Spookyminxy

You could see the urge seeping out of his pores to slip back into the night and fight for what was right. But you knew after Foggy, it was a sensitive topic. So when he wanted to scope out the area of Hector’s murder, you tagged along. None of this was your business, but Thursdays were you and Matt’s happy hour night, you just happened to be there. 

Thanks to Matt’s sensitive hearing, he was able to find the bullet casing in the hill’s storm drain. Your interest quickly fell as he felt the casing, his eyebrows furrowing before handing it to you. Taking it from his hand, you look down and find the Punisher’s logo etched onto it, Frank’s logo. 

It felt like every emotion you’ve suppressed for the last year has reached the surface and flooded your senses. You're silent as you think about what this could mean. The rise of Punisher symbols has seemed to be tattooed on the NYPD, and you couldn’t help but chuckle out a laugh at the thought. “This can’t be him,” you pause and take a deep breath, “right?”

Matt chews on his lip before shaking his head. He doesn’t respond, instead he starts walking. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before jogging to catch up to him. “You know that I love you and that I would never hurt you,” Matt mutters, his tone serious. 

“Of course,” you look at him as if he’s crazy, “where is this coming from?”

He huffs, “I just needed to ask because you might not say the same answer in about fifteen minutes.” His answer worried you, but with Matt, you knew it was better not to ask questions. 

You followed him to a brick building, the cool streetlight making it look older than it is. Matt leads you to an elevator and pushes the button for the basement, leaving you in a nervous silence. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and Matt knows that yet he still doesn’t say a word to you. 

Pushing the door open, a long hallway with a ceiling full of piping and cables almost acts as your guide to wherever Matt is leading you. Lights are flickering while water is dripping from the walls as you stop at a door. 

MGR OFFICE

Looking back at him, you study his face. He’s emotionless, his lips drawn out in a straight line. “Where are we?” A simple question that only prompts a sigh. 

“You’ll see,” he says before pushing the door open, an ear-piercing screech coming from the hinges. Matt peeks his head in before stepping inside and holding the door for you. 

The first thing you notice is the wall of guns in front of dozens of papers stapled to the wall. The room was in disarray, and it seemed like whoever lived here didn’t mind that. Your back is to Matt as you take a closer look at the details of the papers scattered on a nearby table, “Matt, where in the hell did you take me–”.

An animalistic roar echoes off the cement walls as a blur of a figure shoves Matt into the lockers behind him. “Frank! Frank! It’s me, it’s Matthew.” 

You’re stuck in place as their heavy breaths are the only things ringing in your ear. You can’t help but take a clumsy step back in shock, the sound of your foot dragging against the floor catches both the men’s attention. 

Locking eyes with Frank a year after his disappearance wasn’t something you were expecting when you got out of bed this morning, and yet here you are. His pressure against Matt weakens as he swallows, trying to compose himself. Sniffling, he shakes himself out of his gaze, “What is she doing here?” 

Matt clears his throat, “She’s tagging along.” 

You’re still speechless as you keep your eyes on Frank’s form as he walks away from Matt and to a table deeper within the space. “I thought I told you to keep her safe, red. Now she’s tagging along your devil shit?” Frank pops a pill into his mouth before slamming the container on the table. 

Flinching, you walk towards Frank, a sudden haste in your stride that surprises him after being as still as a statue since you’ve laid eyes on him. And suddenly, you’re face to face, your neck tilting upward to meet his eyes. “How dare you,” your waterline is flooded with tears, but you would rather die than let one slip. 

Giving Frank a shove to his shoulders, you yell, “You told Matt to keep me safe after you left? How fucking ironic.” Your lip quivers as your eyes scan his face. His hair has gotten longer, and that beard is new. “Fuck you, Castle,” you bite your bottom lip as you try not to let your emotions come over you, “fuck you.” 

Turning away from him, you let a few tears fall when he can’t see them. Anger is still clear in your walk when you approach Matt, “Did you know where he was this whole time?” He looks down as guilt washes over him. “Damnit, Matt,” you take a step closer, “did you know?” 

“Yes,” he takes a short breath, “but I didn’t tell you to keep you safe.” 

A sarcastic laugh leaves your breath, you can’t believe it. “You’re joking, right?” You bring your hand to your hip and turn to Frank, looking at him in disbelief before doing the same to Matt. “Good luck with the casing,” you start, “I doubt Frank is going to be of any help.” 

You start to walk towards the door before looking at Frank one more time, “Next time you decide to leave someone who loves you, make sure you go farther than just the city.” You don’t wait for a response as you walk back toward the elevator, your hand covering the sobs that have been waiting to bubble over the moment you saw him. 

Walking home felt like a blur. So much so that you didn’t even feel the hand yanking you into the alley beside you before it was too late. 

It had been years.

Not days. Not months. Years since you’d seen Frank Castle.

And now? He was standing right in front of you.

Looking older, looking rougher—still built like a goddamn wall, still carrying that same weight in his eyes, like the whole world had never stopped resting heavy on his shoulders. His hair was a little shorter, his beard more grown in, and there were new scars—ones you didn’t recognize, slashed across his knuckles, his jaw.

But his eyes? Those were the same.

Dark, searching. Eating up every inch of you like he was trying to memorize something he thought he’d never see again.

Your breath was caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, chest tight as you forced yourself to swallow down the years of questions, of anger, of ache. He had disappeared—without warning, without a word, without anything but the memory of his rough hands and his rare, quiet laughs and the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

And now he was here. Now he had the audacity to stand in front of you, like the years he’d been gone were just a blink, like he could step back into your life without shattering something inside you all over again.

Frank’s jaw flexed. “You gonna say something?”

His voice—God, his voice. That same gravel, that same quiet weight. But there was something else, too. Something hesitant.

Like maybe he wasn’t sure you would say something. Like maybe he thought you’d just turn and walk away.

You should.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails pressing hard into your palms. “You have some fucking nerve.”

Frank didn’t flinch. Didn’t look surprised. Didn’t do anything but stand there, watching you with that same quiet intensity.

You took a step forward. “You left.” Another step. “No calls. No messages. Not even a goddamn whisper that you were still alive.” Your voice shook, but you didn’t stop. “And now you think you can just—”

You stopped short, just inches from him now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough to see the exact way his chest rose and fell, the slight clench of his jaw.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But his fingers twitched at his sides, like maybe he wanted to reach out.

Like maybe he knew he shouldn’t.

“Didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Frank exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. His jaw flexed again, and for a second—for a single second—you thought maybe he’d close the distance between you. Thought maybe he’d reach for you like he used to, like he almost had all those years ago, before everything had crumbled around him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just murmured, “I never wanted to leave.”

You swallowed, hard, against the lump in your throat. Against the way something raw and stupid cracked open in your chest. “But you did.”

Frank’s lips pressed together, his eyes dragging over your face like he was searching for something—something he wasn’t sure he still had the right to look for. And then, finally, his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and buzzing, both of you standing there, staring at each other like you were trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Then, without thinking, you reached out. Just a little. Just enough that your fingers brushed against his wrist—barely, just a ghost of contact—but even that was enough to make something in his entire body go still.

And then, slowly, his hand turned—palm up, rough fingers brushing against yours, just enough pressure that you could feel it all the way down to your bones.

Like maybe, just maybe, he’d been waiting for you to touch him first.

Like maybe he wasn’t sure you still would.

Your fingers curled slightly against his. Testing. Teasing. And when he didn’t pull away, when his breath hitched ever so slightly—

You yanked him forward and kissed him like he owed you the world.

And Frank—

Frank let you.

No hesitation, no second-guessing, just his hands gripping your waist, his breath sharp against your lips, and the unmistakable sound of something breaking between you.

Something that had been waiting to shatter for years.

His hands were rough, big and unyielding as they spread across your back, dragging you closer until your body was flush against his, chest to chest, breath mingling. The sheer heat of him made your head spin, made something low in your stomach tighten.

You barely had time to take a breath before his mouth was on yours again, deeper this time, rougher. His hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, and that—that little sound—made him groan, low and deep, like it had been locked inside him for too long.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging, desperate, and he growled—actually growled—before shoving you back until your spine hit the wall. His body caged yours in, all heat and tension and something dangerous curling in the space between you.

“You gonna let me?” he muttered against your lips, his voice wrecked, his forehead pressing to yours.

Let him what? Ruin you? Wreck every part of you that had missed him all these years? Leave you breathless and aching and unable to think about anything but him?

You exhaled sharply. “You better.”

Frank’s control snapped.

His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall. His mouth was on your throat, your collarbone, his breath hot and uneven as he whispered things against your skin that you’d never let yourself dream about. His teeth scraped, just slightly, just enough to send a shudder straight down your spine.

But then—

He stopped.

Breath heaving, forehead still resting against yours, fingers flexing against your hips, like he was fighting himself.

“I shouldn’t,” he muttered, voice strained.

Your nails bit into his shoulders. “But you want to.”

His laugh was wrecked, almost bitter. “Yeah.”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Then don’t stop.”

Frank exhaled sharply, eyes snapping up to yours, something wild and unhinged in them now.

And then, just like that—

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asks, settling down on the couch after washing the dishes.

“Depends on the movie.”

He tosses you the remote. “Your pick.”

You grin and pick a horror film that’ll give the two of you nightmares for weeks. Frank has a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap, and you snatch a handful every now and then. Despite the monstrosities on the screen, things were peaceful. 

And then there’s a bang. 

Frank’s protective instincts kick in immediately. Pushing you behind him, Frank pulls his gun out of the couch cushion and rises to his feet just as the door to your apartment flies open. Frank fires at the first two men as you roll off the couch and onto the floor, plucking a knife you’d had taped to the bottom of the coffee table. His gun jams, and with a curse, Frank begins to charge the final man. 

With effortless athleticism, you fling yourself upwards and jump onto the table. A gun goes off, but it’s not Frank’s. You toss the knife. It slams tip-first into the eye of one of the intruders, dropping him like a fly. 

Frank flinches in surprise but doesn't turn his gaze from the dead men at your door. He peeks his head out into the hall, listens for a moment, and then kicks the dead bodies inside before slamming the door and deadbolting it shut. 

You notice the tension in his shoulders and move forward to pry the knife out of the man’s head, wiping it on his clothes before tucking it on top of a nearby shelf. Frank turns to you finally, his expression unreadable. 

“I’ll call Matt,” you say stoically, moving past him to get your phone and dial for removal services. Frank is silent as he plops onto the couch, unloading his gun.

-

Once the bodies are gone and your floor is scrubbed clean, you throw yourself onto the couch. Frank stands immediately, beginning to pace around the coffee table. “The fuck was that?”

“A really good throw?” you jest.

Frank sighs like an exhausted parent. “I think you’ve got somethin’ to tell me, sweetheart.”

“Do I?”

He stops pacing to lean against the wall and cross his arms. Opening his mouth to scold you, Frank notices the blood seeping from your shoulder. “You got shot,” he breathes, moving forward to check the injury.

“Oh.” You didn’t even feel it with all the adrenaline, the fear of Frank finally finding out about your past. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not-” Frank is exasperated. “I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

You shake your head frantically. “I can handle it.”

His icy stare stops you from moving to get it yourself. “Doll, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s not pretty,” you sniff. 

Frank cocks his head. “Not my first time seeing a bullet wound.”

“Not what I mean.”

Frank nods like he understands, but he doesn’t. He’s so confused, and he’s looking at you with such big puppy dog eyes - you can’t help but give in. 

“I’ll be back,” Frank says, noticing the defeat in your expression. He’s gone and back before you realise it, and he moves to sit on the table across from you, leaning forward slowly. “Can I?” He asks, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

With a gulp, you nod.

Frank lifts it delicately, like you might break, careful around the bullet wound. Once it’s off, he sets it on the table next to him and takes you in. Scars litter your arms like tattoos; cigarette butts remain slightly visible above your chest. You move to show him the welts on your back.

Frank’s gaze is cold, but not for you. Never for you. He swallows, tightening his jaw and fixing his gaze on the slashes across your stomach. “Who did this to you?”

“Frank,” you break, choking back a sob.

“I’ll kill em,” he says, throwing himself to his feet and checking the amo in his gun. “Nobody’s getting away with hurting my girl.”

“Frank,” you say again, grabbing his bicep and pulling him back to the table. “I have something to tell you,” you say.

Frank scoffs. “No shit.”

You pull the attackers’ wallets out of your pocket and hand them to him. He takes them with a raised brow and riffles through the contents. “Russians?” he asks after a minute, voice gruff.

You nod. “Those guys didn’t come for you; they were here for me.”

Frank squints, studying one of the wallets like it has something he’s missing. 

“Ever heard of Hydra?”

Frank stills, the wallets dropping to the floor as his head flies up to face you. His jaw drops. “Sweetheart, are you telling me-”

“I was in the Red Room, Frank.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, but you continue. “I was their assassin since I was eight. I didn’t have a choice.”

He’s gaping at you like a fish out of water. “You’re telling me…all those times you let me teach you how to defend yourself…”

“I was just pretending,” you nod, fiddling with your thumbs. “I haven’t told anyone.”

He’s looking at you - studying you - like he’s trying to figure you out. “Anyone?”

“Yeah,” you nod again. “I’m sorry I’ve kept this so long; I’ve just been trying to move on, you know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows all too well.

“You’re strong as hell,” he tells you, picking up a swab and pouring rubbing alcohol onto it. 

You smile weakly. 

Frank begins to dab at the bullet hole, and you flinch. “Tell me who, and I’ll kill em all,” he says.

“Frank, you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off by pouring more alcohol onto the wound. “You said you want to move on,” he says. “I’ll help you do that.”

You nod finally. “Okay. But we do it together.”

The faint white line across his forearm from that knife fight overseas. The puckered spot at his bicep from shrapnel. Even the hairline scratches from the last op you’d run together still lingered faintly. You’d known those arms for years—known the power in them, the way they could break a man or pull you to safety in the same heartbeat. You’d known him for years, and yet in moments like this, it still hit you how much of him you’d memorized without even trying.

Basic training had thrown you together before you’d even learned each other’s names. You were paired for drills, tethered by a length of rope for an entire grueling day once when an instructor decided to “build teamwork.” You learned each other’s rhythms before you learned how to lace your boots properly. You swapped food without asking, shared a cot when there weren’t enough bunks, and traded gear without needing to speak.

It had been the same overseas. Missions, competitions, downtime—it didn’t matter. If one of you was there, the other wasn’t far. You could read him from a mile away: the twitch of his jaw meant he’d spotted something you hadn’t; the lift of your chin could steer him without a word. When you came back stateside, Frank started a family and you slid seamlessly into his family’s life. Maria handed you a plate at Sunday dinners like you’d always been at the table. The kids climbed into your lap without hesitation. It was easy, comfortable.

Until it wasn’t.

When the fire came—when his family was taken from him—you didn’t stay at the edge of the wreckage. You walked into it with him. Through the sleepless nights, the safehouses, the sound of his grief in the dark, you carried part of that weight. Somewhere in those hours, the lines between you shifted, and you stopped pretending you didn’t want more than you ever said out loud. Now, years later, you were still here. Different battles, same gravity.

You tilted your head to look at him, the warm light playing over the broad spread of his shoulders. The tank top clung to him in a way that left little to the imagination, the fabric stretching faintly when he shifted.

“Nice tan lines,” you murmured, smirking into your beer.

Frank turned his head slowly, one brow ticking up when he grumbled, “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” You took a sip, letting the carbonation sting your tongue. “Real crisp. You could use ‘em as a ruler.”

A low sound rumbled from his chest, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

“What?” he chuckled. “You out here takin’ inventory on me now, darlin’?”

“Puh-lease,” you teased. You waved the bottle lazily. “I’ve been noticing your arms since the day we met. The tan lines are just … a bonus.”

That caught him. His mouth twitched, like he was fighting off a smile, and he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees.

