (f receiving), dry humping

word count ; 2.2k

a/n ; not proofread. I actually struggled alot writing this one for some reason. I wasn’t sure how to carry on the story.

Writing for you was an escape. An escape from everything bad in this word. If you could, you would spend all day perched on the couch with your journal and pen in hand.

That killed Frank, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he loathed not having your attention sometimes. The way he would come home and try to talk to you but you always had your head ten pages into your book.

Frank didn't know why it bothered him so much, he knew it shouldn't have. Because at the end of the day, your journal was just words on paper, and he was real. In the flesh.

This day it hit him harder, after a longer day of work all he wanted was a little bit of your attention. "w'you writing?" Frank grumbles hazily, hands stroking patterns against your thighs as your legs sat draped over him on the couch. it had been silent since Frank had gotten home, and I guess it was bound to stay that way.

Franks eyes narrowed when you didn't respond, tapping your leg to snap you out of your writing trace. "Sorry," you apologized, but made no effort to actually tell him what you were writing about. Not that you didn't want to tell him, your work wasn't confidentially or anything. You just didn't feel the need to.

You went back to writing desperate to finish your story by the end of the night so it could be published in the next week. People yearned for your work, your social media flooding with 'when the next story?' Or 'what your opinion on this topic.' And you loved it, the constant reminder that there are people who want your work.

Frank let the silence linger, irritation bubbling in his chest as he tried to ignore the way you dismissed him. A plan formed eagerly in his mind, one he knew would surely work.

"Sweetheart," Frank whined, desperate to just get your eyes to look at him. He shifted quietly, moving so that his broad body was placed in between your legs. "Why you always writing so much?" His voice was needy, like we wanted something he couldn't quite have. One thing about Frank, he hated being ignored and pushed to side. Especially when you were the one doing it.

Frank started off slow, bringing your ankle up to his mouth and pressing a taunting kiss to it. Then he moved down, down your shin, slowly, teasing kisses he knew would break you. "Frank," you huffed, trying to ignore the growing wetness as he kissed down your body. "I am trying to work." You warned, trying to act like you were mad at him, knowing you never could be.

Frank had a way about him, a way that he was so patience and genuine it was hard to be mad at him. The way his eyes soften when he'd realized he'd done something wrong. The way flowers would suddenly show up in the kitchen, or the smell of your favorite food lingering in the kitchen.

"I know y'working." Franks voice tickled against your skin, his pink lips finding the inside of your knee. His eyes point on yours, taunting and watching like a predator about to catch its prey,

"Then why do you keep on kissing me?" You mumbled, finally looking up from the brown notebook that always took over your thoughts. When you eyes met his a fire ignited in side of you. His pupils were big and beautiful, lips part ever so slightly. It made it hard to stay focus.

Franks big hands slid up your thighs, soft and gentle and everything right, everything that made you want to throw your journal across the room and give him all your attention but you need to finish this.

"B'cause I'm missin you. I know you can multi-task." His hands needed the skin on your thighs like a cat, just enough stimulation for it to go straight to your core.

Franks fingers looped into he waistband of your shorts, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin. You try to ignore him, ignore the burning feeling in your chest as he slides off your shorts tauntingly slow along with your panties, discarding them to the wooden floor. You brush the tip of your pen against the paper, you mind going blank on the topic you were supposed to be writing about.

His kisses were deliberate, unspoken words and meaning wrapped into them. Igniting fire in there wake as his mouth trailed up your inner thigh, stopping right where you wanted him most. Desperate and embarrassingly wet.

Franks lips finally finds your clit, pressing his lips against the sensitive spot, just enough to tease and leave you wanting more "Frank, " you gasped, hips instinctively jerking up to meet his mouth, craving more friction. Frank wraps his hand around your thighs which now decorated his broad shoulders.

Franks tongues licks up your folds, slow and torturous. His tongue is patient, like he wanted you to beg for him to go faster and boy he was going to make you. The pleasure drove you mad, the sensation feels like a fire igniting inside of you. Burning every inch 0f you piece by piece.

Frank looks up to stop his motions when he sees you have abandoned your pen. "Can't stop writing now." His voice is low and demanding, the kind that gives you no other choice but to comply. The thing was that you couldn't write, it was too much, too much to form words and but them onto words.

Your hips grind up to meet him in attempt to continue his work, but your hips were held down instead so you couldn't move. You knew you deserved this, ignoring your husband who had just came back from a hard days of work and now you were paying the price for it.

"Frankie," you tried to move again, yet failing miserably as Frank moves his head back. His breath was hot in comparison to your wetness. Your mind was blank, the only thing you could think of was how close yet so far he was from you.

