Nova

You weren't stupid, you knew he had certain "extra curricular's" that he didn't want you involved in. Sure they were few and far between now as he tried his best to be on the straight and narrow. Working his construction job, making his way up to site leader. You were so proud of him.

But, there were a few occasions where he got pulled back under by the claws of Hell’s Kitchen. He had an itch that needed scratching and it just seemed to hit the spot, but that’s just the man he was and you loved him anyway. He always kept you away from it though. His precious bright light, he wouldn’t let you get tainted from its filth.

As you stare at the fuzzy material in your hand you can’t help but picture what Frank would look like in it. You’ve seen him in his tac gear before, his tight black long sleeve compression shirt and black tac pants with his combat boots. You’re guessing he always took this off before he walked through the door though.

Curiosity gets the better of you when you bring the mask closer to your face and inhale, remnants of his sweat and something more… metallic flood your nose. The smell along with the image of what Frank would look like with it on brings an unexpected wave of heat deep in your core.

“Baby?” You hear him behind you, pulling you out of your daydream. You jump a little, dropping the balaclava down in the laundry basket “hi, just cleaning up” you say quickly, answering a question he didn’t even ask. “..I can see that” he says slow as his eyes dart down, he inhales sharply as he realises what it is. “Oh.. shit sorry baby I thought I put all that shit away” he says apologetically as he moves forward to take it and put it away.

“Frank-wait” you hold his hand “can-can you” you pause, seemingly losing the little confidence you had in the first place to ask him as your words fizzle out. “What is it?” He asks softer, a little guilty. You hesitate for a second, “Nothing, it’s fine” you reply with a small smile that doesn’t meet your eyes as you turn around to continue tidying, he doesn’t press.

Frank picks the duffle up along with the mask and walks out, feeling a pit of guilt form in his stomach. Taking your words as disappointment in him, disgust at having to see the reminder of his other side. He chucks the duffle in the back of his truck, mentally berating himself. Realistically, he knows you love every single part of him, the good the bad and the ugly (though to you there was no ugly) - you remind him of it everyday with your words and actions. But that nasty voice tries to weasel its way into his mind again “you fucked it up, she cant love this side of you, no one will, you ruin everything you get close to”. He slams the door shut angrily and walks back into the house with his fingers scraping through his hair and a lump in his throat.

You’re in the laundry when he comes back, lost in your thoughts. You keep thinking back to a video you had watched once, long before Frank and how you had come so hard while touching yourself to it. It was a video of a couple the woman being chased by a masked man, he catches her, pins her down and has his way with her… like a game of predator vs prey. It was rough, rougher than what you and Frank had done together, but that was your first foray into the world of primal play. You weren’t sure why your brain was wired this way, and why the thought of Frank doing that to you made you so pathetically wet. You just didn’t know how to say it to him, you didn’t know what he would think of you. So you shoved it down, stayed quiet and continued about your chores.

Once you’re done you make your way into the bedroom to put the empty hamper in the ensuite bathroom. When you walk in you see Frank sitting at the edge of the bed, head hanging low with his elbows resting on his thighs. His hand twitching away as he stares blankly into the floor chest rising and falling as he tries to steady his thoughts.

Worry fills you immediately, you drop the hamper where you are and hurry over to him dropping to your knees. You clasp his twitching hand between yours “Frankie? Hey? baby what happened?” You coo. “Nothin-I just” he exhales sharply, jaw tight. “I’m so sorry sweetheart-I thought I put it away, you know I hate having you around all that shit” he confesses, his eyes still trained on the floor. “Wha-baby it’s okay, don’t worry” you reply trying to cup his face and bring him into your eye line. He moves his head away, unable to look at you “I just, I know - I know you didn’t want any of this-I try but-baby I swear I’m trying. I-I ain’t done any of that shit in months you know that right ?” His words come out frantically. “Woah hey hey, I know baby I know you are-Frankie baby look at me please” you get up on your knees, pushing yourself closer to his chest. Forcing his face up to you, his big sad puppy eyes glassy as they look into yours. “Baby where is this coming from? I-I promise I’m not mad about the mask” you try and reassure him, your eyes darting across each of his making sure he can see the sincerity in your words.

“I saw it on your face sweetheart, when I took it..” he says in a whisper as he looks down again. “Saw what on my face?” You question softly. “You looked” his nose twitches with another sharp inhale before continuing “I don’t know like you were scared of me, fuckin hate that” he sighs. The realisation dawns on you “Frankie… that’s.. that’s not what that was” you reply voice so soft. He looks up at you, confused “what.. what do you mean?”

You stand up “move up” you ask with a sigh as you push at his shoulders. He looks up at you, eyes trying to decipher your face as he moves back on the bed. You straddle him, wrapping your hands around the nape of his neck. Your eyes dart between his, your mouth dry as you swallow trying to find the words.

“I… I wanted to ask you” you say quietly before pausing. His hands find home on your hips “ask me what baby?” He asks you back curious. “I want to see… what you look like, y’know with it on” you say hesitantly, your big doe eyes looking into his.

You see his eyes trying to process as the only word that comes out of him is “why?”. He feels you shrink into yourself a little, before you can shut the thought down he speaks again “with the mask?” He asks again. “..yeah” you reply tentatively, feeling like an idiot. He’s quiet, looking into your eyes searching for an answer to a question you don’t know. The heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck as what you’re saying catches up to you. You try and snake your way out of his grip to get up “God-sorry Frankie just-just forget I said anything okay?” You try and dismiss.

His grip on you tightens, locking you onto him “sweetheart I just - I just need you to explain it okay?” He asks, dipping his head lower to look into your eyes when you try look away. Your hands drop from between your bodies as you play with your thumbs.

“Please baby?” He coos warmly

“I.. I wanna see.. that side of you” you continue. You see him wanting to ask why again so you press on.

“promise you won’t look at me differently?..” you sigh in question.

“sweetheart I would never” he says firm shaking his head.

After a deep breath you continue “a while ago, before you.. I-I saw a video… and I liked it, like-really liked it , but I-I’ve never done it with anyone.. I’ve never even told anyone before you” your chest rising and falling, taking deeper breaths trying to steady your nerves. You feel franks palms running up and down your back in an effort to do the same.

“Okay.. and what was the video?” He asks, genuinely.

“There was, I don’t know a couple I guess. The guy, was wearing a mask… kind of like yours and he was chasing her around I think they were outside somewhere” your explanation pauses when you see Franks eyebrows start to rise up.

Frank was starting to realise what kind of video you were talking about. You see the way his expression is changing, sending a pang of shame straight through your chest. You’re wondering if you should just abort this conversation all together or lie about where this was going.

“And then what happens baby” he says softly urging you to continue

“Then” you sigh, looking down at your hands again “then he catches her” you say before he pauses you. “Keep lookin at me honey” he says sweetly rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

You nod, eyes on him, heart pounding and you continue “and he… has his way with her… it was rough Frank.. I don’t know how to explain it, it was like-do you know what primal play is?” you question. "No ?" his eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. He see's the hesitation on your face "can you explain it to me baby?.. please" he urges. So you do, "I guess it's kind of like role play, theres a few different types I think but that video was more.. I dont know like the girl was being chased as if he was trying to capture her.. like she was being hunted" you explain, tone wavering as you try to read Franks reactions on his face, but he's not giving you much.

"I think it's the lead up you know? like the chase, the adrenaline, the fear, being hunted, being.. I don't know.. forced?" that last word comes out as a whisper. But he catches it, he seems a little taken aback "you want me to? what scare you? and force you to?..what??" he tries to make sense of your words out loud. You feel so stupid "Uhh Frank honestly can we just drop it" you plead "No I just, baby I'm just trying to understand it" he replies with is hands tightening again trying to keep you where you are "would you.. would you get hurt?" he asks cautiously, the walls starting to come up. "Maybe a little? but its kind of like what we've already done, just a little more maybe? but theres safewords and things we agree on before and I.. I trust you frankie, I know you wouldn't actually hurt me, if I didn't I wouldn't even be telling you about this.." You reassure him, your hands coming back up to cup his face.

"Can you tell me what it is that you like about it?" he questions, more serious now. "I think it's the, lack of control.. being tied down and overpowered?" you explain "I mean I know you're stronger than me Frankie trust me" you try and laugh off before continuing "but it's different if it feels like.. like you're not going to let up even if I'm trying to fight out of it?" you sheepishly explain as Frank tried to keep his face still but you swear you feel a twitch where you’re straddled onto him. "But it's also, I guess what I said before about the adrenaline, and feeling like i'm being hunted?.. I don't know baby it's hard for me to explain what I like about it if I haven't actually done it myself" you say getting a little frustrated with yourself and your incoherent explanations.

He's quiet, his eyes darting around each of your features taking in your words. "Can you give me a bit to think about it baby?" he asks after a few moments of silence. "oh..okay, sure" you reply voice a little smaller, god you're an idiot - why would you even bring this up. He hates showing you this side of him, you know how much he tries to shield you from that version of him and here you are asking him to play that role for you just so you can, what? have an orgasm - stupid stupid girl.

He pulls you out of your head with a squeeze of your hips "hey.. this isnt me saying no honey, just.. just let me read up on it okay? you know I can't hurt you I just... y'know I would do anything for you yeah? but if we do this, I need to do it right yeah?" he looks into you with his deep brown pleading eyes. "Okay baby.. thank you" you reply with a small smile. You start to move to get off him before he pulls you back down "Hey..." he grabs your face "thank you for tellin' me baby" he says softly before giving you a kiss.

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The next day, Frank comes home a little earlier than usual. You're still at work so he takes this time to make himself a coffee and start researching. On his phone with his big fingers he’s typing away - reading up on all the different types of primal play archetypes and fear play. How to do it safely, the different scenarios - then his mind wanders back to what you said about a video.. that you liked.

You're at work when you're phone screen lights up with a notification

Frankie ❤️

baby, can you show me the video?

you know instantly what he's referring to, you look around you before heading to the bathrooms. You haven't watched it in quite a while but you try and search for it anyway. Your first few searches come up a bust. So you try a few more details and see a familiar looking thumbnail. You suck in a deep breath before sending it to him. You don't even know what else to write so you just send the link.

You

[link attached]

a few minutes later he see's the notification on the top of his phone screen as he reads through another article about it.

Frankie ❤️

Thank you honey, see you when you get home x

Frank clicks the link, it opens up the video and he presses play. The video starts with a woman, clothed as she runs through the woods a masked man chasing behind her. He watches the entirety of the video, how she gets slapped around..and more.. you weren't lying when you said it was rough. He tries to dismiss the way his cock stirs a little at the thought of you like this, the hunt, the way you would look submitting to him, how he would have his way with you. He’d seen glimpses of it when the two of you have sex but nothing like the video.

He knew you liked it a little rougher sometimes though, he could tell - it was in the way your walls would squeeze his cock tighter when his grip would get firmer around your neck. The way you’d smile with tears running down your face when he would slap your pussy harshly in between roughly shoving his fingers in your hole, nodding dumbly when he would ask you if you were his perfect little slut. And the way you would moan louder and come within seconds when he pinned your limbs down with his big hands and thighs.

It honestly had taken a lot of reassurance on your part for him to be rougher with you, at first he was so apprehensive - the thought of hurting you was so hard even when you quite literally would beg for it. But, he would never fail to notice the way he would get that little bit more hard at the way you seemed so sweet to everyone else in the world, and you were. But there was this side to you, one that only he got to see. The version of you that felt safe enough with him to show him, and that, that he loved.

So he continued his research, he got to a part about subspace and sub drops and that honestly took up the majority of his research time. If there was a chance this would happen to you after doing this he would be damned if he didn't know how to take care of you during it.

Almost two hours pass like that with Frank planted on the couch, deep in his phone, his coffee long forgotten by his side. He sighs as he chucks his phone beside him and gets up. He has a few more hours before you'll be home so he grabs his keys and heads out to the shops.

In his research he had compiled a mental list of all the things that might come in useful before, during and after. He buys all your favourite foods, teas, some essential oils and bath oils. He also gets you a new soft heated blanket and a new pair of shoes.. just because he thinks you would look nice in them.

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

You're already home by the time he gets back. He walks through the door and see's your bag on the countertop and hears the shower going. He busies himself in the kitchen, starting on a dinner - he's decided this week he'll make an extra effort of making sure you're eating nutritious meals - he read something about how its important in the lead up for recovery.

Once you’re done with your shower and start to make your way down the hall the smell of sauteed onions, garlic and spices fill your nose. You smirk a little at the fact that Frank's cooking. "What’s cooking chef?” You chirp up behind him. “It’s almost done, go relax” he laughs “smells good baby” you smile, giving him a kiss behind his shoulder and make your way over to the couch trying to ignore the heaviness of all that’s unsaid in the room.

A few minutes later he walks over, two plates in hand and sits down. He hands one over to you, you take it from him and place it in your lap. You look up at him “did you watch it?” You ask shyly. He nudges your knee with his own “finish your food, we’ll talk about it after baby” he smiles looking over at you.

After you’re done washing up you awkwardly stand around, not really knowing what to do next. Frank calls you over to the couch “c’mere sweetheart”. You walk over and plop down next to him, he turns the TV off to face you grabbing your legs and draping it over his thighs you scoot closer.