“Careful,” he said, his voice dipping into that low, rough place you felt in your ribs. “Talk like that, I might think you’re flirtin’ with me.”

“Think what you want.”

Silence stretched between you, weighted with the years—basic training, deployment, homecomings, loss. The hum of the city filled the space between your breaths.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he murmured finally, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” you said, your mouth curving into a wide smile. “Usually right before someone tells me I’m a pain in the ass.”

“That too, doll,” Frank chuckled, the sound low and warm. 

“And yet”—you nudged his leg with your foot under the chair—“you’ve kept me around all this time.”

“That’s ‘cause you don’t know how to leave,” he quipped, but there was no bite in it.

“Or maybe,” you countered, “I just don’t want to.”

Something softened in his eyes, a look that spoke of foxholes and midnight watches, of the way you’d always been there when no one else was. Frank leaned back, lifting his beer, but his free hand dropped to your ankle. His thumb brushed a slow, absent circle against your skin. He didn’t move away and neither did you.

The quiet stretched, not awkward but weighted, the kind that hummed with everything unspoken. That simple touch anchored you there, held you in the space between his casual lean and the storm you knew lived in him. The hum of the city blurred into the background.

Frank’s thumb was still making that slow, absent arc over your ankle, and you were doing your damnedest not to squirm under the weight of it. The heat of the day had settled into the concrete and the air between you, heavy and slow, and the last of the sun painted the skyline in gold.

“You keep that up,” you murmured, tilting your head toward his hand, “and I’m gonna think you’re flirting with me.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, but he didn’t move his hand. His gaze was still fixed on the skyline when he whispered, “Maybe I am.”

You froze—not because you didn’t want to hear it, but because you weren’t expecting him to say it out loud.

“Are you serious, Frankie?” you whispered.

Instead of answering, he set his beer down on the ground, leaned forward, and braced his forearms on his knees, still close enough that his hand stayed on you. His gaze was locked on yours, steady, deliberate.

“You remember that first week in basic,” Frank started, voice low, “when they tied us together with that damn rope?”

You let out a small laugh. “Of course! You kept walking too fast.”

“And you kept draggin’ me toward the chow line,” he countered, his mouth twitching in a shadow of a smile. The memory softened his eyes for a moment, before the seriousness slid back in. “Even then … I knew. Don’t know how, don’t know why. Just knew you were it for me.”

Your chest tightened and you managed to mutter, “Frank—”

He shook his head, shifting his hand from your ankle to your knee, fingers warm and grounding. “We had a good thing—and we were both so happy that I didn’t wanna screw it up. We grew up together, came home, and I started a family. Then when everything happened with…” His voice trailed off for a moment and you knew he meant his family. “I figured I didn’t deserve to have you like that, darlin’…”

“You think walking through hell made me want you less?” you asked, your voice trembling but firm. “I went with you because I—”

Frank squeezed your knee gently, like he needed the anchor, grounding both of you in that moment. It caught you off guard. The pressure was steady, deliberate, as if he was holding back a tide he didn’t trust himself to release. His eyes stayed on yours, searching, like the rest of the world had narrowed to just this space between you.

“Guess I was hopin’,” he said, rough and quiet, “but I couldn’t let myself believe it.”

“Well,” you replied, leaning forward until your knees brushed his, “believe it, Frankie, because I’ve been in love with you since basic training. Tan lines and all.”

The smallest, realest smile broke over his face, and you felt the years between you shrink to nothing. He shifted forward in his chair until your knees were pressed together, his palm sliding from your knee up your thigh—not in a rush, not pushing, just there.

He leaned in, slow enough to give you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t. In fact, you leaned in to meet him halfway. The first brush of his mouth was careful, testing—but the second was deeper, surer, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. You let your beer bottle drop to the blanket, your fingers curling into the edge of his tank top, the heat of him under your hands.

It was the kind of kiss that built in layers: years of unspoken things spilling into every movement, the faint scrape of stubble on your cheek, the taste of beer on his lips. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, warm and firm, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeper. When you broke for air, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together, both of you breathing harder.

“Still think we’re just flirtin’?” he asked, his thumb stroking along your jaw.

“Way past that,” you grinned, pulling him back down to you. 

This time, you didn’t hold back. The kiss was hungrier, his fingers flexing on your thigh, your own hands roaming up the broad planes of his shoulders, tracing the line where warm skin met cool fabric. His tank top bunched under your grip, and you felt the muscle shift under your palms as he angled you closer, almost pulling you into his lap.

The city kept moving beneath you, but up here, there was nothing but heat—summer heat, body heat, years of it simmering until now. His breath was warm against your lips when he finally slowed the kiss, resting his forehead to yours again.

“You’ve been mine a long time,” Frank murmured, barely above a whisper.

You smiled against his mouth and whispered, “Guess it’s about time you caught up.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your fingertips, in the space where his hand still cupped your knee. Whatever walls had stood between you—the years of restraint, the weight of unspoken things—they weren’t just crumbling, they were gone. He leaned in, his shadow falling over you, his breath brushing your cheek like a promise. 

Raising his brows, trying to decipher the look on your face- a deep frown set with a furrowed brow- he brings a hand up to softly graze against your arm to grab your attention, “You okay?”

“You’re bleeding out on our bathroom floor and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” You try to huff out a genuine laugh, but it comes out weak.

Bringing a hand up to your hair, he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, tilting your chin to look up at him. He observes your expression for another second, almost searching for something in particular and it seems as if he finds it- the frown lines left on your face no help with your case at all, “You look sad.”

Gah, he caught you. Looking down now, a little embarrassed and fidgeting with the utensils in hand, you just shrug and mumble, “I don’t like seeing you bruised anymore.” You finally confess, “I used to love it.”

He scoffs, jokingly offended, “Because I was in pain?” He smiles and you hum.

“Mm, that and it made you look extra sexy.”

“Extra sexy, hey?” He challenges, “So, I was already sexy?”

He tugs on your arm, bringing you impossibly closer even thought you’re quite literally already situated between his legs. You connect your lips to his, unable to properly kiss him however because of the smile that tugs at your lips.

Frank just made you all smiley and giggly, you couldn’t help it.

The kiss is very short lived as Frank grunts in your mouth, wincing and flinching underneath your touch where you’ve accidentally gotten a bit carried away and pushed on his bruised stomach.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, baby.” You quickly reach for the ice pack that was sitting by his thigh on the counter and press it to the large bruise. You pout up at him softly, feeling terribly guilty for causing him pain- no matter how little it was… Very ironic.

Bringing his hand up to your hair now, he just pulls your head closer to his and presses a kiss in your hair, making you smile softly. It was his way of forgiving you.

It’s silent for a second. Comfortably silent as Frank held you and you tended to his bruise.

“Wanna know a fun fact?” You ask.

You hear Frank snort a little, massaging his fingers through your hair before speaking, “Enlighten me.”

“When skin bruises, it’s because the blood vessels underneath the surface of the skin break due to the impact it receives. But since there’s no cut for the blood to come out of, it kinda just settles underneath the skin.” You tell him, mindlessly circling a few other, smaller bruises that litter his skin- ones that are much too small to hurt if you were to press down on them but you’re still cautious around them anyway.

“Smart girl.” He coos, and you can’t exactly tell if he’s mocking you or not, “Go on. Tell me more.” He nudges your hip and you blush a little. You liked feeling smart.

Thinking of more facts, you continue with a blushed smile, “And… it changes colour because the blood slowly loses oxygen. It starts off red, then purple, then blue, green and finally yellow- like a backwards rainbow kinda.”

When Frank doesn’t respond straight away, you look up at him- only to find that he’s just staring down at you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

He shakes his head, sighing a little reminiscently, “Who would’ve thought you’d be fixing up my wounds and telling me facts about bruises?”

You roll your eyes seeing as that was what he found so funny. It was surprising- sure, but looking back, anyone could cut that sexual tension with a butter knife. Valid, though, sexual tension never really equated to fixing your wounds and telling fun facts about the human body.

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” You shrug, removing the now- only slightly cool ice pack from his stomach and chucking it into the sink, “Pancakes to make you feel better?” You ask, softly patting his thigh and watching him look at you the certain way you’ll never get tired of.

“God, I love you.”

Even though it was well into the night, you didn’t care. Pancakes were like cereal to you- you could eat it at anytime throughout the day, for whatever meal.

Frank was no help, only clinging to you from behind and snorting as you made silly, little pancake shapes- a love heart, a very bad star and finally mickey mouse.

Plating them up, you poured a shit ton of maple syrup on them with some whipped cream before sitting on the couch with Frank and feeding it into his mouth for him. Totally your idea, convincing him he was too injured to feed himself and that you would be honoured to do the job for him.

“Now look at me,” You hum, shovelling a small part of mickeys ear into Franks mouth, “Feeding you pancakes.”

“If someone told me that in a years time, you would be feeding mickey mouse shaped pancakes into my mouth, I probably would’ve killed them.” You roll your eyes, taking a small piece into your own mouth.

“I kinda miss when we used to hate each other.”

“Used to?” He jokes and you glare at him, despite knowing he was probably kidding, it caught you off guard and you liked to see how scared you could make him- because you did scare him when you gave him that look, “Kidding, babe.”

Sighing, you cut off another piece with the edge of the fork and bring it to Franks open mouth, “I miss the sex… the hate fucking.”

“You don’t like when I love on you?” He asks with a mouthful of food- which would have bothered you if it was anyone else- but you were too in love with him to care. That’s the same mouth that gives you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, you should be grateful for it if anything.

“I love when you love on me.” You assure him, “The mean sex was just fun.”

Experiencing Franks more… sensual side was a day you would never forget. It was such a stark contrast to what you had initially been so used to- which was of course nothing but pure, raw, filthy hate fucking. Rather than manhandle you into the right positions, Frank moulded you to accomodate the position and his body. He went slow, but picked up the pace at all the right times and places. His words, though still dirty, were filled with much more praise.

And as much as you loved it. As much as you loved nothing more than to come home and cuddle in bed until he made the first move to begin the soft and sensual sex- you really, really missed the hate fucking.

Taking the plate of pancakes from your hand, unexpectedly, he places it onto the small coffee table in front of the couch and you look at him curiously as he then takes the fork from your hand as well. He chucks it onto the plate and before you can even scold him for being so rough with the fine china, he pulls on your arm to bring you closer, slipping a hand around your waist to flip your positions so that you’re laying beneath him on the couch.

“All you had to do was ask.” Is all he simply says before attacking your lips in a rough kiss.

You reciprocated of course, returning the kiss with your hands flying up to his hair to tug on the short strands. He groans in your mouth and you have to contain the smile that tries to etch its way into your lips. You loved how you could just control him like the rat in Ratatouillie.

Deciding that the kiss had gone on too long and too soft for your liking, you pull back a little and bring his bottom lip with you, biting it harshly.

“Ow!” He whines, pinching your side but all that does is tickle you.

“Stop going so easy on me.” You snort, fisting his shirt to demonstrate the aggression you so desperately crave.

Sighing, he dips his head to your neck and places soft kisses and small bites there, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” He mumbles, almost inaudible if it weren’t for the fact that you’d basically mastered comprehending Franks mumbled language every morning.

Sweet, though it was, you wanted him to hurt you. And you knew he had it in him, so you weren’t stopping until he did, “‘Course you wouldn’t, pussy.”

His ears prick up at the sound of the insult and he pulls his head out of your neck. You just give him a raised brow and sly smile as you watch in satisfaction.

Giving you the reaction you wanted, he stands from the couch, bringing your body with him and over his shoulder as he- you can only assume- walks you to the bedroom.

As you squeal, he harshly slaps your ass and you bite your lip to contain the moan that would only get you in more trouble.

Throwing you on the bed, he claws at your booty shorts before ripping them in two. With the thong you have on, he’s given easy access to your pussy and you keen in excitement at how hungrily he looks down at you.

“You wanna get fucked nice and hard, is that what you want?” He asks, unbuckling his belt slowly, knowing how much you loved it.

The moonlight and the streetlights from below his apartment coming in through the windows at just the right angle to highlight the incredibly sexy veins that protrude out of his hand.

You squirm underneath his gaze and shrug- putting up your own act now, “Don’t count on you to give me the satisfaction.”

Pulling his belt out it’s loops in one swift motion, you almost drool as he wraps it around his hand- leaving a loop at the end.

“No?” He asks, a raised brow as he tightens off the belt around his hand. Your heart rate instantly picks up and you really have to try your hardest not to break.

“But it’s okay,” You shrug again after shaking your head, “I’ve got a couple of back up plans that I have a lot more faith in… They put a lot in me too.” Though you’ve kinda cheated and used your current relationship as a means to rile him up- you don’t care. You’re just glad it does the job.

His eyes darken at the mere thought of another man even breathing the same air as you, but you put that thought into his head.

You barely realise that you’re being flipped over because it happened so fast, your chest being shoved into the mattress and your ass being pulled up as Frank settles behind you- destroying what’s left of your shorts to give him full access to your ass.

Without warning, the leather comes down hard against your ass and you jolt under his hold and fist the sheets. Resting on the side of your head, you furrow your brows and slack your jaw as he relentlessly continues.

“I’m the only fucking one that gets to fuck you.” You manage to hear over the loud slaps of skin that seemingly occur every few seconds, “Fuckin’ slut. You think anyone else knows how?”

“I know a lot of people.” You huff- despite your ass that’s now almost ruby red… you love it.

With his free hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair from behind, pulling you up a little as he hovers over you, “You’re a fucking whore, you know that?” He curses into your ear- and you don’t even wanna know how drenched you are down there, “But you’re my whore.” Trailing the belt down your tits, you feel your nipples harden, “I’m the only one that can make you go all dumb with my dick.” You whine a little- unable to contain it any longer as he continues to glide the belt over your barely clothed cunt, “And I own this fucking pussy.”

Flipping you over one last time, again- with no warning- he brings the belt down against your cunt and you moan out loud at the contact. It didn’t hurt as much because of the small piece of fabric that still covered it- but it still stung as he ripped your top in two and shed it from you completely.

While he forcefully pulls your legs over his hips, he brings the belt against each of your tits- making them impossibly more sensitive.

You whine as his clothed dick nudges up against your heat, clenching around nothing at even the slightest contact it’s almost embarrassing. Even more so that Frank noticed.

“Awe, see?” He coos mockingly, “You desperate for my dick? Hmm?” Discarding the belt somewhere on the bed, he brings his hand down to softly play with your covered clit. You moan loudly at the friction, indeed desperate, “Little fuckin’ slut needs attention that bad?” Your toes curl as he moves your thong to the side and slides his fingers through your folds, marvelling at how soaked his finger becomes, “So fucking wet, whore.”

Unexpectedly, his hand lays a harsh smack against your clit, cussing your back to arch, “Fuck you,” You curse, gasping as he goes back to rubbing it. You can’t take anymore. Your throbbing clit evident of such.

“Fuck me?” He mocks again, slapping your cunt once more before finally going to the button and fly of his pants. As he pulls his hard, red and angry cock out of the confines of his pants, you find yourself a little scared. There’s no way it’s this easy. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Harshly spreading your thighs apart, he runs the head of his cock through your folds- lathering it in a thick coat of your juices.

You both get lost as you stare down at where his cock is almost covered in white cream from where it’s leaking out of you. He pushes the head a little deeper inside you momentarily- and he tricks you by taking it out again. You grunt as he continues to do so, only fucking you with the head of his cock, “Hurry the fuck up, Frank.”

Averting his gaze down at you, he huffs, cock in hand as he stills his movements completely, “Someone’s desperate for my cock.”

You cut your eyes at him before correcting, “Unsatisfied.” You do well to hide your true emotion, smiling on the inside knowing just how well you could get him exactly where you wanted. Sure, he knew your body- but you knew him. You knew exactly how to rile him up and what it would get you in return.

You challenged him and he’s going to prove himself.

Shoving his cock fully inside you, you have to contain the gasp that lodges into your throat. Throwing your head back against the pillows, you breathe heavily as he slowly pulls out. You know how this goes- and God help you because you don’t think there will ever be a time that you get used to it.