"You gotta write for it, mama." Frank pulled ack completely sitting upright on the couch and leaving you obviously disappointed. Frank had an obvious smug look on his face, and it got to you. Annoyance bubbling in your chest.

You studied Frank, your eyes trailing over his face, stopping particularly his lips glossed with the remnants of you. "I cant," you begged, discarding the journal onto the coffee table as you climbed onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips as your bare cunt presses onto his bulging erection.

Your hands quickly find his toned body, pushing up the hem of his grey ribbed shirt. Gasping as you rolled your hips against his jeans. Impatient and desperate. Frank on the other hand stay composed, unmoving, focused on not giving into you.

Frank shook his head and tsked, his shoulders tensing as you roll your hips against him again. "What's wrong, nothing t'write?" He taunted, jerking his head forwards. Your lips brushing his, salty and so tempting.

You groaned in frustration and jumped up, finally having something to write. Franks irritating teasing. That's what you would write about. "Fine then," you grumbled grabbing the journal and stomping into your shared office.

Frank was close behind you, his eyes hungrily tracing up and down your body. His arms coming up to cross over his chest. The floorboards creaking under his weight.

Frank stopped in the doorway of the office, eyes hunting you down as you bent over the table, reaching for a piece of paper. You made sure you bent over just enough your shirt rode up so that he could see the bare skin between your legs.

"Found something to write about?" Frank questioned, crossing the room in a couple of short strides to reach you, like a lion closing up on a deer, ready to strike at any moment. He presses his chest against your back, strong and familiar. Franks hands moving to either side of you, trapping you against the desk as his eyes watched the blank paper.

"Yeah, you." You scoffed, rocking back into him as you heard him chuckle behind you. One of his hands coming down to shimmy off his jeans and boxers. "really? What about me exactly?" Frank cooed in your ear, breath hot and ticklish over the sensitive skin. You could feel his cock in-between your legs, running back and fourth against your folds

"How annoyed you make me-" your sentence was cut off with a gasp as he finally pushes into you, welcoming the stretch and pleasure that came along with him. You clench around him, wet and filled.

You could feel him twitch inside you as he chuckled, setting a slow and brutal pace inside of you. Leaving you greedy for him.

Frank's hands roamed over your body slowly, fingertips dancing over your warm skin. Frank mesmerized it like artwork in a gallery. Letting out a slow and gathered breath as he fills you up completely. His body flushed against yours in attempt to get impossibly deeper. Franks free hand grabs the journal, big hands placing it infront of you.

'I got something you can write about," He cooed, his face pressed into the middle of your shoulder blades. His breath tickling your skin which went right down to your core. Throbbing and begging for more.

"Write how good I fuck you, how good you feel around my dick." Franks pace quickens in reward to you grabbing the pen, moaning as you try to write down the words that just end up as scribbles along the page.

"Frank," you cried, body trembling beneath him as you push back into him. Hips rolling back against his hard body, chasing and orgasm building up in your stomach. Frank leans down against you, his hands pulling back your shoulders so you're standing up.

You lean your head back against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut, his cocking dragging in and out of your walls. Each grind and roll of his hips bringing you both close to your own release.

Frank loops his arm under your leg, bringing it up to the desk. The angle shifted, deeper and fuller and ten times more torturous. "Fuck," Frank groaned hands gripping your hips so tight you think there would be bruises there in the morning.

"This better than writing? Ignoring me f'that damn journal of yours." Frank grunted, pounding into you impossibly faster. Your mind blank and only full of thoughts of him, on how good he fill you, how much you love this.

You shook your head eagerly, letting out a whimper as a response to him. "No,Frank- im so close-" you shudder, reaching your peak as he slams into you again, your back arching into him as your body shakes with pleasure.

Frank wasn't far behind you, his pace staying Ruthless and destructive in you as your core pulses around him sending him over the edge as his hot liquid fills up your inside as he lets out a growl.

You could feel your juice leak down your leg, sticky and warm and a reminder of the love shared between the two of you guys. You catch your breath as you ride out your high. Franks lips find the skin on your shoulder, his lips gently dancing along your shoulder blades.

The air was heavy, filled with the scent of skin and silk. One you've smelt millions of time, and reach time came with a rush of peace and contentment afterwards.

Franks hands massaged at your back, intimate and filled with his usually softness that came after moments like this, scared that he'd had gone to far or hurt you in anyways.

When he realized you were okay and unharmed he relaxed, Frank collected your hair and fixed the newly ruined ponytail. "im gonna go get you some new clothes."

When he came back, Frank returned with a damp wash cloth and a change of cloths. Cleaning up the spillage between your legs before bending over infront of you. Pulling up one leg after the other to slide the fresh shorts and underwear up your body.

