“I can’t control their fear, only my own”

That bit of bright red noticeable on the toilet paper before you'd flushed had caught your eye. Part of you had expected it. It was, after all, about that time of the month. Again. At the very least, your body was nothing if not predictable. Which was why you hadn’t exactly been surprised to see the telltale crimson of your period beginning.

You’d gone through the motions after. Grabbed a tampon out from under the bathroom sink and finished your business before you'd washed your hands, yet all the while it felt like you’d somehow disconnected from your body. As if the hands inserting your tampon and flushing the toilet, the same ones pulling your underwear and jeans back up before turning on the bathroom faucet and lathering the soap along them, were suddenly not yours. You didn’t recognize them. 

And that face in the mirror, the one staring unblinkingly and so sullenly back at you, was unfamiliar, too. When had the bags under your eyes become so prominent? When had your eyes themselves grown so dull? 

But the longer you stared, the blurrier that face in the mirror became. 

And that’s when you felt it.

At first it was small–just the stinging of tears in your eyes. The all too familiar prickle began to build before you felt the first few large, wet drops spill forth from them. They left a trail of heat as they slid their way down your cheeks, catching in the frown lines around your trembling lips. 

Next came the sharp, burning pain that hit you right in the stomach. Gradually it crept its way up towards your chest like a growing fire right before you felt your ribcage abruptly compress around your heart and your lungs in a single, abrupt seize. A shuddering gasp tumbled out of your lips, your eyes snapping shut. Breath coming in shallower, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip as you tried to fight back the muffled sobs slipping out of you. You knew Frank had just returned home from the store and you didn’t need him to overhear one of the panic attacks you always hid from him.

The ringing in your ears soon became louder than the sound of the running water from the faucet, tears continuing to slip past your lashes as your own racing pulse pounded rapidly in your throat. But above all of that your mind was becoming the loudest thing in this bathroom, quickly drowning out everything else around you.

Because another month had gone by and you still hadn’t conceived. It had been over a year since you and Frank had stopped trying to not get pregnant and let things happen. Yet here you were. Enduring another monthly menstrual cycle. 

You still remembered that late night conversation with him curled up in bed together, the one that changed the trajectory of your past year. Both of you had been wrapped limb around naked limb in bed, your finger tracing mindless patterns along his bare chest as you both laid there together, panting and flushed from the exertion of your previous intimate activities. Frank had been rather sweet with you that night, too. Sweeter than usual. He’d taken his time with you, appreciating your body and touching you only with the most delicate of touches. Something about the way his hands had even just lingered on you that night had felt different. And then afterwards, he’d been the one to break the peaceful silence in the bedroom. You could still hear his voice perfectly in your head even now.

“I want that with you.”

Those five words had sent your heart into a frenzied flutter. Granted, you’d been uncertain if he’d meant them in the context of the conversation the pair of you had the night before when you’d curiously asked him if he had ever given more thought to wanting a family. It had been a question you’d assured him had come with no pressure. You knew about Frank’s past–the life that was not Peter Castiglione’s–and you’d always made it clear that you respected his boundaries either way. All you wanted was him. But before he’d ever proposed to you, he had on multiple occasions told you that maybe someday he could see that again–having a family–but only with you. 

So you’d been curious that night before, almost six months after you had eloped with him and legally become Mrs. Castiglione–though in private Frank called you Mrs. Castle. You had wondered if he would ever want something more. Something more than just the little family the two of you had created together in your cozy house. Because for a while now it had been just Frank, you, and Bear–the pitbull you’d seen on the local animal shelter’s social media page shortly after you’d both moved in together. You’d shown that picture to Frank and the very next day you had come home from work to find Bear wagging his tail and greeting you excitedly beside Frank in the living room. The three of you had quickly become a family.

But sometimes you still wondered about more than that.

So you looked back on that night fondly with Frank once he’d clarified what he’d meant. When he’d opened the door to something more for the both of you. Because you knew what that meant for him. You knew what a big step that was after what he’d lost.

You vividly remembered the excited squeal you’d let out when he gripped your chin so gently between his fingers and said he wanted a family with you and that he knew you’d make an amazing mother. You’d flung yourself on top of him and excitedly kissed his laughing mouth over and over while he’d joked about getting a head start on making a baby and trying a second time that night. And of course you did have sex again that evening, though you hadn’t removed your birth control implant until almost three weeks after that night, wanting to wait to make sure Frank was entirely certain before you did. And when you had, you’d both been ecstatic about what the future would bring.

But now, a year later, you found yourself growing further and further disheartened and depressed. You’d eventually begun to silently take the blame upon yourself that you hadn’t managed to get a pregnancy to full term yet. That you couldn't seem to give Frank a child. Because maybe you were broken. Maybe your body was broken. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten pregnant at all–you had. Twice now. But you’d lost both pregnancies. And the second loss only hit you harder than the first because your second pregnancy had gotten farther along. You had been almost eleven weeks pregnant and starting to feel like things were going to be alright. You knew that the rate of miscarriage significantly dropped after the first twelve weeks. 

You had cautiously let yourself begin to get excited. To discuss nursery plans with Frank when it came to the extra, unused bedroom in the house. Teasing him about how many times you'd be likely to change your mind about the paint color, joking about how often he'd be repainting it for you. But he always just wrapped you in those big, strong arms of his, a broad smile on his face as he promised you the same thing every time. 

"Don't matter to me," his deep voice would rumble out with a soft chuckle. "I'll paint it every goddamn shade of the rainbow for the next nine months if that's what you want, sweetheart."

Frank had even finally let himself get excited, too, and it had warmed your heart to see. 

Oftentimes you'd wake up, rolling out of bed to hear him down the hall and in the kitchen making a pot of coffee. He was usually awake before you in the mornings and talking to Bear, but you had begun to overhear him telling Bear that he was going to need to be a good boy and look out for you and this baby whenever he wasn't home. Or you would overhear him telling Bear about how much he'd love playing fetch when the baby was a little older, and how this child would become Bear's best friend. It had always put a smile on your face when you overheard those one-sided conversations as you made your way into the kitchen in the mornings, greeted with the sight of a grinning Frank and Bear sitting beside him, wagging his tail so hard you could hear it thumping against the wood floor repeatedly.

You remembered how excited Frank had gotten about that first appointment with your obstetrician, too. He had insisted he took off early from work to be there to hear the baby’s heartbeat and see that very first ultrasound. And you would never forget the way Frank looked at you when you’d both first heard that rapid, fluttering heartbeat. His eyes had welled up with tears, his face a mixture of awe and sheer joy as his large hand tightened around yours. You had always thought Frank was an attractive man, but in that moment, with the way his face had lit up with so much happiness as he gazed back at you, you’d never seen him look more handsome.

Though you hadn’t seen that look on his face since. A few weeks after that appointment you’d woken up from a dead sleep, your abdomen aching and in pain. Getting up out of bed, you remembered stopping in your tracks when you felt that warm gush between your thighs and your throat had instantly closed up. You’d nearly sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, a groggy Frank calling out after you as Bear sat whining outside the bathroom door. 

You were bleeding and it just wouldn’t stop. 

Frank had known exactly what was happening the moment you'd begun openly weeping in the bathroom. With a focused calm he managed to get both of you dressed and ready before he brought you to the hospital. He kept uttering words of comfort in your ear, holding your hand as you sobbed into his shoulder in the ER’s waiting room. Eventually a nurse wheeled you back to a room in a wheelchair where Frank continued to hold your hand and hover at your side as the nurses drew blood and set up an IV. 

That whole time you were at the hospital Frank never let go of your hand, not until they needed to take you away to conduct an emergency ultrasound. You’d been terrified to go without him, not wanting to be alone if they couldn’t find a heartbeat, but the staff had refused, claiming it was hospital policy that he needed to stay back and wait for you. You swore you almost saw the Punisher firsthand in that hospital room with the sheer rage present on Frank’s face as his nostrils flared at the nurses. Inevitably you had to be the one to tell him it was alright, that you’d be fine with him waiting for you.

And then you’d broken down in the darkened little room by yourself as the doctor conducting the ultrasound offered you stiff and practiced words of condolences when that rapid, fluttering heartbeat couldn’t be found again.

You’d spent the next few days afterwards unable to leave your bed. Bear stayed cuddled up beside you, resting his head on your legs as you cried into your pillow on and off. Whenever Frank had gotten home from his shift at the local factory, he’d grab a quick shower before he lay with you, soothingly rubbing your back and not saying a word. Because there wasn’t anything to say. 

It was a few days later that you’d felt guilty for wallowing in your own grief. Despite that calm, comforting exterior Frank always approached you with, you knew he was hiding his own grief from you. That underneath all those sweet words and meals he had cooked for you, he was struggling with his own pain. And you’d stumbled on the truth of that one day when you’d woken up from a nap on the couch, heading to the bedroom and catching Frank sitting on the edge of the mattress bent in half with his face in his hands, the ultrasound photos laying on the nightstand beside him. 

You’d never felt like you’d let him down more in the time you’d known him than in that very moment and it had broken you. Because instead of adding joy to Frank’s life–like you wanted to do after everything he’d been through–you just kept adding more loss. So you’d stopped openly wallowing and crying after that, shoving your emotions all the way down until moments like this–like right now–where you were alone and could feel them. Just a little bit. Because you didn’t need to add anymore to Frank’s pain. You didn’t need to be another burden on his shoulders–he carried enough weight on them.

A couple of quick raps came from the bathroom door, the noise abruptly breaking through your thoughts.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Frank’s gruff voice called out from the otherside of it. “You good in there? Sink has been running for awhile now, just wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

Biting down harder on your lip, a choked sob slipped out between your teeth before it broke on a hiccup. Immediately you heard the bathroom door handle twist open, your damp lashes flying open to reveal Frank’s panicked expression reflected back at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. 

Swiftly stepping beside you, he reached a hand out and turned off the faucet that had still been running. He muttered another curse when he realized how hot the water had been, reaching across you to grab the hand towel from the nearby towel rack. 

"Hey, c'mere," he whispered.

He wrapped the soft towel gently around your trembling hands, drying them off carefully as he turned you towards him. Your hands ached just from the light touch; you'd certainly left them under the hot water for far too long.

Sniffling, you turned your face into the sleeve of your shirt, trying to dry the tears still flowing on the fabric along your shoulder. Gritting your teeth together, you fought to even out your sharp, shallow breaths and get them under control. You didn't need Frank to see you like this.

"Somethin' happen?" he asked softly, removing the towel from your hands. "You hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to trust your voice. 

He lowered his face to yours, trying to catch your gaze. Sniffling again, your eyes gradually slid up towards his, guilt flooding you at the sight of concern in his warm, brown eyes. Immediately the tears began pouring out of you even faster, your face scrunching up as you tried to bury it back into your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, c'mere," he murmured, tossing the towel onto the bathroom counter.

Frank's hands encircled your shoulders before he firmly pulled you into himself, burying his face into the top of your hair. Your hands were trapped between both of your bodies, sliding their way up to Frank’s chest before you desperately grasped onto the fabric of his black shirt and balled it into your fists. Pressing your face into his solid chest, you struggled to fight down the rasping breaths that kept leaving your mouth as you cried.