“I watched it” he says, not giving much away with his tone “that what you like?” He asks with a hint of something other than curiosity in his tone. “I think so.. with you, I would” you reply as his hands rub up and down your leg. “How would you want it to happen?” He asks softer. Your breath hitches a little as you shift into him a little more. “I-I don’t know” your mind goes blank, of all the times you have thought about this you finally were here with a man you love and trust and the opportunity to explore this but your mind draws a blank.

“I’m gonna need specifics baby” he presses. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, Franks eyes still trained on you. “Maybe.. this time, for the first time, we stay inside the house?” You open your eyes and see his eyes on you “okay, inside the house” he agrees. “What if we.. pretended that you’re breaking in? And then.. and I try and run… and then whatever happens after that.. happens?” You say tentatively, not even realising the way your thighs are squeezing together and your breath hitching as you speak, but Frank does…

He’s quiet for a bit, contemplating. “I was reading on it, said people use colours.. green for keep going, red for stop… can we do that please?” He asks you, his hand continuing up and down your leg, your heart swells imagining Frank sitting here doing his own research. “Okay baby” you smile kissing his hand “we can use blue for slow down also” you add. “Alright, green, blue and red” he huffs nodding his head.

“And.. are you-you okay with, y’know how it was in the video?” You ask him. He looks into your eyes before replying “that how you want it?” He asks “if you’re okay with that?” He just hums in response to you “even if I try and fight you?” You ask further “I can take it baby, I’ll be okay” he smiles. After a moment he pulls you fully onto his lap both of his arms wrapping around your waist as one of your arms hook around the back of his neck. “You have to promise me baby that the second it gets too much you’ll stop it, you’ll tell me yeah? I don’t give a shit how it is for me but the second it gets too much you say the word?” He demands with a seriousness thicker than before “I promise Frankie, and for you too okay? This isn’t just about me. I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do” you say gently running your fingers through his hair. “Yeah okay baby” he says smiling, kissing your temple.

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The next few days are pretty run of the mill. You’re both going about your usual routine, work, dinner, cozy couch sessions, a few softer love making sessions. But you notice how Frank is a little more gentle with you, making sure you’re eating right through the week, telling you how much he loves you. Which for Frank - being more of an actions over words kind of guy - you noticed (you weren’t complaining though).

Come Friday, end of the week you’re home before Frank. You kick off your shoes, pour yourself a little glass of white because why the heck not before you head for the shower. Your mid way through making dinner when your phone pings

Frankie ❤️ 6:53 PM

gonna be late sweetheart I’m sorry, just helping Curt with a few things - will be a while. Don’t wait up x

You 6:54 PM

Okay Frankie, I’ll put your dinner in the fridge if you want it when you get back. Love you 😘

You can’t help the little frown that forms, there go your plans to laze on Franks lap for the night. But alas, here you are - you enjoy your own company so you make the most of your “me-time”. Finishing dinner you set aside Franks portion and pop it in the fridge. Heading down to the couch with your plate and wine glass you chuck on your corniest romcom and enjoy your night, though missing the frustrated comments Frank normally makes at the protagonists questionable life choices.

You don’t even notice you dozed off when you wake up to rolling credits. You rub your eyes looking at the time on your phone and see another message

Frankie ❤️ 10:46 PM

Make sure those doors are locked baby, I love you x

He must have sent this through will you were knocked out. It’s late, Franks still not home - you don’t even need to check because if he was you would have woken up in bed instead of the couch. Half asleep you dump your dishes in the sink, you’ll take care of it tomorrow you tell yourself and drag yourself to bed. Not before listening to Frank and double checking the locks.

You’ve been home by yourself at night without Frank before and it’s fine. But as you move through the house and turn the lights off you notice the silence feels a little.. off. You can’t place why, maybe you’re still half asleep you reason with yourself. Though as you stand and stare out through the big window that looks out into the back yard you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The darkness feels thick, its pitch black and it feels so dark that someone could be standing right in front of you on the other side of the glass staring back at you and you wouldn’t even be able to see them. You pull the curtains shut before your brain can start scaring you even further. Trying to shake it off you slip into bed, and thanks to the exhaustion of the week - sleep takes you under pretty quickly.

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

12:03 AM

A distant creak in the floorboards causes you to stir from your sleep. You reach over to Franks side of the bed and find it cold and empty. You sit up confused, and check your phone - no message.

Another creak

Fully awake now, your heart rate picks up a little.

“F-frankie?” You call out tentatively

Silence

You slowly peel the covers off yourself, stepping out of bed as lightly as you can. You gently open Franks bedside table where you know he keeps a little folding knife. Empty. Shit you think to yourself. You swipe up on your phone to send a quick text to Frank

You 12:11 AM

you far off?

You hear the crunch of leaves outside, your head flies around to the bedroom window. Standing just by the edge you peek out. You don’t see anything, not from this angle anyway.

THUMP

you jump a little, hand flying to your mouth to stop the small shriek about to come out. Do you call out for Frank again? Is it him? You look out again through the bedroom window and see nothing.

‘Okay breathe, maybe it was just the wind’ you tell yourself mentally. Picking up the pieces of your courage that fell on the floor you oh so quietly make your way to the bedroom door. Inch by inch you push the door open, holding your breath as if that’ll stop any creaks from the door hinges. It must have worked because now your bedroom door is completely open, your legs however - don’t want to move.

You stand there in the doorway, staring into the dark abyss that is your hallway and swear you see a shadow move at the end of it. ‘No no no it’s just your eyes adjusting to the darkness’ you try to calm yourself but your heart is pounding in your ears now.

Your fists tight by your side, fingernails digging into your palms as you slowly make your way down, keeping yourself as light on your feet as you can. You reach the end of the hallway and try to scan through the darkness. The streaks of moonlight aiding your vision. Your eyes dart to the kitchen to the knife block. Not too far you think to your defenceless self, just run and grab one. You take another step forward, toward the kitchen. And then you freeze.

You see it, in your peripheral vision a dark mass at the entry way of the front door, inside the house. Too scared to turn your head, too scared to move your breathing rapid now. Two choices present themselves to you - run to the kitchen or run back to the bedroom. But you’re Frank Castles fucking girl so of course, you make a run for the kitchen. But the figure is fast, you see them from the corner of your eyes lurching forward for you. You dodge them and run to the other side of the countertop and slam the kitchen light on. Chest heaving, eyes wide with fear as it adjusts to sudden brightness.

And then you see him, covered in black from head to toe. Black boots, tac pants, the tight long sleeve vest… and that black balaclava over his face. Both his big arms outstretched on the countertop. But those eyes, you would recognise those beautiful brown eyes anywhere.

It was him.

And god the rush of heat you felt between your legs seeing him like that, fuck he looked incredible. “Should really double check those locks, sweet girl like you, alone in a house like this, who knows what kind of sick people are lurking around” he chides, voice low and gravelly.

You start backing away “don’t come near me” you warn, voice wavering adrenaline still pumping through you. He stalks you around the counter “oh yeah? what are you gonna do” he mocks. You make a run for it, back up towards the hallway, but you feel him on you. The booming of his boots on the hardwood floor, rattling the picture frames on the wall. You don’t even need to look back to know he’s gaining in you.

The last few steps feel like a lifetime away. You’re almost there just at the entry when you feel his hand on the back of your neck. He slams you into the wall, your chest pressed into it when his other hand slides in under the side of your head just in time before it collides with the wall to take the brunt instead. Just as quickly as his hand slides up, it’s out again pinning your hands behind your back his other hand moves up from your neck and pushes your head a little more into the wall.

You feel his hot breath in your ear as he presses his big body into the back of yours. “No where to run” he growls into your ear. A whimper escapes you as you squirm attempting to free yourself from his hold. “P-please let me go” you cry. You feel his grip loosen a little. He moves to your other ear voice softer “colour?” He asks. “Green” you pant. He pushes your head down again, he slots his black boots between your feet and kicks your legs open as he pushes your harder into the wall with his body. As he ruts his hard length into your ass over your night-slip, you whimper as the feel of him sends another wave of arousal between your legs.

One hand manages to slip through his grasp, so you elbow him in the gut and he stumbles back a little but just enough for you to crouch down and run into the bedroom you kick the door shut but his hand is there just in time flinging it back open. The swing of the door makes you fall back on the floor, you crawl back on your hands, eyes wide as you look up, watching him tower over you. He gets down and grabs both of your ankles in each of his hands and roughly pulls you to him before you try and scramble away. The movement makes your little sleep dress catch on the rug and hike up a little more. You see his eyes dart down raking up your legs to your breasts, seeing the way your nipples are peaked through the fabric, your chest heaving with each breath.

You try to sit up and hit at his chest, you see his lips quirk up your attempt. He hooks his own ankles over yours and holds both your wrists in his hands and pushes you down to the floor. Bringing his face close to yours his eyes scan your face “such pretty little thing” he mutters, voice low and gravelly as his breath fans out across your face, causing a puddle to form in your panties. You look up into his eyes and see pure hunger deep in his dark irises.

He moves both your wrists in one of his hands still firmly pinning you down. With his legs still locked over yours he brings free hand to your face, running one finger gently over your features, grazing your brow bone, down your cheek before grasping your lower face and squeezing it between his thumb and fingers. Pushing your lips out, he dips his head lower “are you gonna run again?” He grunts, eyes still fixed on your lips. You shake your head side to side in an attempt to say no with his grip tight on your face. He pushes his lips onto yours in a rough kiss and pulls up, you whimper at the loss.

His hand move from your face and down between your legs. He feels the heat radiating from you before he even touches you. He hooks your panties in his large finger and roughly pulls it to the side pushing himself up a little to look down. The sight he sees leaves him breathless, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this wet without touching you. Your panties are soaked and your pussy is glistening so deliciously and it takes all of franks self control to not dive in tongue first.

He breaks free from the hypnotic spell your cunt had him under when he feels you squirm again. His eyes dart back to you. He lifts himself off you and brings his hands to your hips. In an instant he flips you, your stomach and cheek pressed down into the rug. He’s down on his knees again, you whine trying to break free but his big legs are on either side of yours as he slams your legs together pressing them shut and pinned together.

Wordlessly he roughly shucks your night slip up and you hear a rip as he tears through your drenched panties and you feel your pussy suddenly exposed to the cold air again. He’s got your cheek smushed between his palm and the rug when you hear the clink of his belt and then sound of his zipper being pulled down. He watches the way your thighs clench together in anticipation.

“Such a pretty girl, but such a liar huh” he growls as he brings his face closer to you. You whimper as you try to look behind to catch a glimpse of his cock but his got you pressed down unable to move your head. You look up and see his masked face above you and it sends flutters through your cunt.

His hand moves to pull your arms behind you and place your wrists behind your lower back, placing his big hand over both keeping them locked in place. He lowers his hip down and you feel his heavy balls on the curve of your ass as he angle his hips back.

“Yknow what I do to liars?” He asks in mockery, his face pressed into the side of your cheek. You shake your head whimpering as he pushes his cock into your seeping hole. You’re so soaked that he glides all the way in filling you full till the base. A breathy quivering growl leaves Frank, the noise that leaves you is something Frank hasn’t heard before but fuck he loves it. Somewhere between a yelp a moan and a sigh before your eyes roll back.

He feels feral, his hips start snapping so hard that you’re crying out at each thrust. Hes down to your ear again “colour?” He grunts “g-greeeeeeen” you moan out “sofucking g-reeeen” in a breathy high pitched whine. He’s never seen you like this barely able to speak, jaw slack and the whites of your eyes taking up the most space.

He pushes his torso up, keeping one hand firm on your wrists. His other hand is kneading at the flesh of your ass, pushing them up and apart as he fucks himself into you. He’s never had you like this, in this position, this submissive and you feel like absolute heaven. The way his cock pushes into you so perfectly and the way your ass jiggles and your body juts up with each of his thrusts as he fucks into you like a rabid animal. Hoarse grunts and growls are the only sounds leaving him as he feels your pussy start pulsing around him.

A loud clap fills the room as his rough palm collides with the right side of your ass. He feels your walls squeeze him tighter on impact. The sting is so delicious you cry out, tears staining your face. He lets go of your wrists, both palms now grabbing handfuls of your ass. Your hands fly above your head gripping the edge of the carpet as an anchor.

Another whack on your left cheek now, has you pulsing harder. He’s fucking you so hard into the floor at this point, sounding possessed with his grunts. Your choked sobs muffle out your attempts to let him know you’re close. But it hits you as your whole body seizes, your eyebrows furrowed mouth agape as incoherent whines and babbles leave you. It feels like all the muscles in your body constrict and your legs violently tremble as your cunt clenches and pulsates around his throbbing cock so hard he almost falls onto you. He can only rut into you a few more times before he’s spilling his milky hot cum into you with a low groan “ngggod fuck” he grits out through his teeth.

The sight of you convulsing on the floor from the after shocks of your orgasm has him weak. He gets up, grabbing a fistful of your hair “get up” he grunts. You try to stand but your knees buckle. His arm dives infront of your hips and he catches you. He lifts you and quite literally throws you onto the bed, flipping you around so you’re facing him. You frown at how he tucked his cock back in his briefs but god, the sight of him, masked, big broad chest heaving, eyes wild. You could come again just from looking at him.