You clung to him, burnt out and tired. Your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, same with your legs that wrapped around his waist. Frank loved whenever you did this, being able to feel your whole weight against him, trusting him to feel safe enough to sleep next to him. Your trust was something he valued so deeply.

Franks hand rested at the small of your back, rubbing absentmindedly down and back up, soothing you like a newborn baby. slow, and delicate. Careful that if he does it too hard or too fast you would break.

His eyes found your discarded journal, scribbled and ink painting the blank page. It was fully unreadable which made a chuckle escape from Franks lips.

summary; Frank never lets you help him, no matter how mad he gets injured. He's worried you'll see him as be is. A monster. 

warnings; mentions of blood, murder, angst, more angst.

word count; 2.2k

not proofread

Frank had always been the one to take care of you, the one to hold your hair back when you threw up, rub your back while you cried into his broad arms. But when it came to taking care of Frank, he didn't want your care. He didn't want you to see him hurt, to see him bloody after a mission. He'd never wanted that for you, to see what he really is, what he has to do. It worried him, that if you saw him like that, you would love him less, you would see him for what he was, what he is. It terrifies Frank. 

It was a regular night for the two of you, you stayed home while Frank went out on a mission. It was a routine both of you had to get used to.  You enjoyed the familiarity of it, nothing changes. Frank on the other hand, he hates it. He hates leaving you alone for hours. Most of the time, you get a text halfway through his workday "missin' you, sweetheart." But this night, something was different, frank came back worse than he ever had, and still wouldn't let you help him.

New York was louder tonight, traffic played like music through your window alongside the heavy sound of rain and occasionally thunder. You sat on the couch, deciding to indulge in a romance book while awaiting your husband to return home. It was a little past 11:30, and it was a lie to say you weren't starting to worry. Frank always worked later, you knew it. Today just felt different. No text saying he was on his way home yet like he usually does. 

About ten minutes later of trying to focus on reading instead of the ticking clock, you heard keys shifting In the doorway. Relief floods through your body, knowing Frank had made it home safely. Your head books up from the couch as the door opens, and when Frank steps instead panicked immediately spreads throughout your body, stiffening your limbs. 

"Hey sweetheart," Frank tries to play off his injuries, to make them seem less than they are. You could see right through him, right through that tuff exterior he loves to play. You could tell he was in pain, and it killed you inside, to see him hurt and broken. Blood painted over his white shirt, turning it more wine- colored than white. His face was tired and weary. 

"Oh, Frank." You say his name softly, like if you spoke too loud he may just disappear right then and there. You get up from the couch, reaching Frank in a matter of seconds. You cup your hands over his cheeks, not caring about the blood and dirt that would get on them. "Are you okay?" Your eye soften at the sight of him, your eyes raking over every cut and bruises that now decorated his bodies. 

You could feel Frank pull his head gently out of your hands, not roughly, just the kind that says he wants to be alone. "M'needa clean up." Frank pulled your hand down from his face, his face so low and shattered it breaks something deep within your heart.  Frank shoves his hands into his jean pockets, moving through you to walk into the bathroom, "Frankie, baby, let me help you."

You turned around to face him, his bloodied hand coming to rub the back of his neck with a tired sigh. You already knew the answer, 'I got it baby' or 'I don't need help.' And every time you just want to help him more, to clean his wounds, to hold him in his arms until you both fell asleep. You knew he didn't mean anything by it, but it still hurt sometimes. Him constantly denying in your help.

"I got it, go get some rest. I'll be there in a minute." Frank brushed your help away, disappearing into the bathroom making sure the door was closed tightly behind him. His muffled groans every couple seconds drove you crazy. This time, you were going to make him let you help him. No matter his protests or what he says. 

It pained you too much, to let him be alone while he's hurt, sitting there watching and knowing you can't do anything about it. It was a horrible feeling, that empty pit in your chest on being useless. You let Frank have a couple minutes to himself, to gather his thoughts before you intruded them.

You pressed your head against the bathroom door, listening to hear what he was doing. A string of heavy curses and growls heard on the other side. "Baby?" You almost whispered through the door, waiting a couple seconds before pushing the door open. The site of him sat on the toilet seat, stitching up a wound on his stomach. His eyes looked up to meet yours, his face hardening. 

"Frankie, are you sure you're-" frank cut you off before you could finish, his tone was sharp and cutting. but beneath it was a wave of sheer panic and frustration that he couldn't finish the stitching. 'I'm fine, I do not need help." Franks tone came out harder than expected, and he immediately regretted it, seeing your shoulders tense and eyes squint down at him. 