"I've got you, sweetheart," Frank whispered into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you. It's alright. You're alright."

One of his large hands began smoothing your hair soothingly as he continued gently shushing you and muttering words of comfort. Closing your eyes, you inhaled a deep, rattling breath and tried to focus on his calming voice. The familiar scent of him filled your nose, something warm like pine mixed with cinnamon. It was a smell you'd come to associate with him and it always brought you comfort–just like Frank’s entire presence always did. When you felt his lips leave a lingering kiss along your temple, the apology slipped out of your mouth before you even knew it had.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

Fingers curling tighter around the fabric of his shirt, you pressed your lips firmly together as you tried to bury your face further against his chest. You hadn’t meant to let that slip. The guilt and shame welling inside of you for months was something you much preferred to keep to yourself. You didn’t want Frank to carry the weight of that, too.

But you felt the way Frank had swiftly withdrawn his face from your hair, his large hand sliding around from where it had been stroking your hair to instead gingerly cradle your cheek. Slowly he drew your face from where you’d tried to hide against his chest, his hand gradually turning it up towards his. 

His brows were slightly drawn together, a few creases visible between them. The corners of his lips were downturned, his eyes narrowing as they searched your face for answers. You could feel the tremble of your own lips as you studied his face in return, seeing exactly what you hadn’t wanted to see in it. Frank Castle was not going to let this go without an answer. 

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he repeated.

Licking your lips nervously, you knew you were going to have to tell him this time. Though having this particular conversation didn’t remotely calm the racing of your heart. And you knew you were going to break down again in front of him; that thought alone brought the burn of tears back to your eyes.

“I–I got my period,” you stammered quietly.

Frank’s eyes only narrowed further at you, confusion briefly slipping onto his face as his frown deepened. But then understanding washed over his features mere seconds later and you saw his expression soften. He immediately began to shake his head at you, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare apologize for that.”

"Frank, I–"

"No," he stated, shaking his head again. "No. You did nothing wrong."

Throat tightening, you struggled to get your next words out, your fingers still curled around his shirt.

"I lost them both," you choked out. 

Frank's other hand came up, both of his hands now carefully cradling your face between his palms. His lips twitched at the corners as his hardened eyes stared fiercely back at yours.

"That wasn't on you," he stated. "None of it was your fault, sweetheart. You hear me? It was out of your control. I don't blame you for a damn thing. How could you even think you need to apologize?"

The calloused pads of Frank’s thumbs began tenderly wiping away the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. Despite how dangerous you knew Frank could be–despite knowing the things he’d done–he’d only ever been gentle with you.

You inhaled a shuddering breath, another truth slipping out of your mouth. "Because I let you down, Frank," you whispered. 

Frank's head tilted to the side, confusion once again drawing over his face as his brows furrowed further together. "You–you what?" he asked.

Eyelids lowering, you tried to control your breathing, taking a deep breath in and holding it. You couldn't properly explain what you needed to if you were going to start hyperventilating on him. And you sure as shit felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye right now, either. Not with that look on his face, the one full of earnest desire to understand you. To help you.

"I know what it–it means that you wanted this, Frank," you began in a whisper. "Wanted a family with me. I saw how happy you were both times I told you I was pregnant. I saw the way your face lit up at the ultrasound. And I–" you winced, your grip tightening so hard on Frank's shirt that your nails were digging into your own palms, "–I saw you. After. Crying in the bedroom over that ultrasound. Because I can't–can't seem to just get pregnant. To keep a pregnancy." 

A humorless, strangled laugh fell out of you, your eyes still closed because you couldn’t bear to see his face. But you felt Frank’s hands holding your face a bit tighter between them in response to the harsh, bitter noise you’d just made.

"It seems so fucking easy for everyone else," you continued, everything suddenly tumbling out of you after months of repeatedly shoving it down. "Everyone but me. And I'm–I'm so tired of being asked by my family and friends every couple of months if I'm finally pregnant. So tired of them brushing off my pain like it's nothing, like the two pregnancies I lost were nothing . Telling me things will happen in time or–or there's no rush to get pregnant. That everything will work out like some empty fucking platitude is going to fix this. Because none of them have gone through any of this. And I'm happy they haven't. I am. But they don't know what it's like. How–" your eyelids flew open, your focus on your hands still wrapped around his shirt, "–how upsetting it is to be repeatedly asked if I've gotten pregnant yet, especially when it feels like my body is…" your voice trailed off, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to finish your sentence. 

Frank's large hands carefully tried to turn your face up towards his, his eyes once again attempting to catch your own. Nervously you met his gaze and the hurt and pain clear in them only had your lips quivering yet again. 

"When it feels like your body is what, sweetheart?" Frank asked softly. 

Swallowing hard, your sad eyes held his as you spoke. "It feels broken," you whispered. "Like there's something wrong with me. Like it's–it's a graveyard."

The moment the words left your mouth, you entirely lost your composure. A sob barreled its way up out of your throat, your eyes snapping shut. Frank didn't stop you when your hands released his shirt and wrapped around his neck instead, your body collapsing forward into his. He only held you tight to himself, his hands rubbing calming patterns along your back as you wept. Your fingers dug into Frank through his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing grounding you.  

“You’re not broken,” he whispered after a few minutes, his mouth beside your ear. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not broken.” 

You felt him shifting beneath you, his hands making their way up to your shoulders before he gently pulled you away from himself. Reluctantly you loosened your grip around his neck, your own hands holding onto his broad shoulders as you drew back from him, spotting the damp spot on his shirt from where your tears had soaked through the fabric. One of his hands slid along the length of your shoulder, continuing upwards until he was lightly grasping underneath your jaw, his thumb affectionately brushing back and forth along the line of it.

“Look at me,” he said, the command so gentle it was more of a plea. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly your watery gaze left that damp spot on his shirt and returned to Frank’s face, taking in that tender look in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given you when he’d dropped down onto one knee and asked you to be his wife. It was a look he’d given you so often since that night. And right now that look was breaking down all the walls you’d been building to keep Frank out of your pain.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he assured you. “ Nothing . And there is absolutely nothing you need to be sorry about.”

His eyes quickly clamped shut, hurt briefly screwing up the features of his face as you silently watched him. When his eyes opened again, they held yours firmly with an intensity you didn’t see often in Frank. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, but it didn’t waver on a single word.

“Your body is not a graveyard,” he stated. “You hear me? What happened does not define you. It doesn’t make you a–a disappointment or a failure. You had no control over any of that. And you don’t owe me a single goddamn apology, sweetheart. Not a single fuckin’ one.”

“But you’re hurting, too,” you whispered.

Frank shrugged, your hands rising and falling with the movement as they still rested along his shoulders. He gave you a single, resolute nod of his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It hurt me to lose both of them, too. But it hurts me more to see how much you’re hurting. And I’m sittin’ here feeling like there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“You’ve already been doing so much for me,” you countered, shaking your head at him. “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through any of this without you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. Always ,” he assured you. “But do you still want this?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly nodded back at him. “Yes,” you answered. “I want this with you, Frank. More than anything.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you wanna keep trying? Or do you wanna look into other options?” he asked next. “Because I’m with you, whatever you want.”

Your arms slowly wrapped back around his shoulders, drawing him down towards you until his forehead was resting against yours. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the back of his cropped hair. Frank immediately leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. A small smile slipped onto your mouth when he pulled away.

“I want to keep trying,” you whispered. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a playful coyness in his voice.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of you in response as he wrapped his arms around you in another embrace. Turning to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes fell closed and you felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’m on my period, Frank,” you reminded him.

“So?” he asked. “Didn’t stop us those times before.”

Laughing lightly, you shook your head against him. “Probably not likely to result in a pregnancy,” you pointed out.

“Who says that’s the only reason I need to make love to my wife?” he countered.

Slowly you shifted in his arms, your chin coming to rest along Frank’s chest as you looked up at him. He drew a bit back from you, glancing down at you with a cheeky grin on his mouth. When you quirked a brow at him, he sent you a wink.

“Make love, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he replied with a smug smile. “Which reminds me, I got somethin’ for you.”

Brows curiously drawing together when Frank’s arms released you from their hold, your arms dropped to your sides as you watched him turn and head out of the bathroom. You followed out of the room behind him, Bear greeting you in the hallway with a wagging tail. You smiled down at him, giving him a quick pet on the head before you continued on your way towards the kitchen after Frank, wiping the backs of your hands against your damp cheeks. 

When you rounded the hallway corner, you spotted Frank in the kitchen holding a vase filled with a beautiful floral arrangement. Your jaw dropped as you came to an abrupt halt. The bouquet was a mixture of white, deep red, and pink flowers and you couldn’t take your eyes from it. It certainly looked like he’d stopped at a florist after he’d picked up the groceries because the arrangement was far nicer than what you’d find at the store. 

Eyes making their way up to Frank’s smiling face, you felt the tears beginning to well up in them again. Though this time it wasn’t because you were upset and hurting, it was because you were full of so much love for the man you’d been fortunate enough to marry.

“You brought me flowers?” you asked in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Seemed like you could use some cheering up. I also picked up one of those coffees you always order,” he continued, turning and gesturing at the cup on the kitchen counter behind him. “I know how much you love your coffee.”

Rapidly crossing the distance between you and Frank, you quickly reached up and grabbed his face in both of your hands before roughly pulling him down towards you. Your mouth was on his, kissing him like it was the first time you ever had all over again. His own lips were moving just as earnestly against yours, matching the same intensity as one of his hands landed on your hip, pulling you into him.

After a moment you broke away, trying to catch your breath as you stared up at Frank. He stood there, one hand holding your hip while the other continued to hold the vase of flowers, a bright smile spread wide over his mouth.

"I love you," you told him.

Leaning forward, Frank placed a kiss on your forehead. A smile grew along your mouth when his warm lips lingered against you. 

"I love you, too," Frank murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. 

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze before he released it, turning and setting the vase of flowers back onto the counter behind him. He picked up the cup of coffee before he turned back towards you, holding it out. You accepted it from him with a soft thanks before drawing the cup to your lips for a deep drink. Eyelids fluttering closed, you reveled in the comforting liquid as it ran over your tongue. 

"Somethin' you want to do this afternoon?" Frank asked. "'Cause I'm all yours the rest of the day."

Chewing your lip, you turned at the waist and looked over at Bear sitting in the space between the kitchen and living room. The moment your eyes fell on him he perked up, his head tilting to the side as his tail began to thump against the wood floor. Focusing back on Frank, you sent him a smile. 

"I'm happy to do whatever as long as I get to spend the afternoon with my two favorites," you told him. 

Frank’s attention shifted to Bear before he jutted his chin at the dog. "Hey boy, how's a long walk on that trail sound? You think a little family outing will cheer our girl up?" he asked. 

Bear let out two deep barks, rising up onto his feet. His front paws happily danced back and forth, his nails lightly clicking along the wood floor. You laughed at how excited he was, your gaze eventually drawn back to Frank standing just before you. 