Frank pulls at the strap of your dress, snapping it and pulls it down roughly as your tits spill out. He pushes your legs back by your knees and slots his thighs behind to keep you open. One reaching down your your pussy other snaking its way up to your breast as he pinches your nipple hard in between his rough fingers, you mewl at the sensation. His hand continues up and wraps around the column of your neck. You hear him mumble “you ain’t done yet” before he shoves two fingers straight into your spent hole, so full of his creamy cum and your own. He fucks his fingers so deep into you as he tightens his grip around your neck. He hears choked moans coming out of your mouth, feels the way your hole tightens around his fingers and the little fucked out smile forming on your lips.

The squelching sounds of his thick fingers knuckle deep in your pussy fill the room. He curls his fingers, scooping his cum out of your hole. “Open” he commands, you comply without a thought, tongue sticking out nice and wide for him before he shoves his fingers dripping with his milky cum and your own straight into your mouth. You purse your lips around his fingers and suck them clean “yeah yeah that’s it” he mumble lowly.

Frank feels his cock hard and leaking again, fuck he thinks he loves this almost as much as you do. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he rips his black top off, keeping the mask on. The sight of his scarred broad chest with beads of sweat dripping from under his balaclava down his pecs has your cunt aching for him again. He pushes his fingers back into you again, three this time. The stretch has you mewling, back arching up as he fucks his fingers hard and fast into you, he makes the same curling motion with his fingers. You feel the undercurrents of an orgasm rippling through you again, starting deep in your belly as you start to pulse. Your breaths shorter and more choked, the sheet below you stained with your tears “fuuucckkkmmmcoming” you breathe out as you start you convulse again around his fingers as he punches them into you, the pads of his fingers massaging at that spongey spot inside you making you gush around his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out and lowers himself down to you again. Same hand pulling his briefs down freeing his cock again before shoving all three fingers down your mouth. “Youre gonna take it again” He grunts lining his head up with your hole. You nod, body limp and twitching but lips smiling around his fingers as a garbled “nngggyessss pleaseee” leaves you. His cock starts throbbing at the sight of you smiling with his fingers in your mouth. He couldn’t believe you were letting him have you like this, so perfect for him.

“hhhuuuhhh fuuuuuck” Frank groans lowly as he pushes his sensitive cock in you once more and pushes his fingers deeper down your throat. You gag around his fingers as you pussy pulses around his length. He rams into you at a brutal pace pulling his finger half out of your mouth and pushes your jaw open “tongue out” he commands again. Your glassy eyes look up at him as you stick your tongue out and you feel a warm wet glob of his saliva run down your tongue into your mouth as he spits into you. “Nnng thank youuuu” you whine breathy, your throat and belly now warm with his seed and his spit.

You close your mouth to swallow when you feel a tight controlled slap on the side of your cheek just above your jaw and he feels your cunt flutter with the impact again. But he needs to be sure so he drops down to your ear again “that okay?” He whispers “mmmgreeeeeen” you gasp out with a fucked out smile.

He pushes himself up again, pounding into you with one hand still on your throat. "Yeah gonna keep my cum in your belly and this little hole yeah? thats what your good for aint it" he pants out with each harsh thrust, voice crazed and breathy. His other hand makes its way down between you both as his fingers start harshly rubbing on your clit. You look possessed, the way your back lifts off the bed with your eyes in the back of your skull. You whole body alight as he tries to pull one more out of you. Your arms try to weakly push at his chest "ss'too much" you breathe out. But your arms fall flat, limp beside you. "naaah one more, cmon thats what little whores do don't they? they do what theyre told" he chides as you feel his grip tighten once more around your neck.

Your hips unconsciously grinds down at the names he calls you, he smiles a little, you really are his perfect little slut. With a harsh slap on your clit he sends you over he edge. Mewling in his grip, your body writhing beneath him, so exhausted and fucked out you barely make any sounds. With that Frank's filling you up once more, his body collapses on top of yours. His hand leaves your throat as he grips hard into your thigh, his hips grinding into your spent little cunt, pushing his cum deep inside of you till he stills.

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

Before anything else, he peels the sweat soaked mask off his face, his hair drenched and sticking out in every direction. Your eyes are still closed, taking in deep laboured breaths. "hey, open your eyes look at me baby" he coos warmly. Your eyes flutter open "f-frankie?" you croak out as you take in his beautiful face, flushed red from exertion, sweat still dripping from his hairline. "yeah baby its me, m'right here, its your frankie" his thumb running gently over your cheek with his brown puppy eyes staring into yours. he gently pulls out of you, you whimper at the emptiness.. well you think you whimper, it might have been in your head. Wherever your head is right now.

"Need you to keep your eyes open for me alright honey? gonna check you" he says. Frank has a mental checklist of tasks he needs to complete before letting you sleep. "Anything hurtin?" he asks you voice low. A subtle shake of your head is all you can manage "can you try use your words angel.. please" he asks with a beg. Your eyes hazily follow him "m'ok" you manage. "okay, need you to take deep breaths f'me yeah?" he asks, you nod your head before inhaling deep inflating your chest and breathing out. He starts inspecting you, starting on your face, placing soft gentle kisses that trail down, lingering a little longer at all the places that took the brunt of any impact. "turn for me baby" he places his hand gently under your hip to help you roll onto your tummy.

As soon as you turn he sees the angry looking welts forming on your ass from where he slapped you. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest "g-god, m-so sorry baby" you don't even know what he's apologising for till he gingerly runs his hand over it and you twitch a little at the sting. You move your head a little to look down, and see then you see the look of remorse on his face. "f-frankie, s-ok, im ok, promise" you coo as your arms weakly try grab for him.

He lowers himself down, soft kisses trailing the back of your body again with his palms rubbing gentle circles over you. He kisses his way back up to your shoulder. "Gonna be right back baby okay? just going into the bathroom, can you count to 30 for me?.. loudly, wanna hear you" he asks softly in your ear, you nod before starting.

He heads into the bathroom hearing the faint breathy croak of your voice counting. He makes quick work of putting some lavender oil in a diffuser to calm and filling up the bath with warm water and the oat bath milk to calm the welts down he lets the bath fill up. He fills a glass of water up and wets a washcloth with warm water and walks back out. He slides in beside you, gently rolling you to your back before picking you up and placing you down in his lap.

Your head lolls back as you stare blankly up at him. He combs your hair back out of your face with is fingers. Placing a soft kisses as your arms slowly wrap around his neck. He brings the warm wash cloth to your face first, wiping your sweat away, down your neck then lower starting from your inner thigh just above your knee. You feel the gentle swipe of the warm wash cloth cleaning you up. "gonna clean her up too okay baby?" he says softly as a heads up, before you feel a soft wipe through your folds cleaning up both of your fluids. "That feel okay sweetheart?" he asks. You hum with a nod.

He sees you nodding off, bringing one hand to cup your face "know your sleepy angel, need you to stay awake a little longer okay" he asks before he brings the glass of water up to you. "here, drink" he says placing the lip of the glass to your mouth before you guzzle down half the glass you pull away and take a breath in "gotta finish it baby" you look up at him before leaning forward to the glass again, he tilts it up as you finish the rest. You feel the water run down your strained throat, and frank feels a light pec on his shoulder from you as a silent thank you. He returns it with a kiss on your head before he picks you up and carries you into the bathroom.

You take a deep inhale and the lavender scent fills you, helping you relax as Frank gently sets you down in the warm water. He turns the tap off before slotting himself in behind you. He parts his thighs for you to sit back on him, you rest your back on his big chest and let your head fall back on his shoulder and feel his gentle touches over your body.

"I love you so much baby, did so good tonight" He coos, between kisses on your forehead. "so proud of you" he whispers, you feel your chest swell. "love you frankie, t-thank you" you sigh as a tear escapes you. Franks quick to wipe it away as he cranes his neck to place a kiss on the side of your eye.

Using your sponge he gently massages it over your limbs, belly, between your breasts and your back. A yawn escapes you as frank is focused on getting you nice and clean. "I know sleepy, almost done" he says, laughing a little. You hum with a smile. Frank quickly cleans himself too before climbing out of the tub. He wraps a towel around his hips before scooping you up out of the bath, your arms dangle off his shoulder, linking around his neck as he grabs another fluffy towel and wraps it around you.

He pats you down, drying you off then scoops you up and carries you back to the bed gently placing you down. He grabs a pair of your sleep shorts and one of his tshirts before setting them down beside you and unravelling your towel. "arms up baby" he coos as he pulls the tshirt over you. You then feel his hands hook under your ankles, pulling them through the legs of your shorts as he shimmys it up to sit at your hips.

He pats himself dry before pulling on a pair of boxers, he disappears for a second before re-emerging from the bathroom with the diffuser still going. You hear the gurgling of the water going down the drain of the bathtub as he places the diffuser on your bedside table. Pulling the covers down he rolls you in and gets in beside you. He scoops you into his arms before pulling the covers up to your shoulders.

He wraps his big arms around you, pulling you into him giving you a kiss on the forehead, the tip of your nose and ending at your lips. You kiss him back, sweet and soft. Before fluttering your eyes open to look into his. "thank you baby" you say gently as you cup his face "thank you for doing this, and making me feel so safe.." you whisper as he smiles back down at you. "promise it was okay? you feel okay?" he asks soft looking deep into your eyes looking for any hint of a lie. "baby.. I promise, you were perfect, always so perfect" you coo, angling your head up to kiss him again. "Love you frankie" you say nuzzling into him "Love you too baby.. so much" he whispers before your both pulled under into sleep.

~~

a/n: I really hope you guys liked this, it was a long one but I felt like there were so many elements in the build up and after that felt necessary idk??? Also I thought it would be fun to add Frank’s POV but I didn’t know how to do that without ruining the flow of the build up/suspense. The actual smut part honestly I changed a few times because idk I tried to make it fit his character as best as I thought it did for the first time anyways?? So I toned it down a smidge. Let me knowwww if you have any feedback on this one pls!

Morning is- usually- your favorite time of day.

You're usually the one with a pep in your step, eager to seize the day, chatting Frank's ears off as he sips his coffee, determined to give you all his attention while actively pretending he barely got any sleep. But today ? Today your body feels like it's already given up before your mind even had any time to wake up. You know that the second you get out of bed, you'll have to go to work. And going to work means seeing stupid Louis and his shit-eating grin whenever you mess up. The way he wiggles his eyebrows and the way he whispers how much you suck under his breath as Landman prioritises him over you when giving out cases because he's a man.

I mean, you went to law school- you've always been considered less than because you're a woman- and that's never bothered you before because you've always just been focused on your own goals to care about what people think about you. But Louis just... gets to you.

It seems waking up today is harder than anything else, especially when the huge man next to you is pretending to be a weighted blanket.

Frank’s arm is thrown over your waist like a steel beam, heavy and warm, his face buried into the back of your neck. You squint at the dim light peeking through the curtains and groan quietly.

“Frank.” A sleepy hum vibrates against your skin. “You’re crushing me.”

“No m’not,” he mumbles immediately, voice rough with sleep. “You’re dramatic in the mornings.” You pry one eye open.

“I will bite you.” That finally gets a laugh out of him. Low. Annoyingly amused. Instead of moving, he tightens his grip.

"Don't tease me with a good time." He rumbles, pulling you tighter against him, his lips trailing over your neck. You shiver, closing your eyes.

Usually that would’ve been enough to melt you completely. Usually Frank only had to kiss your neck once before you were rolling over with a grin, already halfway through some rambling story about a dream you had or a case you read three weeks ago that suddenly reminded you of something else entirely Usually the mornings belonged to you You were the noise in the apartment. The constant motion. The chatter bouncing from topic to topic while Frank blinked awake slowly beside you, pretending he wasn’t listening to every word.

But today your body feels heavy.

Still. Wrong.

Frank notices almost immediately.

His lips pause against your neck.

“Baby? You crack one eye open.

“Don’t start.”

“…Start what?”

“Talking.” A beat of silence. Then,

“That’s usually your thing.”

“I’m on strike.” He huffs out a laugh against your skin, but it softens quickly when you don’t react much. You finally wriggle enough to escape his grip, immediately missing the warmth but too irritated to admit it. The second your feet hit the floor, reality crashes back into you.

Work.

Louis.

Landman.

The stupid office.

Your shoulders tense automatically. Behind you, the mattress creaks.

“You okay?” Frank asks, voice rougher now.

“Yep.” You head toward the bathroom before he can ask anything else. Normally you’d already be halfway through six conversations by now. Complaining about coffee brands, talking about a weird article you read at midnight, jumping topics so fast Frank could barely keep up.

Now the apartment is quiet except for drawers opening and closing.

Frank does not like that. At all. By the time you make it downstairs, he’s already leaning against the kitchen counter watching you carefully over the rim of his coffee mug. You ignore him and move straight for the coffee maker.

“So,” he starts casually, “what’s got you glaring at appliances this morning?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s too early for commentary, Frank.”

“You know,” he says, following after you anyway, “most people say good morning first.”

“Most people aren’t employed by Satan’s law firm.” That earns a snort out of him.