"Why wont you let me help you?" Your shoulders slump, defeated and disappointed. Scanning over the new. Scars that hung over his body.  The air in the bathroom was thick and tense. The scent of metal and alcohol filling your nose. Franks eyes furrowed, his hand leaving his stomach to pinch the bridge of his nose. He thought about lying, making up a story. Frank couldn't lie to you, and you both knew it. He was a terrible liar, and he just saw no point in lying to you. 

"I don't want you to see me differently, I don't want you to see me like this." Frank admitted almost sheepishly, like he was nervous of what you might say, what you might think of him because Frank couldn't stand losing you. He couldn't stand not hearing your sweet voice every morning, feeling you wrapped up in his arms when he goes to sleep at night.  He couldn't stand being alone again. He was alone for so long.

Your heart drops at his words, it is heartbreaking, because nothing could ever change how you view him. You knew the Frank that made you breakfast in the morning, who would braid your hair when you were too lazy to. Nothing would change that. You loved him for him. "Oh Frank," you walked now fully into the bathroom, standing in-front of him as you lean down to place a gentle kiss onto your forehead. 

"To love you is to love every single version of you." You crouched down, knees hitting the tile floor as you removed his hand from the wound, finishing the stitches for him, despite his protests and a couple curses them flow out of his mouth like a spoken language. "That means Frank, Pete, The Punisher, Everyone you are and who you will be. Nothing will change my love for you."

You reassured him, grabbing his blood-dried hand into yours and pressing it softly to your pink lips. You could feel Frank relax in your hand, letting his worry go. "I know I ain't a good man. i d'ever want to bring that kinda life home to you." Frank buried his head into your conjoined hands, squeezing it to the point your hand almost turns red. You knew he only wanted a soft, simple life with you. But you also knew it was nearly impossible and you were okay with that. You'd be fine with any life as long as it was with him.

"let me clean you up, please." You practically beg him, standing up to run the faucet for a bath. You waited for the water to heat up for pulling the plug to let it fill up. Frank nods, finally allowing you to see the vulnerable, messy side of him, and it was a beautiful, earth shaky sight. A man as strong as him, as brave as him, also being full of emotion, full of love. 

The running water was the only sound in the bathroom, while the silence was quiet, it was also loud. A string of unsaid words littered in the air, yet it was a comfortable silence. Neither one of you felt the meaning to speak. it was just a quiet, sentimental sense of knowing that didn't need to be said. 

When the bath was finally full, you helped Frank undress and step into the warm water and when he was settled quietly in the bath, you dipped a fresh wash clothe into the water and began working against his skin. Every stroke revealed a stretch of clean skin, free from the grim and blood that once painted Franks skin like a canvas. 

You didn't ask what happened, didn't ask whose blood it was and Frank was grateful for it. Not that he wouldn't tell you if you had asked, but he didn't want to. Didn't want you to picture it. Picture him like that. Bloodily, fighting, killing bad men. It was a brutal sight. Frank didn't talk the whole time you ran the clothe over his body. He was as stiff as a board. His eyes never left the wall in-front of him, his shoulders never fully relaxing. 

"Frank," you called out his name, hoping to pull him out of whatever daze he was stuck in. His head turns only slightly, making you call his name again to get his fully attention. "Sorry, m'tired." Frank replied, guilt lacing his tone as his hands come up to rub his eyes then run through his short hair.

You continued to rub the blood of his skin, the bath water turning a shade of red, You made sure your hand were delicate, scared to hurt him as he winced going over a scab or fresh scar. They were everywhere, new and old. A never ending reminder of what he's been, going through. 

You felt terrible, terrible that he had to kill to make a living. That he had to do that for work. But i guess thats what you do when your job is to. Protect people. Yet he always came back and was different than everyone said he was. People called him evil, ruthless, to beware if they ever saw him. People to you, he was everything but bad. 

"Im done, let's get you out and to bed." You wringed out the wash clothe, red dripping into the water beneath in thumps. Frank stood up, grabbing a nearby towel and lazily  drying off before tightly wrapping it around his waist. Waiting for you to stand up next to him to walk to your guys shared bedroom.

You stand up slowly next to him, like a fast movement would scare him off, send him back into that daze where even you could barely reach him. "Thank you," Franks mumbles so quietly you could barely hear him, his eyes finding everywhere but yours. Your hands find his cheeks, his beard poking at your palms.

"i love you, Frankie. Nothing can change that." Your voice was strong. Full of truth and real. Frank lets his head fall into your hands, tired and heavy. "I love you too." Frank responds, his voice content yet still full of so much sorrow he could barely handle it. Frank reaches up, and laces his hands with yours, a simple, act of intimacy that shares words of understanding without having to say anything,

Back in your guys room, Franks changes while you get comfortable. In bed, wrapped around the heavy blanket. A couple seconds later Frank joins you. His strong arms wrapping around you as he pressed his chest up against your back, holding you like if he lets go he'll never be able to hold you again. 