He pushes back in almost instantly- setting a rough and hard pace- mercilessly fucking into your swollen pussy.

Grabbing his bicep, you dig your nails into the skin and smile internally at the small wince that leaves his mouth. The same arm that you grip onto comes around your neck, his large hand encasing your neck entirely- simultaneously continuing to fuck you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy clenching at the way he so effortlessly could just kill you right now if he wanted to. That was probably the best part about the hate fucking.

“So- fucking tight.” Frank whispered, manoeuvring his hand to cup your jaw as he brought his upper half down to kiss at your neck again. He had to distract himself.

He wanted so badly to tell you he loved you, but he just knew it would ruin the moment. You don’t tell someone you love them when you’re hate fucking them.

Your hand comes to his neck, nails digging hard enough to draw blood but neither of you care.

As you grind your hips in time with his thrusts, Frank reaches for the small of your back and flips you both over so that you now straddle his hips.

Looking down at him confused, you wait for him to take charge- fucking his hips up into you like you knew he loved. But he doesn’t.

You just sit for a moment with his cock still inside you as he grasps your hand, guiding it towards his neck and once you get the hint, you wrap your hand the best you can around his neck.

He gives a curt nod which prompts you to finish what he’d started. Rolling your hips first, you sink yourself the rest of the way down- watching in delight as he so easily submits underneath you.

Both of his hands come to your ass, guiding the stroke of your hips as you familiarise yourself with control. As you set a pace, his hands become more loose, only spreading your cheeks apart to allow himself to sheathe himself any further- if that were at all possible.

Though you’re in control- you can’t help but moan more than he, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone doing wonders for your fast-approaching orgasm.

As your tits bounce in his face, he can’t help but grab a hold of one and shove it into his mouth, flicking the small bud and feeling you clench around him even tighter.

His own abdomen tightens as you slowly begin to start gushing around him as a result of the build of your release. The thrust become sloppy and the lubrication makes him dick twitch inside you.

“C’mon, pretty.” He encourages, noticing the way your hips stuttered a little and slow down in their pace as your thighs burned from the workout, “Cum on my cock.”

Frank no longer cared about the hate fucking. And neither did you in all honesty.

You just whined in response, dropping your head to connect your lips with Frank- seemingly an energy boost as you regain the pace of your hips just a little bit more as you cum around him.

He holds you up as your orgasm takes over your body, continuing to guide your hips and prolong the sensation- making you almost limp in his hold.

Your small whines and moans are music to his ears- he barely cares that he didn’t cum. But you surprise him when you keep going, clenching even harder and resting your palms against his chest.

“Are you close?” You ask, wincing a little at the overstimulation you’re forcing yourself through.

Frank hums, though his mind had been elsewhere in the past few minutes and he wasn’t as focused and close as he should be, he knew it wouldn’t be long. You had that effect on him.

“Keep going, baby, almost.” He forces himself in the right mindset now, watching his shiny, cum-coated dick disappear inside your soaking cunt, “Fuck, good girl. C’mon.” He mumbles, knowing how much those words affected you.

You clench around him and only prove his point. Feeling his balls tighten, his cock twitches twice and he knows he almost there. A lone tear slips from your eye as the overstimulation becomes to much for you so Frank slightly takes over, moving your hips with his hands at the pace he knows will get him to cum.

Your head falls in relief, Frank kissing the tear away as he moves his hips in time with yours, “Cum inside me.” You beg, “Want to feel you.. forever,” You whimper, trying your hardest to get him through as his thrusts become sloppy.

He groans a little when his dick throbs and lets out a small grunt as he spills his white, hot seed inside you. You smile softly at the warm feeling- and at the lack of overstimulation tickling your body.

Resting your head against his, you slowly lower the rest of your body as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. Kissing his lips, you hum as you still taste the maple syrup on his tongue from the pancakes- which have probably gone cold by now.

Feeling your eyelids go heavy all of a sudden, you bring your head down to rest on his heaving chest, hearing his quick heart rate as your ear is in direct line with his big, fat heart.

As you catch your breath too, you aimlessly trace the scars that are embedded into his hard chest, frowning slightly, knowing every single one of them had caused Frank pain.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You finger comes to a stop as your head shoots up, worriedly looking up at Frank and observing the guilt that’s suddenly embedded into his face.

Oh God, did you do something wrong?

“For hurting you.” He frowns and you furrow your brows and shake your head.

“Wh- Frank, you didn’t hurt me. I liked it-“ You cup his cheek, but he shakes his head.

“No, like, before. When you were still trying to kill Arnim.” He says and you scoff softly.

“You probably knocked some sense into me.” You assure him, but it does little to convince him so you drop the whole smart ass act, “It’s okay.” You peck his lip softly, “I liked it then too.”Okay- not entirely dropping the smart ass act.

He smiles momentarily before staring down at your chest, in particular the letters that still scarred your skin. It was what had caused the shift in his demeanour just before. First when he’d said he ‘owned your pussy’, then again when he had your tit in his mouth and saw the letters.

Then that led Frank to remember every other thing he did to you that he thought went too far.

You follow his line of sight to the letters on your skin and frown softly. You don’t know what had gotten into Frank, but he was overthinking it. You don’t care that he hurt you… you were used to it- and you did like it.

“I don’t like that I hurt you.” He mutters, avoiding your gaze out of pure shame- also out of respect, he didn’t deserve to even look at you after all he’d done to you- more so, said to you, “Especially that one night.”

You knew what night he was talking about. The night underneath your apartment in the empty ballet studio. You didn’t want to tell Frank that that night, he’d hurt you more with his words than any other form of harm.

Not even when he stabbed you, not even when he’d beat you bloody, not even when he carved his initials into your skin.

He didn’t need to know that. Maybe one day, but not today. You loved him now and that was all that mattered.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats and you panic when you see the glossiness of his eyes. You’ve never seen Frank cry before.

“Frank, it’s okay.” You tell him, rubbing his cheek with your thumb, “I hurt you just as much as you hurt me-“ He shakes his head in protest but you continue, “Frank, there’s no one else on this earth who I want to be with.” Your confession makes him look up at you incredulously, and you just smile, a little nervous now, “I fucking hate you… But I love you.”

He just stays looking at you for a moment- not saying a word, barely even blinking.

Until finally, “I love you.”

Letting a tear, that you didn’t even realise had gathered, fall, you immediately bring your lips to his. You feel a tear of his own fall against your thumb and even though your eyes are closed, you wipe blindly at his cheek to wipe away the tear.

It’s in that very moment that you realise, you’re going to spend the rest of your life with Frank. Where that’ll take you, whether that’ll give you a dog… a family… a house in a nice neighbourhood with nosy neighbours and a nice garden. You don’t know. But you don’t care either. For as long as Franks with you, you’re happy.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

SCREAMING CRYING I DONT WANT THIS TO END.

but i guess it’s not over because i still have like drabbles and hc’s to whip up. SEND REQUESTS.

Frank never expected to fall in love again after Maria. Didn’t think he deserved it, didn’t think he was capable of being soft for anyone anymore. He certainly never planned on falling for Matt fucking Murdock’s little sister of all people. He fell for her quickly, he had a soft spot for people like her. Shy, sweet, kindhearted, who couldn’t protect themselves. He had that same kind of instinct with his wife before she died, that flare up whenever she was in danger. It was like this primal, animal side took over him. He was utterly brutal when it came to anyone trying to hurt her, even if it was something small like a comment that her shirt looked weird. 

No woman had even caught his eye until Bambi, hell his sex drive had practically been nonexistent after 5 years without sex, he’d shut off that part of himself. But now? Frank was damn near feral when it came to Bambi. She was a drug to him, he was so in love with her and possessive it made him feel crazy sometimes, not to mention the treasure between her thighs he had been dying to get a glimpse of. The two met up once a week for breakfast at a diner near her apartment and he’d bring her a new bouquet of flowers to put in the cute bay window of her apartment she always decorated nice.

But the past couple months while the mess with Amy and the people after her went down Frank was MIA. He hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t meant to be, but he didn’t want to risk Bambi getting pulled into his bullshit. He already had enough people he cared about involved in his mess. And if he was honest he had been depressed after sending Amy off for that marine life crap she wanted to do, but they talked on the phone at least every other week to catch up. He felt like he was getting parts of himself back, that part of his heart that had been vacant since the death of his kids was now occupied by Amy, and the part of his heart that had been reserved for Maria had now been taken over by Bambi. 

Frank and Bambi had tried to keep their… friendship… if that was the right word for it, a secret from Matt. Bambi figured Matt would freak out on both of them then there would be some big fight between the two men which was the last thing Bambi wanted. But, when Matt found a shell casing at the scene of Hector Ayala’s murder he knew he had to get Frank’s help, so he brought Bambi to soften Frank’s resolve. 

The two were already fighting by the time Bambi got there. She was waiting around the corner from Frank’s apartment door to see if the two could have a mature conversation like adults, but they were already shouting and Frank was throwing a cup across the floor, so Bambi stepped into his apartment which was more like a bomb shelter. She’d been here a couples times, even had a movie night with Frank once and fell asleep leaned against his side on his shitty couch. She knew if she had Frank over to her apartment Matt had a better chance of smelling him on her, so they spent more time at Frank’s place.

Bambi had stepped in right as Frank was shouting ‘I do not have time for your candy ass hero shit’ while smacking his hands together. Right as she stepped into the room Frank’s back straightened from his crouched position, sitting up straighter in his seat. He hadn’t expected Matt to bring Bambi, hell he thought he’d keep her as far away from him as possible. Yet here she was. Soft, curvy, cute little body tucked in a cozy sweater with her glasses and short skirt that showed a little too much of legs for his liking. He didn’t like the idea of other shit heads out there gawking at her. 

If he’d known she was gonna be here he would’ve shaved, fixed his hair, tidied up the place a bit. Frank never cared much about his appearance normally, but he felt like a dumbass teenager half the time when it came to her, bending over backwards to please her. He felt ridiculous sometimes but couldn’t shake it.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Frank mutters, his voice still low and gravelly as if trying to keep his tough guy persona since Matt was here. Matt’s jaw clenched, scoffing slightly with a shake of his head. He’d likely heard the way Frank’s heart starting pounding in his chest like a drum. He hadn’t seen Bambi in months, he felt like some tweaker going through withdrawal without her. 

“Hi,” she says softly, shifting on her feet awkwardly, her Mary Jane shoes clicking against the cement floor, “Matt just wants to know if you know anything about these guys that can help. Please.” 

Frank shifted restlessly in his chair, his trigger finger tapping against his thigh as he looked over at Matt, “That your new technique? Bring her here just so I’ll play nice?” Frank scoffs, glancing down at his lap, “Losin’ your touch, Red. The old you woulda just beat it outta me on a rooftop. You didn’t come here for my help,” Frank says flatly, leaning back in his chair. Bambi couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted over him. He looked good. Really, really good. That shirt he wore clung to his muscles like a second skin and she oddly liked the scruffy look he had going on, “See, I think you want my permission.”

Matt chuckled under his breath with another shake of his head before straightening up, “Bambi, why don’t you wait outside.”

“She ain’t gotta go nowhere,” Frank grumbles with a shake of his head, getting up from his seat to stalk over to Matt, “You wanna get your hands on somebody, wanna hurt ‘em, and it scares you. Worried it’ll scare your baby sister from how much it’s eatin’ at you. That guilt, that rage. I see it in you.” 

“You’re way off, Frank. I’m gonna come back another day, catch you at a better time,” Matt says with a strained smile, barely holding himself back from throwing a punch or crying. Possibly both. Matt turned on his heel, nodding his head towards Bambi, “C’mon, lets go.”

“I’m gonna stay a minute then head home,” Bambi stays rooted in place a few steps from Frank who was fiddling absentmindedly with the belt loops of his pants. Matt clenched his jaw with a long exhale, not loving the idea of Bambi being alone with Frank, but he muttered an ‘okay’ and left the apartment. Once Matt was gone she turned toward Frank with a sour expression, “Why do you always have to rub salt in the wound with him? Why can’t you just help?”

Frank scoffed, walking over to where he’d thrown his mug across the room to pick it back up, “Your brother’s a big boy, he don’t need my help,” Frank says simply as he walked over to the kitchen area of his bunker-like apartment, “Not my problem.”

“Then what is your problem?” Bambi asks with a tilt of her head as she crossed her arms, “Going after random guys you’ve never met?”

Frank tossed his cup into the sink with a sharp exhale through his nose, leaning against the counter and tucking his thumbs in the front pockets of his pants as he turned to stare her down, “If I don’t do what I do good people like you will be the ones with a bullet in the head. That’s my problem, that’s what I take care of. I take care of the scum bags that would look at a girl like you and see an object, somethin’ easy to use however they feel like it. Your brother should be happy I’m out there on the streets, least I’m helpin’ keep you safe.” 

“You should try to start over, start building a good life for yourself,” she sighs exasperatedly, and Frank only looks down at his feet with a clenched jaw, “I’m not your problem to keep safe, Frank,” Bambi says softly, which make Frank’s head snap up.

“The hell you ain't,” Frank grumbles, pushing off the counter to stand straighter, “Why do you think I do those movie nights and buy you breakfast and flowers every week? Think I do that shit with everyone I meet?” Frank snaps with a scoff. Bambi shifts on her feet, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater, unsure of what to say, “I don’t know if you noticed but I don’t kiss your brother’s ass or talk all sweet with him. Just with you.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say… you’ve barely spoken to me in months I thought you-” she trails off, her hands moving as she spoke.

“Thought I was done with you?” Frank asks with a sharp chuckle, like the idea was absurd, “You’re not something I can just quit, sweetheart. I don’t clock in and clock out with how I feel about you, that shit's permanent, not goin’ anywhere.” 

Bambi took a step closer, “Then where were you? I was worried something happened to you.” she asks curiously, hesitantly.

“Met this kid, had all these people comin’ after her and tryin’ to kill her. I got rid of the assholes targeting her, made sure she was safe and sent her on her way. Then I came back home to you,” Frank shrugs, his fingers rubbing the fabric of his pants, a nervous tick of his that seemed to happen when he felt vulnerable, “Came right back here to you.” 

“You didn’t call or anything,” Bambi counters with furrowed eyebrows, standing only a couple feet away from him now.

Frank sighs, scratching the back of his neck, “Me and the kid got close. She reminded me of Lisa. Sending her off wasn’t easy, had to lick my wounds.” he mutters with a self deprecating chuckle, “Swear to god sweetheart, the minute you walked into my life you turned me into a goddamn softie.” he laughs, which made a smile tug at Bambi’s lips. 

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing? Caring about people?” she asks as she leaned against the meager dining table beside the counter, “I don’t think it is. I think it’s progress, means your healing.”

Frank rolled his shoulders with a sigh, licking his lips, “Me carin’ about someone isn’t simple, makes me ugly. Cause I know if somethin’ ever happened to you I wouldn’t be gentle about it,” Frank says lowly, that familiar hungry, possessive part of him flaring up in his chest, “You think I’m hard on guys I’ve never met? Imagine what I’d do if one of those scum bags tried to hurt you. Wouldn’t be pretty.”

Bambi couldn’t ignore the way her stomach did a flip. Whenever he acted protective over her like that it did something to her, like the time a few frat guys she’d known back in college saw her at the diner and picked on her in front of Frank so he’d broken the ring leaders wrist as a ‘warning’. She had thought about it for weeks. It was hot, she couldn’t deny it. And he knew she thought it was hot. He’d seen it in her eyes when they left there.

“Or… we can care about people and not kill people for hurting their feelings,” Bambi suggests with an awkward chuckle, her cheeks turning red despite her attempts at fighting off the butterflies forming in her tummy.