"What do you say, sweetheart?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You up for a little family outing?" He gestured his chin at the coffee in your hands. "You can bring the coffee."

"I say that sounds like a good afternoon," you replied. 

Taking a step towards him, you tilted your face upwards. Frank immediately leaned down towards you, knowing exactly what you wanted and allowing you to press your lips to his in a light kiss. Your heart stuttered when you felt the way his mouth drew into a smile against yours before he broke away.

"And what about afterwards?" he asked, tone light and teasing as his face hovered just an inch from yours. "You up for a little love making in the shower?"

An amused snort fell out of you, Frank's smile only growing at the sound of it. Grinning back at him, you felt like some of the weight of your grief had lessened after finally opening up to Frank today. Not that the pain you felt had miraculously disappeared and the emotional wounds had suddenly healed over, but you didn't feel like you were drowning in it anymore. For the first time in months you felt like you could breathe a little easier. 

And you owed it to the man standing in front of you. 

But you also knew there was pain hiding behind those brown eyes gazing so fondly back at you. That Frank had his own hurt that needed to be addressed because he seemed to be doing the same thing you were–shoving it all down and pretending it wasn't there. You'd have to talk to him about it, ease him into opening up next. Maybe he'd be receptive on this walk since you'd both finally begun to talk.

Shrugging a shoulder lightly, you held the cup of coffee tighter between your hands. "I think that sounds like a great way to get cleaned up afterwards," you answered. 

Frank shot you a wink that had your cheeks heating, even after all this time together.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a note of pride in his voice. He tossed an arm around your shoulders, whistling over at Bear. "C'mon boy, we got a beautiful woman to cheer up."

There was a clear challenge laced in Frank’s words and in the arch of his brow, daring you to question the authenticity of his offer. He had never lied to you before, and he had no reason to start now. You also knew Frank would never be as cruel as to lead you on with false intentions. 

“No.”

“Then quit bein’ stubborn, and do as you’re told.”

It took everything in you to hold back the moan that threatened to slip at those words. Your body seemed to be obedient to Frank’s commands instead of your own, because you were abruptly rising from your seat, closing the short distance on wobbly legs to stand in front of Frank. He didn’t give you another chance to hesitate, large hands grabbing at your hips to pull you fully onto his lap, causing you to reach out and grip onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself. The teasing smirk that occupied his lips split into a proud grin at your reaction.

“Attagirl.”

Your eyes fell shut at the gravel of his praise hitting your ears, instinctively digging your nails into the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt as a heavy shudder left your lips.

“Look at me.”

As your eyes fluttered open, you noticed the intensity in Frank’s eyes had softened considerably. One of his large hands came up to seek out a home beneath your jaw, fingers curling around the back of your neck while his thumb traced your bottom lip carefully.

“This alright?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

The voice that left your lips didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. It was higher in pitch, nearly breathless, and overflowing with a need you’d never experienced before.

“The second it ain’t, you’ll tell me, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Frank leaned in slightly, and you thought he was going to kiss you, but confusion quickly settled between your brows when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead instead.

“What-”

All of a sudden Frank stood to his full height, and you immediately clung to him as he carried you down the hall towards his bedroom with both of his large hands securely placed on your ass.

“Wanna show you somethin’.”

A pout instantly formed on your lips when he put you back down onto your feet, shaking his head as he flipped the light switch on in his bedroom.

“Aw c’mon, don’t look at me like that. C’mere.”

“What are you doing?”

“Told you I wanna show you somethin’.”

Frank placed his hand on your lower back and guided you forward until you stood in front of his bed. You eyed him curiously as he looked down at you with a smirk, twisting your body around with his hands until you stood with your back to him. Your puzzlement only grew as you realized you and Frank were standing in front of his closet that had mirrors for doors. Catching his eye in your reflection, your breath hitched as Frank pulled you back firmly against his chest, and for the first time you were able to see just how much bigger than you he actually was. He had over a foot of height on you easily, and his frame was so broad compared to yours, the thought occurred to you that if Frank was standing in front of you, no one would be able to see you at all.

“Tell me what you see.”

“That you’re fucking huge, Frank.”

A cocky grin took over Frank’s mouth as he chuckled lowly, settling his hands on your waist and squeezing gently while shaking his head.

“You ain’t s’posed to be lookin’ at me, sweetheart.”

“How can I not?”

You weren’t sure where this boldness was coming from. Five minutes ago you thought you were gonna melt into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen when Frank called you pretty. Now, the way he was staring back at you in the reflection of the mirror had confidence igniting in your bloodstream. 

“Eyes on you.”

“But-”

“Thought you were my good girl, hm?”

Letting out a soft whine of frustration, you watched as Frank brought his hand up to grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head so that your view was on yourself.

“You see her?”

Giving a slight nod of your head, you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. 

“Ain’t she beautiful?”

Heat flushed through your cheeks as you nodded slightly again, resisting the urge to take Frank’s thumb into your mouth when he gently pried your lip from your teeth.

“C’mon baby, let me hear you. Tell me.”

“Y-yes.”

“See them beautiful eyes? Get lost in ‘em every time you look at me, sweetheart. And these pretty, soft lips? Always wondered if they tasted as good as they looked.”

“Frank-”

A low chuckle sounded near your ear when you let out a desperate whimper, and Frank pressed his thumb against your parted lips gently.

“You’re an impatient little thing, you know that? Didn’t I say I was gonna show you how pretty I thought you were? You gonna behave and let me?”

Letting your head fall back against Frank’s chest with another frustrated whine, you nodded your head furiously. He lightly tapped his thumb against your lips, causing you to open your eyes, and you watched as his fingers slipped just barely beneath the hem of the shirt you wore.

“Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

“Arms up, baby.”

Quickly lifting your arms above your head, you felt goosebumps erupt all over you as Frank’s warm fingertips lightly traced over your skin when he lifted your shirt to pull it over your head. Letting it drop to the floor, his eyes remained fixated on you as he lightly tapped the button on your jeans with his index finger.

“These too?”

“Frank, please.”

You should be embarrassed at how needy you sounded. He hadn’t hardly touched you, hadn’t even kissed you yet, and you were already a pathetic mess. Frank’s fingers easily popped the button on your jeans and tugged the zipper down at a pace that had your chest nearly heaving with anticipation. You sent a silent thanks up to whoever was listening that you had worn a decent cute pair of panties that somewhat matched your bra. As your jeans got caught around your knees, you were prepared to kick them off yourself, but Frank gripped firmly onto your waist and caught your gaze in the mirror.

“Let me.”

Even as he sank to his knees behind you to push the denim down your calves, his body still swallowed yours. A quiet whine caught in your throat at the sight of him rising back up to tower above you once your jeans were completely out of the way. His eyes hadn’t left yours once in the mirror, permanently fixated on you as he teasingly trailed the light touch of his fingers back up the path from your ankles up to your hips. 

“Where you s’posed to be lookin’?”

Quickly averting your gaze back to your own reflection, you felt heat spreading across your cheeks again, but it wasn’t due to desire this time. Frank kept one hand firmly on your hip as his other swiftly unhooked your bra behind your back, causing you to suck in a surprised gasp. He carefully pushed each strap down your shoulder until gravity took over, a low groan emitting in the back of his throat as your nipples instantly peaked from the change in temperature. Digging deep crescent moons into your palms, your hands twitched as you instinctively went to cover yourself, only halting when one of Frank’s large hands grasped both of your wrists to lock them in place.

“Don’t you dare.”

There was a warning in his voice that echoed in his eyes. You were almost completely exposed in front of Frank, and he wasn’t going to let you cower behind your hands. His lips parted slightly as he drank in your figure, eyes wandering over every single inch of your skin. He placed his palms on the outsides of your thighs, moving them upwards slowly to grab onto your full hips, brushing his scarred knuckles along the curves of your waist, and pressing the rough pads of his fingers into the softness of your stomach as his large hands nearly covered you completely. Frank lightly skimmed his thumbs over your nipples before cupping your breasts into his large hands and giving them a gentle squeeze. Your back arched as you pushed your chest further into his touch, letting out a slow moan of surprise as your ass pushed back against the hardness you felt straining against his jeans.

“You are so goddamn beautiful. Can’t you feel that?”

Frank trailed open mouthed kisses along your shoulder as he lazily teased your nipples with his fingers, attaching his lips to your neck to kiss and suck softly, occasionally sinking his teeth delicately into your skin. Your hips began to move of their own volition as you let your head fall back once more on his chest, grinding back against his erection as you gave him further access to your neck.

“That’s it, baby. Move that ass against me, just like that. Love this fuckin’ ass.”

Frank nearly growled in your ear as his right palm came down in a sudden smack, causing you to let out a needy whimper. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you backwards, pressing one final kiss to your neck as he sat down on the bed behind you. Blinking a few times, you stared at him in the mirror, the ache between your thighs becoming unbearable at the wildness in his eyes.

“I ain’t done lookin’ at you, yet.”

Frank looped his fingers beneath the edges of your panties, tugging them down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles. His hands were back on you in a flash, dragging you down onto his lap and spreading your thighs apart, pushing your legs over his massive thighs until your knees were on the outsides of his. A husky moan reverberated in his chest and it had you clenching around nothing. Looking at him in the mirror, your mouth nearly fell open at the reflection of him licking his lips while staring at your glistening pussy like a man yearning for his last meal.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re so fuckin’...I do that to you, baby?”

Frank lightly dug the pads of his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs as he grabbed them, moving them inwards to touch the wetness that slicked your inner thighs. The featherlight contact had your hips chasing his touch, mewling as you gripped onto his muscular thighs and pleaded pathetically.

“Please Frankie…please…just…touch me. I can’t…need it, please. Need-”

A shockwave jolted your body forward as his thumb applied the tiniest bit of pressure to your clit. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest, pressing his cheek to yours as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Easy, baby. Gonna make you feel good, I promise. Want you to watch. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? C’mon, open those pretty eyes. Let me see ‘em.”

Opening your eyes slowly, you stared at Frank in the mirror with parted lips, face contorting into an expression of agony as his hand hovered over where you wanted it most. He kissed along your jawline softly, flashing you a quick toothy grin.

“There she is. There’s my pretty girl. Want you to watch, yeah?”

You nodded your head frantically, feeling the denim of Frank’s jeans getting caught beneath your nails from how hard you were gripping onto his thick thighs. He dipped two fingers into the source of your wetness, easily gliding them up to begin rubbing slow circles around your sensitive nub. You had been so worked up this entire time, you thought you were going to combust already. 

“Frankie-”

“I know, baby. I know. S’alright. You can have whatever you want.”

You were absolutely fucking mesmerized as you watched him touch you in the mirror. Frank had you propped between his legs like a cello, one hand firmly gripped onto the curve of your waist, while his other moved back and forth, using two fingers to play you to a piece of his own creation, eliciting a melody of notes from your lips that only encouraged him to play with even more precision. The second he slipped one of his thick fingers inside you, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head. If that was how only one of his fingers felt…

“Oh my god, Frank-”

“Look so fuckin’ beautiful like this, baby. Sound so goddamn pretty sayin’ my name like that.”

Frank slipped another finger inside you, coaxing a loud moan from the depth of your chest at the stretch. You chased his touch with your hips as he flattened his palm against your core, thumb still strumming at your clit while his fingers curled upwards in a beckoning manner over and over, inviting you to follow him to the edge of your release.

“Please please please…”

“Attagirl, keep movin’ those hips like that. Don’t gotta wait on me, baby. You let go when you’re ready.”

“Frankie…I….oh…”

“Could watch you all goddamn day like this. C’mon baby, let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart. Let me hear my name, sweetheart. You can have it, it’s yours. C’mon baby, take it.”

Frank disappeared completely from your view as your orgasm crashed over you like a merciless wave wiping out a sandcastle, sending the remnant pieces of your body back into the comforting tide of his strong chest. His name fell from your lips over and over and over like it was the only word you knew. Frank’s voice sounded distant as his honey sweet words dripped into your ear, his strong arms enveloping you like a warm blanket, rocking you delicately on his lap as you languidly drifted down from the cloud he’d catapulted you onto. 

Something warm and plush settled against your lips, and it took your brain a moment to register that it was Frank’s mouth finally against yours. A soft noise of recognition sounded in your throat and Frank pulled back slightly with a grin, brushing his large nose against yours.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

“You kissed me.”

“Did a lot more than that.”

A blush bloomed furiously on your cheeks, and Frank chuckled as you tried to hide your face into his bicep.

“Ah ah, no hidin’. Not from me.”

“Frankie, I’m…very naked.”

“Mhm, lucky me.”

Tilting your head slightly to get a better look at him, you gently caressed his jaw and pursed your lips into a full pout.

“And you’re very clothed. That’s not exactly fair.”

“Aw, hell. Quit lookin’ at me like that.”

Frank grumbled under his breath as he leaned in to quickly kiss your pout away, easily managing to flip your bodies over and trap you beneath his large form as he pinned you to the mattress beneath him. Despite the size difference between your bodies, Frank fit so perfectly against you that it almost made you want to cry. You weren’t sure if it was the leftover tequila in your blood, the haze of pure bliss starting to dissipate, or that tiny voice of insecurity shouting in your head again, but your emotions were swirling around hazardously like a tornado threatening to tear everything apart, and you needed an answer.

“Frankie?”

The vulnerability in your voice had him snapping his attention to your face, and whatever he saw had that flame that had been burning in his eyes extinguished with a sudden chill of something resembling fear. 

“You…you mean this, right?”

“What?”

“This…it’s not…not just because we’ve been drinking, right?”

“Sweetheart-”

“You’re not doing this because you feel sorry for me, are you?”

“Sorry for you? What-hold on, where’s this comin’ from?”

“I don’t know, Frank. You tell me. Where is this coming from?”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he gazed down at you, shaking his head slowly as a tiny smile took over the side of his mouth.

“Ya’know, if you spent half as much time payin’ attention as you did talkin’, you woulda had this answer a long time ago.”

A deep furrow settled between your brows at Frank’s response, and the crypticness of it had irritation flooding your system. 

“What the hell does that-”

Frank chuckled against your mouth as he cut you off with a kiss, wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists to place your palm over his heart.

“Here, baby. It’s comin’ from here.”

“But I don’t-”

From what you had seen, Frank’s cabin was cozy and warm, but since your arrival half an hour ago, you’d only had the luxury of soaking in the tub while Frank took care of unloading the car. He’d insisted on doing it alone, claiming his girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything, and honestly after the week you’d had, you were temporarily glad he was as stubborn as a mule. You were sure that sentiment would fade the next time you were feeling bratty, but for now, you tried your best to relax and forget what an awful week it had been at work.

The heat of the bath water sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine, enticing a low groan from your lips. Sinking further into the water, you realized just how big the tub was. It stretched at least six feet across and was almost deep enough to stand, clearly a custom made feature of the cabin. You supposed Frank probably needs the room, being as large a man as he is. Still, it felt like you were in a luxurious hot tub, rather than a regular bathtub.

“There’s a button to turn on the jets if you want ‘em.”

Frank’s gentle voice carried across the bathroom, startling you from your relaxed state. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned, eyeing his powerful figure as he made his way toward you and sat on the edge of the tub. It was easy to get lost in the way he moved, and you tried your best to not stare at the muscles straining against the black longsleeve he was wearing.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to softly run his knuckles along the curve of your damp cheek. He was always gentle with you, but the desire to take care of you was even more present in his eyes than usual. It really had been a shitty week.

“This place is amazing.” You said in awe, turning your face away to hide your grin. His hand, already knowing what you were trying to do, softly gripped your jaw and turned it back to face him.

“You barely saw the place.” He chuckled.

“Whose fault is that?” You raised an eyebrow at him and sat up, fully exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes briefly flicked down to your nipples, hardening as the cool air touched them, before returning his gaze upwards. “Get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He nodded and stood, but began walking in the opposite direction of the bath. You furrowed your brow, watching him tug his shirt off and throw it on the counter. When he saw your expression, he grinned.

“Hang on. I brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” You called after him, but he was already moving again.

He disappeared through the doorway, generating even more confusion, before returning with an assembly of things tucked under his arms. You watched as he worked his way around the room, placing various objects here and there until finally he flicked off the lights and turned to face you again.

The room was now aglow with flickering candle light, coating Frank’s looming figure in a warm haze. He’d gone for mostly unscented, knowing how strong smells could give you headaches, but had left in a few lavender candles because he knew how much it relaxed you. He also managed to sneak an entire bottle of champagne into the car without you noticing, of which he was pouring into two flutes. You blinked back tears as he handed you your glass, unable to express how warm your chest felt at the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

“Frank.” You murmured, smiling bashfully, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

“‘s what you deserve.” He shrugged, stepping out of the rest of his clothes. 

He sank into the tub next to you, tugging your body against his in a swift motion. He sat with his back against the edge, allowing you to easily settle your knees on either side of his thighs, facing him in the dim room. You sat just a little taller than him at this angle - chest pressed against his warm skin, arms resting on his broad shoulders - and God, he looked divine. The drive had taken a few hours, just long enough for the stubble to return to his cheeks after this morning’s shave, giving him a rugged look that you thought was just so handsome. You were unable to resist the temptation of running your nails over it in a soft scratch, eliciting a groan from deep in Frank’s chest. The rumble reverberated through your chest as you pressed yourself fully against him, seeking more of his affection. He tugged your head down onto his shoulder and began running his fingers along the base of your neck in a soothing pattern.

“You never answered my question earlier.” He murmured, resting his jaw against your head. “You okay, sweet girl?”

You sighed, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as you mulled over your feelings. You were a sensitive soul to begin with, and your boss had been on edge all morning when he finally snapped at you for something you had no control over, which ultimately had you tearing up for the rest of the day. When you’d walked through the door crying, Frank’s eyes flashed violently between anger at your boss and sympathy for you. The sympathy had won, and now you were in a beautiful cabin in upstate New York, wrapped in his strong arms. Still, you weren’t sure how you were going to deal with your boss’ temper when you returned to work on Monday.

“I don’t know,” you finally replied, shrugging, “Can you ask me again later?”

You felt his cheeks widen into a small grin. He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t think I won’t.” He teased, calling you on your avoidant tendencies before you could even notice them yourself.

“How long have you had this place?” You wondered, nuzzling into his heated skin.

“I bought it a few months after Maria and the kids.” He said softly, almost whispering when he had to relay his wife’s name aloud. “Thought maybe I was done with the city. Change can be good, ya’ know?”

“But you came back.” You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. 

“But I came back.” He parroted, nodding. “And then I met you.”

“And you stayed.” You finished for him.

“Of course I stayed. Couldn’t leave you behind, sweet girl. ‘ve been sweet on you since the day I met you.”

This was true. From the moment you’d met, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind toward you. You had no idea, of course, that this type of behavior was incredibly far away from Frank Castle’s usual attitude until you’d met Matt Murdock, who was so shocked at Frank’s subdued personality and general softness around you that Frank had to physically close Matt’s gaping jaw for him.

“But you never sold the place?” You questioned.

“I figured we might need somewhere to run away to every once in a while. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about it before today? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely worried that he might’ve upset you.

“How could I be mad when I’m sitting in this enormous tub, surrounded by candles and champagne, pressed up against the man of my dreams?”

He smiled then, and you could tell it was a genuine smile because of the way his cheeks dimpled at the corner of his laugh lines. It was an award winning smile, you thought. You gently set the empty champagne glasses on the edge of the tub before cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“My Frankie,” you mumbled, running your thumbs across his cheekbones, “What would I do without you?”

You really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but every time you looked at him, you felt yourself being pulled closer and closer to him. His compassion and kindness toward you, even after everything he’d been through, was something you couldn’t avoid leaning into. All your life you’d been taking care of others, and finally, here was someone begging to take care of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? ’m here to stay.” He mumbled, bringing the pads of your fingertips to his lips for individual, soft kisses. “I love you, and ‘m gonna take care of you forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as an overwhelming rush of emotion passed over you. In your arms was a man that should’ve been bitter and angry at the world around him. He had earned the right to become spiteful and hardened, and no one could fault him for that. And yet - and yet - in your arms was a man that loved you with his entire being. Who understood you at your core, saw the dark parts of you, and loved those parts even more. Who was soft for no one but you. Who you loved, too.

A tear slid down your cheek as you kissed him, long and slow and sensual because you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He smiled into the kiss, cradling your head with his beautiful, calloused hands. It wasn’t enough. You needed his gentle touch everywhere. Pressing yourself against him, you felt yourself sliding along his achingly hard cock, raising the already warm temperature in the room to searing. Heat pulsed between your legs, begging to be touched.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before following the curve of your jawline to your neck, “My pretty, sensitive girl.”

The praise made your head swim. You rocked your hips again, sliding along his length until you were hovering directly over him, waiting for the go ahead to sink down. He grunted, pressing open mouthed kisses up your throat before coaxing your hips lower and lower. You gasped when he finally pushed into you, and Frank took the opportunity to lick the inside of your gaping mouth as he did so. You shuttered against him, wanting everything he had to offer and more.

“P-please, Frankie.” You murmured, arching your back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He breathed, wrapping one of his enormous hands around the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him as you rode him. His other arm was wrapped around your torso, tugging your hips forward and back to stimulate your clit against the base of his cock. It was such an erotic way to be held that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He leaned his head against your forehead and kissed the tears that made their way down your flushed skin. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I l-love you.” You purred, stuttering as he made his way down your body, kissing everywhere he could reach. When he got to your pebbled nipples, you sucked in a sharp breath. He knew exactly how to get you off, and he was staring right at them.

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to each of your nipples, eliciting a pornographic moan from deep in your chest. 

He continued to push and pull your hips in a steady rhythm, grinding your clit against his pelvis as you bounced up and down his length. Slowly, in a teasing manner that had a new wave of fresh, needy tears streaming down your cheeks, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive nub. You whined with impatience as he pulled away, only to offer the same kitten lick to your other breast. You knew he would take care of you like he always did, but his teasing was making your entire body tremble with anticipation. 

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing the valley between your breasts, “‘t’s okay, baby. Be patient. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a mewl. You felt the hand Frank had been using to hold your head steady loosen its grip, and suddenly, he was softly wiping the tears away from under your eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re doing so good for me, bunny.” He murmured, and you very nearly came at the pet name he loved to praise you with. “‘m gonna make you feel real good, okay?”

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “Need you.”

That was all it took for Frank to finally snap. In one swift motion, he wrapped his lips around your breast and began to run his tongue across your sensitive nipple. His hand traveled from cradling your cheek to rubbing small, sloppy circles around your pulsing clit. You keened, overcome with so much pleasure that you felt your entire body trembling against Frank’s.

The bathroom was big enough for your soft moans to echo, and other than the sloshing of the bath water, that was the sound Frank heard as you came apart on top of him. Your head was spinning as the heat in your gut finally found its release, uncoiling in waves of overwhelming pleasure that sent you reeling. 

“That’s it,” he breathed, “Just like that, pretty girl. You’re so good for me, baby.”

His fingers hadn’t stopped circling your clit. You were quickly growing overstimulated and conflicted, wanting nothing more than to keep riding him while also needing to get away from his dexterous and sinful fingers. He watched you for a moment, in awe - the way your lips parted every time a moan slipped out of your mouth, the heaving of your chest as your heart rate tried and failed to return to normal, the intense trembling of your limbs every time he circled your clit. He wasn’t worthy. He knew that. He didn’t care. He’d take care of you for as long as you’d let him, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

“F-Frankie,” you stuttered in between heaving breaths, “I can’t- I’m- It’s sensitive.”

“Shh, sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and up your neck, “Can you give me one more, bunny? Be good and give me one more.”

You shuttered against him, resting your forehead against his and breathing out a sultry whine. He continued his onslaught of kisses along your jawline, following the upward curve of your chin until his lips were on yours again. His agile tongue swept into your mouth mid-moan, sending heat into your already molten core.

“Wanna feel you come around me again, baby.” He groaned and tightened his hold around your torso, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing your mouth in his again. 

He had brought you to the brink again already. You squeezed around him, earning a rare groan from Frank. The usually stoic and quiet man let out another sinful moan when you arched your back and squeezed again. He was as close as you were to the edge, and God, the tension was palpable. 

Finally, in a moment of pure bliss, he nipped at your bottom lip and let out a soft, barely there whimper, which sent you careening off the edge and into oblivion. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you came, but your head had been sent straight to a euphoric haze. Your heart thundered in your chest as Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight against his chest, coming inside your sensitive, throbbing pussy. 

You’d both worked yourselves into a haze, high off each other’s touch. The comedown was gentle and warm - soft caresses of each other’s skin, chaste kisses pressed to collarbones and fingertips, thundering heartbeats slowing in unison. The bath water was surprisingly still warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into Frank’s chest with languorous, droopy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, running his fingers up the length of your spine.

You nodded into his chest, sighing. “I’m perfect.”

“‘m glad.” He responded, kissing your forehead lightly. “‘m sorry you had such a rough week.”

“I’m not.” You giggled, glancing around at the luxurious bathtub you were in. “This place is like a dream.”

He held you tighter against him, resting his chin on your head before responding. 

“You don’t know the half of it, pretty girl.”

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @22carolina08 @nashja @xshewayout @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @chaoticevilbakugo @charmed-asylum @xleiaorgana @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @babyslyth @legocity2

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Honestly, he's stunned.

Doesn't matter how close you two are, his reaction will be the same; internally, he's panicking but on the outside? He's cold.

Probably would disappear for a while to think.

I don't think he necessarily didn't want kids - more so that he didn't want his child to end up growing up how he did, and so decided that he actively wouldn't pursue having any.

But naturally, life doesn't always work out like that.

He'd absolutely want to be a part of the child's life, he wouldn't up and leave, but it would take him a lot of time and effort to figure out how he was going to voice his concerns to you.

Doesn't like being vulnerable in any way shape or form, and talking about his past is something he avoids at all costs.

Simon wants to be able to be open with you and tell you everything but Ghost wants to shut himself off and keep it to himself.

He'd probably reappear out of the blue after a few days - wouldn't be surprised or annoyed if you were angry at him for disappearing, he expects it.

It would probably be further along in your pregnancy before he would start talking about his past - mainly snippets about how his father raised him, and why he'd been so distant with you.

He'd be the type to just watch you as you sleep - not in a creepy way, you just look so peaceful - and his eyes would trail over your growing bump, knowing that you were carrying his child and he would do anything to keep you safe.

Wouldn't want you going anywhere by yourself, especially when you're closer to your due date; doesn't trust people in general, especially strangers, so if he can't go with you he'd probably ask Johnny or one of the Team to go with you.

Feels the baby kick for the first time and he can't speak. Literally can't get a word out. There's this cocktail of emotions churning in his stomach, and all he can do is keep his hand on your bump, thumbing over the skin where he could feel his child moving.

This guy would probably scare the shit out of the Doctors when you go for your ultrasound appointments - he doesn't even say a word, he's just this hulking figure dressed in black sitting in the chair next to you, gaze burning through everyone else in the room.

He'd probably be deployed when you gave birth - would be as angry as a bear in a cage when he found out, chomping at the bit to get back to you.

The first time he held the baby, all wrapped up in their little blankets, he felt his heart swell.

They were so small in his arms, big eyes peering up at him in wonder at their Dad's face.

So innocent and pure, not yet hurt by the world.

He felt a tug in his stomach as he remembered how he felt when he held his nephew for the first time…

And he made a promise to both you and his little one that he would never let anyone hurt you or take you away from him.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

His first reaction? "Ah shite."

Now don't take that as him being angry or annoyed - he's not, he's just surprised. It's a knee jerk reaction.

Regardless if it was a one-night stand or you've been together for a while, he's going to be equal parts shocked and amazed at the prospect of being a Dad.

He'd thought about the prospect of having a family before but with his job, he just didn't think it was a possibility.

Goes with you to every appointment - if he's deployed, he phones and texts you when he can, asking how you and the "wee one" are doing.

Carries an ultrasound picture in his wallet and is definitely the type of guy who shows the Team every time it comes up in conversation - Ghost acts annoyed but was secretly honoured when Johnny said that he could be "Uncle Ghost."

The Team - well, mainly Soap, Gaz and sometimes Price - would try and decide on a nickname for the little one for when they were born; they decided on 'Suds,' since Soap and Suds sounded cool.

He's not really bothered about what gender the baby will be - a mini version of either of you would be amazing in his eyes, and as long as they're a happy and healthy baby that's all he could ever want.

Absolutely panics when you go into labour - and probably would faint at least once in the delivery room.

If you ended up having a caesarean section, his face would be absolutely priceless - he's no stranger to blood and gore, but the fact that you're awake and talking to him while your insides are being moved around makes him queasy.

Definitely cried when he held the baby for the first time - and wouldn't let them go for a while.

Captain John Price

Now this was something he wasn't expecting at all.

He's an older guy, and considering his role in the military and his lifestyle in general he didn't think he would ever have kids of his own.

Would be protective of you from the get-go, wouldn't let you do any heavy lifting or anything strenuous.

Probably wouldn't tell the Team outright - it would end up randomly coming up in conversation and they all would be so amazed and confused since they had no idea.

Absolutely dotes on you throughout your pregnancy - rubs your feet, gets you any foods or drinks that you're craving, even does that thing where he lifts your bump from behind to give you a reprieve from the weight.

Would love to have a son but would be equally as overjoyed if you had a daughter.

Definitely packs your maternity bag well in advance of your due date - everything is crisply folded and organised, showing his military training.

He's easily the most calm out of everyone when you go into labour - he may have cringed a bit when he saw the epidural needle but you didn't see anything.

I can see him as the Dad who doesn't do babytalk, but he doesn't speak to the baby like an adult either - he just chats away to them while they're bundled up against his chest, little hand wrapped around his thumb.

Yep, they'd absolutely have him wrapped around their finger from day one.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Similarly to Soap, his initial reaction is basically “oh shit.”

He’s still quite young, and he’d never thought that far ahead in his future about settling down and having a family, so he’s gobsmacked.

Gradually warms up to the idea of being a Dad - he’d probably end up going to Price for advice, and his Captain was secretly flattered.

His face lights up and a smile spreads across his face when you guys went for your first scan appointment; seeing the baby, like a little jelly bean on the screen, made things feel so much more real.

Eventually tells the Team - Soap pats him on the back, and may or may have not asked if he can be “Uncle Soap.”

Inwardly melts when he sees the baby shoes - they’re so tiny.

I can see him as the type of guy who buys little shoes that match ones he has - him and the baby would he fashion icons.

Absolutely shits himself when you go into labour - no amount of preparation was helping him in the moment, he almost forgot to lift the maternity bag on the way out the door.

Holds the baby with the upmost care - at first he was a bit awkward because it had been a while since he’d even been around a child, but once you showed him how to hold them properly, he was golden.

Like Price, the baby has him wrapped around their tiny fingers from the jump, and he promises to protect them from anything the world could throw their way.

Alejandro Vargas

He's a passionate man so regardless of whether it was a fling or if you had been together for a long time, he's ecstatic.

Rudy is probably the first person he tells, his friend patting him on the back in congratulations.

Definitely would already start looking at baby names - he'd have a list.

Very protective, doesn’t like you going anywhere on your own and only trusts certain people to be around you, especially when you’re in your third trimester.

Rudy is number one in his list of trusted people, alongside 141; it’s so strange seeing these hulking, intimidating men become so soft and caring around you.

I reckon he’d hope for a baby girl - he’s love his child endlessly regardless of their gender but something about being a girl Dad just fits him so well.

If the baby did end up being a girl though, he’s going to be her personal bodyguard - doesn’t matter if she’s 13 or 30, nobody will be messing with his daughter.

If the baby ended up being a boy, he’d be equally as happy - having a mini version of himself around the house would be adorable.

You’d have to try and tell him to stop buying baby clothes - every time he’d go to the store to get you whatever foods you were craving, he’d come back with a million different outfits and little shoes, and honestly you guys were running out of space to put it all.

Carries the ultrasound pictures with him but only shows those who he can trust - so, mainly Rudy and some of the other members of Los Vaqueros.

Can’t stop smiling when he sees the baby for the first time, it’s surprising that his cheeks aren’t sore.

Tries not to be the overbearing Dad but watches others like a hawk when they’re holding the baby.

He’s honestly just so delighted to be a Dad.

Rudy Parra

He’s a quiet guy, so his reaction is a lot more contained in comparison to his comrade, Alejandro.

Asks if you’re sure, a small smile on his lips.

He’s excited at the prospect of being a Dad but is also worried that you or the baby would be in danger considering his line of work.

Tells Alejandro - his comrade is bursting with excitement, congratulating his friend.

You’d have the whole of Los Vaqueros and 141 ready to protect you, quelling Rudy’s fears a bit.

Doesn’t like you doing any heavy lifting and always either offers to do it for you or, as if he read your mind, goes ahead and does it for you.

Would probably try some of your pregnancy craving foods - some of them he liked, others, well he tried not to judge you too hard for your choices.

His arm is always wrapped around your waist, hand wresting on your bump, especially when you’re out somewhere; it makes him feel less anxious knowing your beside him, so he knows you’re safe.

Doesn’t really mind what gender the baby would be, hasn’t really given it much thought.

If he was deployed when you gave birth, he’d be fighting tooth and nail to get back to you.

Doesn’t let the baby go when he does - would lay next to you in bed on his back with the baby on his chest.

Does that a lot actually - you’d walk into the living room and he’d be out cold, baby sleeping away on his chest, bundled in their little blankets.

Honestly would be the best Dad

König

Similarly to Ghost, he's petrified.

He's thought about settling down one day, living the white picket fence life, having a few kids - but he rationally knew that it probably wouldn't happen like that.

As soon as you tell him that you're pregnant, he has to sit down otherwise he'd probably faint.

He's terrified of hurting you or the baby with his strength, so he'd probably close himself off for a bit to think.

Cries when he sees the scan pictures of the baby for the first time - his child.

I reckon he's still very close to his family, namely his Mother, back home and so he'd be trying to figure out the best way to tell her that she's going to be a Grandmother.

His heart melts when he sees the little baby outfits you'd picked out - the little soft-soled shoes look even smaller in the palm of his hand.

He was already protective of you before but the bigger your bump gets, the more he's practically glued to your hip.

Always worries about you when he gets deployed - he's even more vicious and calculative on the field now that he knows that he has to make it home to you and the baby.

When you go into labour, he almost has a panic attack.

He's practically running around the house trying to find the maternity bag -- it was under the bed.

Holds your hand the entire time, doesn't complain at all when you practically crush his hand during contractions.

He's almost scared to hold the baby once they're born; the Nurse hands them over to him, swaddled in their little blankets, and he handles them like they're made of glass.

Starts sobbing when he notices that they have his eyes.

Rick merely nodded and quickly disappeared around the corner to greet whoever was waiting outside. A few moments later, you heard the click of the lock being undone and the hair-raising creek of the door being opened.

Oiling the hinges had been on the bucket list every since you arrived a few weeks back, but you still hadn't gotten around to it because you were busy looking after other people's kids in the daycare with Carol and Rick was always out 'doing his duty' as sheriff.

You could just make out the sound of Rick's voice over the bubbling pot of soup beside you, which was soon followed by the melody of a woman's laugh. Her voice rang clear and smooth as she said something about... scissors?

"My kit is back home, but I'd be more than happy to give you a trim - you know, like a housewarming gift, except instead of casserole you get a haircut." You heard the lady say through the wall, which was then accompanied by Rick's chuckle.

It was an unusual but thoughtful gesture, you thought. Besides, you supposed it would make Rick happy since he has been complaining about his mop of untamable hair for weeks, and he refused point-blank to have any non-professional anywhere near his head ever since the Prison when Maggie accidentally set the shaver setting too high and buzzed a stripe through the centre of his head.

---

Throughout the following few weeks, you noticed a gradual change in Rick. He seemed to grow distant and less affectionate. At first, you put it down to the stress of his new job as sheriff - he would be out from six in the morning and would come back at eight o'clock at night, drained and half-asleep.

Multiple times you tried to get him to take a day off and rest, but he insisted that he had to perform his duty and protect the Alexandrians. Deciding it was futile to argue any further, you dropped the subject and opted to just hope that a bolt of lightning would strike some sense into Rick before he worked himself to death.

It was a few days later when you finally connected the dots. When you finally pieced the story together - and you did not like the outcome:

You were crouched over a planting bed, grime smeared all over your clothes and your face dripped with sweat as the sun scorched your back. You had been sowing tomato seeds into the fertile soil for over two hours, and at long last, the end was in sight. A groan escaped your lips as you stood up and stretched, popping your stiff joints.

You glanced up at the sun and guessed it was around three o'clock judging by its position. You gathered up your belongings and made for the daycare to help Carol get the kids back home.

That was another topic you and Rick were discussing - kids. Ever since you began helping out at the daycare, you longed to have a kid of your own, it seemed to be an ache in your chest that grew stronger every time you stepped into the daycare classrooms to see the bright little faces smiling up at you.

You wanted someone to love, hold, and protect. Yes, you helped raise Carl and you loved him with your whole heart, but he wasn't yours. Not really. Yet ever since Rick started working longer hours, he did not seem interested in the topic of kids anymore. Each time you brought up the topic, he would brush it off or say 'we can talk about it tomorrow' but he never would.

As you made your way up the steps of the daycare, you heard an all too familiar laugh echo through the street. When you turned to look behind you, a heavy feeling formed in your stomach. There was Rick, laughing with his full chest. His blue eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners, he no longer looked tired, drained and annoyed.

What made your stomach drop was the fact that beside him stood Jessie, her silky blonde hair was tied back and she was gripping Rick's arm as she laughed along with him. Jessie's little boy Sam was skipping along beside them and was in the process of demonstrating how his paper plane worked.

They looked like a happy family. Rick looked happy.

It felt like a brick wall of enlightenment slammed straight into your face. How did you not see it before, when everything seemed so obvious now? All the pieces fell into place. You did not want to think about what that could mean, it was too heartbreaking, but one question kept repeating in your mind: Did Rick still love you?

---

More days passed and you continued to brood over your suspicions. When you questioned Rick about what he was doing every day, he would just say he was working and would completely gloss over the part where he would walk Jessie and Sam back home every day after daycare.

You only found out about this when Carol informed you, and of course, this sent alarm bells ringing in your mind. You began to question yourself - were you just being jealous? Or was there something else going on? And once again, that damn question lingered in the back of your mind: Did Rick still love you?

Each time you passed by Jessie's house on your way to work, you could feel your chest tighten. You once liked the hairdresser, she was nice and kind and always looked out for Carl. But now the mere thought of her left a bitter taste in your mouth. And the worst part of it all was how nice she acted towards you. She would flash her perfect white smile at you when you walked by and acted as sweet as an angel. It would have made your brooding so much easier if she acted like a bitch.

Hell, maybe you were just jealous of her, after all, she had everything you didn't. Jessie was flawless, she had smooth skin that seemed to glow in the sunlight, silky hair, a bright smile and pretty eyes, two sons of her own and the thing that hurt you most of all - the affection and attention of your husband.

It was hard to miss how Rick's face would light up at the mention of Jessie's name, or how he had that glint in his eyes when he talked to her, the same glint that he used to have when you began dating.

You spent too many nights lying awake next to your husband, with silent tears dripping down your cheeks at the thought that he was slipping away, right through your hands and you couldn't do anything to stop it. Despite all that you had been through with Rick, all the hardships, losses and breakdowns, you felt for the first time that you weren't important to him anymore.

And that is how you found yourself on your brothers' doorstep one early morning. You had gotten into a fight with Rick the night before and he had disappeared all night. You could guess where he probably crashed for the night.

You raked a hand through the mess of hair that you didn't bother to comb and knocked three times. You weren't sure what you were even going to say, all you knew was that you needed some big brotherly love. Within a few moments, you heard footsteps approach and the door swung open.

"What the hell do ya' want at this time in the morn-" Daryl paused midsentence when his eyes landed on your tear-stained and sleep-deprived face. "Y/n? Wha's the matter?"

Your own voice betrayed you and all you could manage to string together was an incoherent jumble of words. Before you could even attempt to pull yourself together, you were engulfed in a bone-squeezing hug. You closed your eyes and clutched onto your brother's (rather mucky) shirt.

"S'pose you'll want to come in an' talk?" Daryl said, swaying you from side to side slightly. You managed a muffled 'yeah' before pulling back.

"C'mon in, and take a seat," Daryl said, closing the door before leading you towards the living room. "Tell me who I need ta' bloody up."

---

You sat perched at the edge of the sofa and watched as Daryl paced around the room, muttering profanities under his breath. You began to question whether or not it was a good idea to vent to Daryl about your concerns because he looked like he could murder a man twice over.

"That prick. He better not be doin' what ya' think he is or I'll send him to meet J.C myself." Daryl fumed, coming to a stop in front of you.

"I hope not either." You looked down at your hands. You really hoped you were just overthinking everything.

"I'll sort him out," Daryl said finally, and you shot your head up with wide eyes.

"What are you going to do?" You asked, eyeing your brother with slight hesitation.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If he is actually a cheatin' bastard, I'll knock his teeth out. If he's not and this is all a misunderstanding, I'll slap him for making my little sister upset."

"Right," You said slowly. "Please don't be too, you know...harsh?"

The only response you got was a grunt and a mumbled 'see ya' later' before Daryl made his way out the front door.

--

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, eyes flicking to the clock that seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was nearing midnight and Rick was still not home. All sorts of possibilities crossed your mind, and you just prayed Daryl hadn't made you a widow.

A yawn wracked your body and you could feel your heavy eyelids begin to droop. Deciding that you had waited up for Rick long enough, you stood up and grabbed a fresh shirt and shorts and laid them on your bed before heading towards the shower.

You thought a nice hot shower before going to bed would calm your ragged nerves.

You stripped off your garments and left them strewn across the bathroom tiles whilst you waited for the water to heat up. At last, you stepped into the shower, a sigh escaping your lips when the hot water hit your stiff muscles.

You first started working on your hair. You slathered on shampoo and began scrubbing your scalp and working out any knots, before continuing onto the rest of your body.

Ten minutes later you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your favourite red towel that Rick had picked up for you on a run a few weeks back. You picked up your dirty clothes and headed out of the bathroom, only to stop dead in your tracks when your eyes landed on the bed.

There was Rick, sitting perched on the end with a bouncing knee and clasped hands. So, Daryl didn't murder him after all. Though, on Rick's cheek, you could see a bruise begin to form.

"Guess you crossed paths with my brother." You said, folding your arms as you glared at the man in front of you.

"Yeah," Rick said, finally meeting your eyes. "Yeah I did."

"And what happened? Where were you? Do you even know how worried Carl was because his dad was missing!" You said, tears pricking your eyes as Rick stood up.

"Y/n, I can explain. I was-"

"Do you know how worried sick I have been? Worried that you are away doing God knows what with her." You cut him off and at last, your tears began to stream down your cheeks. "Do you even love me anymore, Rick? Because if you love Jessie, you can't have us both!"

Rick looked stunned as he stared at you with wide eyes. It seemed to take him a few seconds to register what you said and a look of panic swept his features.

"Y/n, no it's not like that, I swear. Of course, I love you! Of course, I do! You're the only woman I want." Rick urged as he stepped closer and placed a hand on your damp shoulder. "Daryl told me about what you told him and I'm so, so sorry that you felt like that. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I just wanted Deanna and the rest of the Alexandrians to trust us by working hard. I love you."

"And Jessie? Do you love her?" You said, arms still folded, though your glare began to soften.

"No, I don't love Jessie. I was just trying to look out for her and her family because her husband seems to be an absolute asshole to them. As I said, I only love you." Rick said, his pleading blue eyes locked on yours.