You could hear Frank take a deep, shallow breath. A breath of release, of comfort. You felt his heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of his chest. The rain splattering on the window in a slow rhythm. His hands drew circles on your stomach, slow and consistent. If Frank could stay like this forever he would, he'd stay home with you, wrapped up in your arms all day everyday. 

Franks devotion to you as admirable. Everything hes worked so hard for was so that he could be a great husband for you. To be there in hard moment, to be there in easy. He meant his vows. In sickness and in health. In richest and in poor. Till death do you part. Nothing mattered to him, money, shelter, only that you were here with him. everything else could pause and wait until you were ready.

You turned around to face Frank, the sight of his eyes closed, resting. Like a God sent down to earth and you were just so luckily enough as to marry him. Your finger drew lazy patterns against his bicep, his skin cold against yours. "I can feel you staring." Frank grumbles hazily. His eyes never opening to find yours. 

summary : your always just out of franks reach, always slipping away from him, until one day you pay him a visit. Frank wasn’t gonna let you go this time.

warnings : MDNI, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut, explicit language, teasing, minor bloodplay?

word count : 3.8k

not proofread.

Frank would spend his whole life searching for you if it meant freeing you from his mind. Ever since he lost that fight against you after a mission gone wrong with anvil, the one thing he's wanted was to find you, to beat that smug grin right off of your face. To drive his fist into your sharp jaw, to make blood run from your pretty little lips.  That night, he wished you would've killed him right then and there, because for him, it would've been a whole lot easier than playing cat and mouse.

Frank has come close to it, so close. But every time he manages to catch a glimpse of you, you somehow disappear. He'd see you walking along the streets of New York, follow you for a couple minutes. Watching, waiting for the perfect time to strike, and we was about to, all the sudden you were gone. it sends Frank into a spiral, how could someone be so close yet so far.

Frank felt your presence as soon as he entered his dimly lit apartment. The air was slightly cooler, and there was a hint of vanilla against the gun power and sweat that usually lingered in his apartment. His eyes instinctively darted around the space, taking in anything that was centimeters out of place. What irked him was that everything was perfect. Untouched. Exactly how he had left them. If it wasn't for his military training, he'd be completely blindsided. Frank knew better than that, knew you better, 

You were like a ghost in the wind. Like trying to take a picture with a vampire, you were there, you were so real. But the next second, it was like you had never existed. That's exactly how you liked it. you liked the idea of a person chasing you, the idea of someone going mad just to find out if you are really real or not. It was devastatingly beautiful. The art of people yearning for your attention, for your presence. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Frank called out, his low and gravelly tone echoing through the apartment. Frank dropped his bag onto the wooden floor, letting his hand go to his back pocket where his pocket knife rested. His boots clattered against the floor as he walked over to the kitchen, catching the sight of your figured slumped against the island.

"I missed you," you mimicked, taking a bite out of the bright red apple you had so kindly stolen from the fridge. A split second later, Franck's scoff played like music in your ear. He now stood across from you, leaning back against the counter. Black shirt crumpled up where his broad arms come to cross over his chest, 

"You. Missed me?" The words almost sounded sweet coming out of his mouth. Frank knew better than that. Better than to let lust overcome the hate that burns deep in one's chest. Franks eyes raked over you, taking in every hair that was out of place, every wrinkle in your clothing. Frank was teetering on a line of two very difficult things, devotion and destruction. 

He had been so devoted to finding you. Hunting you down like prey. Just to get the sweet taste of revenge.  To destroy that grin you always wore so confidently, that little shrug of your shoulders when you knew your opponent was out of moves. In the mix of all that, was desire, As much as Frank want to deny what he felt, he couldn't. Everytime he saw you, desire swirled deep in his core, longing to touch you, to get lost in you. That's why chasing you drove him crazy. For you were always out of reach and he loved it. Knowing he can't, shouldn't have something he wants so bad.

"oh, sweetheart. I'm flattered. What'd  you miss exactly, hm?" Frank hummed, tilting his head in a haunting matter as you took another bite of the bitter apple. Juice dripping down your chin sweetly, which Frank didn't miss. His eyes darting quickly to your lips then back up to your eyes.  He wondered what the apple tasted like, what it tasted like against your lips and in your mouth. 