“There she is.” You shoot him a look over your shoulder.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Try to cheer me up. It's not going to work.”

“I’m not cheerful. I’m charming.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Ouch.” You roll your eyes, stirring some milk and sugar into your coffee, not once looking up at Frank. His heart gives a sad tug, and he frowns, staring at the tension in your back. No matter how bad your day is going to be- because you always knew somehow- you were always chirpy and happy. Even when you knew that Louis was going to bother you, which you never mentioned to Frank but he knew - of course he knew- you were always bouncing around him, kissing his face, grabbing his hands and planting them at your waist because you physically couldn't bare to not be touching him.

And now you're standing six feet away, your breathing already heavy with irritation.

Frank watches you carefully over the rim of his mug. That alone is strange.

Usually mornings with you are chaos in the best way possible. You never stood still for longer than thirty seconds. You’d bounce around the apartment barefoot and half-awake, rambling from one topic to another before the coffee even finished brewing. One minute you’d be complaining about a judge from three years ago, the next you’d be talking about raccoons or asking him completely insane hypothetical questions while climbing into his lap. You were all warmth and movement and noise.

And now? You won’t even look at him. Frank lowers his coffee slowly.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “this is deeply unsettling.” You ignore him completely, spoon clinking against your mug as you stir in sugar. “No random facts this morning?” he continues. “No aggressively detailed story about a dream you barely remember?” Silence. “No threats against capitalism?” You grab your mug and brush past him toward the living room. Frank turns immediately to follow, trialing behind you like a child who's begging for candy. “You know,” he says conversationally behind you, “most people would consider this emotional neglect.” You drop onto the couch with a tired sigh.

“Frank.”

“What?”

“I am begging you to stop talking.”

“You’re begging dramatically. That’s improvement.” You glare at him. Frank grins and drops onto the couch beside you. Too close. His thigh presses against yours instantly, broad and warm. You scoot away without hesitation. He scoots closer. Your eye twitches.

“Frank.”

“Hm?”

“You are one more comment away from becoming a missing person.”

“Ooh. Baby's felin' violent today.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I. You’re scary.” You shoot him a flat look over your coffee. Usually this kind of teasing would’ve gotten you talking again immediately. Usually you’d already be climbing over him to smother his face with kisses while calling him annoying. But today every word feels like sandpaper against your skull. Frank notices.

Of course he does.

Still, instead of backing off like a reasonable person, he doubles down.

“So,” he says, nudging your knee with his, “which coworker are we fantasizing about killing today, mama ?” You exhale slowly through your nose.

“Louis.”

“Ah. Eyebrow guy.”

“The fact you call him that is not helping.” You roll your eyes and stand abruptly, carrying your mug back toward the kitchen. Frank follows immediately. The floor creaks heavily beneath his footsteps as he trails after you like an overgrown dog.

“Where are we going now?”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” you mutter. “I’m getting more coffee.”

“You’ve had three sips.”

“Andi just realised I need more because my usually stoic boyfriend is being an insufferable Chatty Cathy. ”

“Ouch." You slam the mug down beside the coffee pot harder than necessary. The sharp sound echoes through the kitchen. Frank leans against the counter beside you, arms folded loosely across his chest now, watching you move around with narrowed eyes. His teasing smile fades just slightly.

“You really okay?” he asks quietly. You busy yourself pouring coffee you don’t even really want.

“I’m fine.”

“That was the most fake sentence I’ve ever heard.” You sigh hard through your nose. Frank walks closer to you, looping his arms around your middle as he kisses his way up your neck. Warm. Slow. Deliberate. Usually that alone would’ve dissolved every bad mood instantly. Today it just makes your shoulders tense harder. Frank notices immediately. Still, the bastard keeps going.

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin, tightening his hold when you try to squirm away. “There’s my pretty girl.”

“Frank.”

“You smell good.”

“It’s body wash.”

“Still counts.” His nose nudges beneath your ear before he presses another kiss there, rough morning stubble scraping your skin just enough to make you shiver irritably. He catches that too. A smug smile ghosts against your neck.

“Oh, so we do still like me.” You try elbowing him lightly.

“I am actively trying not to.”

“Not working very well, mama.”

“I hate when you call me that before eight a.m.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” You groan quietly, setting your coffee spoon down harder than necessary. Frank only tightens his arms around your waist, swaying you slightly side to side where you stand between him and the counter. Like you’re dancing. Like you’re not one wrong sentence away from snapping at him again.

“You’re grumpy,” he murmurs.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re cute when you’re mean to me.”

“Frank.” He laughs softly against your shoulder, completely unbothered. The sound rumbles through his chest into your back.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, kissing just below your jaw, “normally by now you’ve kissed me at least four times.”

“Tragic.”

“And called me handsome.”

“You’re surviving somehow.”

“And climbed on me while I made coffee.”

“That sounds unsafe.”

“Mhm. Still miss it though.” You close your eyes briefly. That little sad note in his voice almost gets you. Almost. Then he ruins it by squeezing your waist and dramatically sighing into your neck.

“My baby hates me.” Your jaw tightens.

“Frank.”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“Frank.”

“She won’t kiss me.” You shove back against his chest enough to turn in his arms, glaring up at him.

“You are being so unbelievably irritating on purpose.” Frank looks down at you with entirely too much amusement for someone currently in danger.

“I’m trying to cheer you up.”

“By acting like a middle schooler?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, reaching up to smooth a thumb over the wrinkle between your brows, “you’re still obsessed with me.” You swat his hand away instantly. He grins. “You know what your problem is?” he continues casually.

“That I’m dating you?”

“Ouch.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “No, your problem is you’re too in your head.”

“My problem,” you mutter, turning back toward the coffee machine, “is that a six-foot-two man keeps talking directly into my ear before I’ve even had caffeine.”

“Six-three.”

“That’s not better.”

“It’s impressive though.” You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. Frank watches you pour more coffee you absolutely do not need, then rests his chin on your shoulder from behind.

“You wanna stay home with me instead?”

“No.”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

“You can’t make pancakes.”

“I can absolutely make pancakes.”

“You almost started a grease fire making eggs.”

“That pan was defective.” You snort despite yourself. Frank immediately perks up behind you.

“There she is.”

“Do not celebrate.” Too late. He’s already smiling against your shoulder like he personally dragged the sun back into the sky.

“You laughed at my suffering.”

“I laughed at your stupidity.”

“Still counts.” You try to step away again. Frank follows immediately. You move left. So does he. You spin around with a sharp glare.

“Why are you attached to me like a lost toddler today?” His expression softens for just a second beneath all the teasing.

“Because you’re sad.” The simple honesty of it knocks some air from your lungs. Your irritation flickers. Frank sees it happen in real time. Which means, naturally, he ruins it.

“Aaaaand because you’re extra cute when you’re angry.”

“Oh my god.” He grins lazily, leaning down until his forehead bumps yours.

“You gonna survive the big scary law office today?” You narrow your eyes.

“You’re about two seconds away from me filing for divorce and we aren’t even married.”

“Damn,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Cold world.”

“You deserve it.” Then, because apparently peace was never an option, he reaches over and pokes your cheek. You freeze. Slowly turn your head.

“…Did you just poke me?”

“I'm checking you're real- because you're not acting like yourself.” You stare at him in disbelief.

“Frank.”

“What?”

“I am genuinely hanging on by a thread.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Because you get all weird and stuck in your head when you’re upset.”

“And?”

“And I don’t like it.” The honesty of that should soften you. Unfortunately he ruins it immediately after. “You’re usually bouncing off walls by now. It’s creepy.” Your expression hardens instantly. Frank realizes his mistake about half a second too late.

“Oh,” he mutters. You laugh once under your breath. Not happy. “Wow.”

“What ? What did i say wrong ?” He mutters, frowning as he watches you dump your newly poured coffee down the sink and turn away from him, ready to walk down. “Right.” You run your fingers through your messy hair, shaking your head as you turn to leave- and Frank's hand settles on your arm.

“Baby—” He rasps, a frown forming between his eyebrows,

“No, it’s fine.” You shrug out of his grasp, scoffing. “Sorry I’m not entertaining enough today.” His brows pull together immediately. “

Jesus Christ, that’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“I implied you’re quiet!”

“Which apparently bothers you enough to keep poking at me nonstop.”

“Because every time I ask what’s wrong, you shut me down!”

“Because I don’t wanna talk!”

“Baby, i'm just worried !You never shut up in the mornings!” The second it leaves his mouth, silence drops hard between you.

Heavy.

Frank’s face shifts immediately into regret. Your chest twists painfully. You stare at him for a long second before stepping back like he physically shoved you.

“Wow,” you say quietly.

“Baby - ”

“No, seriously. Good to know. My long-term boyfriend thinks im an annoying chatterbox.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.” You move past him, scratching at your forehead as you bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as you head for the stairs.

“I’m late for work. I should go get dressed." You hum, sighing shakily, Frank pushes off the counter instantly.

“Hey, c’mon.”

“No.”

“You’re twisting this.”

“And you’re being an asshole.” His expression flashes with irritation now too.

“I’m trying to make you feel better.”

“Well congratulations. You failed.” The words hit harder than you intend. Frank’s jaw tightens.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Go to work pissed off then.” You blink at him. For a second the apartment goes completely still. Then you let out a short laugh full of disbelief and hurt.

“Unbelievable.” You turn towards the stairs, storming upstairs chest heaving. You can hear Frank's footsteps thundering behind you - no doubt following you, but you slam the bedroom door closed and lock it before he can enter. You hear him hover by the door before he decides you're not going to open it whatever he does, and you hear him retreat down the stairs again.

The silence that follows feels awful. Not peaceful. Just awful. You stand there in the middle of the bedroom breathing hard, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. Your hair’s a mess. Your eyes look tired. Your chest still feels tight and hot with irritation. And underneath all of it sits guilt. Because you know Frank didn’t mean it like that.

But god. It still hurt.

You scrub both hands over your face with a groan before moving around the room to get dressed. Every motion feels sharper than usual—drawer opening too hard, hangers scraping too loud, closet doors shutting with too much force. Downstairs, the apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Usually Frank would still be following you around by now, shamelessly invading your space while you got ready. Sitting on the bathroom counter while you did your makeup. Tugging you into his lap while you tried to put your shoes on. Now there’s nothing. That almost irritates you more. By the time you finish dressing, your anger has curdled into something heavier. Exhaustion. Embarrassment. Regret. You grab your bag and unlock the bedroom door. The second you step into the hallway downstairs, you find Frank exactly where you expected. Leaning against the kitchen counter.

Waiting. His arms are folded across his chest, expression carefully neutral, but the second he sees you his eyes flick up immediately. For once, he doesn’t tease.

Doesn’t grin. Doesn’t make some smartass comment. You move around him quietly to grab your keys from the counter.

Frank watches you the entire time. The tension between your shoulder blades tightens.

Finally, softly—

“Baby.” You close your eyes briefly.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean that.” You let out a quiet breath through your nose.

“I know.” His jaw shifts slightly like he wasn’t expecting you to answer that honestly. “But you still said it,” you add quietly. Frank’s expression pinches.

“I know.” Silence stretches again. Then, because apparently neither of you knows how to stop picking at bruises, he mutters, “You know I love hearing you talk.” You snort humorlessly while shoving your laptop into your bag.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“C’mon.”

“No, seriously.” You finally look at him properly. “You made it sound like I’m annoying.” Frank pushes off the counter instantly.

“You are annoying.” You stare at him flatly. He points toward you immediately.

“See? That face right there. That’s why I should think before I speak.”

“Frank.”

“I’m serious.” He runs a hand down his face tiredly. “Baby, I love that you talk. I love that you bounce around like your brain’s got fifteen tabs open all the time.” His mouth twitches faintly. “I know more about nineteenth-century shipwrecks than any sane man should because of you.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head. He follows close behind while you head toward the front door.

“C’mon,” he says, reaching for your waist automatically. “Don’t go to work mad at me.”

“You told me to.”

“I was being dramatic.”

“You told me to go to work pissed off.”

“You were pissed off.”

“I’m still pissed off.”

“Yeah, but now I’m involved.” You shove his hand away weakly when he tries pulling you closer. You turn for the door before he can say anything else. Your heartbeat pounds loud in your ears while you shove your shoes on aggressively near the entryway. Behind you, Frank exhales heavily. The irritation drains from him almost immediately.

“Baby.” You ignore him. “Hey.” Large warm fingers wrap around your wrist before you can reach the doorknob. You finally turn around. And there it is. Frank has the kind of face that was probably dangerous long before he realized it. Big body. Rough edges. Crooked nose that’s been broken at least once. Permanent stubble shadowing his jaw. The sort of man people move out of the way for without thinking twice. And then he looks at you.

That’s the problem. Because Frank’s eyes completely betray the rest of him. They’re warm brown, dark around the edges and soft in the center, framed by stupidly thick lashes that make no sense on a man built like him. Usually they’re heavy-lidded with amusement, always carrying that lazy little spark like he’s privately entertained by everything you do.