Frank didn’t blink, “Ain’t how that works with me.” he mutters flatly, staring at Bambi like he was daring her to disagree with him, like if she did he’d track the last person to hurt her feelings down and beat them within an inch of her life just to prove his point, “Don’t give me that goody-goody bullshit, honey. I know it don’t bother you the way you’re pretendin’ it would,” Frank tilted his head, looking her up and down as he stayed leaning against the counter, “C’mere.” Bambi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her fingers toying with the sleeves her sweater as she stepped over to him until he was towering over her, “S’been months since I’ve seen you, ain’t got the willpower anymore to pretend I don’t want you right now.” Frank murmurs, lifting a hand to cradle the back of her neck so she couldn’t look away from him. His hand was so big, so warm against her skin, it made her dizzy, “You want me, baby? Or you gonna keep pretendin’ the thought of me protectin’ you like that doesn’t turn you on?” 

Bambi exhaled shakily through her nose, her eyes flickering over his face like the two years of yearning and longing for him were bubbling over in her heart and she couldn’t fight it anymore, “Not gonna play pretend.” she gives a little shake of her head, absentmindedly standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips easier. 

“That’s what I thought,” Frank murmured under his breath as he leaned down to capture her mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t gentle, it was hungry and desperate to where it drew a low groan from the back of his throat as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Frank’s other hand slid down her side, giving the soft flesh of her hips a squeeze through her skirt which made him groan again, “C’mere baby.” he murmurs against his lips as he slid his hands down beneath her thighs to pick her up and set her on the counter.

Bambi’s glasses knocked against his face as he kissed her again, his hands squeezing her hips to keep her pressed against him. Frank made a little sound of annoyance, reaching up to take them off, setting them on the counter with a gentleness he hardly showed anyone else before pulling her back into a hungry kiss. Bambi whimpered softly, her hands fisting his shirt as his hand slid up to cradle the back of her head.

“Been wantin’ you for two fuckin’ years,” he growls against her lips, rutting subtly against the juncture between her thighs, “And you say you’re not my problem? Ain’t like you to sound so stupid, not my girl. You’re too smart for that shit.” he mutters before kissing her again, her thighs lifting to tangle around his hips which made her skirt bunch up around hers, “My pretty girl’s so fuckin’ smart, best girl in the world, huh?” he pants as he sucked her lower lip between his, drawing out a dazed moan from Bambi. She felt utterly surrounded by him, utterly drunk on him as she let her head fall back against the kitchen cupboard.

“Can I take your clothes off, baby? Been dyin’ to,” Frank pleads, giving her thighs a firm squeeze as Bambi managed a jerky nod and breathy moan. Frank didn’t waste any time, pulling her off the counter to carry her over to his shitty queen bed shoved in the corner, all he could focus on was Bambi. Frank kicked off his boots after he laid her down, leaving her sprawled on his bed with a heaving chest and skirt bunched around her hips so her panties peeked out from beneath them. Frank was breathing heavier too, reaching down to unbuckle his pants to relieve the pressure on the obvious bulge in his pants before dropping to his knees beside the edge of the bed.

He grabbed her calves, tugging her until her bottom hung off the edge of the bed, “Let’s get this shit off you, honey,” he murmurs, almost to himself as he tugged her skirt off with the help of Bambi lifting her hips for him. Once those were off Frank tugged her even closer by the thighs until his nose and lips smooshed against her panty covered core. He groaned obscenely, tossing her legs over his shoulders as he placed open mouthed kisses to the damp fabric. He felt like a wolf in heat or like he’d been injected with some damned aphrodisiac, but no. It was just two years of fantasizing about himself in this very position, right on the bed he used to fuck his fist in at the thought of her.

“Smell so good, baby,” he all but purrs, placing a kiss to the outer edge of her panties where a bit of slick had slipped out. He licked it up with a moan before sucking a hickey onto the inside of her thigh right where it had been. His fingers slipped between the waistband of her panties to tug them down her legs, tossing them onto his pillow once they were off. He wanted them for a later day.

He exhaled roughly through his nose once she was bare in front of him, grasping her thigh to shove them further apart to get a better look at her. “Frank,” Bambi whines with a bashful chuckle, growing a bit embarrassed by him just staring at her pussy. 

“What?” Frank asks with feigned innocence as he leaned in to lick her dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue. Bambi’s hips jerked with a sound that was a mix of a gasp in a moan, the action wiping the bashful expression off her face. Frank hummed in satisfaction, licking his lips as he parted her folds more with his thumbs, looking at her cunt like it was his last meal, “That’s what I’ve been wantin’, baby.” Frank murmurs as he closed his mouth over her center, slipping his tongue into her entrance without warning. Bambi’s thighs squeezed around his head with a startled sound, but quickly went slack as he started to pump his tongue in and out slowly as if he was savoring it.

Frank wasn’t sure how long he stayed down there. Could’ve been two minutes or two hours, he didn’t care. He was pussy drunk. Once her legs where shaking and hips jerking with desperate whimpers he finally let up, licking his lips like a starving man while rising to his feet to shove his pants and briefs down, then tug his shirt over his head.

“Wanna keep goin’, sweetheart?” Frank asks as he hovered over her, leaving enough room between them so she wouldn’t feel pressured to say yes. Bambi nodded with an eager ‘yes’, spreading her legs as far as they could go. Frank chuckled lowly from her eagerness, reaching up to tug her sweater up over her tits, and to his delight she wasn’t wearing a bra, “Oh baby.” he moans at the sight, leaning down to place a kiss to each of her nipples, “Shoulda known my girl would have such pretty little tits. Gonna look so fuckin’ good when they’re bouncing for me.” he murmurs, taking a moment to suckle on her nipple with a low moan before pulling back to tug her sweater off the rest of the way.

Once she was completely naked beneath him he sat up to look her over. Noting her blown out pupils, pink lips, heaving breasts, that soft tummy with wide hips, her puffy folds and swollen clit, then down to her luscious thighs. God, she was like his own personal wet dream, “Goddamn little girl…” he sighs in adoration as he leaned back down over her, grasping his cock to guide it inside her. He couldn’t resist glancing down to watch and neither could Bambi, lifting her head off the pillow to watch his tip get swallowed up by her swollen pussy. His jaw clenched with a guttural groan as he eased into her, stopping halfway through to give a few half thrusts to coat himself in her arousal better before easing the rest of the way in.

Bambi whimpered from the stretch of him, he was big. The perfect combination of length and girth that made her eyes want to cross, “That good, huh?” Frank teases with a cocky smirk as he looked down at her, though he couldn’t mask the adoration and reverence in his gaze, “Prettiest pussy in the world baby, knew it’d feel like heaven.” he says breathily as he set a steady rhythm, his hips smacking against the back of her thighs with each thrusts. His eyes stayed glued on her face as her eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure and her mouth dropped open with a shaky moan, “Look at me.” Frank rasps, grasping her jaw to force her to look back up at him, muttering ‘there’s my pretty girl’ once she peeled her eyes back open, “Feels so fuckin’ good, baby.” he says breathlessly with a little shake of his head in disbelief. He’d almost forgotten how good it felt to fuck, and Bambi somehow felt even better than what he remembered.

Frank planted a hand on her lower belly, pressing just enough to make her squeeze around him with a whimper as the other hand wrapped loosely around her throat. He wouldn’t choke her, wouldn’t risk hurting her or scaring her, but he wanted her to feel him there. Bambi could barely keep her eyes on him, eyelids droopy and mouth fallen open with a high pitched mewl that came with each snap of his hips. Frank was devouring the sight of her, that dazed, needy look she was giving him was the best thing he’d ever seen, “So fuckin’ beautiful like this. All sweet for me. Takin’ it like a good girl, huh?” he pants as Bambi gave a little nod in response, “That’s right, takin’ it so good for me, so proud’a you.” 

Frank’s words had Bambi keening, her thighs beginning to shake around his hips. Frank practically growled, fucking her harder until the bed's shitty bed frame began to knock against the wall, “Frankie.” she sobs softly, barely able to get his name out between her endless string of moans.

“Right here baby, I got you,” he rasps, leaning back until he was kneeling between her legs. He grasped her hips to lift her slightly as he began to pound back into her. His eyes were glued on her, drifting from her face, to her bouncing tits and tummy, then down to where he was fucking into her. She was soaked, his cock was coated in her and dripping down his balls. It was pure fucking heaven. Bambi’s eyes rolled back, her hands flying to grip onto the sheets as she came undone with a broken cry. 

Frank clenched his jaw with a groan, fighting with all his might to hold back his own climax so he could give her another, but after so long without sex he couldn’t hold it back. He shuddered with a choked moan, his grip on her hips nearly slipping as he shoved her firmly against his pelvis so he could reach as deep as possible as he emptied himself in her. The feeling of her warm, gummy walls clenching around him drew out the slightest whimper he tried to suppress but she felt too fucking good, milking him like a pro. 

“Fuck baby,” he mutters roughly, pulling back just enough to give another rough slam of his hips into hers as the last of his climax washed over him. He slid out slightly, enjoying the sight of their sticky white cum coating his cock before he carefully pulled out the rest of the way, quickly catching his release with his thumb to push it back into her. Bambi’s thighs jerked from the overstimulation, she was still a breathless puddle on the bed, “Easy, sweetheart. Not lettin’ that go to waste.” Once he was satisfied his cum would stay inside her he reached blindly for his shirt off the floor to gently wipe her swollen folds, “There,” he murmurs once he was done, placing a fleeting kiss to her puffy clit before crawling up the bed to lay beside her.

There’s shelves of guns neatly arranged. coffee mugs everywhere. Smell of a moka pot brewing, and the soft crackle of a police scanner system in the air.

Frank is sitting at a makeshift desk with his attention on the scanner. a few empty mugs scattered around. he hasn’t noticed her come in yet, still very much on guard.

He spins around fast, gun drawn from under the table. Finger off trigger but ready to fire, muscles tense like a spring.

"...the hell are you-?" Frank’s voice rough from months of silence. eyes scanning her for threats. sees no weapon and lowers the gun slightly but not fully.

she holds her hands up, “Jesus Frank.. do you really not recognize me?”

She was his first love after Karen and he didn’t end well. She’s that bartender from a dive bar everyone went to after PointDexter and Daredevil wrecked Josie’s bar in the aftermath of Foggy being shot outside.

He lowers the gun completely now, exhales hard through his nose. fingers flexing like he's grounding himself.

"...shit… Y/n." he stands up slow, eyes flicking over her face like he’s checking for something. old habits die hard. "you shouldn’t be here." his voice quieter now but still gruff. turns back to the moka pot because staring at her hurts too much. "How'd you find me?"

“Matt..”

He scowls a little. figures it was him that would rat out his hiding spot. even after months of no communication.

"Course he would." Frank pours himself a bitter black cup of coffee, debating on shyly asking if she wants any. He hasn’t spoken to her in almost a year.

“He only did because I begged.”

He grumbles half to himself, half to her. still standing with his back to her because he’s a stubborn bastard sometimes.

"Of course. because when you want something you get it." there's a trace of that old playful banter in his voice, masked in sarcasm.

“that and taking in strays are my only good habits…” she says softly.

Frank turns around finally, leaning against the counter. coffee cup cradled in both hands like it's a lifeline.

"You always did have a habit of that. even me." He takes a sip, watches her over the rim of the mug before setting it down hard on the counter. "So what do you want?"

she nods and gives a soft smile, “Just wanted to make sure you were still breathin..”

Frank can't help but soften ever so slightly. he knows the worry in her voice is genuine. He's been alone so long that having someone worry about him is almost like a warm blanket or a good cup of coffee.

"I’m still breathing. alive and kicking if you want a full report." he crosses his arms, still watching her closely.

she nods, “Good to hear.”

She turns away, she knows when she’s overstayed welcomes with Frank. or atleast when she knows better than to insist on staying unless he says so. it’s a dance they do.

His expression falters almost instantly when she starts to turn. that stubborn part of him suddenly speaks up in his head.

"Hey." voice rough like a gravel road but with a hint of something like uncertainty. "Where you going? you went through the effort to track me down, least you could do is keep me company for a while."

She nods and turns back, her head slightly tilted and reflecting the same soft sad puppy eyes that only the yearning kind of love can bring to a person’s face.

He sighs like he's losing a battle. moves to the small, single burner stove to pour her a cup of coffee without asking if she wants one—because he remembers how she takes it. "Black with two sugars." Frank slides it across the makeshift counter toward her. looks away like this moment is too heavy for him to hold eye contact.

she holds the mug to warm her hands, “you remembered…”

He rolls his eyes like he's annoyed she even feels the need to comment on it, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. he remembers everything she likes. favorite food. favorite drink. favorite band. favorite color—which isn’t an easy one, it’s a specific shade.

"Just drink your coffee, smartass." he chides quietly.

She smiles softly and takes a sip, “You are right..” she says softly, it’s a continuation of an argument they had last year.

There's a brief, rare moment where his features almost look peaceful. then the police scanner crackles with activity and his head snaps toward it like a predator catching the scent of blood.

He forces himself to relax—just barely—because he doesn't want her to see him go feral right now. "So," he clears his throat, "You got time or you runnin' off somewhere?" he’s checking in with her, like time from the hour glass is slipping through his fingers.

“I got time- I was just…uh…saying you were right about the argument we had in that diner last april.” They had argued for hours in a 24/7 diner about which tasted better standard machine coffee or a moka pot.

He snorts softly, a memory he tried his hardest to suppress because it's one of his favorite memories.

“I told you moka pot was better." the slight trace of a smirk is back on his face. almost like time reversed and they were sitting in that old booth.

“listen..” she laughs, “I never owned one.”

His smirk is more sly now. he remembers when she argued with him that the diner coffee tasted just fine. he had made a point to buy her a moka pot after that.

"bull fucking shit. i bought you a moka pot for christmas that december. you used it once or twice then put it in a cabinet to collect dust." the words fall from his lips before he can stop them and he wonders if that was too revealing.

“Hurt too much.” she mumbles.

He exhales hard through his nose, the playful tone fading into something heavier. He studies the dregs of his coffee like it holds all the answers to why they can't seem to let go.

"...Yeah. know that feeling." his fingers tighten around the mug slightly before he forces them to relax again.

she nods and sips another, “I mean coffee shouldn’t remind me of a person. it’s so stupid that it does-”

he sets the mug down and leans against the counter, folding his arms across his chest in his signature move. he's avoiding eye contact again.

"coffee is supposed to comfort. it's supposed to get you through shitty mornings or long ass nights when you can't sleep." he pauses. clears his throat. "...or remind you of a person who was good to you when you were at peace and not at war..."

“You are the only person i know who drinks coffee like its water and doesn’t have cardiac issues…” she laugh softly, a soft smile of nostalgia.

He finally meets her eyes properly now, that rough-around-the-edges expression softening just enough to let some warmth in. but then he scoffs like he's annoyed at himself for showing even that much vulnerability.

"Some of us were built different." he quips before pushing off the counter to refill his cup. fixing the moka pot already to be brewing another round because—yeah, he does drink it like water. "you always did get on my case about it."

she nods and mimics his voice, “nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix”

he laughs despite himself, shaking his head. he remembers saying something along those lines almost every time she told him he was going to give himself a heart attack from stress and drinking too much coffee.

"I stand by that statement." he takes a sip from the refilled cup, studying her over the rim.

she moves to set the mug down and moves to his side, nudging his arm up. like she never left.

He lets her- lets her invade his space like she used to. it's automatic for him at this point, muscle memory from years of easy affection between them.

"guess I should ask how you been." his voice is quieter now, like he's afraid the answer will be something that hurts. but he asks anyway because he’s Frank and self-destructive tendencies are just part of who he is.

“Been okay.. trying to help matt through Foggy’s death is… rough”

He exhales through his nose, jaw tightening at the mention of Foggy. He wasn’t close to him but Matt was and by proxy, so were you.

"Matt ain't easy to help when he's grieving." he looks down into his cup before looking back at her. "...you been takin' care of yourself?" because that's what he really wants to know- if she's okay.