You know what Frank you to say, to say that you missed him. They way his eyes hungrily grazed over you like a puzzle he hasn't quiet but together yet but so desperately wants to. Your shoulder tense then slump back down in a shrug, "I thought you'd want a round two." You responded smugly, discarding the apple in a nearby trash can. Hands returning to the counter as you lean back on them. 

Frank took this as an opportunity to lean in closer, trying to fill the empty space in between the two bodies. You could feel the head radiating off him, the scent of after-shave and smoke filling up your nose. Frank then laughed, a witty, deep silky laugh. Looking around to try and figure out who you could possibly be talking to. "You thought I'd want a round two? Why? So you cant get the satisfaction of beating me again?" He ran a messy hand back through his inky hair. Shaking his head before pressing into your statement more. "Im having a little trouble believing that." Frank brings his eyes up into a squint, furrowing his eyebrows to pretend like he was deep in thought. 

The way he squinted, like you were something less than, smaller than him really struck a nerve because at the end of the day, you knew you could beat him. Over, and over, and over again. No matter how hard he fought, how much he teased, you would always come out on top. That's why you wanted this, to win. To know you could beat the man no one could. It was a satisfaction only you could say you've done. 

You move in a quick, sharp motion to connect your hand with his jaw but Frank catches it mere inches from his face. "You know what I think" his voice drops deeper into a kind of belittling tone. His big hand covers your wrist completely, giving it a squeeze that not quite hurts, but the kinda that lets you know he's in control of the situation. Frank pulls you in closer "I think you just wanted to get your hands on me again." 

Franks words shift something inside in you, rises a feeling deep in your chest. You're not sure if you want to welcome it in, or crush it so you never can feel it again. But the truth is, you liked the feeling, and you also knew that he was right. Though you would never admit it. Never give him the satisfaction of being right and knowing he has any sort of affect to you. 

You snickered, feigning defiance. To try and play the part where his words don't have an effect on you. "Oh yeah? What if I says I did? That's why I'm here, because I missed you. Frankie." Frank was caught off my your words, his shoulders tensed up. His stance faltering just slightly enough so that you could take the moment to land a blow to his abdomen, pushing Frank backwards into the counter. 

Frank muttered a string of curse words under his breath, his hand rubbing at his sides as he recovered quickly. His eyes slide over you shamefully once again, his hand meeting your jaw as he teased "I'd say you aren't the only one."  His other hand landing at your stomach which he thankfully misses by a couple centimeters. You then aim a blow to his stomach. This time however, it's a foot. It was unlucky Frank catches your ankle again, using it to turn you around and pull himself into you, pressing yourself against the counter. An annoyed groan escapes from your lips, the taste of metal and blood circling in your mouth. Frank must of had more training since you last fought him, he was stronger, quicker, and undeniably more attractive. 

You tried to ignore it, the weight of his body pressing up against you. The cold marble counter digging into your stomach as he holds your wrists tightly against the counter. Franks breath is hot and ragged against your ear, sending electricity down your spine. You take the small second to fix your deprived breath, filling your lungs with the much needed oxygen. "Tell me, princess," he pauses, voice filling your ears as he rasped useless words. Words you tried to block out, tried to refuse them instead of them going straight to your core. "Is that the real reason you're here? Y'missing my hands on you?" 

You parted your lips to speak, to give a witty remark, to fire something back to make him mad but nothing came you. Your mind had gone blank. You could tell Frank realized it by the way a grin creeped up onto his face, the grin that let him know he's won, for now. "What wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He purred, moving a hand to your waist to spin you around to look at him.  You wish you would have stay like that because like this, face to face, body to body, it was so much harder to keep desire contained. 

Frank leaned closer, stopping right until his lips brushed against yours. His presence overwhelming your senses, overwhelming your mind, and any thought you've had before this. "If thats what you want, all you have to do is ask. Y'don't have to fight me for it." Frank cooed, letting his eyes trail to your lips to stay there. You were all to aware of him, his hand that painted your waist, and the other one that held your wrist tightly. His lips, that you were so tempted to give into. So tempted. He was right there. Right in reach of him and so were you. 

You were right where Frank wanted you to be, here. In his hands, so close you were all he could think about. He knew you thought it too, the way your body just slightly arched into his, the way your lips threaten to look at his lips every time he speaks, and it was driving him crazy. Frank wanted to hear you say it, say you wanted him to touch you, to kiss you. 

Your eyes trailed over his face shamefully, taking in every scar, every mark, and for the first time, you actually saw him. Not the punisher. Not the marine you were forced to fight. Just Frank. And Maybe, this person was worth giving a chance to. To let go.  Despite all your thoughts telling you not to, you tilted your head up, just slightly. Just enough so that your lips connected. The kiss was slow at first, testing if one or the other would break or pull back. 