"So..." You trailed off, shoulders relaxing. "You still want a family with me?"

"Absolutely." Rick didn't hesitate in answering. "I just want to make sure this place is safe before we have any more little feet running around. God knows Carl has aged me ten years."

A smile ghosted your lips as you pulled Rick into hug. You could feel his whole body relax into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, Rick." You said, resting your head against his chest. "And sorry for Daryl punching you."

"You have nothing to apologise for, love. And I had that punch coming anyway." Rick said when you pulled back slightly to inspect his cheek.

"I'm sure the bruising will go down soon." You said and gently pressed your lips against Rick's. His lips felt warm and soft against yours, rendering you breathless. Much to your relief, Rick took control of the kiss by wrapping his strong arms around your waist, pulling your frame flush against his chest. Just as you began to relax into the kiss, Rick pulled away, though only a little. 

"How about I make it up to you?" He whispered into your hot lips.

"I'd like that." You whispered back, forming a faint smirk. Again, Rick's head dipped down and captured your lips in his.

Your breathing got heavier when he began moving his hands down your body, trailing his fingers over your breasts, down your stomach, coming to a stop at the hem of the towel wrapped around your body.

“Can I?” He asked, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes.

“Y-yes,” You panted. Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into Rick's eyes - they were dark with lust. He dipped his head down crashing his lips against yours, dragging his teeth over your lip as he used his right hand to undo your towel. You shivered when your damp skin was exposed to the chilly air but soon found yourself pressed against the bed with Rick on top.

His mouth moved against yours expertly, and you began to feel that familiar sensation of anticipation in your lower abdomen as Rick's hands trailed down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

A gasp escaped your lips when Rick dipped his hand down between your thighs and began to gently circle the little bundle of nerves that made you squirm under his touch.

“So sensitive,” Rick mumbled into your lips, his fingers applying more pressure.

You whimpered, feeling a hot pressure begin to pool in your stomach. When you touched yourself, it never felt nearly as good as Rick’s fingers. You could feel yourself becoming more undone by the second as you began to involuntarily grind your hips against Rick's hand.

“Fuck,” Your fingers dug into the sheets when you felt Rick slip a finger into your core and slowly began to pump it in and out. Rick drank in all your little whines and whispered as he picked up speed and pressure - he was determined to get you to cum. A few moments later, when he was sure you were ready, he inserted a second finger.

Your head rolled back when Rick thrust his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace. You were desperate for more. You began bucking your hips against his fingers, moans falling from your swollen lips, feeling your climax beginning to form.

“I’m so close,” You whimpered, feeling the knot in your stomach begin to uncoil. This spurred Rick on and he began thrusting his fingers harder and faster, feeling your walls clench around them. Within moments, you were a moaning mess. Your legs shook as you felt a hot rush throb through your pussy, soaking Rick's fingers, though he kept pumping them, letting you  ride out your  high. 

"You're gorgeous," Rick groaned, placing sloppy kisses along your jaw. "I need you."

Before you knew it, Rick's clothes were in a crumpled heap next to your towel on the floor, and he was lining up against your entrance. You gasped, feeling his tip push into you. Slowly, Rick began filling you up, stretching your warm walls to fit around his pulsing cock. 

“Tell me when to start,” Rick groaned, gripping your hips as he tried to restrain himself from fucking into you straight away. 

“You can start,” You said and Rick began to move his hips. He started slow, moving in and out with slow, intentional thrusts. The more he pumped in and out of you, the more the discomfort began to dissipate and pleasure began to take its place.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned, digging your fingers into Rick's back. He reached his hand down and began rubbing your clit and you squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Before long, his hips were slamming into yours, pulling moan after moan from your lips. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rick moaned, fucking you deeper, turning your moans into cries of pleasure.

“Y-you are so fucking deep,” You moaned. The pressure in your stomach burst when Rick applied more pressure to your throbbing  clit, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans. Your throbbing walls clenched around his cock, but he kept thrusting. 

“I-I’m cumming,” You cried, gripping the sheets as your legs began to shake. Pleasure pulsed through your veins and your eyes rolled back. Within moments, another wave of pleasure began to pulse through you as he pounded into you, leaving you throbbing and overstimulated. 

 "Fuck,” Rick groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppier as his cock began to twitch and stutter. You felt a warmth spread through your core as he came inside you. His hips came to a stop, leaving you both a sweaty, panting, tangle of limbs.

“I think I forgive you now,” A smirk tugged at your lips as your husband collapsed against your chest.

---

Thanks for reading! Remember requests are open. If you want added to a taglist, comment below.

Despite walking all day and most of the night, you hadn’t been able to escape the threat of people. Even if that fire on the road hadn't been set by those men— and from the lack of cruel laughing and bruising punches, you figured it wasn't— it still meant people. Strangers. Bodies of unknown, with all the potential to be as twisted and cunning as the Governor, or as kind and loyal as Daryl. 

The small fire crackled. 

“What do we do?” 

“Can’t take a good look without riskin’ them seein’ us.” 

You bit your lip. Maybe you shouldn't have stopped moving, after all. 

There was a bush ahead. The branches looked loose enough that you could peak an eye through and take a better look at the strange fire and the stranger people. In a bush that small, it would be a tight fit, but you could do it. 

Your eyes flickered back to Daryl and those broad shoulders. He definitely couldn’t. 

So without another thought, and maybe not much choice, you crouched down. “Wait here.” 

You'd managed to move about a foot when his hand inevitably caught your wrist, and his rough voice hissed your name in warning. 

“Just trust me,” you mumbled, almost as quiet as the soft cricketing of the night air. It all seemed to drown out at the sight of that sharp caution in his eyes; blue darkened by the night and the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders. You blinked, and then your free hand was wrapped around his, the pad of your thumb brushing along his rough skin. “I don’t want them to find us, either.” 

The tension melted away like slow dripping wax; the look in his eye softened, his grip relaxed. 

You could guess that weight on his shoulders hadn’t quite lifted, not when those people were still so close and so unknown. But once his hand loosened enough for you to pull back, there was a patch of cold along your wrist where he'd held you tight. Where you'd felt the heat of adrenaline coursing through his veins, warming his skin. Daryl tried to swallow his concern as you finally slipped away and into the bush. 

You kept your head as low as possible. Crouched down and moving slow, like a wolf sneaking on its prey, though you weren't feeling quite predator-like. Not when you still had that swinging ball of anxiety slamming back and forth between your heart, lungs, and ribs. You thought of the gun at your hip. Four bullets left— no, three. You'd used one yesterday. Shit. 

The branches were thin and dry. If you pushed them too far, they'd snap in half. Some leaves rustled off the bush as you snuck your way inside. You kept your hands close, only drawing down that last branch an inch so you could peek past. The flames of the fire were the brightest thing around, even if you could tell it’d been made in a way to keep it as small and unsuspecting as possible. But smoke still drifted away in long strands, floating through the night, invading the forest air. The fire cracked, now and then, as a shadowy figure sat beside it. His head was hanging down, a lock of curly brown hair falling across his forehead as he chewed at something in his hands. A bone, maybe. 

Boots clicked along the pavement as a woman approached from the beaten-up blue truck to the right. She walked toward the fire with a languid stride. You could only see her silhouette backdropped across a glow of orange light. Her hair fell down her back in thick, black strands and something long and thin stick crossed over her back. 

You waited a moment or two, but the pair of them never gave a glimpse of their faces, and no one else seemed to be around. Still, the two strangers on the road didn’t seem to be a part of that group you came across earlier; you doubted that men like those would let a woman tag along. 

Finally free from the dying bush, you snuck back to Daryl. 

“There’s a woman,” you whispered when you got close enough. “It's not them.” 

“Just her?” 

"No, there was a man, too." You shook your head. "Maybe more in the truck." 

"You get a good look at 'em? They got guns?" 

"I couldn't see their faces. The man had a gun, and she had something on her back. It could have been a—" 

There was a laugh, then. 

A familiar one. 

Then another, and another, and they all overlapped until you could almost see that blue truck again, trunk open and all your supplies thrown around. Fear slammed back into your chest. You could’ve sworn you were back at that tree, pressed between Daryl and the rough bark, skin smoking with that fiery panic that caught right where your heart was supposed to be. 

“We gotta go.” Daryl's voice cut through the yells and fear like a dull blade. His tone was hard. Almost as stern as you remembered it from all those weeks ago. 

You nodded slowly. Smoke tinged the air you inhaled and your thoughts wandered back to those people. That woman... Unsuspecting. 

Daryl grabbed your wrist and brought you to a stand. But the forest floor had turned into quicksand, and you couldn't move yet.

“Those people on the road—” 

His jaw locked. 

“’S too late for ‘em.” His narrowed eyes flashed toward the road. That usual shade of blue was now dark and threatening as the laughter only grew louder. 

They were already there. 

He tried to move forward, to drag you out of that quicksand pit of empathy that might finally suffocate you, after all, but you didn't budge. You couldn't. 

“You heard what they’ll do to ya,” Daryl growled as if you needed a better reason to go with him. 

Instead you twisted out of his grasp. “They’ll do the same thing to them.” 

Of course, he knew that. There was a string wrapped around his pounding heart, pulling tighter and tighter because those people on the road didn’t deserve what was coming for them. No one did. But then there was you. With those big eyes, wide and glistening with fear even beyond that stubborn glow, and he hated it. Hated that he could recognize it so easily. He never wanted to see your features twisted in pain again. If those men got you— if a walker got you— if anything happened… 

"We— we have to help," you rasped out, even if instinctive fear seemed to be winning over your empathy as the seconds ticked by. Perhaps you could hear what he was thinking. The possibilities that ran through his mind and made his jaw lock he thought he might break a tooth. "We can try." 

His grip was back at your wrist, but this time it felt deeper. As if his fingers were melting into your skin, the thump of his heartbeat drowning into your own. 

“It ain’t worth losin’ you.” 

It was silent. Tension rising into the air like the strands of smoke lifting off that small, almost forgotten fire. It started as a soft wisp of burning wood, until your brain seemed to process what he'd said. Those words surrounded you, filling your lungs with that bittersweet burn, deeper and deeper with every slow, conscious breath you pulled in. 

You swallowed. It seemed to soothe the tension, an inch. 

Now wasn’t the time.

You opened your mouth to spill another retort because you’d changed these last few months, had become the type of person who would stand up for what they thought, scared or not. But before you could say a word, another ripped through the air. A guttural yell. 

“Carl!”  

---

After months of your blood-stained hands digging their way through Daryl’s tough-as-steel exterior, praying for a moment to prove yourself worthwhile of all the chances he'd given you, it was here. They were here. His people. 

Carl was in the grimy hands of one of those men with the bellowing laughs. Joe— the leader— had his gun to the back of Rick’s head. The woman you’d seen on the road, you didn’t remember her name, but you knew there was a gun on her too. There had to be. 

And Daryl went to them, leaving you in the bushes with his last words still ringing in your ears.

“Listen to me. If shit goes south… I don’t give a fuck what happens to me, you run, y’hear?” 

“Daryl—” 

“You run.” 

Your hands shook like those dead leaves on the bush, heart pounding so loud you could barely hear the click of your gun’s magazine releasing. You counted the bullets, even if you already knew how many were there. 

You hadn’t even realized you grabbed his hand. Not until his eyes flickered between it and you. 

You whispered... maybe whimpered, “I can’t just—” 

Two in the magazine. One in the chamber. Three bullets for five men— that you knew of. 

The skinny one was missing. Len. Maybe he’d finally been beaten to hell, himself. Maybe they'd left him behind. 

“I can’t do this knowin’ that those assholes might find ya.” 

Your eyes shimmered with a concern he was still getting used to receiving. He blinked, then squeezed your hand back. 

“You run,” he repeated. 

Daryl moved through the shadows of the forest like he’d been doing it his whole life— and God did it feel like that, the stretch of time filled with more yelling and pleading and laughing while he moved closer to the spot where the forest broke open. 

What the hell he was planning on doing when he got to the road’s edge, you had no idea. The mere thought made your heart squeeze tighter than Daryl had your hand. 

A shadow moved behind him. 

You gasped. Raised your gun as if it wouldn’t be the stupidest thing in the world to fire it at only a glimpse of a figure. A waste of bullets on shadows. What was likely nothing more than a lone walker, wandering with nothing but the road’s sounds to lead its path. And with all those cruel men so close, they'd come running at the shot’s echo. But just as you were about to rush out, knife in hand with nothing more than a hope that you could make it on time, the shadow raised a bow of its own. 

Not a walker. 

Your fingers fell off his. 

The softest of whispers, “Just come back.” 

Sometime between sneaking up on Daryl and when they finally broke from the tree line, Len had taken the crossbow from him, slinging his compound bow across his back. The crossbow was easier to aim at Daryl’s head while they walked onto the road.

“Found another one’a them!” 

Quiet. For a moment. 

Daryl and Rick's eyes met for the first time in months. They both had weapons aimed to the back of their heads. 

From that angle, you couldn't see Daryl's face. Only the shift in his shoulders, dropping barely an inch as he stilled. A slight wobble in his stance. Across the road, recognition sunk into Rick’s features, but they never quite found the relief you hoped to see when this day came. Of course, you had always imagined it under vastly different circumstances. Finding them on the road. Maybe at Terminus. Not in the dark of night, surrounded by men who wanted to kill— and worse. 

“Fool thought he could sneak up on us,” Len chuckled. 

He only let Daryl pause for a second before he grew bored and kicked at the back of his leg, and Daryl crumbled like a straw-man released from its post. His knees scratched along the cold concrete, palms flat for the second it took for him to regain his senses. To get that breath back in his lungs after the gut-punching sight of his friend's faces, the ones he dreamt about night after night. 

“Hey!” The one with a gun on the woman— what was her name again?— yelled, “Those arrows look familiar to you?” 

Len looked down to see the same green shoots on the crossbow’s bolts as his own compound's— the ones he'd stolen from the car earlier that day.

“Holy shit,” Len exhaled. “That was your car, wasn’t it?” 

Joe laughed, a hearty, full-lung chuckle, “Shit! And here I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's fuckin’ Eve!” 

“Settle a bet for us, why don’t ya? You were traveling with a woman, right?” 

Even with all the trees between you, you could see Daryl’s jaw clench. It only spurred Len on further. 

“Mhm. I bet that bitch is out there, too. Hiding in the bushes, like a little rabbit?” He knelt as if to take a closer look at Daryl’s quickly retreating composure. The vein popping in his forehead, the red tint to his cheeks. “I love me some rabbit. ‘M real good at huntin’ ‘em down.” 

Daryl’s heart was pounding hard, face flush with the anger racing through his veins like bad moonshine, turning him blind to the reasonable course of action. Keep his head down, wait for his chance... But how the hell could he do that when the road was burning hot underneath his palms? When he could see red— the red of your blood— pooling below? 

Then Len leant in even closer, and then all he could think about was rot; the smell reeking from the yellow of his teeth when he grinned, the black tar that soaked his soul. The way he wished he could see the dead rip into the bastard. 

“Think I can make ‘er squeal?” 

Daryl jumped up. He landed a punch right on Len’s nose. There was nothing quite like the smooth relief that pumped through his veins when he felt bone crack underneath. 

Len fell back. Blood coated his mouth and chin, shining in the moonlight like a damn spotlight, begging for another hit. But for all that asshole’s undeserved cockiness, he still had the numbers to back him up; another one grabbed the back of Daryl’s vest, pulled him away from a stumbling Len, and threw a bruising punch of his own. Before you could even aim your gun, Daryl was back on the ground and kicked in the gut as a third man joined in. 

“Kill ‘im! Fuckin’ idiot.” Len snarled, throwing a punch after he was done cradling his face. Daryl was dragged by the men and tossed on top of the car's hood like a doll. Fists slammed into his sides, his back, his face. Any punch he threw back was quickly met with two more. 

“Listen, it was me, it was just me,” Rick yelled out, his voice a rumble of pleading and hopelessness. He shook his head, his son pressed against that big man with the sickening grin on one side, and Daryl taking fist after fist to the jaw, eye, stomach, and shoulder on the other.  

“Oh, don’t worry. We can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” 

Your finger twitched along the trigger. From the depths of your memory, a word echoed. 

Liar. 

Joe continued, “First, we’re gonna beat your friend to death. Then, we’ll have the girl, then the boy. Then I’m gonna shoot you and we’ll be square!” 

The gun felt lighter. Those three bullets suddenly etched with the names of these men— Joe, Len, that fucker with the knife on Carl. 

“Let him go,” Rick shuttered out. The rumbling anger in him began to leak like a dam about to burst. Somehow, those three words huffed into the night air, even with a gun at the back of his neck, still managed to sound like a threat. 

And they were. 

You flinched when Rick threw his head back to collide with Joe’s face. The first shot rang out as he stumbled, clutching his face with one hand and letting his smoking gun fall with the other. Time slowed, but Rick was even slower, blinking and shaking his head as the ringing must've trapped in his ear. A bloody Len looked over with Daryl's bow in hand once again as Joe coughed, blood leaking down his face, too. In the time it took for him to stand straight again, Rick had managed to get up and punch him. 

Joe punched back harder. 

Rick fell to the ground like a bag of bricks. 

“I got him. Go find your rabbit, Len.” A groan left both of them as Joe forcefully kicked his boot into Rick's gut. “Oh, it’s gonna be so much worse now.” 

There was no doubt about it. Joe’s words echoed into the dark night, muddled with the sounds of whimpers, groans, skin rubbing against concrete. This was headed as far south as it could, tunneling straight to hell from the sounds of it, and a heavy shadow wrapped its slimy, inescapable arms around you. 

“Come on, already. Get up. Let's see what ya got," Joe taunted as he circled Rick, who couldn't seem to find his balance. 

With the back of his hand, Len wiped his bloody chin before he turned toward the forest line. A look in his eye even darker and slimier than that shadow. 

If you had thought about it first, you would have stayed still. But staggering backward felt more like instinct than thought, something you hadn’t realized you were doing until a branch snapped under your foot. 

A tense second hung in the air between you and this man, wondering if he could pinpoint the small crack amongst all the muffled cries and painful groans. 

He smiled a sickening grin. 

A chill down your back as your breath caught in your throat. His eyes narrowed in on the section of woods Daryl left you in, eyeing between the branches like you really were a little rabbit, and he was fucking starving. 

Run. He’d told you to run and here you were, frozen with uncertainty. Where would you run? How could you live with yourself, leaving them for dead? What if you shot and missed, three times? What if—

"You leave him be!" Rick yelled when Carl cried out. 

Finally, Joe caught Rick. He laughed, "The hell are you gonna do now, sport?" 

A new scream. Not from Carl or Rick. But before you could tell from whom, it had morphed into gurgling and choking, instead. 

Then Rick spat. 

Len turned around, and without those predator eyes on you anymore, you saw it. The way Joe's body turned limp, his hand grasping Rick's collar the last thing to give out before he fell to the ground. A mess of blood spurted out of his neck until the red skulls on his shirt melted into the red that poured down his body. 

From his mouth to his chest, Rick was covered in the same colour. 

It took a moment for everyone to realize what had happened. That Rick had bit Joe’s throat out like a fucking walker. An air of shocked silence lingered until a few gasps made their way around the road. By the time Len began to raise Daryl's crossbow in Rick's direction, a choice had been made, and you stepped from behind the bush. 

Gun raised.

Len's head snapped forward with the impact of the bullet. He crumbled to the ground faster than Joe, crossbow buried underneath his limp limbs. The woman used the second air of shock to grab the gun pointed at her head, twisted it to the man holding it, and fired. He fell, too. 

You stepped out of the tree line. Smoking gun and narrowed eyes exposed under the moonlight. Their eyes snapped to you, unsure only for a second before you shot the men at Daryl's side. One in the head, the other in the throat. He fell back, grabbing at his leaking neck until Daryl threw him down and stomped on his windpipe to finish the job. 

One man was left. He'd put a knife to Carl's throat amid everything, grabbed the boy to his chest and promised he'd kill him if you did anything. The woman had already aimed her gun at him, and you knew yours was empty by now, but neither stopped you from aiming yours, too. 

"Put them down!" He yelled, eyes snapping between the pair of you. The knife inched closer to Carl's neck. "I'll do it!" 

Rick stood up. Joe's knife was in his hand as he stalked toward the man and his son with nothing more than a growl. 

"He's mine." 

The man's eyes widened. "S— Stay back! Please—" 

Rick drove the knife into his chest. Once. Twice. Then dragged it up and down and you should have looked away. He was snarling like a wild animal, staring that man— that monster— right in the eye. Unleashing every drop of that boiling rage inside of him. You knew it was because of what he tried to do to his son, but something in you almost felt as sharp as that knife, stabbing over and over. And maybe that was why you couldn't look away, because the hot gun in your hand suddenly felt so light. 

Empty. 

Maybe you should have saved a bullet in case Rick tried to gut you next, for what you had done to his son, to his family. 

Just as those dark thoughts wrapped around your mind, familiar fingers did the same at your wrist. You blinked, finally tearing your eyes off of all the blood and guts only to notice that you hadn’t dropped your gun, that you were now aiming it at Rick’s head. He’d given up on his assault, dropping the mess of that dead monster to the ground with nothing more than a heavy thump. Now he was facing you, eyes narrowed and unreadable under the moonlight as Daryl's hand lowered your gun. 

The second you turned to him, you let it fall to the ground, lost in the red splattered across his face, the cut above his eyebrow, the puffiness of his right eye. 

Red, red, red. 

Something squeezed your hand. His fingers were still wrapped around you. 

You blinked, and the red cleared a bit. Enough that even in the dark of night, you could still see the shimmering blue of care, of concern, of Daryl. 

Daryl. 

Bruised but alive. Touching your skin. Drawing you back with every thump of your heartbeat.

And just like the gun, you let go of the fear, too.

————————————————————

A/N: if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3