“Tryin to.”

He grunts like he doesn't believe her but there's a hint of understanding in the sound. he knows she hides how she's feeling behind a mask of normalcy and a soft smile. just like him.

"you look tired." He blurts out before he can stop himself, studying her face like he's searching for something. He's just barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch her cheek, to feel if she's real.

“think I bed rotted for 3 weeks after Foggy’s funeral.”

He swears under his breath and sets his mug back down, like he’s angry at the universe for putting her through that. or maybe just angry at himself for not being there to help pull her out of it.

"Should've called me." it's a gruff demand, not a suggestion. but then he backtrack-because why would she? they haven’t talked in months. "...I woulda answered." quiet admission that feels too heavy for this moment but he means it.

“Wasn’t sure if it was my place to.. but I thought about it. I didn’t wanna end up getting your voicemail and embarrassing myself…”

He exhales hard through his nose at her last comment and shakes his head. like the idea of her leaving a voicemail was the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"You could’ve called me at 3am piss drunk and cryin' with an incoherent slur of 'I miss you and I wish this still worked out.' and i still woulda picked up, dumbass."

“Note to self…call Frank.”

He snorts at that, reaching for the moka pot again to pour her another cup without asking. like he used to do on late nights when she'd crash at his place and they'd talk until sunrise.

"yeah, note to self." his voice is softer now-almost fond-before clearing his throat. "...i mean it though. next time call me."

“i’ll keep it in mind.”

He nods once, satisfied that she didn’t brush him off completely. he downs the rest of his coffee and sets the mug down with a soft thud against the makeshift counter.

"Good." there's a beat of silence before he adds, "...you gonna stay awhile or you got somewhere to be?" trying-and failing-to sound casual about it. it’s the third time he’s asked.

“I told you earlier I got time for you.”

He grunts quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he's nervous. He's not used to this, this moment where they're civil. friendly even. he opens his mouth to say something witty but the police scanner cracks to life like a shot in the silence and his head snaps toward it.

He listens for a moment, jaw tightening at the report. “...I gotta go." grabbing a tactical vest and gun off the metal wire rack, slipping it on with practiced ease.

“Do you want me to…” stay here or leave is what she means.

He looks at her for a moment longer, dark eyes raking over her features. almost like he's trying to commit this moment to memory in case she vanishes. then he shakes the thought away—not a good time to worry about that.

He grabs a pair of black leather gloves, shoving them on. turns back toward the door. hesitates again. "Keep this door locked. and don't open it for anyone but me." He's almost pleading with her.

she nods, “How will I know it’s you?”

He smirks slightly, even now—even with all the tension and unsaid things between them- she still remembers their old safety protocols. he steps closer to her, voice low so only she can hear it.

"...knock pattern. two fast, one slow." pauses before adding, "same as always."

He grunts in approval, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach out. but he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead.

"Don't stay up waitin'. I'll be back as soon as i can."

He turns and starts to walk out but pauses at the door, one hand wrapped around the handle. without looking back, he says gruffly, "Don't miss me too much."

“No promises.”

He laughs despite himself, shaking his head. the door clicks shut behind him but not before he tosses one last look over his shoulder—like he needs to see her again before leaving.

Frank’s eyes, however, are always the same. Intensely knowing with a certain melancholy. Yet kind despite it all. Though the latter is reserved for you. 

At one point in time, the world tried to convince you that you ought to be afraid. Everyone in the city called him a ghost story, but the only person he ever seemed to haunt was you.

He shifts his stance in the wake of your silent stare. “I’m gonna head out.” His voice is a low rumble. He takes a brief look around like it’ll sustain him before he drifts off with the wind. 

Your apartment is one of the coziest he’s ever known. Madani’s high rise had been cold and modern. Then she introduced him to you as someone nearby he could trust, and he never looked back. Your place always smelled like current season, every corner lived-in like a true home. At first, the fluffy pillows, decorative throws, knickknacks, and pictures on the walls seemed like the complete opposite of everything you were. 

He soon realized all the sharper sensibilities that continued to draw him to you were woven into a skillful balancing act with an undeniable groundedness. 

“You, uh, need anything before I go?” He scratches the back of his neck. 

You’d have smiled at the question if you hadn’t heard it a million times before. Just once, it would be nice for such caring words to not mark yet another end.  

Frank’s gaze falls to your legs as you climb from where you’d perched on the back of the couch. In place of a nightgown, a large T-shirt cascades down your frame. 

“Like what?” You pad over to him with that familiar forlorn look brewing in your eyes. “I’m sure there’s at least one leaky faucet to fix if you squint hard enough.” 

Frank's lips twitch. 

“A foot rub might be nice too.” Your voice comes out even smaller. Guilt itches Frank’s insides. 

“What else?” he prompts, just to hear the sound of your voice. 

You pretend to think. “A million bucks.” A more honest look befalls you. “A hug?” 

You sink into Frank when he outstretches his arms, missing the way his throat bobs and his eyes close. You only feel his warmth. The sturdiness of his frame. A small sound rises up your throat as he smoothes a large hand up your back. You tuck your nose into his chest and breathe him in. Notes of cedar and your toasted vanilla laundry beads. 

Frank catches himself about to nuzzle the top of your head, and starts to pull away instead. Your hold around his waist tightens as his arms fall by his sides. 

“Alright. C’mon,” he says. “Ease up, ace.” 

Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. 

Your stomach flips at the nickname. Two years ago when you first met, he watched you provide Agent Madani with the last bit of information needed to crack an opioid ring, simply because you were observant and a good listener as you moved through the world. It wasn’t a formal gig, but Homeland paid you a pretty penny to go out and get info every once in a while. That expanded to being a safe place to land for people like Frank Castle who needed to keep his coming and going on the low. The first night Frank spent at your place, he said you were good at what you do, and ‘ace’ stuck ever since. 

You finally pull away, looking down at your socked feet. 

“So where’re you headed?” 

“Don’t know.” Frank wets his lips. “I’ve done everything I needed to do here in the city.” 

That’s not an answer, and he knows so.

He tacks on a gruff, “I’ll call you, yeah?” 

It was always a waiting game with him. Except you do most of the wondering and waiting. A silence stretches between you until it wears thin. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if you stayed?” 

Your question lingers in the air with the rain. Outside, the sky illuminates as a zip of lightning strikes. A swell of thunder crescendos thereafter. You flinch while Frank remains still. Staying here with you is never not on his mind. It’s an admission too sacred to put out into the world. The universe has a cruel sense of humor. As he debates with himself on what to say, he runs out of time. 

“Never mind.” You wave a weak hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your cheeks. “Take care of yourself, Frank.” 

Tears sting in your eyes as you turn and walk away. Frank watches you disappear into your bedroom. You close the door behind you with enough force to send a gentle rumble through the walls. He stands frozen for a few seconds too long, then follows after you. He presses his forehead to the door with a dull thud. 

You wait for him to speak, and pray to God the truth will fashion itself on his tongue. You see the way he looks at you when you think he’s being discreet. You’ve noticed the unconscious, occasional way he speaks softer and makes himself smaller when he’s around. Your couch and kitchen table have hosted innumerable midnight conversations when he couldn’t sleep. He treats you with a level of respect you thought would wane but has only grown stronger. 

Too much evidence points towards his affection, that you’d never be able to believe you weren’t meant to be permanent fixtures in each other’s lives.  

Frank opens his mouth, but all the words slip backwards and catch in his throat. The only consolation he has is that he’s always one mistake away from bringing a war to your door. It’ll be over for him the second something happens to you. It’s better to avoid the risk by never sticking around for too long. 

“You take care of yourself too,” he echoes. 

A sniffle emerges from the other side. Frank swallows the lump in his throat. 

“Make sure you lock the door behind me, yeah?” 

That barely makes up the smallest fraction of what he truly wants to say. 

•••

Out in the hallway of your complex, a old man waits for the nearest elevator, so he takes the stairs. All six flights. The pain in his right knee has flared up by the time he reaches the bottom. Just before he pushes out the door and into the stormy night, he stops. There’s something in his bones that won’t let him continue forward. 

He’s afraid. He had been since the day his family was taken from him, and it was now costing him you. Binding him within a perpetual area of gray. As bright red brake lights blur by outside, he wonders what it’d be like to live in color again. 

•••

The same six flights of stairs have him cursing under his breath upon arriving on your floor. A strong gust of wind outside makes the lights flicker. Frank stops at your door, and it opens immediately. He takes a couple steps back, hands twitching by his sides. You sniff away the remnant of your spell of tears, not daring to break his heavy gaze. 

“Listen, I don’t…” he clears the hoarseness from his throat and rolls his shoulders back. “I don’t know how to do this, alright? Whatever this is.” 

You open the door wider. 

“Does anyone?” 

•••

Just as Frank begins to believe he has the chance to catch his breath, you rob it again. You’re a soft weight on his lap, fingers in his hair, lips dewy and careful against his. Each of his breaths expel a bit heavy like he’s been running from something. If the couch wasn’t beneath him, he’d fall and never stop. 

Kissing you feels like falling. His heart beats in his fingertips—everywhere—as he kneads your waist. 

You part from his lips to press a light line of kisses down the side of his neck. When you lift up, he can’t look at you for the first time in his life. He tucks his head, swallows hard, and wonders how plausible it is that this is all an illusion. 

You cup his bearded cheeks and make him meet your gaze. Both of you feel electric. 

You’re a beautiful sight. He’s stuck between enjoying the view and apologizing for doing so. He’s imagined what it’d be like to kiss you more often than he’d ever admit. Especially with the way you always had one of those sweet, mischievous smiles stored away for him. You’d made his head spin long before tonight. 

He feels selfish for following you to the couch. For not redirecting your attention when conversation waned and he failed to hide the flicker of longing in his eyes after years of repression. You’d latched onto it like fire meeting gasoline. 

Frank strokes your bare thighs, left on display where your oversized shirt has risen up. It’s a poor distraction from the pleasant warmth churning low in his gut. He regrets changing into his pajamas because there’s less fabric to hide how much you’re affecting him. He feels like a live wire on display. 

A hush falls over his thoughts when you lean forward to touch your forehead to his. He exhales when you kiss the bridge of his nose. His mind doesn’t stay quiet for long. 

“This isn’t why I came back,” he whispers. 

The last thing he wants is for you to think he just wants to get his rocks off.

You straighten up and smooth your thumb between his brows, making his lashes flutter. Then you trace a finger down his nose with a feigned pensiveness. 

“It’s not?” you murmur. 

He doesn’t catch the playfulness in the question until your sweet giggle breaks into the air. Then you swoop in to peck the corner of his mouth. Frank wants to roll you aside and get you under him instead, but you return to the side of his neck before he can manage. He shivers as you mouth at the warm skin shielding his pulse. When you nip there, he huffs a flustered, rugged sound that you pin as a chuckle. He squeezes your waist in turn, making you hum. 

Frank’s mind goes fuzzy enough that he doesn’t register that you’ve begun to slide backwards off his body until you’re on your knees between his legs. He instinctively opens them into a wider spread. He comes back into himself when you nose at the inside of his knee from over his sweatpants. When those intense brown eyes meet your gaze, you smile innocently and walk two fingers from his kneecap up to the crease of his thigh, right near the swell in the front of his pants. 

“Hey,” he says, with a tentative edge. He reaches out to grasp your hand even though his cheeks are flushed and more blood continues to rush south. 

You sleepily blink up at him through your lashes. “Hi.” 

With your free hand, you walk two other fingers up his opposite thigh. He’s quick to grab that hand too, and this time pulls you up onto the couch beside him. He kisses over your knuckles. The scratch of his beard sends tingles up your arm. 

“Not tonight,” he murmurs into your skin, eyes kind but imploring. “Been a long day. You’re tired.” 

The care in his voice makes you want to melt into him. Still, you poke your lower lip out and he falls for it. 

“Hey.” Frank’s voice is more gentle than before as he leans in. “I want you, sweetheart.” Your stomach flips at his unashamed directness. The new nickname too. “Just think it’d be better if we calmed ourselves down and took it easy for tonight, yeah? Ain’t got nothin’ to do with me tryna push you away.”  

“I know,” you assure. A small smile pulls at your lips. “First thing tomorrow then?” 

Frank fails at trying not to laugh. You join in, and he hooks an arm around you to pull you closer. Silence gradually bleeds back in. He could get used to the feeling of you in his arms. You’ve never felt safer. Let the war come if it may. 

Neither of you are sure when it stopped, but you can no longer hear the relentless patter of the rain. 

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

FRANK MASTERLIST 

Frank scoffed, still refusing to get involved. A cop. A rookie at that, this much was plain by the tremor in that scream. But what was a rookie cop doing alone in an alley in a weather like that?

“Last warning!” the cop barked, but Frank could hear the bravado fading.

“Yeah,” a male voice joined the party, “or what, bitch?”

“Shut up or I’ll skin ya alive,” another man added.

“You sure ‘bout that, Chucky? Come at me then.”

“Ah, for fuck’s sake,” Frank muttered to himself, because he’d recognize the edge in that voice anywhere. “Just had to say that, did you…”

He set his whiskey down carefully. 

As soon as he stepped into the dark alley, Frank saw you—cop uniform and all—holding two men at gunpoint. Another two behind you were preparing to lunge.

Frank moved faster. His forearm hooked around the closest thug’s throat, crushing his windpipe with a wet crunch before dropping him. The other two whirled towards Frank now, blades flashing.

But Frank didn’t waste time. His fist cracked against the next guy’s jaw, snapping his head sideways hard enough to loosen a few teeth. Another one swung his knife, but it was you who caught the wrist mid-air, then twisted. The bone popped, which was when you drove your knee up into the next guy’s groin so hard he retched. 

“What the…” You couldn’t quite believe your eyes, because… Surely not. It couldn’t be him.

But lo and behold, yes it was. Frank fucking Castle, interrupting your work. 

Yet again.

You huffed and judged the distance between two more gangbangers. They tried to back you against a dumpster while another now circled Frank. 

“I don’t hear from you for months and now you suddenly appear?!” you shouted.

The bastard actually had the audacity to look insulted.

Well then.

You sighed and, as much as you hated to make it quick, you shot two men closest to you point-blank. 

For a moment, your gun wavered between Frank and the groaning bodies, but Frank could tell you could barely see in all that rain anyway.

He scoffed, probably at your earlier remark, wiping blood from his split knuckles onto his jeans.

“You gonna shoot me now, are ya?” he rasped.

“Haven’t decided yet,” you replied, watching him. 

He nodded. “Appreciate the honesty.”

Your grip on the weapon stayed firm even as more rainwater dripped from your hair onto your face.

Finally, Frank grunted, stepping over one of the unconscious thugs to retrieve his liquor bag from where he had left it. It was still there. Small fucking miracles.

Frank could feel you were still watching him.

“You’re alive, girl,” he said over his shoulder. “Call it a day.”

For some reason, he was half-expecting you to yell at him. But you didn’t. Something about the way you stood there, though, wet and cold but still squaring your shoulders, dug at him. 

He turned around and watched as you holstered your weapon. 

“You’re bleeding,” you said to him then, nodding at the cut across Frank’s forearm where that knife had grazed him.

Frank touched the wound, smearing blood between his fingers. 

“Ain’t mine,” he lied.

“Sure.”

“Just… don’t go hunting alone next time,” he said before he could stop himself.

Your mouth tightened as you stood. “Wasn’t hunting.”

“Then what the hell were you doin’?”

You jutted your chin at his arm. “Got a medical kit in my car. Least I could do.”

Frank expected many things to fall out of that stubborn mouth of yours—just not that. 

“Car’s where?” he grunted.

You jerked your head toward the end of the alley. “Two blocks.”

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile. The rain didn’t let up, turning your hair dark and plastering it to your skull. 

“So. Not hunting?” he asked.

You didn’t look at him. “No.”

“Thought you could take seven gangbangers alone?”

“Yeah.”