When neither of you didn't, Frank deepened the kiss his tongue darting out to lick the dried blood from you lips. his hand moving from your wrist to cup your cheek, tilting your head in just the right way. Frank was hungry, like a man thats been starved for his entire life and was now just getting fed. His other hand slide teasingly slow to the middle of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands find his body quickly, finally melting into the kiss and just letting the thoughts of him take over you. Your hands run up his body, feeling every toned muscle there is.

You moan as his tongue explores shamelessly around your mouth, your tongues dancing in a fight of dominance which rewards you with a groan from him. Franks kisses you like he wants to learn everything about you, like he needs to memorize it before you slip away again. His mouth slips away from yours, finding the skin on your neck. Painting it with sloppy kisses and an occasional nip, you lean your head back, offering more room as he explores your body. 

Franks hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it quickly over your head and discarding it to the side. You take the time to do the same for him, your eyes scanning over his toned, scarred muscles feeling the pool between your legs grow. Within seconds his lips are back on your, greed and burning with passion. Frank's hands find your hips, lifting you up as you yelp onto the counter. Your hands finding his hand as you rake through the short strands, body arching into his as you moan. It would be a lie to say Franks body didn't feel good against yours, like two missing pieces finally being put together. 

"You know how much ive been thinking about this, sweetheart?" Frank praised, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your collarbone. His hands sneaking up to unclip your bra, throwing it with the other discarded clothing. Your hands sliding down to the nape of his neck as he takes your breast into his mouth, his tongue working circles around your nipple as you gasp. His hand needing the other in an unbearable pace. 

Pleasure shoots straight down to your core, making you only want him more, making you want him inside of you. So badly. "Frank.." you let out a long breath, laying your head back as your eyes fluttered shut. His kisses moving to your sternum, down your stomach as you whine. "You have to use your words, baby." Frank pauses to look up at you, a smirk painted on his face that drove you mad. The loss of contact made you whine, but you didn't want to give into his words, because telling him would make this all so real. 

"You know what I want," you whispered, feeling small against him. Your hands fall to his shoulder, moving to look at him. Your body basically short- circuits, seeing him like this, knowing he has you all disheveled and wanting. Frank shakes his head and tsked. "M'not sure I do." He feigned innocence, his head tilting and hands moving to guide you off of the counter. "Tell me." 

Frank wanted to hear you, so bad, wanted to hear you give in, give in to him. You groaned in response, knowing you'd have to answer to get what you wanted. "I want you to fuck me, Frank. Please." You begged, absentmindedly. You hadn't realized just how bad you wanted this, wanted him. Maybe thats why you ran from his as much as you did. To try and run from the truth that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

Frank let out a low hum of approval, his hands on your waist turning you around, the cold counter pressed up against your bare stomach. His hands were so greedy and hungry, but also so gentle. Like if he touched you too hard, or too fast that you would break. "Atta girl. Was that so hard?" Frank growled, pressing his body up against your backside. You could feel his burning erection against your ass, only fueling your anticipation more. You instinctively buck your hips back against him, your hands bracing yourself against the counter as Frank groans. 

"Take it easy, I'll take care of you, sweetheart." Franks hands slid down to the waist band on your shorts, pulling them down achingly slow to your ankles along with your panties. Though his words only earn a desperate whine from you. You've never felt more exposed, more seen in your life. But with that, for some odd reason, you felt more safe than you've ever had. 

Franks eyes fixed on you, perfect and unmistakably there. real. His hands glide over your ass, one of the slipping between your folds to feel the wetness that greets him there. He rubs circles around clit, a moan slipping through your mouth. His fingers leaving shivers running up your body, your mind going blank with pleasure and need. 

"You're so perfect." Frank growls, his hands leaving you to undo his jeans, yet you couldn't help but be disappointed by his fingers absence.  Frank lets his jeans fall to floor, his boxers not far after. He cock springs up, pre-cum already dripping down the head. Frank knew what he was doing, making you wait, building up the anticipation so he could ruin it. Making you wait until you couldn't anymore. 

"Frank..." You whined, needier than ever. Straightening out your arms to push your body back onto him as he pumps himself. Frank lets out a low chuckle, one hand finding your waist against, holding you in position as he slides his cock between your legs, teasing your folds and entrance. "Anyone ever teach you patience?" 

You didn't care to respond, especially not as he finally pushes into you, slowly, gasping as he stretches you out. His pace was torturous, slow and leaving you only wanting more. You arched your back into him chasing the contact of his skin as he thrusts deeper inside of you, Frank groans as he feels you clench against him. Frank turns his head, catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss you happily return. 