But when he wants something? God. His whole face changes. His eyebrows pull upward just slightly - not exaggerated enough to look fake, just enough to make him seem unfairly earnest. His mouth softens at the corners, lips parting the tiniest bit like he’s about to say something sweet. And his eyes get so open and warm and impossibly gentle that it physically hurts to stay annoyed at him. It’s worse because half the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Frank naturally looks at you like you’re something precious. Like he’s hopeful every time you glance his way. Like your attention is still his favorite thing in the world. And when he’s apologizing - or pretending to apologize, which is somehow even more dangerous- he tilts his head slightly and looks at you from under those lashes with this quiet, wounded softness that usually melts you instantly. Usually you cave within seconds.Usually you’re already grabbing his face and muttering,

“You’re so annoying,” while kissing him anyway. Because the contrast is unbearable. A man who looks like Frank Castle should not have eyes that sweet. Should not look at you like an oversized rescue dog desperate to be let back onto the couch after chewing a pillow apart. And the worst part? He knows exactly what those eyes do to you.

Not consciously at first. But over time he learned. Learned that one soft look could pull you out of almost any mood. Learned that if he wrapped those giant arms around your waist and gave you that quiet little pout, you’d start smiling no matter how hard you tried not to.

Complete bullshit.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He hums. You narrow your eyes instantly because you can literally see him trying not to smile.

“You don’t mean that at all.”

“I do.”

“You are actively amused right now.” His mouth twitches. “Frank.”

“What? I’m apologizing.”

“You’re mocking me while apologizing.”

“I can multitask.” You yank your hand free with a sharp glare. Usually this is where you’d kiss him anyway. Even after arguments. Especially after arguments. You’d grab his face dramatically and complain into his mouth while he laughed against your lips. But right now your chest still aches with humiliation and exhaustion and anger. And Frank is still looking at you like this is somehow cute. You back towards the door, shaking your head in disbelief. Frank shakes his head, grinning.

"Sweetheart, c'mon. I am sorry." He says. You open the door without another word. Frank walks forward, and leans against the door frame with his arm up, looking down at you. His hand reaches out to grab your waist, to pull you froward to kiss you goodbye.

You always kiss him goodbye.

You step away from him, and start to close the door. Frank’s smile falters instantly.

“Wait - baby - ” The door shuts before he can finish.

Not slammed. Just closed. Which somehow feels worse. For a second Frank just stands there in the hallway staring at the wood in front of him, one hand still braced against the frame where your waist had been a second ago. The apartment is suddenly too quiet.

No quick little goodbye. No absentminded kiss pressed to his jaw while you muttered about traffic. No fingers curling into the front of his shirt while you stole “one more” kiss before leaving.

Nothing.

Frank exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as he straightens.

“…Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. Because that actually hurt. More than he expected it to. You always kiss him goodbye.

Always. Even after arguments. Especially after arguments - but you always kissed him. And now all he can picture is the look on your face when he said you never shut up in the mornings.

Christ.

Frank drags a hand over his mouth, already regretting half the shit that came out of it. He didn’t mean it like that.

He just -He hated seeing you so closed off.

Hated seeing you hurting and not knowing how to fix it. And somehow he’d turned it into this instead. Outside, you lean back against the apartment door for a second after it closes. Your chest aches. You hate this. You hate leaving angry. You hate that Frank managed to make you laugh twice this morning despite everything. You hate that his stupid puppy eyes almost worked again. And you especially hate that the last thing you saw before closing the door was the exact moment his expression stopped being playful. Because he looked genuinely thrown. Like he really didn’t expect you to leave without kissing him.

Your fingers tighten around your keys. Part of you wants to turn around already. March back upstairs. Grab his stupid face. Tell him he’s irritating and kiss him anyway. But then you remember Louis. Remember the exhaustion sitting in your bones before you even opened your eyes this morning. Remember Frank laughing while you were trying not to fall apart. So instead, you push away from the door and head toward your car.

---------

You're shaking by the time you stumble out of your office. Your shoulders are shaking as you try to keep desperate little sobs at bay, shaking your head. Your hands are trembling as you fumble with your car keys, swearing under your breath as you drop them on the sidewalk.

The bustling streets of Hell's Kitchen seem fuller that usual, and people throw you pitying glances as they walk by.

God, today couldn't have gone worse.

It started bad and somehow kept finding new ways to humiliate you.

Louis had spent the entire morning hovering around your desk with that smug little smirk carved into his face, making snide comments just quiet enough that nobody else could hear them clearly.

“Careful,” he’d murmured when you dropped a file folder after your third straight hour without a break. “Wouldn’t wanna prove everybody right.” Then the eyebrow wiggle. That fucking eyebrow wiggle. And when Landman reassigned your case halfway through the afternoon?

Handed it to Louis after you had spent two weeks building it from scratch?

You thought you were going to be sick.

“Don’t take it personally,” Landman had said without even looking up from his paperwork. “Louis just has a stronger courtroom presence.” Courtroom presence. You’d smiled so tightly your jaw still hurt from it. Then Louis leaned against the doorway afterward with his arms folded and said,

“Maybe litigation just isn’t your thing, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. You’d spent seven years clawing your way through school and internships and firms filled with men who talked over you like your law degree came from a cereal box. And somehow that one stupid comment had finally cracked something open inside your chest. By the end of the day you could barely breathe around it. Now you’re fumbling on the sidewalk outside the office building, vision blurry with tears you’re trying desperately not to let fall. Your keys slip again from your shaking hands and clatter against the concrete.

“Fuck,” you whisper brokenly. A couple walking past glance over sympathetically before quickly looking away again. Humiliation burns hotter instantly. You crouch down too fast to grab your keys, nearly dropping them again because your fingers won’t stop trembling. You can’t do this. You cannot have a breakdown on a fucking sidewalk in Hell’s Kitchen.

Your chest jerks with another strangled inhale. The city around you feels too loud. Car horns. Sirens somewhere far off. Too many people brushing past your shoulder without seeing you. Your phone buzzes in your bag. You ignore it. It buzzes again immediately after. And again. Swallowing hard, you wipe furiously at your face before yanking it out.

Your throat tightens painfully.

Three missed calls.

A text underneath.

FRANKIE baby please talk to me

Another.

FRANKIE i'm sorry about what i said, i just wanted to cheer you up please pick up.

And then, sent only two minutes ago—

FRANKIE i made pancakes they look like shit but the effort was there

A watery laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Which only makes you cry harder.

“God,” you choke out, pressing the heel of your hand against your eyes. Your phone starts ringing again in your hand.

Frank.

Of course it’s Frank.

You stare at his contact picture through blurry vision for a long second before answering shakily and lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hey baby - ” The second he hears you crying, he goes dead silent. All warmth drains from his voice instantly.

“What the fuck happened ? ” That’s all it takes. Everything you spent all day holding together collapses immediately. You make this awful broken sound in the back of your throat and suddenly you can’t stop crying at all. On the other end of the line, Frank’s breathing changes sharply.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” His voice drops low and steady immediately, all teasing gone. “Talk to me.” You press your hand over your mouth trying to muffle the sob that escapes.

"Can-Can you - Can you come pick me up ?" You sob, shaking your head, ashamed of how shamelessly you're coming crawling back to him after you categorically refused to forgive for a stupid joke this morning.

"You took the car ?" He asks, his voice soft as you hear him move around. You nod, even though he can't see you.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah. I just- fuck- I don't want to be alone right now, and everyone's looking at me like i'm crazy-" There’s a sharp inhale on Frank’s end.

“Okay,” he says immediately, voice switching - no panic, just focus. "Breathe, baby. Don’t move, alright? Don’t you dare try to drive.”

“I’m not - I’m not going anywhere,” you manage, voice breaking on the last word.

“Good,” he repeats, firmer now. “Stay right there. I’m coming.” Your throat tightens.

“Frank - ”

“I’m on my way,” he says again, like it’s not up for debate. And then, softer -just enough to catch you off guard - “Breathe for me, yeah?” You nod even though he can’t see it.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll be there soon.” The line clicks. Gone. Just like that. The silence that follows feels heavier than before, but not empty anymore. It feels… held. You stay where you are anyway, leaning against the car, phone still in your hand like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored. Minutes pass in uneven pieces. You don’t even notice Frank arriving at first. Only the sudden shadow. The shift in air. Then him. Frank doesn’t say anything when he sees you. No teasing. No questions. Just stillness for half a second like he’s making sure you’re real and in one piece.

Then he’s there. Right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says quietly. You look up at him through wet lashes. That’s all it takes. His eyes, god his fucking eyes make you melt. You surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck. He crouches down, inhaling your scent as he presses you into his body. You sniffle against his shoulder, sighing heavily. "Hi, baby." He sighs, kissing your forehead. For a second, neither of you moves. The city keeps going around you- footsteps, traffic, distant sirens - but it feels far away, like it’s happening to someone else. Frank shifts slightly, one arm tightening around your shoulders while the other slides down your back, anchoring you completely.

“You’re freezing,” he mutters.

“I’m fine,” you lie automatically. Frank huffs a quiet, humorless sound.

“Yeah, okay.” Not dismissive. Just unconvinced. He pulls back just enough to look at your face, his hand immediately coming up to wipe under your eyes with his thumb. You hate how gentle he is.

How careful.

Like you’re something breakable he refuses to drop.

“Look at me,” he says softly. You do. And there it is again. That expression.

Not the teasing one from this morning. Not the amused one that gets him into trouble. This one is steady. Focused. Warm in a way that makes your throat tighten all over again. Frank tilts his head slightly, scanning your face like he’s checking for damage he can fix with his hands alone. His jaw ticks.

"Where the fuck is he ?" He asks, his gaze darkening. He turns towards the building, hands still on your face, eyes scanning the facade like he's back in afghanistan and assessing an enemy camp.

The shift is almost instant. The second your head shakes, Frank’s attention snaps back to you - but it’s already too late for the look that crossed his face. That dark, focused edge settles in behind his eyes like a switch flipping.

You feel it more than see it.

“Frank - ” you start again, voice unsteady. His hands are still on your face, but now they’re gentler in a different way - like he’s trying to keep himself anchored to you.

“I’m going to beat that meathead into the ground,” he says flatly, eyes flicking back toward the building again, scanning it like he’s mapping exits and threats, “if he thinks he can make you cry and get away with it.”

“Frank,” you repeat, sharper this time. That finally breaks through a little. Not all the way - but enough. His gaze snaps back to you.

“…What?” he mutters, still tense. You let out a shaky breath, reaching up and grabbing his wrists so he actually stays with you.

“Please- can you just- Take me home ?" You hiccup. The words land differently. Frank stops immediately. Not slowly. Not reluctantly.

Just… stops.

Like something in him re-centers the second your voice cracks the way it does. His grip on your face softens, then shifts - his hands sliding down to your cheeks again, thumbs brushing lightly beneath your eyes like he’s recalibrating himself back to you.

“Yeah,” he says instantly. “Yeah, okay.” No argument. No lingering anger. Just agreement. You swallow hard, still shaking, still trying not to fall apart in public.

Frank notices everything.

Of course he does. His gaze flicks once more toward the building behind you—brief, controlled now instead of sharp. Then back to you.

Gone.

Whatever he was about to do with that anger gets put away somewhere else. Not erased. Just shelved. For later. He exhales slowly through his nose.

“C'mon, pretty girl,” he murmurs. You nod weakly, fingers curling into his jacket like it’s the only solid thing left in the world. Frank doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t speak again right away, just gently shifts you with him toward the car. One hand stays at your back the entire time.Steady pressure.

Constant reminder.

I’ve got you.

When he opens the passenger door, he guides you in carefully, like you’re not something fragile - but something worth protecting anyway.

“Careful of your head,” he murmurs when you slump a little too fast into the seat. You obey without thinking. Frank shuts the door softly. Not once does he look back at the building. When he gets in, the first thing he does is reach over. His hand finds your thigh again.

Warm.

Grounding. The feeling makes tears fling up into your eyes.

God, you were so mean to him- and just one simple call and he came running to you. Your heart gives a guilty tug and you look away, head in your hand, staring outside the window as New York flashes by.

Frank glances at you every so often. Not constantly. Not pressuring.

Just… checking.

Watching your breathing. Your posture. The way your shoulders slowly stop being so tight. And every time his hand squeezes your thigh gently, it’s like he’s reminding you without words: I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.

He doesn’t try to make you talk. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t fill the silence just to fix it. Just drives. When you get home, Frank’s the first one out of the car. He opens your door immediately. You move like you’re exhausted in your bones. Frank notices.

Of course he does.

Before you even reach for your bag, he’s already shaking his head.

“Nope,” he says quietly. You blink at him.

“Frank—”

“Don’t argue.” Then he reaches in and takes your bag off your shoulder anyway. And your laptop. And your coat.

All of it.

“Frank, I can—”

“You can walk,” he says simply, like that’s the only job you’ve been assigned today. "I'll carry your stuff. C'mon." he says, nodding to the door. You don’t fight him. You don’t have it in you. So you just follow him up the steps. Inside the apartment, Frank holds the door open with his foot, still carrying everything, then ushers you in first like it matters. The second the door shuts, the quiet changes again.

Home quiet. Not outside noise anymore. Frank sets your things down carefully on the counter - like they matter, but not as much as you do - and turns back to you. You’re still standing there like you’re not sure what to do with yourself. Your arms wrap around yourself. Frank moves around the apartment, grabbing a cup and filling it with water.