Frank knew he shouldn’t continue this conversation. Really shouldn’t. After the last time, he promised himself he’d stay out of your way. 

He told himself it was for your sake.

“Got one at home,” he grunted.

“What?”

“First aid kit.” 

“Okay. If you say so.” There it was, that smirk again. “You feelin’ light-headed yet?”

He wiped blood from his forearm again, stubbornly silent.

You turned your back at him, rummaging through your pockets for the car keys. 

“You’re just gonna leave them?” he asked and pointed at the thugs. 

Not that he cared…

“What, you want me to call them an Uber?”

He chuckled and it felt like you had just dragged the humor out of him by force. It usually felt like that with you.

Frank studied your face; the stubbornness in your eyes, that hard set of your jaw. You didn’t even question his help out there… He told himself it was because you didn’t give a shit. A bump on the road, that’s what that was, back there in that alley. You were clearly a woman on a mission. Frank knew, because you told him as much back in that diner.

You also made him question some things, which he would never admit.

“Look, you comin’ or goin’? ‘Cause I got things to do,” you said without looking at him, shaking water from your soaked vest. 

“You do this often?” he asked.

You pressed your mouth in a tight line. “First aid? Yeah.”

“Pretendin’ to be a cop.”

You huffed and then just started walking. 

Frank watched you go. Five foot nothing, there you went. A Glock and a vest that wasn’t even strapped correctly…

He followed you against his better judgment. 

The car you led him to had seen better days. Green or maybe dark blue, he couldn’t tell in this weather. But he could see it was old, nondescript, with a dented fender. Frank exhaled through his nose as you popped the trunk, revealing a tactical med kit wedged between jumper cables and a rifle. He stepped closer under the lid to get out of that rain at least.

Your tore open an alcohol wipe, the sharp scent of isopropyl hitting him. Then you grabbed his wrist—not gently—and pressed the wipe to his cut. Frank grunted, feeling the burn biting deep.

“So you’re playin’ dress-up,” he decided. “Why?”

You shook your head and pressed gauze against the cut. “Ain’t your business.”

“Nah, fuck,” he muttered, but he still let you continue. “Call it professional curiosity.”

He should walk away… He would walk away. 

“What, you mad at me or somethin’?” he asked.

Your eyes snapped to his, wary, but now also alight with something that looked very much like expectation. 

“Yeah,” you said finally, securing the bandage with a sharp tug. “Mad you didn’t let me finish them.”

His mouth twitched—nearly a smirk, but not quite. “They were gonna carve you up.”

You slammed the trunk shut. “I had it.”

Frank exhaled through his nose. Same stubborn streak. Same miscalculation of your own odds. He kind of missed that.

“You got blood on your collar,” Frank observed.

You swiped at it absently. “Ain’t mine.”

He almost laughed.

You tilted your head, studying him now—really looking, the way you did that night in the diner. Like you were trying to see past the scars and the bruises to get to whatever fucked up shit that lay beneath.

Frank stiffened under the scrutiny.

“What?” he grunted.

“You’re still here,” you said flatly.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Still here.”

“Thought you’d stay gone like the last time.”

Frank didn’t answer. If it was up to him, he’d stay gone. It was better this way. 

But apparently fate decided differently.

“Right,” you muttered, then turned towards the driver’s side. “Get in or don’t. Just decide fast.”

And, against every instinct screaming at him to walk away, he yanked open the passenger door. You smirked, not surprised at all.

You drove in silence, blending into traffic in a way that raised no suspicion. The silence didn’t unnerve him this time. It was kind of what Frank really liked about you. No chatter to fill the uncomfortable bits. 

You glanced at him once, just a quick look, then back to the road. “Your place or mine?”

Frank nearly bumped his head against the roof, he straightened up so fast. “What?”

You chuckled dryly. “Fine. Mine then.”

Your safehouse was exactly what he expected—sparse, functional, an empty table shoved against the wall and a lone bed by the wall. No corners for the ghosts to creep up on you. No couch either, just a lone chair beside a window with a clear sight of the fire escape. 

Then there was, of course, your tactical wall—your targets. Every single one of them pinned to a complex map of connections and diversions.

“Christ, girl. You weren’t lyin’,” he muttered, just admiring the sheer size of it. Then something else caught his attention.

“About what?” You dropped your damp vest over the back of the chair.

“That what I think it is?” Frank pointed to the wall closest to the bed. 

Four pictures of him, two mugshots and two candids cut out from newspapers. 

“Still got me chasin’ your boogeymen?”

You shook rainwater from your hair and nodded. “Something like that.”

Frank stepped closer to your tactical wall again, fingers hovering near a photo of a familiar face, creased from being handled too much.

“You’re wastin’ your time,” he said gruffly. “That bastard crawled back into whatever hole he came from.”

You shrugged, peeling off your damp shirt without hesitation, revealing the scarred skin beneath it—equal parts your crusade and the past. “Why, you put him in one? Goddamn meddler you are.”

Frank’s jaw tightened. He hated that you knew his tells by now—hated that you could both jump into that rhythm, the banter. As if these past few months hadn’t passed.

He turned to face you fully—soaked, exhausted, scowling—and paused, seeing you shirtless. Frank’s breathing slowed and yours did too. For a moment you thought he was going to storm out. He looked at your scars—the puckered exit wound near your ribs, the surgical line next to it, the faded burns—before landing sharply on your face.

Something in his brain snapped.

Finally, he said the thing he had been avoiding since that diner:

“We doin’ this?”

You tilted your head, eyes locked onto him. “You askin’ me or tellin’?”

Jesus fuck, he ought to have walked away from this. Frank exhaled sharply through his nose, weighing his options. But you weren’t moving. Just watched him with that unnerving look in your eye. 

He stepped forward, boots heavy against cheap flooring, until he was close enough to touch. His palm settled flat against your back—right over that faded exit scar—pulling you towards him, like he wanted to check you were really there.

“You sure?” he muttered.

You grinned. “We ain’t dead yet.”

Frank let his hand slide upward—slow, deliberate. “Don’t know what that means.” 

You didn’t pull away, just lifted your chin like you fucking dared him.

“Means you can live,” you said, quiet. “For a night.”

And okay.

Fine.

He was done pretending he didn’t like that dare.

Frank crushed his mouth to yours, hard enough to convince himself this definitely was real.

Your fingers twisted into his soaked shirt as he backed you towards the bed. 

Getting him out of these wet clothes was easy. Getting him out of his own head was not. 

His grip on you was firm, but it was more like he didn’t want to let go rather than him being rough with you. You looked up at him, lying there on your back. You saw him looming over you with that same unreadable expression. You reached for him, fingers skimming over his old scars. 

“Eyes on me,” you said finally. 

Frank exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “Or what?”

“Or you walk.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned down and kissed you again. “Bullshit,” he muttered.

Yeah. 

That was the worst bluff of your life. You both knew you wouldn’t let him.

His hands slid down your sides. You waited, but for a long while it seemed like he was just enjoying the closeness. Holding someone alive.

You were impatient, but he had no rush. It was almost like he didn’t want to forget this. His breath was warm against your skin as he kissed along your neck, pausing at the familiar burn scar there.

“Don’t think about it,” you said quietly, fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him down just enough to make him grunt. 

He lifted his head and huffed, almost a laugh, before lowering himself again, his mouth finding yours. You arched up against him, but he didn’t let you hurry him—just curled a hand around your middle and held you there with him, steady.

“Easy,” he rumbled against your lips.

You bit back a retort because yeah, your patience wasn’t exactly boundless. His was just the opposite.

So you let him take his time. 

Let him drag his touch lower, then lower still. His thumb brushed over your clit just once and you cursed at him, hips rolling up to find the pressure of his palm.

“You’re a goddamn tease,” you grunted.

He let out a sharp kind of laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe what sometimes fell out of your mouth. But his grip turned firmer, pulling you against him again.

You didn’t argue. He was resting right atop of you and you could feel how hard you made him.

“You wanna fuck me or what?” you muttered.

You got no answer, just action—the kind that stole your breath when he finally pushed into you, slow, then slower still until you cursed at him again. Frank groaned, forehead dropping against yours.

His hips rolled against you with a steady rhythm, his breath hot on your ear. He grunted, watching for your reaction, muscles flexing under your touch as he adjusted his angle. “There?”

You snarled an affirmative—no use lying now. 

He braced himself above you and let out a deep breath against your neck. He was holding back, you could tell—still stuck in his own head about this. So you rocked up against him hard, forcing him to meet your pace instead.

His eyes snapped to yours, darker now, a little wilder. You ran your fingers through his hair and, out of all the things, that finally made his restraint snap. 

He cursed under his breath, lips grazing your cheek. “Fuck—”

You knew his tells by now, but he was learning yours too. His rhythm stuttered when he was close and he slowed his movements down on purpose. 

He didn’t hesitate this time, fingers circling your clit. “Harder?”

You pressed yourself against him, biting back a noise.

He let out a soft chuckle. “You ain’t gonna win this,” he muttered, working you relentlessly. “Might as well tell me.”

His breath hitched when you clenched around him and he talked you through it, even if you hardly registered what the hell was he even saying there.

His thrusts turned uneven then, deeper, breaking rhythm entirely. You let out a noise and Frank grunted low in his chest, like you just severed the last thread holding him together.

Afterwards, he stayed there, still buried inside you, breathing hard against your chest. 

You ran your fingers through his hair again, rougher this time, just to hear him making more noises.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped.

“What are you, my dog now?”

He lifted his head just enough to shoot you a glare before finally pulling out. He collapsed on top of you again with a groan. You laughed and went back to playing with his hair. 

Frank snorted, exasperated. “You’re gonna be insufferable now, ain’t ya?”

You didn’t even bother hiding your smirk.

He was back to being quiet, but not as guarded now. He was still here and you were already calculating how to keep him and make him think it was his idea.

“Stop thinking,” he said.

“Not thinkin’.”

He grinned. “Bullshit.”

His glare was lethal, but he didn’t argue. Just shifted slightly lower, resting his head against your stomach. Passive. Strangely intimate. You traced the thin scar at the nape of his neck, then stopped. 

He caught your fingers before you could move away. 

Yeah. 

He wasn’t leaving tonight.

You smirked and settled back—let him think you’d let him go.

“Wanna borrow a toothbrush?”

Frank sighed through his teeth. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here.”

He just grunted, unable to argue with that.

You closed your eyes, listening to his breathing. It slowed after a while and you pulled the covers around you both. You were pretty sure neither of you would get away from your nightmares tonight, just like every night. 

But now you had Frank here, in the flesh. You were pretty sure Frank wouldn’t let any boogeyman lay one finger on you.

“You stupid son of a bitch.” Curtis says, gaping at his friend.

A small humorless chuckle escapes Frank. “Those were her exact words too.” He grumbles. Having just finished telling Curtis about his last encounter with you a week ago. He’s never introduced you to Curtis but he’s talked to Curtis about you a lot over the years. He’s his oldest and only friend he can really confide in. 

“Well me and her are on the same page then.” Curtis scoffs. “If you wanted a clean break from her for ‘her safety’ then why didn’t you come to me for help after you got shot? Oh I know why, because you love her you stupid son of a bitch and you missed her.” He says sarcastically.

“Or we can blame the blood loss. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Frank says, more in an attempt to lie to himself though.

Curtis rolls his eyes. “Come on man, it’s me you’re talking to. So be real. You didn’t plan on it, but you fell in love with her. And much to your and my surprise, despite your glowing personality she loves you too. I’m failing to see the problem here.” He points at Frank grumpily who was about to counter his argument, telling him to zip it before he can interject. “Don’t you dare blame in on ‘The Punisher’. You’ve been seeing her for years and it hasn’t been an issue. And she wasn’t even asking for much. She just wanted more time with you and a little commitment on your end. Instead you tucked your tail and ran. Now you’re pissed she started seeing someone else. Well I hate to break it to you, but you can’t have it both ways my friend.”

“Mike the security guard.” Frank growls. As if the last part of Curtis’s little speech was his only take away. “Stupid emoji texting schmuck.” He growls again to himself like he’s lost in thought.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going to focus on?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “You sound a lot like her. Maybe it’s good I never introduced you two. You’d probably gang up on me.”

“Frank.” Curtis says with a raised brow letting Frank know his attempts of deflecting aren’t working.

“Okay fine!” Frank huffs, throwing his hands in the air. “Yes I fucking fell in love with her. I know this sounds stupid but I just felt like if we never talked about it out loud, nothing bad would happen to her. I can’t go through that again.”

“You’re right that is stupid.” Curtis says flatly.

“Wow, thanks buddy.”

“What you want me to sugar coat it for you? Cuz I’m not. You are your own worst enemy. You need to make up your mind. Let her in, or let her go for good.”

Frank hangs his head covering his face in his hands. He knows that. He’s been going back and forth about his answer to that for the past year. Even though you didn’t see him for most of a year he saw you. He checked up on you regularly to make sure you were okay. Then he lost it when he saw you out on a date with another guy and selfishly inserted himself back into your life. 

He shakes his head and uncovers his face. “I don’t know man. I really fucked things up last week. I don’t think she’ll even talk to me now.”

“Well if you’re honest with her and tell her your done being a dumbass I’m sure she’d listen. Probably after she kicks you in the balls again though….”

“You really need to work on your pep talks man.”

“Stupid schmuck.” Frank mutters to himself as he watches Mike walk out of the hospital. He’s pleasantly surprised when you aren’t with him though. Your car is still here though so he knows you’re here. After leaving Curtis’s he finally made up his mind and drove over to the hospital. He wanted to honestly tell you how he really feels about you before he second guesses himself and tries talking himself out of it again.

He throws Mike a heated glare as he drives past. “That’s right, keep driving bitch.” He grumbles. Mike of course didn’t see him, but it made him feel a little better.

Tapping his foot impatiently and thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel he watches and waits for you. Of course, things can never go his way though, that would be too easy. The sound of a woman screaming down the block gets his attention and being who he is he can’t just sit by and ignore it.

Minutes later a would-be mugger has been beaten unconscious. Much to Frank’s surprise the woman screaming was a dear friend of his, Karen Page. “Where’s your gun? I know from experience you’re packing in that purse of yours.” He says with a raised brow.

Karen huffs at him. “It is in my purse. The guy just grabbed my arm before I could reach for it. So, thank you again for rescuing me.” She steps a little closer to her friend and looks at him curiously. “What are you doing over here anyway? You don’t look dressed for a night out… ” Then she seems to answer her own question when he glances back up the block toward the hospital. He may have talked to Karen about you a few times. She elbows him playfully. “Were you out here waiting for (Y/N)? That’s so adorable.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He grumbles, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not like that. I-I messed up pretty bad with her the other day. She may not even talk to me. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to run me over at this point.” He chuckles sarcastically to himself.

“Do I dare ask what you did this time?” She questions cautiously.

Frank sighs, feeling frustrated with himself for how he’s handled things. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just hoping I can fix it.”

“Well you deserve a little happiness, and from what you’ve told me it sounds like she really loves you. I’m sure if you beg hard enough she’ll forgive you. Knowing you though, you’ll probably have to get on hands and knees.”

“Uh actually yeah, probably.” Frank agrees with a low chuckle.

“Alright well thank you again, but you better get back to your girl.” Karen says as she leans in and gives Frank a big hug. 

Frank hugs her back. As he’s hugging her he can see headlights lighting up the street. He doesn’t know why but instead of instinctively turning away from the car to hide his face he turns his head and looks directly at the driver. Making eye contact with you as you drive past in what feels like slow motion to him. “Shit.” He hisses as he pulls away from Karen.

“What?” Karen asks as she looks around unaware of what just happened.

“That was (Y/N), she just saw us.” He groans wiping a hand down his face. 

“What’s wrong with that? She knows we’re friends, right?”