His tongue is hot and insistent, possessive and unwavering. You push back against him again, his full length filling you up so good. Pleasure takes over your brain, sending it into over-drive as he runts into you, a moan escaping your lips as he needs the skin on your ass his other hand on your back, snaking up to twist in your hair.

Franks pace quickens, the sound of your skin clapping together and groaning filling the empty kitchen. Your head falls down to your chest, eyes fluttering shut as Frank pulls out just about all the way, then slams back into you. A ruthless, shameful actions that makes your knees buckle at the pleasure. 

You brace your hands against the edge of the counter, Franks hand in your hair pulling it to make you look up. His pace quickening as he leans forward, his chest pressing up against your back as a hand comes up to need your breasts "You're doing so good for me, princess. Y'taking me so good." Frank praised, he praises like you were a Greek God, something to be worshipped everyday. 

He grinds deeper into you, feeling the slick already running own your leg. You should feel embarrassed about it, embarrassed on how wet you got for him, how much he made you want him. but Frank made it seem beautiful, like everything about you should be cherished. Your breath quickens, mixed with a dance of moans and gasps as he continues to fuck you senseless.

Franks growls and groans like music in your ear as his hands slid down from your chest to your core, running circle over your clit completely overwhelming your senses. You moan his name, loud and unmistakably his. Your hand coming down to the one palming you then the other on his chest. 

"Fuck, you're perfect." Frank Hissed, mesmerizing the way your moans sounded, the way you felt clenched around him. It was all beautifully perfect. His hand continues to work on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release as you let out a cry, your knees buckling under him. 'I got you baby, come on." Franks pace quickens, his arm sliding under your hips keep you steady. 

franks pace was unyielding, punishing. Your body is shaking, craving a release as Frank presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. Your fingernails dig into the countertop, knuckles white from how hard you had been gripping onto the edge. The orgasm rips through you, white covers your eyes as it consumes your whole body. Your legs shaking, core throbbing and tightening around Frank as he rolls his hips at a frantic pace. His own release not far behind yours. Letting out a feral growl as hot liquid fills your insides. 

The pace slows to small thrusts, riding out the high of the orgasms. Trying to catch the air that's escaped from your lungs. Deprived and breathy. "You did so good for me, sweetheart." Frank kisses along your back, then up your neck. His cock twitching inside of you as your skin sticks together with sweat. 

You roll your hips back against him for a final time, letting out a tired whine as he pulls out. Emptiness then cloaks over your body. Fulfilled yet still wanting more. Franks hands slide down your body in a final parting, his hands sending fireworks along your skin. Frank then gathers his jeans, slipping himself back inside as his eyes. Rake over your body once more. 

"M'gonna clean you up, alright? Stay there." He offers, escaping to the bathroom. His footsteps disappearing slowly down the hall. You realize how exposed you are, bent over, naked, in the middle of his kitchen. Embarrassment floods over you, cheeks hot. You wanted to hide, to go into your shell like a turtle. Yet you made no move to put back on your clothes, some part of you waited for Frank, as you hear the faucet running then shortly his return with a damp was cloth. 

"Y'alright?" A concerned look spreads across Franks face, like he was worried he hurt you or that this wasn't what you had wanted. "I didn't hurt you right?" Panic laced his voice, his eyes darting over you to make sure nothing was there. No bruises, no cuts, nothing. Guilt rushes into him, feeling like he forced this onto you.

"Frank- hey, im okay." You snap him out of his thoughts, cupping his cheeks as you make him look at you. "Im fine, I'm just.. not used to standing in your kitchen, butt naked." You joked, trying to get him to calm down, and it worked. You could see his panicked expression drop, his eyes lighten and the fact that you were okay. Frank was always worried he would hurt someone he didn't mean to, because he knew he could hurt someone without even trying and it truly haunted him.

Frank nodded slowly before dropping to one knee, his hand parting your trembling legs ever so slightly to clean the sticky liquid that painted the inside of your thighs. You gasp at the coldness of the wash cloth, a big contrast to the heat from moments before. "What?" Franks eyes shoot back up to your face, stopping his motions.

"It's cold." You managed a giggle, handing coming up to run through his dark hair. He leans ever so lightly into your palm, helping you get back into your clothing once he was done.     An awkward silence filled the once loud room, unspoken words hung in the air. Either of you too scared to speak. "Y'know, I like you better when you ain't running from me." Frank runs a gentle hand over your cheek, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear before dropping it back down to his side.

That shifts something in you, something domestic. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stop running. To find a home. A home here. With him. The thought was tempting, but it was also dangerous. Letting yourself feel. To be dependent on someone. It was terrifying while also being everything you ever wanted. 

"You don't have to run from me."