"I'm gonna run you a bath," He hums, "Add in those little essential oils you like with those bath bombs karen got you for your birthday. I wanna make sure you relax and-"

A sob tears out of you before you can stop it.

Frank spins around, holding the cup of water he clearly was making for you.

"Baby ?" He mutters, taking a step towards you as he puts the cup down. You choke on a sob, softly looking away from him. "Hey- hey- Talk to me, mama."

God he's being so soft.

You don't deserve that softness- you were so mean this morning.

You run your hands down your face, shaking your head.

"I'm the worst girlfriend ever." You sob, looking up at him as you dig your teeth into your bottom lip. "God, i'm so sorry, Frank." Frank doesn’t even wait for you to finish. The second the words “I’m the worst girlfriend ever” leave your mouth, something in him just… shifts. Like a switch flipping from steady concern straight into full softness.

“Baby,” he says immediately again, but this time it’s quieter—almost breathless. And then he’s moving. Fast. Not frantic, not panicked—just decisive. His cup is forgotten on the counter. His body is in front of you in two steps.

"I was such a bitch this morning, i mean, you were just trying to help-"

“Hey - hey, c’mere,” he murmurs at the same time your voice breaks again. Your hands are still half-covering your face when Frank gently pries them away- not forcing, just coaxing 0 so he can see you properly. And the moment he sees the tears still coming, his whole expression melts.

“Oh baby,” he says, voice dropping instantly into something softer than before. Both hands come up right away. Not hesitating. Not thinking.Just you. He cups your face like it’s instinct, thumbs sweeping under your eyes before another tear can even fall past them. You shake your head anyway, words tumbling out between broken breaths.

“I was so mean to you I didn’t even - I didn’t - I should’ve - ”

“Shh,” Frank cuts in immediately. “You’re not the worst anything,” he says plainly. You let out a broken laugh that immediately turns into another sob.

“That’s not—Frank, I—”

“Stop it,” he cuts in gently, thumb brushing under your eye like it’s instinct at this point. He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he’s trying to make sure you actually hear him. “You were having a shit morning,” he says. “I was being an idiot.” You shake your head again, but weaker now. “I said the wrong thing,” he continues, voice lower, steady. “And you got hurt. That’s it.” Your throat tightens painfully.

“That’s not it,” you whisper. “I was mean." Frank’s mouth twitches slightly - almost like he’s frustrated with how hard you’re being on yourself.

“Yeah,” he agrees honestly. “You were.” You flinch a little at that, but he doesn’t let you drift. Then he adds, immediately: “So was I.” That makes you pause. Frank watches you closely, waiting for it to land.

“I pushed you,” he says. “I kept poking at you when you clearly weren’t okay. That’s on me.” Your breathing stutters. His hands slide from your cheeks to your shoulders, grounding you there again. “And I’m the one who should’ve stopped earlier,” he continues, quieter now. “Not you.”

A beat. Then softer -

“I don’t need you to be perfect with me, alright?” Your eyes close briefly. That does something dangerous to your chest. Frank leans forward just a little, forehead almost brushing yours. “But I do need you here,” he murmurs. “Even when you’re pissed. Even when you’re quiet. Even when you’re…” his mouth tilts faintly, “…being scary silent and judging me from across the room.” Not sharp. Just urgent. Like he can feel you spiraling and won’t let it get further than this moment. His hands slide from your face down to your arms, then back up again—like he physically can’t decide where to hold you because he needs you everywhere at once.

“Hey,” he says again, softer. “Look at me.” You try. You really do. But you’re shaking too hard. So Frank adjusts instantly. He steps in closer and pulls you right into him instead. No hesitation now at all. Your forehead ends up against his chest, and one of his arms wraps fully around your shoulders while the other hand cradles the back of your head like he’s shielding you from the entire world. You let out a choked sob against him.

“I didn’t mean to be like that,” you whisper. “I just— I was so overwhelmed and I took it out on you and you still— you still came and I—” Frank makes a low, disapproving sound—not at you, but at the idea of you hurting like this.

“Yeah,” he says gently. “Because I love you.” That hits you harder. Your grip on his shirt tightens instantly. Frank notices, of course. He tightens his hold in response, like it’s automatic. “And I’m not letting you stand there beating yourself up,” he continues, voice still soft but firmer underneath. “Not happening.” One hand moves slowly down your back in steady strokes.

Up.

Down.

Grounding.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Just breathe with me, yeah?” You try. It comes out shaky, uneven—but Frank doesn’t correct you. Just stays right there. Completely locked around you like he’s decided the rest of the world can wait. After a moment, you whisper again, smaller this time.

“I’m sorry.” Frank sighs through his nose, almost like he expected it. Then he tilts his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss into your hair without moving you away from him.

“Stop apologising,” he says quietly. You sniffle.

“I mean it.”

“So do I,” he replies immediately. A beat. Then, softer—almost a mutter into your hair: “You think I’m mad at you right now?” You don’t answer. Frank leans back just enough to look at your face again—still holding you, still refusing to let go. His expression is completely open now. Warm. A little tired. But so soft it almost hurts. "God, baby, i'm not mad." He hum, kissing your red nose as you sniffle. "I could never be mad at you."

"You were mad this morning." You sniffle.

"I was mad for a total of two minutes. And then you left and all I wanted was to chase after you- but i know you'd probably slap me if I tried." He says. You chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls you into him again, clearly craving to have you close in this moment. His lips press to your forehead, and his hand softly wrap around your jaw and pushes you backwards, taking in your face. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone, kissing the side of your mouth before softly pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss starts soft, almost tentative—like Frank is afraid you might still push him away. His lips brush yours once, twice, testing the waters before he presses more firmly. The rough stubble along his jaw scrapes your skin just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your fingers, which had been clenched into fists at your sides, slowly uncurl. One hand finds its way to his chest, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt while the other slides up to cup the back of his neck. The movement feels natural—automatic—like your body remembers what your mind had been trying to forget all day. Frank’s hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him. There is nothing hurried about it, nothing desperate. Just a slow, deepening connection that makes your chest ache with something other than pain for the first time all day. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you open to him without hesitation. The world outside the apartment fades away—the sounds of traffic, the memory of Louis’s smug face, the weight of your laptop bag still sitting by the door. All that matters is the steady warmth of Frank’s body against yours, the way his thumbs stroke circles on your hips, the low hum that vibrates in his chest when you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. When you finally break apart, you are both breathing heavily. Frank rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed like he is memorizing the moment.

“Still think i'm mad at you?” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. You manage a weak smile.

“No.” His lips curve into a ghost of a grin.

“Good.” Then he kisses your forehead again—shorter this time, but somehow more intense. A promise. An apology. A reminder that even on your worst days, you aren’t alone. He sighs, looking at you.

"Now- go get dressed into something comfy. I'll make you some dinner and then draw you a bath." You nod, pulling away from him as you tuck your hair behind your ears. You turn away from him, when-

"Baby ?"

You turn to face him.

"Hm ?" You hum. He smiles.

"I thought you said you wouldn't leave without giving me a goodbye kiss." His grin is stupidly teasing, and your heart gives a pathetic tug. You stop. Not because you want to. Because your brain very clearly files that request under trap. Frank is still standing there in the hallway like he’s done nothing wrong in his entire life. Hands loose at his sides, posture casual, expression mild— Except for his eyes. Of course it’s the eyes again.

Soft. Patient. Slightly tilted up like he’s waiting for you to decide something he already knows the answer to. Not even pushy. Just… there. God. It’s not even dramatic. It’s not some exaggerated pout or obvious attempt to guilt you. It’s worse. It’s just Frank looking at you like you’re the best part of his day and he doesn’t fully understand why you’d walk away from that. You scoff.

"You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love with you, yeah." You smile despite yourself.

"Fine. I'll put goodbye kisses to frank on my daily to-do list from now on." Frank actually laughs at that - properly this time, warm and low, like it’s been waiting under everything else all morning.

“Good,” he says immediately, nodding like you’ve just agreed to a very serious contract. “Put it in writing. I like structure. Now come here and kiss e before you vanish into our room for twenty mminutes.”

“You’re ridiculous -I just kissed you.”

“And yet,” he steps closer again, slower this time, like he’s not rushing you anymore, just… hoping, “You still owe me another one.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat in it anymore. Just tired fondness trying to fight its way back to the surface. Frank watches you for a second longer, then tilts his head slightly. That look comes back. Not loud. Not performative. Just soft in a way that’s almost unfair—like he’s quietly asking for something he already knows he’ll get if you stop pretending you’re still angry.

“You’ve got time,” he says gently. “Just one.” You huff a small breath through your nose.

“Frank…” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. Just stands there looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. And that’s the problem. Because he always does that. Even when you’re annoyed. Even when you’re exhausted. Even when you’re trying very hard not to soften. His mouth quirks slightly.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Don’t make me beg.”

“You’re not begging.”

“I could be worse at it.” That almost gets you again. Almost. You shake your head like it’ll physically clear the feeling out of your chest, but your feet are already moving before you’ve decided anything properly. Frank sees it immediately.

Of course he does.

His expression changes—just a flicker, just enough warmth breaking through the tiredness—as you step into him. You stop right in front of him.

A pause.

He doesn’t touch you first this time. Lets you choose it. That alone undoes you a little. So you grab the front of his shirt, yanking him down just enough to meet you halfway, and press a quick kiss to his mouth. It’s not long. Not dramatic. Just enough to shut him up and fix something inside your chest you didn’t want to admit was still broken from this morning. When you pull back, Frank doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, forehead almost dipping toward yours again, like he’s trying not to chase you for a second kiss and failing spectacularly at pretending he’s not. Then he exhales—quiet, satisfied. Frank’s eyes flick over your face like he’s storing the moment away somewhere safe.

"Okay, pretty girl, you can go now." You roll your eyes, slapping his chest as you step away from him, shaking your head.

“How hard could it be,” you repeat, whispering to yourself in the car. Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you as you listen while your GPS navigates you through the city. Frank had invited you over to his place after the last get-together the group had, where you admitted to the fact that you hadn’t seen his, apparently, favorite movie from the ‘80s. It was almost too perfect of a setup and you curse the universe for planning it all. Of all the movies you haven’t seen, you had to confess to this one?

In your defense, it was nearly impossible to decline his offer when his charm flared up like it had that night. Boisterous laughter, crinkles by his eyes when he grinned, and a, “Come on, you’ve gotta see it!” that was so warm and welcoming it had you agreeing before you thought about the implications of that damn nod you gave him.

Thinking back on that night, you nearly miss your turn onto the road that leads to his apartment. You catch it just in time though and as the automated voice informs you that he lives on the left, the anxiety sets in. You begin to focus on your breathing and you find an open parking spot right next to his black van, exactly where he said there would be. Mentally thanking him for eliminating some of the pressure of finding where to park, you pull into the spot and look towards the door with the metal numbers of his address bolted on the plaque beside it.

Once the car is parked and the ignition is off, you close your eyes and inhale enough air until your chest puffs out. “It’s just Frank,” you reassure yourself, attempting to slow down your heart rate. It does little use as his face flashes in your mind when you speak his name, so you decide not to delay the meeting any longer.

With a dry mouth and fidgeting hands you make your way to his apartment, giving yourself one last full breath before raising your hand to knock on his door. Your knuckles sound out against the wood, and there’s only a second of silence before you hear a muffled, “Coming!”

The brief moment to plaster a relaxed smile on your face passes all too quickly and you’re suddenly met with Frank’s warm grin. Failing to ignore the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help your eyes immediately glancing at his bicep as it stretches the fabric of his sleeve. You quickly force your gaze back to his face and give yourself a mental shake.

“Hey, kid, glad you could make it,” he greets you kindly. You’d be lying if you said the nickname he reserved for you wasn’t bittersweet. It made you feel special that it only left his lips in reference to you, but logically you knew it was because you were the youngest in the group. The truly bitter part was hearing it and feeling your heart sink that little bit lower; you wondered if he ever saw you as more, if you’d ever be able to satisfy your steadfast crush.

But those spiral sessions are best had at home, so you push away the thoughts and focus on spending time with him. All you’ve ever wanted was time alone with him and you’re not sure when you’ll get the chance again after today.

“Yeah, of course,” your genuine smile takes over, ”I had to see what all the fuss was about.” He chuckles at your joke before stepping aside, gesturing for you to come in. Squeezing past his body, you step into the living room of his home. It’s bigger than you expected, housing a sectional couch and wooden coffee table in the center. There’s also a large television mounted to the wall that’s clearly the main focus of the room. One sweatshirt and a lone blanket are draped on the back of the couch, making up the only clutter in the space. You don’t realize Frank is watching you take it all in until he gently clears his throat.

“Is it as glorious as you expected?” His voice sounds out from behind you and you turn to face him. There’s a smirk on his face and you find yourself chuckling to avoid shrinking into yourself.

“Just… different than I pictured is all,” you gesture vaguely to the open space of the room. There’s a scoff before he walks past you and towards the light grey couch.

“‘Clean’, you mean?” There’s a huff surrounding the question as he plops down onto the couch.

“Well…” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. A smile slowly takes over his face as you tease him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he pats the cushion of the couch. You follow his instruction, opting to keep one seat between the two of you. There’s a pause for a moment and you let your eyes wander to his thighs. His legs are slightly spread on the couch and it’s hard to ignore the way the fabric of his denim jeans are struggling to make room for the muscles of his thighs.

“So you really haven’t seen the greatest film of all time?” He begins again, disbelief clear in his tone. His voice makes your line of sight shoot back up to his face and it’s now your turn to wear a smile.

“You sure are creating a lot of hype for this movie. I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” you laugh softly. His eyes grow wide as a look of shock takes over his face.

“‘Disappoint’? You kiddin’ me? I’m pretty sure this movie paved the way for cinema.” He gets up excitedly, walking towards one of the thin bookshelves that frame the television. His fingers scan the titles quickly, trailing down the rows until he finds one. He pulls the case out from where it was sandwiched between the others before turning around to show it off with a wave of his hand.

“Made sure to rewind it for you yesterday.” You try to ignore the way your brain jumps to conclusions at those few words. The thoughts are loud, however, and you hear them despite your wishes. He really thought this ahead? Was he actually looking forward to seeing you?

Frank pulls the tape from out of its case and kneels down in front of the television. There’s a large, grey VCR lying on the ground and he gently pushes the tape past the small hinge, a tiny whirring sound escaping as it accepts the tape.

“God, I’m really showing my age here, aren’t I?” He nods towards the old technology on the wooden floor.

“I mean, I’ve seen my parents use them before,” you answer honestly.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, bringing his palm to cover his face before dragging it down his cheeks. The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, he looks so cute each time you tease him. You love these moments and how effortless it is to joke around with him, unlike when your usually constant bashfulness is present. 

Once the tape is in, the static on the screen crackles to life and there’s a few seconds before the black fades into a dusty orange sky. As the opening scene begins to play, you feel like you recognize the actors’ names as they appear over the footage. Nothing immediately comes to mind though, so you ignore the nagging feeling of trying to place them and focus on the film.

That proves to be more difficult than you intended. Admittedly, all you can think about is his scent lingering in the space around you. It’s almost as if the couch is bathed in his smell and it feels as though you’re drowning in it in the best way. You halfway register the dialogue sounding out and decide to at least entertain the idea of paying attention. There’s a shot of the inside of an airport, and you watch as the word Diehard comes across the center of the screen. Chuckles erupt from you and Frank’s immediately turning to face you with a confused pout.

“You think Diehard is the greatest movie of all time?” Your words are unintentionally soaked in disbelief and you swear you can see his defensive guard come up.

“You tryna’ tell me it’s not?! Cause it’s clearly up there!”

“I don’t know, Frank,” you start. Each time the film is brought up around you, you hear that it’s either the best or it’s overrated. You just didn’t expect him to be this much of a fan.

“That’s right! You don’t know!” He seems proud of his argument and even laughs towards the end of his sentence. You shake your head as your smile begins to hurt your cheeks due to how long you’ve been wearing it for. He reaches for the old remote, its buttons faded with its age, and the screen halts to a stop as he presses pause.

“I’ll be right back,” Frank explains with a grunt as he pushes himself off of the couch. You turn and watch him walk to the kitchen, your eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and how they almost brush the open doorframe as he passes through it. Not wanting to let your thoughts continue any more down the path they’re already on, you force your attention back to the television and wait for him to return.

“Here you are,” his deep voice sounds out a moment later and you look up at him. He’s sitting down onto the couch cushion with the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the necks of two beer bottles. He stretches his arm towards you, offering one of the drinks and you’re distracted by the veins running up the inside of his forearm.

“What? S’there somethin’ wrong?” he asks confusedly, his own gaze glancing between your clasped hands and the bottles. You snap out of your trance and stare at the beers again, racking your brain for any excuse to use to decline the drink.

“No, thank you, I’m all good,” your voice comes out stiff. Real smooth, you curse yourself as you see Frank’s expression change. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to understand your sudden and strange behavior.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” he begins, setting the bottles down and leaning back into the couch. His entire body is turned towards you and it’s clear that you’re the new subject of the conversation. You swallow thickly, your nerves already acting up.

“Never seen you drink, never seen you smoke… Hell, I haven’t seen you do much of anything,” he continues, listing his examples off on each finger. “Why is that? You some goody two shoes or something?” he finishes with a raspy chuckle. He reaches for his beer, popping the lid off with the opener from the coffee table and taking a long sip as his eyes meet yours over the glass in his hand.

You wish you could come up with something, anything, to get you out of this situation before you’re forced to confess to him. You open your mouth, expecting your tongue to string the words together for you, but there’s nothing but silence in the room. Quickly, you begin grasping for an explanation, only to be left stuttering over your words. Frank’s eyebrows raise and there’s an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he puts his drink down again.

“Uh oh,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicker all around your face. “There’s somethin’ else there,” he whispers mostly to himself, “gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

If none of this was enough to make your face grow warm, it certainly is now that you’ve heard the pet name leave his mouth. You feel as if you’re curling inward on yourself and you hate that the ground won’t show you mercy by opening up and swallowing you whole. Fidgeting with your fingers, you wonder if there’s any lie you can try and deliver confidently this time. But who are you kidding? You were never good at it, and it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.

With one last glance up at him, you see he’s not going to budge until he gets an answer, so you give him what he’s looking for. “Yeah, that’s… ‘my deal’,” you phrase his words in air quotes. “I haven’t really done, well, anything, and I don’t really know where to start,” you admit, still not looking him in the eyes. Frank nods as he lets your voice fill the air and you notice him making another curious face.

“When you say ‘anything’, what exactly do you mean?” he asks in a softer tone this time, no hint of teasing in his words. It’s then that you finally meet his brown eyes and see the kindness in their warm color. You bring in a deep breath and prepare yourself for the worst possible reaction to your following words.

“Um—,” you cut yourself off with a sigh, letting out all the air in your lungs and attempting to stall the embarrassment a moment longer. “Okay, like drinking, smoking, drugs…” you continue the list and watch him nod after each addition. “Never had sex, never—,”

“Bullshit,” his rumbly voice interrupts you, shaking his head in disbelief. The pout that forms on your lips is involuntary; you feared he wouldn’t have believed it, but you suppose it’s better than him teasing you. From the corner of your eyes you watch his lips part and his jaw go slack as he realizes what you said was the truth.

“Christ, you… you’re serious?” he questions as he looks at you in shock. You only nod silently, not sure how to continue from here. There’s a long pause where Frank is still as stone, remaining silent but seemingly trying to process the new information he’s discovered. The air feels so thick you worry that if you open your mouth to speak you’ll only choke.

The sound of a rumbly chuckle fills the air and you look up to see his wide smile. He’s dragging his palm down his mouth and rubbing his jaw as he shifts his hips forward and leans back into the cushions once more. You feel anger bubbling up and it quickly replaces the mortification that had been consuming you for the past few minutes.

“Screw you! I knew you wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” You cross your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. You felt stupid for sharing this with him, and now he has the audacity to laugh? Over something this personal?

“No, no, sweetheart, hey—,“ the pet name again does nothing to dull the burning under the skin of your cheeks. “I wasn’t teasing it’s just…,” he sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a surprise, y’know?” 

As much as you want to stay upset with him, you’re not sure your resolve can last that long. You attempt to maintain your defensive position and don’t dare soften the angry glare you’re shooting at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he starts, but you don’t budge. “C’mon, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it, s’all. Kinda hard to believe, honestly.” Your head perks up at the last sentence and you shoot him a look of pure disbelief.

“Yeah, well… you’re obviously the only one who thinks that,” you mumble, the self-deprecating words falling past your lips before you even register them. Frank sighs deeply and you notice the way his eyes are flickering all around your face, presumably trying to gauge how upset you are.

“It’s not like I want this,” you huff, deflating into the couch, “but now it’s like even if I want to try stuff, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You begin picking at your fingers as the insecurity grows with his silence. “It’s like everybody did the crash course in high school and they have experience. I don't even know where to start…” As you trail off, the silence becomes deafening and you find yourself missing his laughter because at least that was something.

“Aaaaand I said too much. Sorry, it’s just something that’s frustrated me for years and… yeah,” you decide it’s better to end the conversation than wait on a reply that won’t come.

“You didn’t say too much,” he finally speaks up, and the weight on your chest begins to dissipate. “Was lettin’ you get it all out,” he explains. He holds his chin between his thumb and index finger, grazing his jaw lightly and tilting his head as he thinks over your confession. You find yourself subconsciously holding your breath as you prepare for the worst possible response he could give you.

“Said you didn’t know where to start, right? Why don’t we start with something small, hmm? How about that beer?” Frank nods his head once in the direction of the abandoned bottle he had grabbed for you. You eye it hesitantly and think over the worst that could happen. Coming up with virtually nothing, you nod back to him, deciding it would be one small victory to deal with today. 

As you wrap your fingers around the bottle, you raise your hand and turn to Frank. He mimics you, lifting his own in the air before clearing his throat.

“To…” he trails off, trying to come up with something as a cheer. His eyes drift off to somewhere else in the room, his lips parted as his eyebrows pull together. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his very serious thinking face. Not wanting him to hurt himself from racking his brain much longer, you speak up.

“To trying new things,” you say confidently, and the second the words leave your mouth you’re already regretting them. You physically wince at your word choice and now it’s Frank’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty lame,” you admit to him. “Sounded better in my head.”

“Think it sounded perfect,” he replies before tilting his bottle towards you. You follow his lead as he brings the drink to his lips and you don’t think twice before tilting your own head back. The second the flavor hits your tongue you can feel your face scrunching up involuntarily. You bring the bottle away immediately and your lips purse at the taste in your mouth. Frank’s laughter rumbles out deep from his chest and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it down with no reaction. 

“Attagirl, one thing down. That wasn't too hard now was it?” he speaks once he’s brought the glass bottle away from his mouth. Thankfully, the nasty beer is enough to distract you from reacting to his praise.

“You didn’t tell me it tasted like piss!” you exclaim, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand.

“This is actually one of the good ones,” you watch as he takes another swig. “But you’re right, it’s not all that great,” he admits before licking his lips and looking at you.

Any residual awkwardness you felt only moments before has all but vanished and you feel comfort just being here with him. You smile softly to yourself as you brush your thumb along the curved glass of the neck of the bottle.

“Thank you for this,” you speak up, “it feels nice to get something crossed off the list.”

“Any time, kid,” his voice is raspy and you try to dissuade your stomach from doing flips at his tone.

The smile on your face grows wider in the silence, feeling a small amount of pride bubbling in your chest knowing that you tried something new. It doesn’t seem like such a big feat once you’ve climbed over the hill, but there’s always been that fear that keeps you paralyzed and unable to even attempt to move forward. You truly meant your words, you’re thankful that he gave you that little push.

“Y’know, I could help… with the list, I mean.” You’re almost certain you’ve never felt your heart beat quite this hard before. Frank waits until your eyes have locked with his before he speaks slowly, carefully chooses his words as he continues. “O-Only if you want, obviously. Just… said you wish you knew how to do it the first time, right? So it wouldn’t be such a big deal?” You hesitantly nod, still not wanting to assume what he’s proposing until he explicitly says it.

“Yeah, so I figured we could have you practice? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you get out there,” he ends his sentence with a shrug, as if it’s the most nonchalant offer.

“What?” you desperately try to ignore the way your words shake slightly. “Like you’d teach me?” You can’t even help the incredulous tone your words are soaked in. You can hardly even fathom the idea of Frank Castle being the one to show you the ropes, much less actually acting those things out with him.

“Yeah? If that’s alright?” He smiles gently and you feel your body beginning to relax some. “Just… I saw how much it meant to you and I wanna help,” he explains further, and you swear you’ve never seen sincerity like the way it’s shining in his warm, brown eyes.

You swallow thickly as you think over his proposition. It feels like this is some sort of dream; you’re waiting for your alarm to ring out as your vision slowly fades, waking up in your bedroom alone. But no amount of pinching your skin will rip you from this moment. It feels too good to be true, but it’s happening regardless. He’s waiting on an answer and it’s honestly the best offer you could think of being handed to you on a silver platter.

“And hey, you absolutely don’t have to say—”

“Yes,” you finally decide. You can’t even believe you said it.

“You sure?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between your own. You think it’s sweet how he tries to make sure you’re certain of your decision. You smile widely as you nod at him, the butterflies returning to your stomach once again.

“Also, we don’t, like, have to have sex… just so you know. I know that’s a lot, but I can help with the stuff leading up to it?” You grin and nod again and Frank laughs lightly at your response. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

“I am! I’m just excited, sorry,” you fidget with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to channel all the newfound energy elsewhere. Frank’s chuckle grows louder and you wonder if you imagined the soft “cute” that was muttered under his breath.

“So…” he speaks up and you turn to face him completely. “How would you feel about crossin’ something else off the list?” You nod immediately as all the nervousness from before switches to excitement while it courses through you.

“Okay…” he laughs softly at your quick reaction. “Let’s see,” he pauses for a moment as he thinks before his eyes light up with an idea. “You ever been kissed?” You feel the familiar shyness creeping up again, but you choose to push it back down. Instead, you just softly shake your head and watch as he nods in understanding.