You do know that Karen is a close friend to him. She was one of the few people that tried to be there for him after his family died. You understood how important she was to him. But by the heartbroken look in your eyes when he made eye contact with you tells him you are most certainly thinking otherwise right now. He walked out on you again, of course you would assume it was because of another woman when you see them embracing on the side of the road in the middle of the night.

“She knows but after how much I’ve fucked up she’s thinking something else now. Dammit!” He growls.

“Want me to talk to her?” Karen asks worriedly, not wanting to mess up his chance of happiness. 

“No, but thank you Karen. I need to clean up my own mess.”

Sitting on the floor of your living room your back is pressed against the backside of the couch. A case of beer sitting by your side. You made it from the fridge to the living room floor and haven’t moved since. You wished you would have stopped at a liquor store once you realized all you had at home was beer.

“Karen Page.” You grumble, wiping a stray tear from your eye as you take another drink of your beer. Frank talks to so few people you never even thought twice about there being another woman. But Karen Page makes sense you suppose. She’s perfect and beautiful and known him a lot longer than you have. 

You keep torturing yourself replaying the image of them hugging each other tightly as you drove by. You try to think back, did he ever hold you like that? 

Why does he keep popping back up in your life if he doesn’t love you the way you love him? You were still hurt from your encounter with him last week. Then with what you saw tonight you just feel like crumbling. You keep going back and forth between unbearable sadness, and unbridled rage. So many years you’ve wasted caring for him and pining after him.

“(Y/N)”

When you hear your name being called for a moment you think you’ve finally lost your sanity and that you’re now hallucinating. But when you see a shadowy figure standing by your back door those feeling of sadness and anger start bubbling. “Go. Away.” You say through gritted teeth in an attempt to not start sobbing.

Frank pauses in the middle of the hallway. “I know you don’t owe me a damn thing, but I’m asking please just give me 5 minutes.”

Grabbing what’s nearest to your hand you throw it at his head, which happened to be your shoe. “Fuck you Frank! Go away!” He of course dodged the shoe. Which angers you more, then he does the exact opposite and steps closer. So you grab the other shoe and throw it even harder. It flies past him and breaks a picture on the wall. 

“Dammit (Y/N), calm down.”

Lucky for you, you had another pair of shoes on the floor next to the couch. “Calm down?!” You yell, throwing the next shoe. “I will not calm down. Not until you get the fuck out!”

“Let me know when you’re out of shoes.” Frank mutters sarcastically, leaning against the wall, showing no signs of leaving. “There’s nothing going on with Karen.” He starts.

Hearing her name come out of his mouth just tears at your already shattered heart more. You jump to your feet dropping the last shoe, storming toward Frank with fire in your eyes. “Don’t you dare lie to my fucking face Frank! Why the fuck are you even here?! What exactly are you getting out of hurting me more?”

“I’m not lying. If you would just let…”

“Liar!” You scream, cutting off his words and try shoving him away. Hoping he’ll take you seriously and leave.

After about the third shove he catches your wrists and spins you around pining you against the wall. Much like he did outside the bar the first time he popped back up in your life. “I love you!” He yells over your yelling.

You freeze, like your entire body goes stiff. Your eyes go wide and your jaw drops. You stand there just gaping at him. Frank decides to try again since he has a brief moment of you not trying to fight with him. His voice is much softer this time when he speaks. “That’s right, I love you (Y/N). I’m sorry it has taken my stubborn ass so long to admit it out loud. But that’s what I was waiting outside the hospital for. I wanted to tell you before I could talk myself out of it again. Some guy tried mugging Karen while I was waiting for you. It was pure coincidence that she was nearby, and she was just thanking me. She even offered to come talk to you herself because she knows how much I love you.”

You stare back at a pair of brown eyes that are waiting for some sort of response, or reaction. All you can do is stand there and blink your eyes. Stuck in a state of shock. Your mind is reeling, in less than a minute he’s said three times that he loves you. You’ve dreamed of hearing those words from him for so long.

But now that you’ve heard it all you can do is stand there in disbelief. So much has happened the last few weeks leaving you lost and confused.

Frank bites his lip nervously. The silence and complete lack of reaction from you has him worried. “Now you have nothing to say? You always have plenty you want to say to me.” He says with a confused frown, but you can still see the worry in his eyes.

You gulp audibly. Your mouth is open but it’s like the words are stuck in your throat. Your eyes just keep searching his to make sure they match what he’s saying. Frank takes a deep breath and finally releases your wrists. He moves his hands to your face. His rough calloused hands cupping your cheeks. “I’m really hoping this hasn’t come too late. You asked for more, I’ll give you more. So, for the love of god will you say something?” He pleads.

Your hands suddenly reach up and grab the back of his neck and you pull him toward you, crashing your lips against his. It’s been so long since your lips touched his you almost forgot how good it feels. Frank was only momentarily caught by surprise, but he quickly catches up. He moves his hands away from your face, and wraps them around your waist and pulls you flush against him as he kisses you back with fervor. 

He actually breaks the kiss first. You would have happily continued kissing him until you passed out. He rests his forehead against yours, still holding you tightly against him. Like he’s worried you might run away.

“Say it again.” You whisper. Finally, able to get a couple words out.

Frank smiles, giving you a soft kiss. “I love you (Y/N). I have for a long time.”

You close your eyes as a smile creeps onto your face. You know he means it. You can feel it. You knew for a long time he was holding back. But tonight, you let your own insecurities eat away at you. That still doesn’t settle all your worries though. “You left me for an entire year and then suddenly inserted yourself back into my life. That’s not fair. Promise me. Give me your word, no more shutting me out or pushing me away. You’re either in a committed relationship with me, or not at all.”

Frank lifts his head and leans back a little so that you can see his face. “I never left you. You may not have seen me, but I checked on you all the time to make sure you were safe.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. He just admitted to stalking you essentially. “You know that would sound creepy coming from anybody else right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “My point is, I never wanted to let you go. I was just so worried about the ‘what ifs’. What if something happened to you because of me? But I can’t keep living like that, and you’re right it’s not fair to you. I give you my word, I’ll never push you away again. I’m all in sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters hearing all the things you’ve dreamed of hearing him say to you. “I love you.” You smile, putting your hands on his face and crashing your lips back against his. He smiles against your lips, wrapping his arms around you. 

With his hands on your hips he lifts you up effortlessly, and you wrap your legs around his muscular frame. Without breaking the kiss, he blindly carries you through the house to your bedroom. He falls down on the bed with you causing you to laugh and finally break the kiss as your bodies bounce with the mattress.

Your face turns more serious when you look Frank in the eyes. You’ve missed him so much. Moving your hands to his face you whisper. “I need you Frank.”

“I need you more.” He whispers right back.

Suddenly the two of you snap and start tearing each other’s clothes off hurriedly. It’s been so long since the two of you have been together like this. You need to feel him now. 

Once you’re both completely bare Frank hovers above you, positioning himself between your thighs. He takes a moment to gaze at your body beneath him. “Fuck I’ve missed you.” Then his eyes flick to yours and he hesitates to ask a question. “Do I…do I need to get a condom?” He coughs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

You shake your head at him. “No, you’re the last person I slept with, and I’m still on birth control.”

He smiles like that’s what he was hoping you would say. Then he leans down, pressing his lips to yours kissing you deeply. While you melt into the kiss he slowly presses his hard cock against your entrance. You moan against his lips feeling him slowly stretch and fill you.

“Fuck you’re tight.” Frank groans.

When he finally bottoms out he pauses. His lips hovering close to yours. Both of you panting for breath from the excitement, and he hasn’t even moved yet. He looks you in the eyes. “You’re my girl, and I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smile, never tiring of hearing him say those words. Then you lean up and capture his lips and resume kissing him. 

He leans on one arm to keep his weight off of you. While his free hand goes to your hip. Then he slowly pulls out of you and slides back in. Both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.  He keeps his movements slow a few more times. Slowly pulling almost all the way out and slowly pushing back in.

You revel in the feeling of him being inside you again. But you need to feel more. And you tell him as much. “More Frank. Faster.” You whisper against his lips. 

He grunts, and happily obliges you and picks up the pace. Unable to continue kissing you he moves his lips to your neck. His grip on your thigh tightens as he thrusts into you harder and faster. Tipping your head back you moan out in pleasure. “That’s right baby, let me hear you.” He moans against your neck.

He hooks his hand under your knee and spreading you open wider allowing him to go deeper. He has you practically seeing stars with each thrust. Your nails scratching at the skin of his back as you moan louder and louder. 

Your hips begin to roll to meet his trusts feeling your orgasm quickly building. He still remembers your body well and all the right spots that drive you wild. “S’arlight sweetheart, cum for me.” He whispers in your ear. 

And just like that you let go, crying out with his name on your lips as you reach your climax. Your walls tighten and spasm around his cock triggering his own orgasm. A warmth floods inside you as cums inside you with a deep guttural moan. 

After riding out your orgasms Frank rolls off of you. You feel the sticky mess between your thighs when he pulls out. But his open arms are inviting making you forget about the need of a shower. You climb into his open arms, settling your head against his chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat along with his presence lull you to sleep. “Please stay.” You whisper as you drift off to sleep.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right where I want to be sweetheart.”

Frank wakes with a smile on his face and is surprised when he sees the sun beginning to rise through the curtains. This is the first time he’s stayed this long with you, normally he would be gone before daylight. Admittedly that’s always one reason he favored the winter months. Less daylight meant more time with you. He feared someone spotting him in the daylight and never wanted to chance it.

Until now.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. A smile still on his face as he looks down at you. You’re almost laying entirely on top of him, as if to prevent him from leaving. Truth is though he doesn’t want to leave. He hasn’t for a long time. Just to afraid to admit it out loud and even more afraid to act upon it.

“Do you always think this hard so early in the morning?” You mumble sleepily against his chest.

“Probably.” He chuckles.

With a tired yawn you stretch your arms then lay them back on his chest with your hands clasped together. Lifting your head, you rest your chin on your hands. “Hi.” You whisper, blinking your eyes still trying to wake up.

“Morning beautiful.” He smiles back, sweeping your messy hair away from your eyes. His face surely going to start hurting from all this smiling.

“Part of me was worried I dreamed last night. But you’re still here. Good to know I haven’t lost my mind.” You chuckle.

Frank’s face skews jokingly. “I don’t know. You did fall in love with me, so you might have lost it a little.” He teases.

“Whatever.” You smack him on the chest playfully. “I admit though I did a little last night, sorry about throwing shoes at you.” You say with a sheepish smile.

He tips his head back and laughs looking and sounding lighter than he has in a long time. “Trust me sweetheart. I’ve had far worse things thrown at me. It’s fine. I had it coming anyway.”

As Frank is talking your phone goes off making his smile finally falter. He glares at your phone on the night stand. But he hands it to you with out looking at the screen. “Is that another winky, kissy face emoji from Mike? He isn’t going to show up here is he?” He growls.

You roll your eyes quickly glancing at your phone and then tossing it aside. “No, it was my boss letting me know I could have the day off. But you’re sure cute when you’re jealous. You’ll be happy to hear I broke things off with him after you were here last. I knew it wasn’t going to work.”

Frank scoffs. “Could of told you that after the first date.”

You cock your head to the side and frown. You may be a little slow to the catch sometimes, but the puzzle pieces are finally coming together. He told you last night he never stopped ‘checking on you’. Which means he knew when you started dating and then suddenly he appeared again after a year. “Is Mike seriously the reason you started talking to me again? Your jealousy outweighed your stubbornness?”

He bites his lip trying to hide a guilty smile. He knows he’s busted. “How much trouble am I gonna be in if I answer that?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Well shit! Had I known that’s all it was going to take I would have started dating sooner.”

“Whatever.” He grumbles but he can’t hide his smile anymore. “You’re my girl.” He says possessively as he rolls, flipping you onto your back so he’s now leaning above you. Then he leans down capturing your lips for a sweet kiss. 

His words and actions bring an even happier smile onto your face. “Well then, how much time does your girl get with you today? I’m honestly surprised you’re still here, the sun is out.”

He chuckles at that. “Surprised myself too. But about that…how much more of me do you want exactly?” He says hesitantly. 

Your smile falters a little. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders, biting his lip nervously. Which you find it odd seeing him nervous. This is somewhat new territory for him though you suppose. He takes a deep breath as he looks at you and forces himself to say the words. “Well…what if I didn’t have to leave…ever?”

Your eyes go wide, suddenly feeling giddy with excitement. “Why Frank, are you really asking to move in with me?”

He shakes his head suddenly second guessing himself. “Sorry, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

You put your hands on his face and crash your lips against his to shut him up. When you break the kiss, you smile at him brightly. “When can we go get your stuff? Do you even have any stuff? You know what, doesn’t matter. We’ll buy you new stuff.” You babble on, unable to contain your excitement. 

Frank smiles at you adoringly knowing he finally made the right choice letting himself be with you. “I really fucking love you.” He blurts out.

You abruptly stop babbling and hold his face in your hands. “I love you too Frank.”

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Here's my original AO3 post.

Staring back at you blankly are a pair of brown eyes that you adore, love even, but sadly he doesn’t seem to believe he is worthy of love. Which also makes those same eyes frustrate you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at his lack of response. You finally gathered the nerves to say the words that have been on your mind for months. I want more.

“Well? Say something Frank.” You grumble impatiently, while your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. 

He breaks eyes contact with you, looking down at the floor and shakes his head. “You already know the answer. Is it really going to make you feel better to hear me say it?”

No. His answer is no. Deep down you were expecting that. But you had a sliver of hope that he’d give into his feelings for you. You have always taken into account the unspeakable tragedy of his family that he witnessed. That’s not something you ever get over. But you had hoped enough years had passed that he’d open himself up to allowing himself to have a little bit of happiness. To love again. Clearly you were wrong. 

“So, you just expect me to be your personal nurse and fuck buddy at your beck and call? Because you’ve certainly led me to believe I’m more than that to you, and you know it.”

“(Y/N), come on. Don’t do this.” He whispers pleadingly in his gravelly voice.

You throw your hands in the air with an exaggerated sigh. “Dammit Frank! I’m not even asking for that much. Just spend some time with me when you’re not bleeding and don’t need fucking patched up. Let me know when I’ll see you next, instead of showing up randomly in the middle of the night. Equal out the commitment in this relationship.”

“We are not in a relationship!” He immediately fires back, like you hit a nerve or something. “You are not my girlfriend, we are not dating. This isn’t anything! Because I can’t have anything! You know this!”

Tears start pooling in your eyes, you feel like there’s a lump in your throat. How dare he say what the two of you have isn’t anything. You’ve been putting him back together for years. Both figuratively and literally. You were an ER nurse that found him lying in a back-alley bleeding out, and near death. You’ve never asked questions about ‘The Punisher’ or ever judged him for it. Over the years he’s spent countless nights lying in bed with you, making love to you, holding you tight while you sleep. He may have never admitted it out loud but you can feel the love there.

“That’s how you really feel? We’re nothing? I’m nothing?”

“I asked you not to do this.” He says coldly. 

Hanging your head, you take a deep breath to try and hold the tears back a little longer. He’s just going to push you away now that you’ve asked for more. He’s afraid of having any emotional attachments after everything he’s been through. “Okay Frank, fine. If that’s how you really feel.” After one more deep breath you raise your eyes to meet his. “Let me tell you how I feel then. I love you and I’m sorry you can’t let yourself love me back. But I can’t do this anymore. You’re going to have to find a new nurse. I won’t be patching you up anymore, nor will you be keeping my bed warm.”

If you didn’t know this man so well you might have missed the little flicker of hurt in his eyes, but be quickly recovers and hides it away. “Goodbye (Y/N).” He whispers as he turns his back to you and walks away, out the front door, and out of your life.

1 year later...

Sipping your beer, you nod your head and try to follow along with what the man in front of you is saying. Little things tend to make your mind wander. Wander to thoughts about Frank. It’s been a damn year of zero contact and you still can’t get that son of a bitch out of your head. This bar for example, that your date chose, just so happens to be the bar you came to with Frank on occasion. It’s a bar a lot of ex-military people hang out at. 