“You want to try it?” he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. You hum an agreement and watch as he moves a bit closer to you on the couch. Once again you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to be some sort of joke. But Frank only waits for you to take the initiative to close the space between the two of you.

Now that you’re facing each other on the couch, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you wait for him to make the first move. He smiles reassuringly before raising his hand and cradling the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your cheek as his long fingers curl around the back, holding you gently in place.

“You sure you want this?” he confirms. Again, you nod eagerly.

“I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart. That’s my rule,” he explains.

“Oh…” you whisper as you glance between his eyes and his lips, “yes.” You feel your heart swelling at the fact that he wants to make sure you truly want what he’s offering. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, muttering one last, “Okay,” before leaning forward.

The second his lips touch yours, you’re surprised at how soft they are. He’s gentle with his movements and softly sucks your lower lip between his own. It only takes a moment for you to kiss him back, careful to only mimic his actions and still let him lead. The kiss is warm and sweet and you feel the blood rushing through your cheeks and tingling down your neck. His thumb catches your bottom lip and pulls it down slowly, breaking the kiss. Frank breathes gently as he licks his lips, his eyes flickering between yours.

“How was that?” he asks, his breath fanning over your mouth as he speaks.

“It was good. I-I liked it,” you smile sheepishly, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to savor the feeling.

“Yeah?” he tilts his head as the question leaves his mouth, his eyes squinting as he glances from your eyes to your mouth. You once again nod before you even think to do it.

“Alright, now I wanna give you a real one.”

“A real one?” you pout and stare at him confusedly.

He only smirks before leaning forward again, pressing his lips to yours harder. This time, his palm guides your jaw to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss. The stubble lining his jaw scratches at your cheeks, and the prickling has you melting under his touch. You try your best to keep up, but his scent feels like it’s truly suffocating you now; you can hardly kiss him back with how overwhelmed you are. The next thing you register is the wet heat of his tongue brushing along your bottom lip, slowly tracing the shape before he pushes it inside your mouth. His tongue glides against your own and there's a small moan that escapes from your throat.

All too soon his lips leave yours and you open your eyes at the loss of contact. Frank’s own eyes are still shut and you watch as he clenches his jaw, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, worried you messed up somehow.

“Yeah… just, that was the sweetest god damn thing I’ve heard.” His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down your spine. Out of all the times you’ve dreamt of having your first kiss, you never thought it would’ve been that good. And to think, an impulse decision to watch a movie with him led you to this plan to gain experience. You find yourself already missing the feeling of his tongue, of the scratch that his stubble gave when he deepened the kiss.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he knocks your knee softly with his own, attempting to grab your attention. “You’re being too quiet.”

“I just, well, I wanna do it again,” you admit, looking away nervously. In one sudden motion Frank tugs you into his lap and you yelp as you wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs softly as he stares up at you but doesn’t waste a second before kissing you even quicker than before. There’s only a few chances you can take to catch your breath because he hardly breaks the kiss. You never thought someone as attractive as him would want to kiss you this much, but confidence rushes through your body as his affection continues.

Frank’s mouth begins to wander, his lips finding new space that had otherwise been untouched. The corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw—he never stops kissing you until he gets to your throat. From there, his lips part and he begins sucking on your neck. A shaky gasp leaves you as his teeth make purchase on your skin, softly biting before brushing his tongue over the mark.

“Done two new things,” he mutters, his lips moving around the words but never leaving your body. “How’s it feel?”

“I really like this,” you say breathlessly as you feel his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of your neck. He hums into your throat, the vibration setting your skin alight before you finish your thought, “You can keep the beer though.”

Frank’s chuckle gets caught in his throat, resulting in the cutest snort you’ve ever heard. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and looks up at you with sweet, brown eyes.

It’s a normal day.

Or it was.

You’re halfway through sorting reports—that shift in the room. Not loud, not obvious, just… different. Like the air tightened.

You glance up.

And there he is.

Frank stands just inside the doorway, looking completely out of place and entirely like himself at the same time—dark shirt, worn jacket, eyes scanning out of habit before they land on you.

And then they stay there.

Your brain barely catches up before your heart does something ridiculous in your chest.

“Give me one second,” you tell your co-workers quickly, already moving.

Frank doesn’t move as you approach him, but there’s a tension in his shoulders—like he’s debating whether he should’ve come at all.

“Frank?” you say, a little breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“Was in the area,” he mutters automatically.

You raise an eyebrow.

“…really? An hour from the house and you’re in the area.’”

He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening just slightly—caught.

“Yeah, well.” His hand shifts from behind his back and that’s when you see it.

Flowers.

A small bouquet, nothing over-the-top. Simple. Real. Completely unexpected.

You blink at them, then at him. “You brought me flowers?”

Frank immediately shrugs like it’s nothing, gaze sliding away for a second. “Don’t make a thing outta it.”

Too late.

Your expression softens, something warm spreading through you as you reach out and take them. “Frank… these are really nice.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Figured you’d like ‘em.”

You look back up at him, smiling now—really smiling—and it hits him square in the chest. You can see it happen, the way his posture shifts just a fraction, like he wasn’t ready for that reaction.

“They’re beautiful,” you say.

He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright—don’t start—”

You step closer before he can retreat, rising up just enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Frank freezes.

Completely.

Like his entire system just short-circuited.

When you pull back, his eyes snap to yours, a little wider than usual. “You—”

“Thank you,” you say simply.

Something in his expression softens then—real soft, not the guarded version he usually gives the world. His hand comes up like he’s going to touch you, hesitates for half a second—

Then settles at your waist, firm and steady.

“…Yeah,” he mutters, voice rougher now. “Alright.”

You grin at him. “So you just show up, give me flowers, and expect me not to make a big deal out of it?”

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t,” he says, but there’s no bite to it.

“Too bad.” you smirk.

For a second, neither of you move. The noise of your workplace fades into the background, people passing by, talking, living—and Frank’s just standing there with you, letting himself exist in something normal.

Something good.

His thumb shifts slightly against your side, grounding himself.

“…Had a rough day,” he admits quietly, almost like it slipped out.

Your expression softens instantly. “Yeah?”

He nods once, eyes on you. “Thought I’d come see you.”

That warmth in your chest spreads again, deeper this time.

“Well,” you say gently, holding up the flowers a little, “I think you made my day instead.”

Frank huffs softly, something almost like a smile tugging at his mouth.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes lingering on you. “Worth it then.”

-

Frank notices the second he sees you.

He’s halfway through shrugging off his jacket when he freezes, eyes locking onto you like something just set off every instinct he’s got. For a split second, it’s that same sharp, dangerous focus he always carries—

Then it softens.

“…You did somethin’.”

You pause in the doorway, fingers automatically brushing your hair. “Hi to you too,” you tease, a little unsure. “And yeah, I cut it. It’s not that—”

He’s already crossing the room.

Fast. Quiet. Intent.

Frank stops right in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first—just looks. Really looks. Like he’s cataloging every change, every detail, committing it to memory.

“Lemme see,” he mutters.

His hand comes up, rough palm sliding along your jaw before disappearing into your hair. He moves it gently, testing the weight of it, the way it falls. There’s nothing rushed about him now—none of that usual edge. Just… focus.

“…Yeah,” he breathes, almost to himself.

The way he says it—low, certain—sends a little warmth through your chest.

You try to play it off. “It’s just shorter, Frank.”

“Mm.” His gaze flicks over your face again, slower this time. Softer. “Nah.”

Before you can ask what that means, his hand slides to the back of your neck, not pulling—just holding you there, grounding, steady. His forehead dips toward yours for a second, like he’s collecting himself.

“…Makes your face stand out more,” he murmurs. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you.”

That catches you off guard.

Frank doesn’t talk like that. Not often. Not easily.

“Yeah?” you say, quieter now.

His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up.

“Yeah.”

A beat passes—thick, quiet.

Then, like he can’t help it, he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. Not rushed, not careless—slow, deliberate. His hand stays in your hair the whole time, fingers flexing slightly like he’s still getting used to it.

“…You should do that more often,” he adds, voice rougher now.

You laugh softly. “You just like an excuse to stare at me.”

Frank pulls back just enough to look at you again, something almost amused tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ain’t an excuse,” he says. “I already do that.”

And yeah— he absolutely does.

—

Frank’s in the middle of cleaning a cut on his arm when you walk in behind him, quiet as anything. He doesn’t even look up at first—until your fingers brush lightly over his shoulder.

Not a grab. Not urgent.

Just… soft.

He stills immediately.

“…You gotta stop sneakin’ up on me like that,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat in it.

“Or what?” you hum, stepping closer.

Your hand trails down his arm, careful of the injury, but slow—deliberate. You lean in just slightly, your breath warm against the side of his neck as you glance at what he’s doing.

Frank exhales sharp through his nose.

“That,” he says, voice already rougher, “you gotta stop that.”

You blink, all innocence. “Stop what?”

His jaw tightens.

“You know what.”

You don’t.

Or maybe you do.

Because later, you’re sitting on the couch beside him, tucked into his side, absentmindedly playing with his fingers while he tries to focus on whatever’s on TV.

You’re not even looking at him.

Just tracing over his knuckles… his palm… lacing your fingers through his.

Slow.

Thoughtless.

Frank hasn’t heard a single word from the screen in the last ten minutes.

“…You always do this?” he mutters.

“Do what?” you ask again, glancing up at him this time.

There it is—that look.

Curious. Soft. Completely unaware of what you’re doing to him.

It makes something in his chest tighten.

“You don’t even know,” he says under his breath.

And then there’s the worse moments.

Like when you’re standing in the kitchen, reaching up on your toes for something in the cabinet, and his shirt—his shirt—you stole hangs just a little too much.

Frank leans in the doorway, arms crossed.

Watching.

You turn, catching him staring. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just pushes off the wall, walking toward you slow, measured. His eyes drag over you like he’s trying real hard to keep it together—and failing.

“…That’s mine,” he says finally.

You glance down at the shirt, then back up with a small smile. “I know.”

That smile is a problem.

Frank stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. His hand comes up, gripping your hip—not rough, but firm. Grounding.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. 

Your fingers curl lightly into the front of his shirt, tugging him just a little closer without even thinking about it.

That does it.

His breath stutters—barely, but it’s there.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, teasing. “That so?”

Frank’s grip tightens just slightly.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes dropping to your mouth for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Walkin’ around like this… lookin’ at me like that… actin’ like you don’t know what you’re doin’.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“…Maybe I don’t.”

That earns you a low, disbelieving huff.

“Bullshit.”

But there’s no real accusation in it.

The thing is…It’s not just that you get to him like this.

It’s how easily you do it.

No effort. No games. No trying.

Just you being soft with him. Close to him. Touching him like he’s something worth holding onto.

That’s what really gets under his skin.

That’s what drives him crazy.

Because Frank Castle can handle pain. Violence. Chaos.

But you?

Looking at him like he’s just a man you want?

Touching him like he’s yours?

Yeah.

That’s the thing that wrecks him.

Later, when he finally pulls you into him, arms tight around your waist, forehead pressing briefly to yours like he needs a second—

He exhales, low and rough.

“…You got no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs.

But the way he holds you after that— like he’s not letting go anytime soon—Says he doesn’t really mind.

-

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Frank’s at the table, cleaning a gun with the kind of focus that usually means don’t bother him unless it’s important. His sleeves are pushed up, movements precise, controlled—every piece laid out exactly where it should be.

And then there’s you.

Hovering.

Watching him like you’re about to do something.

“…What?” he mutters without looking up.

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

That alone makes him glance up.

You’re smiling.

That’s a red flag.

Frank narrows his eyes slightly. “…What’re you plannin’?”

“Okay, listen,” you say, already grinning. “I have a joke.”

He immediately goes back to what he’s doing. “No.”

“Frank.”

“No.”

“Frank.”

He exhales, long-suffering, setting the piece in his hand down with a quiet click. “…This better not be one of those—”

“It is.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You beam. “Okay. Ready?”

He leans back in his chair, already regretting every life choice that led him here. “…Go.”

You clasp your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels like you’re way too excited about this.

“Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”

Frank stares at you.

Blank.

“…I don’t know,” he says flatly. “Why.”

You pause for dramatic effect, barely holding it together.

“Because they don’t have the guts.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Frank doesn’t react.

Doesn’t blink.

Just stares at you like he’s trying to decide if this is a joke or a personal attack.

“…That’s it,” he says finally.

You burst out laughing.

“Come on—that was funny!”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t,” he repeats, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth now.

You point at him immediately. “You’re trying not to smile.”

“I ain’t.”

“You are.”

Frank huffs, shaking his head, but there’s no bite to it. “That was the worst thing I ever heard.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “You loved it.”

“Did not.”

“You did.”

He mutters something under his breath, reaching for his gun again—but he’s slower now. Distracted.

Because you’re still smiling.

Still looking at him like that.

“Hit me with another one.” he asks after a second, like it slipped out against his will.

Your face lights up. “Oh, I have so many.”

Frank immediately regrets it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “…Figured.”

But he doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t tell you to quit.

Just sits there, listening to every terrible joke—quiet, steady, and just a little softer than he was before.

And by the third one?