You most certainly aren’t ex-military. But your date, Mike, just so happens to be. Yes, apparently you have a type. Mike is a nice, handsome guy, he’s actually a security guard at the hospital you work at. He has been subtly flirting with you for months. When he finally worked up the nerve to ask you out initially you said no. 

Finally, having had enough wallowing over your broken heart you then decided to give Frank the finger, mentally at least. And changed your mind, telling Mike yes. Tonight, is your second date. Both of you agreed to take things slow and keep the date casual.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Mike says with a playful smile.

You bite your lip trying to hide a smile. “Okay you got me. Guilty as charged. I’m sorry the military jargon loses me. None of my immediate family were in the service.”

He chuckles at you. “It’s alright, I’m nervous too. When I get nervous I babble.” He points with his eyes and a slight nod of the head. “How about some pool? Do you play?”

Do I play pool . You internally scoff to yourself. You used to play pool with Frank for hours. The owner of the bar let you guys come in when it was closed so Frank wouldn’t have to be dressed incognito. You shake your head attempting to will your thoughts away. Frank had his chance, time to let go. “Yeah I play some.”

By the second round of pool you seem to lighten up and manage to not think about the devilishly handsome man that broke your heart. No, you actually enjoy yourself a little with Mike. To not let onto just how well you play you’ve been kind of missing on purpose just to make him feel better and give him a reason to ‘teach’ you how to play.

“Scratched again. Here, let me help you.” He smiles as he stands behind you. His arms wrap around yours with his chin resting over your shoulder as he helps you guide the pool stick. As he helps you make a shot you hear some glass shatter, but you don’t think twice about it. Probably a clumsy drunk.

Successfully shooting the ball in the pocket you both cheer playfully and grab your beers toasting your glasses together. As you drink down your beer you happen to glance toward the back of the bar. A familiar pair of eyes are glaring daggers in your date’s direction causing you to choke on your beer and spit it out on the floor.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Mike asks worriedly.

Holding a hand to your chest you start coughing and wipe the spit away with the back of your other hand. “Sorry, went down the wrong pipe.” You gasp. “I’m good now.” You say the words loudly and with double meaning. Your glare back at Frank and notice the shattered shot glass on the floor by his feet. Good, I hope he’s jealous. Serves him right. “Asshole.” You mutter under your breath.

“You say something?” Mike questions.

Uh. “Nice and cold. The beer, it’s nice and cold.” You stutter, trying to cover up your muttering. Then not able to help yourself you glance toward Frank again, but this time he’s gone. You breath a sigh of relief seeing that he left. Even though you’re rattled after seeing him for the first time in a year you decide to not let him ruin your night out. 

A few beers later you’re starting to feel drunk. You may be dealing with your sudden anxiety by drowning it in booze. You giggle at Mike with pink cheeks. “I’m going to run to the little girl’s room. Be right back.” He smiles and nods his head in response as he drinks his beer. 

The bathroom is in the back of the bar down a dark hallway. When you finally reach the restroom door you are suddenly grabbed from behind and pulled out the back door. You go to let out a scream but a hand covers your mouth. So you swing your foot backwards and kick the assailant right in the jewels. 

“Dammit (Y/N), it’s just me.” Frank coughs, holding a hand to his crouch.

“Well I’m definitely not sorry then. How about another for the road.” You hiss and go to kick him again. But he puts his hands on your shoulders shoving you up against the wall and wedges his leg between yours to keep you from kicking him again. 

“Good to know you’re not too drunk to defend yourself at least.” He groans, still feeling the pain from the hard kick.

You narrow your eyes and huff at him. “What the hell do you want Frank?”

He looks you up and down, and that’s when you finally realize his body is pressed up against yours. His thigh is pressed firmly against your center. And now you’re angry with yourself for enjoying the feeling of him touching you. You try to shove him away but he catches your wrists and holds them next to your head against the wall. “Man you are feisty. That fool inside wouldn’t know what to do with you. You’re wasting your time with that loser. And you look ridiculous by the way pretending to suck a pool to make him feel better.”

“Oh, so you’re giving dating advice now? Well here’s some advice for you, go fuck yourself! Now let me go!”

That handsome son of a bitch has the audacity to smirk at you. It’s like an adoring smile, like he’s missed you or something. Which just upsets you more. Because he made his choice. He walked out on you. His smile faulters when he sees your bottom lip quiver and your eyes get glossy. “(Y/N) come on, don’t do that. I-I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute.”

This time when you pull your hands away he doesn’t fight you, nor does he when you shove him away. He actually finally takes a step back. You take a deep breath and dry the corners of your eyes. “You had your chance to talk. You chose to walk away instead. Your chance to talk is long gone. Bye Frank.” You say as you turn and walk away from him, repaying what he did to you a year ago.

As you attempt to pull the back door open to go back inside you realize it’s locked on the outside. Fine, I’ll go around. You internally grumble to yourself. But when you turn back around Frank is still there and he looks like a brick wall you’re going to have to try and pass through. He shakes his head at you. “Sorry darlin’ that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, you’re drunk. I’m not letting you go back in there and have that douche bag try and take advantage of you.”

You roll your eyes. “I am not your concern anymore. Now go away.” You huff, reaching into your back pocket to grab your cell phone to text Mike so he doesn’t think you ditched him. Frank quickly snatches the phone out of your hand, and pockets it. Then picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, knowing you wouldn’t come willingly he doesn’t bother warning you.

“Dammit Frank! Put me down!”

“Not till I get you home safe.” He retorts, unfazed by you kicking and screaming at him. 

He carries you over to your car that’s parked on the street. When he unlocks your car, you pause your tantrum and frown. “When did you get my keys?”

He shakes his head and tsks you, setting you down in the passenger seat. “See you were even too drunk to notice when I swiped them from your coat pocket.”

“This is such bullshit!” You growl as you try to stop him from buckling you in like a small child. Eventually though you give up because your head starts spinning and a wave of nausea hits you. “Fuck you.” You groan when you hear him chuckle an ‘I told you so’.

After getting you settled in he walks around to the driver side and gets behind the wheel. You have your head leaned back against the seat taking slow deep breaths in an attempt to keep yourself from puking. But when you hear the sound of texting you tilt your head to the side and squint your eyes open. “Who the fuck are you texting on my phone?”

“Texting the bozo inside that you went home sick so that he doesn’t think you got kidnapped or something and call the cops.”

“Aren’t you technically kidnapping me?” You grumble.

“Call it what you want sweetheart.”

You let out an annoyed growl for him calling you sweetheart. “You are such an asshole. Mike is a nice guy, he wouldn’t have tried anything.”

“Mike.” Frank scoffs the name. “Well I hate to break it to ya but Mike just wants in your pants.”

“Well maybe I wanted to let him! Fuck, I hate you!” You hiss back angrily. You didn’t really want to let Mike touch you, nor do you actually hate Frank, but you wanted to say something hurtful back. Just make him feel a fraction of the hurt he’s made you feel.

Frank lets out an annoyed grunt and grips the steering wheel tight until his knuckles turn white. He takes a couple deep breaths to keep himself from snapping back at you. “You don’t really mean that.” He says in a calm and low voice.

“Why are you all up in my business anyway, huh? I thought I was nothing to you?!” You choke out the last part, feeling your throat tighten.

Once again, he goes quiet on you, reminding you of the last night you saw him. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from quivering, but your eyes are blurry from the silent tears that have spilled over. When the car finally comes to a stop you wipe your eyes to try and get your vision back into focus. You’re able to make out the front of your house. 

“I never said you were nothing.” He whispers as he pulls the keys out of the ignition and hands them to you. 

“Just leave me alone Frank.” You say as you angrily grab your keys from him and slam the car door as you climb out. Then storm into your house without looking back.

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

It’s late at night, you just finished a double shift at the hospital. There was an incident of some kind in the city with a lot of casualties. You were too busy in the ER to get the full story and now you’re too tired to care. When you walk out of the hospital Mike is there waiting for you. By some miracle he forgave your strange date a couple weeks ago at the bar. He knew you had drunk too much so he actually believed you had someone come pick you up and your car. 

You also haven’t seen Frank since that night. Part of you wants to be sad that he listened and has left you alone. The other part of you is relieved because it hurts too much to see him or be around him. 

You give Mike a tired smile. “Long night, huh?” He smiles back.

“Long day.” You groan.

“Yeah, well the aftermath of the Punisher seems to have that effect on people.”

His words cause you to stumble over your feet but you manage to catch yourself before falling. “What? What are you talking about?”

Mike must brush your clumsiness off as part of your fatigue because he doesn’t say anything about it. He does give you a strange look though. “All the people in the ER today was because of the Punisher. Got in a shoot-out downtown.”

Dammit Frank. Is what you’re thinking. “F-f…the Punisher doesn’t go after innocent people. Had to of been some bad people.” You say in Frank’s defense unable to help yourself.

He scratches his head. “Yeah I think I heard something about they were all gang members. I don’t know.” Then he drapes his arm over your shoulder and changes the subject. “Think you could stay awake long enough to get a bite to eat? There’s that 24-hour diner down the street.”

You shake your head in an attempt to clear Frank from your mind. You are dead tired, but you are also starving. “Yeah I could eat.” You say with a shy smile as you finally reach your car. In the corner of your eye you see something in the backseat. A blanket? You didn’t have a blanket back there. The blanket shifts slightly just enough for you to see Frank’s bloodied face. “Oh shit!” You yell, and clap a hand over your mouth. 

Mike comes to your side and looks in your backseat where you were staring. Frank quickly covered himself back up though. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…Sorry I was just thinking and realized I forgot something. My...sister is at my house waiting for me.”

His face skews. “At 1:00 in the morning?”

“Uh…” Man you are bad at lying when you’re put on the spot. “She…she works swing shift. We catch up when we can. So, can I take a raincheck on dinner?”

Mike seems to accept your terrible cover up. He nods his head. “Okay, yeah no problem. I understand, family is important.” He gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek and tells you goodnight.

You wave to him awkwardly and hop into your car. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding once you get out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “What the hell Frank?” You hiss with a clenched jaw.

“You don’t have a sister.” He groans from under the blanket. “Shows how well that putz knows you. He can’t even tell when you’re lying through your teeth.”

“Really? That’s what you want to focus on? How about we talk about you hiding out and bleeding in the back of my car!?”

He groans again and uncovers his face. “I’m sorry. I know what you said, but I didn’t know where else to go. I would have gone to your house but your car was closer and I passed out a while ago.”

You shake your head and sigh. “Great so you could have bled to death in the back of my car. How would I have explained that? Gee mister police officer, I don’t know how Frank Castle got in there.” You grumble sarcastically. “So what’s the damage this time?”

“Two bullets in my left shoulder. Couldn’t get them myself which is why I had to come to you.” He sighs.

You tilt the rearview mirror so that you can see his face without having to turn around. “Just so we’re clear I’m only helping you because I can’t in good conscience let you bleed out and die. And I wouldn’t know how to explain your dead body to the cops….”

“Thanks?”

You hand Frank a bottle of water and then get your medical kit open. Sadly, it’s a medical kit specifically designed for Frank, you put together not long after you first met him. “Can I get something a little stronger than this?” He questions waiving the bottle of water, implying booze would be better right now.

“Nope, not till I’m done. You need to rehydrate, I don’t know how much blood you lost. Now hold still.” You grumble as you get the surgical tweezers out and get ready to dig out the first bullet.

Frank can take a lot of physical pain. But you still see his hands clench onto the chair that he’s sitting backwards in. He grits his teeth and growls as you finally retrieve the first bullet. He exhales loudly, releasing the breath he was holding. “Did that make you feel better? I think you dug a little deeper than necessary.” 

You shrug your shoulders even though he can’t see you right now. “Meh, can’t say that I do. Maybe with the next one.” Then without warning you go after the second bullet that is actually in deeper than the first. His right hand balls into a fist and smacks the table next to him and he growls louder this time. “When did you become such a baby?” You chide as you successfully retrieve the second bullet.

“When did you start enjoying torture?” He retorts, sounding short of breath.

Since you broke my heart. You think to yourself. You aren’t actually enjoying inflicting pain on him though, nor do you get off on torture. But you suppose he kind of had it coming. You don’t give him any kind of response. Instead you clean up his wounds and get ready to start stitching him back together. 

Your mind wanders off as you gaze at his back covered in battle scars. There was once a time you knew every scar on his body. But now you can see there’s new ones since you last saw him. Makes you wonder if he has someone else patching him up or if he’s been doing it himself.

After several minutes of heavy silence Frank finally speaks up. “Why don’t you ever ask questions about…you know, the Punisher? I mean I lost count of how many times I’ve come to you all bloody and you’ve never once asked questions. Not even the first time you found me.”

You don’t exactly feel like conversating with him right now, but that’s a fair question you suppose. “I don’t know, because I don’t really need to know I guess. I know you feel like you’re doing the right thing. And hell, a dead drug dealer or gang banger is no skin off my back. So who am I to judge? You clean up more trash than the cops around here do.”

“But I’ve killed people. A lot of people. That doesn’t bother you?”

“I see a lot of death where I work. I see the aftermath of what the drug dealers, illegal arms dealers, and so-called gangsters do to innocent people. So no, karma coming around and giving them their just desserts doesn’t bother me.” You say honestly.

Frank doesn’t respond to your answer. Both of you go quiet again after that. You go on to finish stitching up his wounds and covering them with bandages. Just as you’re about to finish your phone goes off. Where is your phone? 

“Seriously?” Frank says.

Your face skews, unsure what he’s reacting to. “What? Seriously what?”

“This guy.” He grumbles to himself. “Mike just sent you a winky kissy face emoji. Okay, I can’t take this crap anymore. What is up with you and this guy? He’s a loser and totally wrong for you.”

You stand up abruptly and see your phone in Frank’s hand. “Stay out of my phone!” You growl as you yank it away from him. “He’s a nice guy, and a change of pace. Not that it’s any of your business. Why the hell do you care so much anyway?”

“What, I’m not allowed to care about you now?”

“How can you care about someone who is nothing to you?!” You yell suddenly, unable to reign in your temper. He doesn’t want to be with you but he wants to butt into your dating life. And now he suddenly cares? 

Frank stands up and turns so he’s facing you. “I never said you were nothing. You said that!” He yells back.

“Well you didn’t argue and you didn’t hesitate to walk out on me now did you!”

“I was trying to protect you!” He fires back.

A humorless laugh escapes you from his words. Protecting you? “Protecting me from what exactly? You weren’t concerned all those years you came to me beaten and bloody, and spent all night with me. But the moment I tell you I love you and want more then you’re suddenly trying to protect me? Then you completely disappear from my life?”

He hangs his head and casts his eyes down to the floor. “I was trying to protect you from me. Anything good I try to have gets taken away. Trouble follows me where ever I go.” He whispers in a low voice.

“So your logic is to deny your feelings for me and everything will be okay?” You whisper back instead of yelling some more, while trying to hold the tears back. This is the most honest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

He turns his back to you and grabs the clean shirt you had gotten him and his jacket, quickly getting redressed. “I’m sorry for bothering you. It won’t happen again.” He says as he walks away from you for a second time, headed toward the front door.

You choke back a sob and your chest tightens like your heart is breaking all over again. “You stupid son of a bitch. Don’t you dare Frank! Don’t you dare walk out on me again! We were finally getting somewhere. Stop running for fuck sake.” 

“This is just the way things have to be for me.” He says while keeping his back turned to you knowing he’ll likely break if he sees the hurt and tears in your eyes.

“If you walk out on me again Frank I swear to you it will be the last time. I will never speak to you again! I won’t care if you’re bleeding either!”

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” He whispers as he opens the door and walks out again without looking back. 

The second time your heart breaks hurts more that the first time.

Go to Part 2

Oh Frank is a beautiful bloody mess of man. Don't forget to read Part 2.

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Here's my original AO3 post: