Frank Castle Fluff - Blog Posts

Hiiii Olivia, I absolutely adore everything you write I'm literally obsessed.

Can I request no.5 from the prompt list pretty please, but I was thinking that maybe the reader worships franks body ya know, I little twist, only if you want don't feel pressured.

Ok love you, bye!!!

5.) body worship

hii coco my love, thank you so much :')) i adore YOU and im literally obsessed with YOU. i had so much fun writing this one so i hope you enjoy :3

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: filth, pure filth, SMUT OBVIOUSLYYY, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, praise, dirty talk, face fucking, mentions of pillow humping, submissive frankie if you squint

Wordcount: 1.3k

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✦ heart eyes

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful doll.” Frank moans into your mouth, exploring your body with his hands, tracing every curve with his fingers.

“All you Frankie, that’s all you.” you whisper, pulling away from his lips and attaching yours to his neck, tasting his soft skin and nibbling on it.

“Think ya fuckin’ blind baby, I’m nothin’ compared to ya.” he chuckles, squeezing your waist and pulling you closer to his crotch, both stood at the edge of your bed.

“That’s where you’re wrong Frank.” you say, pulling yourself away from his neck, pushing him down to sit on the bed, leaving you standing, towering over him. He shoots you a shocked look with a raised eyebrow, unsure of where you were going with this. You fall to your knees, grabbing the hem of his shirt, pulling it up as he helps you remove the garment. Running your hands down his chiseled torso, you hum appreciatively. 

“Fuck, you can’t sit there and call me blind when you look like this baby.” your hands wrap around his waist, gripping him harshly. You don’t peel your eyes away from his body for a second, wanting to take in every crevice of his muscles, all the scars, memorizing them forever. “It’s like you’ve been fucking hand-carved by the Gods themselves.”

He chuckles at the comparison, Frank can’t help but look away as the blush creeps up from his neck, painting his face beet red. He isn’t used to this love, these compliments. He believes with every ounce of himself he doesn’t deserve any of this, but despite all these thoughts of self-hatred, you shine through. 

“Shh sweetheart, y’dunno what ya sayin’, promise ya you’ve got the wrong guy.” he mumbles, reaching down to pull you back up to him to straddle him, but you stay firmly planted on the ground, shooting him a daring look as if to say “I’m not fucking done yet.”

He raises his hands in defeat, allowing you to unbuckle his belt and pull the dark blue jeans off of his legs. The moan you make just at the sight of his aching cock straining in his boxers makes his member twitch. 

“Don’t get me fucking started on these legs, these thighs Frankie. How on earth did I get so lucky?” your heart eyes are practically bulging from your head as you go to palm his bulge through his underwear, smearing his already leaking precum around the fabric.

“I ask m’self the same question every damn day, pretty girl.” he groans, running his hands through your hair, allowing you to make him feel good for you. His head throws back into the plush of your comforter as you run your fingers up his thick thighs, playing with the prominent vein on his cock through the fabric.

“You dunno what you do to me Frank, I get so turned on just thinking about you.” you whimper, pumping his length through his boxers. “I hump my pillow every night you’re out.. fuck picturing it’s your thigh.” you place your mouth over his underwear, tentatively licking stripes up his clothed bulge. Frank starts bucking his hips into your touch, dying to feel more of you. “Just being in your presence makes me so wet I can’t think straight, I have to stop myself from just taking you right there and then..”

At this point you can’t help trailing your hand down your stomach to your soaked panties, pushing them to the side as you delve your fingers inside your drenched hole, the view of your perfect boyfriend turning you to desperation. Taking your mouth off of his cock, you pull his boxers down to expose his length. It instantly slaps against his stomach, the erection he has is so hard it almost looks painful. You purr and drool at the sight, Frank so bare in front of you, so exposed just for you.

“All mine Frankie, all fucking mine.”

“Only yours doll, fuck I’m all yours.” he whimpers, the sound like music to your ears. “Please baby, I need ya so fuckin’ bad, need your mouth..”

You can’t wait another second without tasting him, so that’s what you do, accepting his begs for you. The power you have over him is enthralling, something you’re gonna want to explore later on with him. Placing your lips around his dark red tip, swirling the sensitive head around your mouth with your tongue, you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock, taking as much of him in as possible while fondling his heavy balls. 

Frank knows he won’t be able to last much longer like this, but he uses every ounce of self control to withhold himself from letting go, needing you like this for as long as humanly possible. Your eyes don’t leave his while you pleasure him and yourself, he smirks at your gaze.

“Enjoyin’ yourself down there sweet girl?” he coos mischievously between moans.

“You know damn well I am Frank, any excuse to be in between your legs.” you wink, smiling at him matching his energy as you resume the task at hand.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.. fuck just like that don’t you fucking stop… shit” he growls, taking both of his hands and grabbing your head as he starts fucking himself into your mouth, his desire fully consuming him like a man possessed. The feeling of him taking the control back, using your mouth to get off, sends a fresh wave of arousal to your already longing core. His tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly, taunting your gag reflex but you take it on the chin, eyes welling with tears and his cock flooding with your saliva. 

The sounds erupting from the action are pure sin, the squelch from each thrust, the wet noises from your pussy as you play with yourself. You whine around his cock as he spills his sticky, hot seed directly down your esophagus, a primal groan erupting from his throat as he emptied himself inside of you makes your clit throb. 

You finally take your mouth off of his spent member, the overstimulation as you lift yourself makes his whole body flinch. You can’t help but smirk, Frank sprawled out beneath you heavily breathing, balls and cock twitching as his member softens before your eyes. 

“I meant everything, y'know Frankie? I truly do think you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever had the privilege to call mine.” you pant, lips puffy and red as you smile up at him.

“I know ya did doll, meant it when I said I dunno what I did to deserve ya too,” he offers you the same smile back, eyes staring through you with lust blown pupils. “So, ya hump ya pillow thinkin’ of me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, giggling at the realisation you admitted to him your dirty little secret while you were so cockdrunk. 

“I do baby, while wearing nothing but your shirt too.” you taunt, climbing up to your feet. He groans at your confession, eyes rolling to the back of his head imagining you do this. You go to walk to the bathroom to clean yourself off, but he halts your attempts by grabbing your wrist and pulling you down to his eye level. He places his hand to your face, angling you to meet his gaze.

“Show me.”

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a/n: this.. ngh.. need this. need him. i have no other words.

my inbox is open!

band-aids and bullet wounds

summary: frank comes home with bumps and bruises. you sing him a little tune to brighten his night.

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: general frank castle injuries :(

a/n: back to posting! although it’s still irregular, i have a break from school on the horizon in which i may or may not have some prompts lined up. in the mean time, i love writing for lovable trash men, so please send in requests!

She woke to the sound of jangling keys in the doorway. Shuffling feet, and a clang of them falling to the floor had her up and out of her uncomfortable position on the armrest. Her feet patter against the hardwood floor of Frank's apartment, and behind the bed she hid, her eyes peeking out from above the comforter. She groped the floor for a gun she knew was there. There was a grunt of pain, the keys jangled again, and watched with baited breath. She sighed in relief as Frank walked through the door. Then furrowed her brows in panic as she quickly surveyed his bruised body.

Before she can do, or even say anything, he collapses into a chair near the door and bends down in pain, wincing as he attempts to undo his large combat boots.

"Frankie..." She criticizes, almost pouting as she makes her way over to his seat.

"Oh, don't start," He begins in an attempt to comfort her. He's hunched over, breathing shallow, yet laborious.

"What did you do, Castle?" She asks quietly, getting down on one knee to undo his boots.

He leans up slowly, allowing himself to relax into the shitty upholstery of his chair. He’s pretty sure he got it from a garage sale. It certainly feels like it. Frank gives no response. Instead he grimaces and sighs, closing his eyes and moving his hand to run it over his hair and face.

Without words, she's up off her knee, extending her hand to him. He mindlessly moves his to rest in hers. A gentle tug from her and a grunt of pain from him, and he resists, instead pulling her in towards him. She stumbles over his boot and whimpers as she accidentally bumps into his leg, her face planting straight into his severely bruised shoulder. He whimpers, but drowns it in her neck, letting himself lay idle there as she tried to figure out where to place herself in order to not hurt Frank. She settles for his knee, and for also wrapping her warm arms around his broad, tough shoulders.

"Frank," She murmurs into his jawline, her body rotated so that she could turn into him.

"What happened?" She inquires, running her hands over his freezing ears.

"Just a few bad guys, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. Nothin' I haven't handled before." He reminds, letting his frigid hands run under her shirt for warmth. He hears her sharp intake of breath, and her chuckle into his ear and he melts. All the cold from outside and the pain from a few hours ago just melts away and he lives in her breathing for a second, before she removes herself from his lap carefully.

"C'mon," she encourages, taking his hand and gripping it tightly. With intent.

He sighs and removes himself from the chair.

She drags him unceremoniously into the bathroom, and sits him down on the side of the tub. Frank closes his eyes and, seemingly, for the hundredth time that night, sighs. He watches her, and wonders how he got to be so lucky. These patch-up sessions happened so often now, that he just let himself be cared for. Maybe he was getting sloppy. Did he deserve the aftercare? Probably not. But he had resisted long enough to realize that whether he likes it or not, if he comes back home and she’s waiting for him, he’s getting stitched, bandaged, and iced.

“What hurts?” She asks. He doesn’t answer.

“Frank—” She begins, but he interrupts her.

“I’m okay.” He lies.

“Bullshit. You’re sitting there, looking like Barney the dinosaur and you’re just gonna, fuckin', lie to my face?” She jokes, halfheartedly.

“Sweetheart,”

“No—don’t even, don’t even pull that shit with me, Castle. God. You know—do you even know what you look like right now, Frank?” She says, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet wide, so that frank could take a good look.

The dried blood on his temple immediately stuck out to him. A large gash where the skin was frayed definitely looked like it would hurt tomorrow. Not to mention the bruises. The cut on his lip would make eating anything spicy a pain. Though he had to admit, he’s seen worse.

“Would you believe me if i told you I won?” He asks, grinning at her.

“Unfortunately, 100%.” She answers. She rolls her eyes and takes the first aid kit from the cabinet.

On the floor next to him, after he takes off his jacket and his shirt, and all other unnecessary clothing items, she spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to use on him. Band-aids, gauze, ice packs, and a small suture kit were intermittently attended to as she cared for Frank. Not before long, the gash on his head was closed as best she could, and the majority of the larger cuts were bandaged up. The only things left were the small thin scrapes, littered over his face and arms, and the medium sized laceration on his bicep.

In the middle of applying comically small band-aids to the wounds, she decides that the fastest way to get through the process would be to murmur a very relevant, catchy tune. She sings it proudly yet quietly, applying one of the sticky ends methodically to Frank's face.

"I am stuck on band-aid brand, ‘cuz band-aids stick on me,” she sings under her breath. Frank recognizes the melody. It’s the only commercial that came on kids television, apparently.

“What?” He questions anyway.

“I am stuck on band-aid brand ‘cuz band-aids help heal me,” She croons, looking up at Frank’s incredulous expression.

“I can’t deal with you,” he chuckles, and turns away to watch the wall, before his gaze falls back to her smiling widely on her knees, getting the alcohol to disinfect the scrapes. Without warning, she pours the alcohol into the gash in his arm. He growls. 

“Ah, watch the fuckin'... thing, please.”

“I’m gonna put a band-aid on your mouth,” she mutters, “maybe it’ll fix your language.”

“Ah shut up,” he retorts, and tries to run his sticky, dirty, bloody hand through her hair.

“Nooo!” She whines, dodging it.

“I’m almost done, and then, ah shit—“ she cuts herself off, realizing she should’ve had him take a shower first. Too late now

“Well, we can have it sit for a while, then I’ll hop in the shower with you?” she suggests. He rests his hands on the edge of the tub.

“Sounds good to me,” he responds, listening to her hum and take paper off of band-aids. 

He watches as she meticulously covers each cut with nurturing hands. He doesn’t mind the touch. The cheap whiskey stings a bit when first applied, but the pain become dull after a while. Like a tattoo needle. He only realizes he’s tired when he yawns, and then again when she reaches up to rub the back of his neck after she’s finished. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, and relishes in the undisturbed tranquility of the night. A clock ticking from somewhere inside his apartment. Nearly ancient walls creaking. A car driving by every now and again. He’s glad he’s not alone, is the only thing he can think of when his lips meet hers.

the red means i love you — frank castle

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: violence! like a lot of violence.. and detailed accounts of said violence, reader goes insane, mentions of murder, trauma, reader is a past widow for the red room, Y/N usage, kidnapping, established relationship, fluff, standard the punisher warnings.

authors note: hii theree! so this one is kind of insane, i may have went just a tad bit overboard, but y’know. thank you anon for this request that this fic is based on! this story is heavily based on the song, ‘the red means i love you’ by madds buckley, so give it a listen if you’d like. much love to you all, i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

You panted, your hand pulling the machete out of the last man’s chest. Your vision was still hazy, and you didn’t exactly feel like you were in your body.

But, that’s how you always felt when you killed.

As you gathered your bearings, your eyes began to dart around the room— and you realized how many men you had just taken out.

“Motherfucker,” You groaned as the pain began to set in due to the knife that was currently in your thigh. One of them must of done it when you were distracted, and your adrenaline was far too high for you to register it.

You no longer had that problem, it hurt like a bitch. But, you’ve had worse— a lot worse, and you could handle it. So you did was you were trained to do: push the emotions and pain away get the damn job done.

You had to. For Frank.

You see, he was taken by God knows who. You and Frank had no shortage of enemies, so you weren’t exactly sure who you were even invading, but you didn’t care. You knew they had Frank.

You were getting him back. You didn't care how many lives you had to take, you would do it all without second thought.

One of them had his sawed-off shotgun, they tried to shoot you with it. So you knew he was here. You just didn’t know exactly where.

And you’d go through hell and back to get to him.

So with a sharp inhale, you began to walk over to one of your victims, snatching the shotgun from his cold grip. A new sense of rage washed over you when you held the cold metal in your hands— they tried to take Frank from you.

You couldn’t let that stand.

Anger flooded your bloodstream as you began to stalk over to the hallway in front of you, cocking the shotgun along the way. You looked damn insane—you were covered in blood, a knife sticking out your thigh, your machete in one hand and Frank’s shotgun in the other.

One thing was for sure: you were out for fuckin’ blood.

You kicked open the first door you saw with your good leg, and inside were 3 men. Before they could even get a chance to react, you let the first round of bullets fly at one of them, the man dead instantly.

You narrowed your eyes at the two remaining men, putting the machete in your belt, you cocked the shotgun and aimed directly towards them. “Where the fuck is Frank.”

“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” One of the men stuttered out.

You scoffed, shooting that same man in the shin. “You think I’m fuckin’ playin’ around? I said, where the fuck is he?! What did you do with Frank?!” You shouted angrily, cocking the gun once more.

The man cried out, falling to his knees as his partner put his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the building..” He murmured, but you could see the man you shot reaching for the gun that the other had so obviously in the back of his pants.

Rolling your eyes, you shot the man who was still unharmed in the head. “Fuckin’ useless. I’ll find him myself.” You muttered to mainly yourself before grabbing your machete once more and stomping over to the last one.

“No, no, no!” He begged, backing away as far as he could from you. “Killing me won’t do anything. You’ll never get through all of us. You and Castle are as good as dead,” He spat and you only gave a sinister smile in return before you dove the machete into his chest.

After he was dead, you took your machete and wiped it clean of the blood before storing it back in your belt. You walked out the room without another thought as you continued your walk down the hallway, Frank’s shotgun tight in your grasp as you pointed it for precaution.

The next room you walked into contained 5 men, and then 3 after you let your itchy trigger finger take over.

3 guns were pointed at you in a instant, and you smirked in delight. "Drop them now!" He nodded towards your weapons. With a smirk still on your face, you let your machete clattered to the ground, but still kept Frank's shotgun in your hand. If you were going to die, you wanted it to happen with at least something that tied to Frank.

Staring them all down, you tried to wait for one of them to make the first strike— but eventually you got bored.

You hit one of the men over the head with the shotgun as you kicked one of the other one’s knee in. Without thinking, you grabbed the knife that was still painfully lodged in your thigh and pulled it out-- causing a sharp roar of pain to leave your lips. And with a menacing stare, you used that very same knife to slash the third man's throat.

In a flash of motions you turned to the next man and shoved the knife into his throat, causing him to stumble back with fearful eyes before dropping dead.

That left the last one that you practically bitch-slapped with the gun. He stared at you with wide, rage filled eyes before he grabbed you by your neck, throwing you into the table next to you. Your now open wound on your thigh got caught on a nail on the way, only tearing it open further. A cry of pure pain left your lips at the act, but you recovered quickly, turning to the man with a evil glare.

You let out a yell as you tackled him to the floor, letting all of your anger out as you brutally laid punch after punch to his face until he was unrecognizable. You let out another broken cry as you left one last hit to his bloodied face.

Ragged breaths left your lips as came back down to reality, shakily standing up. Your knuckles were bruised and cracked, and you knew it would hurt like a bitch later, but as of now, you really didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. So, without another thought you grabbed your machete and the shotgun and headed out the room.

There was only one room left. It was at the very end of the hallway, and you silently prayed Frank was in there. At this point, after all the people you had just killed and fought— you were fucking tired, and quite frankly; fed the fuck up.

You cocked the gun with nothing in your brain other than bloodlust and kicked open the door harshly. “Where the fuck is he?!” You bellowed as you stormed in, gun raised. You had tunnel vision, seeing nothing over than the targets before you.

8 or 9 men were scattered around the room, and before you knew it bullets were flying everywhere. With wide eyes you dove down for cover behind a fallen table, and on the way down you were grazed by several bullets. Your hand flew up to the blood you felt trickling down your ribs, a low groan leaving your lips. You fought tears of pain as you pulled yourself together, reminding yourself of the goal: Get to Frank.

“Come out, now!” One of them yelled, and it only fueled your anger further.

“Fine.” You growled, standing up and shooting the first two men in front of you. Standing up, you ran to the side of the wall where their bullets couldn’t hit you. You let out a small laugh to yourself— you had to admit, you kind of missed this.

The chaos of it all.

You were raised in the chaos of this— you were brought up in the Red Room, killing people all around the globe. Yelena Belova, one of your fellow past widows, had broken you out some time ago and you tried to give the life up, but it seemed it was in your DNA.

Who were you to fight that?

You shook the thought away just as quickly as it arrived— you had more pressing issues right now.

You pulled the pistol out of your boot, peaking around the corner and picking off 3 men, leaving now 4.

“You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” One of them roared, running at you with a dagger.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, blocking his attempted strike by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm, the man now yelling out in pain. He dropped the dagger that was clutched in his hand, while you caught with your free hand, not hesitating to plunge it into his heart.

“Y/N?!” You heard that familiar voice yell, causing you freeze. His call made a soft smile spread across your features, but at the same time ignited that dedication to get to him now.

You grabbed Frank’s shotgun, cocking it and getting your pistol in your other hand. And with a devilish glare, you turned the corner and proceeded to pick off the rest of the men that remained.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you realized they were all dead. Turning on your heel, you ran to room in the back that was connected to the room you had been in, throwing open the door urgently.

“Frank,” You practically whispered. He was bound a chair by chains, his face bruised and bloodied.

“Holy shit.” He murmured, taking in your current state. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you were sure it was nothing short of horrific. You were covered head to toe in a mixture of your own blood and your victim's, wounds and bruises littering your entire body. "Christ, woman, what the fuck happened out there?" He asked with a worried tone.

You aimed your pistol at his chains. “Don’t move.” You spoke gently, yet firm. He nodded, giving you the okay to take the shot. Once you did, he was up and bringing you into his arms almost immediately.

The weapons in your hands clattered to the ground in an instant as you let yourself melt in his arms. You were exhausted. Due to your search for Frank and also just your pure anxiety in being away from him, you had barely slept in the past couple days. That definitely came back to bite you in the ass, and on top of it all, you were in a lot of pain. The kisses Frank was leaving to the side of your head made you feel a lot better, though.

You pulled back just a bit to cup his jaw, your eyes scanning his injuries. “Are you okay?”

He let out a dry chuckle before turning his hand slightly to leave a kiss to your palm. “Baby, you are in no position to be askin’ me that right now.” His hands came up to cradle to your face, and you nestled your face into his palm. "Are you okay?"

You managed to give him a smile. “I'm better now.” You let out a shaky breath. Now that you had found Frank, the pain really began to set in. You wouldn’t let yourself feel all of the pain until you knew you were safe— and you now knew that Frank had you. “They’re all dead.” You told him. "I killed them all."

“Damn,” He licked his lips, staring down at you. “And here I was thinkin’ no one was comin’ for me.”

“You should know by now I’ll always come for you.” You expressed, leaning up to connect your lips. You didn’t care if you were covered in blood, or that Frank had been tied to a chair for 2 days— you missed him.

You loved him. And you would set the world on fire for him.

Once you two pulled apart, he stared into your eyes. “I fuckin’ love you.”

You giggled softly, gazing up at him lovingly. “I love you, Frank.”

frank castle with a reader that’s just as fucked in the head as him. like CRAZY AS HELL (but in love)

girl. this might be my fav request in a MOMENTTT yes yes yesssss i love this idea !!!!!! writing immediately thank you sm anon

update: its posted here!

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: SHAKING 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Stay in Bed

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.4k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Shaking

Warnings/tags: sick Reader, smidge of hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, and bossy Frank

Summary: You wake up sick and Frank demands you rest.

a/n: I was sick when I wrote this and craving Frank, and then this turned a bit more fluffy than angsty. Oops! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Shivering beneath the sheets in bed, your hands tugged them higher, dragging them all the way up to your chin as you struggled to get warm. Even with the sweatshirt you'd thrown on in the middle of the night when you'd first begun shaking, you couldn't seem to find any relief from the chills repeatedly wracking your body. Not wanting to disturb Frank’s sleep with your continual shivering, you'd long since slid all the way to the edge of your side of the bed in an attempt not to disturb him.

As you lay there quietly still freezing beneath your layers, you tried to swallow the lump that felt like it was stuck in the back of your throat, but your tongue grappled with the movement. Despite the glass of water you'd gotten up and chugged in the kitchen not that long ago, it moved sluggish in your dry mouth. You winced at the painful scratch a moment later when you managed to swallow, no longer able to lay here and deny that you were indeed clearly sick today.

Beside you, you felt the bed dip further from Frank's weight, the sheets rustling as he rolled over onto his side. Even with your eyes still closed you could practically feel his eyes on you, scanning over the way you were huddled up beneath the blankets.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked, his gruff morning voice greeting you. 

You shook your head against the pillow, another chill racing up your body and causing another round of shaking beneath the sheets. “No,” you croaked. “I don't feel too good this morning.”

The bed dipped further and caused you to open your eyes at the movement. You watched as Frank slid closer towards you along the mattress, noticing the downturned curve of his lips and the look of concern written in his features as he clearly examined the pathetic expression you knew was on your face.

“Why’re you so far away?” he asked. 

“Didn't want to bother you,” you mumbled.

Frank pulled a face at your words, his hand reaching out of the sheets as he rested the back of it against your forehead. The corners of his lips curved somehow further downwards, but your eyelids lowered at his touch. His hand felt so deliciously warm that you couldn’t help but press your face back into it.

“You're burnin’ up,” he told you, the back of his hand still resting along your forehead. “And what the hell d'ya mean ‘didn't want to bother me,’ sweetheart?”

Your brain took a moment to register the question, but as you lay there enjoying the heat from Frank's hand that he’d now lowered to your cheek, another chill surged through you. Curling your legs higher up to your chest, you shook miserably beneath the sheets.

“I'm freezing,” you explained quietly. “Didn't want to wake you with my constant shivering.”

“Goddammit,” Frank cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn ‘bout that. If you need somethin’, you wake me. Got it?”

“But you need sleep, too,” you weakly protested.

“Don’t need that much to function,” he countered firmly. “You’re more important.”

Releasing a soft sigh as Frank’s hand slid its way down your cheek, your eyelids fluttered open again. Still laying along his pillow, Frank stared back at you with concern in his eyes as his hand continued to make its way towards your shoulder. The heat of his large palm through the blankets was pleasant, but it sent another shudder straight through you and had you shaking once more beneath the sheets.

“It’s just a cold, Frank,” you told him.

“Don’t give a damn,” he grumbled. “You’ve got a fever and you’re shivering. You should stay in bed, sweetheart.”

You groaned audibly at his suggestion. There was far too much that still needed to get done today, especially if you were still feeling like shit tomorrow. You knew it wasn’t realistic to leave all the errands and chores for Sunday–and you certainly didn’t want to be spending a whole day doing everything.

“Can’t,” you told him, already trying to sit up in bed. “Need to get groceries. Vacuum. Clean the kitchen and bathrooms–”

Frank’s hand on your shoulder gripped just tight enough to stop your movement. Pausing mid-sentence, you saw his eyes narrow back at you before he gave a firm shake of his head.

“You’re stayin’ in bed,” he ordered. “I’m not lettin’ you get up and do any of that.”

“Frank, we need groceries,” you countered. “Food won’t magically appear in the house.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll get the groceries. And I’ll clean the house. Not like I can’t.”

Pushing against his hand, you once more tried to get up. “There’s two loads of laundry I still need to fold,” you continued. “And I need to wash another two more or we won’t have clothes for the week.”

Frank chuckled lightly, his hand still pushing you back down in the bed. You frowned as your head once more landed back on the pillow, your eyes focused on where he was sitting more upright beside you. Another chill slammed into you and you curled further in on yourself, shaking once more beneath the sheets.

“Wouldn’t mind you goin’ naked all week,” Frank teased.

“Frank,” you scolded.

“I got the laundry, sweetheart,” he assured you with a grin. “I can take care of it all. Don’t worry ‘bout it. You just stay here and sleep.” 

Removing his hand from your shoulder, you let out a faint whine at the loss of the heat from it as Frank began to get up. You watched him push the sheets off of himself, sliding out of bed in nothing but his dark boxers. Your eyes scanned over the muscles of his back, fixed on him as he walked over to the dresser and began to pull out a dark tee-shirt. 

“I’ll grab you some water and some cold medicine,” he said, turning around towards you as he tugged the shirt over his torso. “Then I’ll throw in some laundry before gettin’ groceries. I’ll check on you when I get back before taking care of everythin’ else.”

With a defeated sigh, your eyes followed Frank as he walked over to the closet. He slid it open and pulled out a pair of jeans before slipping them on. You curled up further beneath the blankets, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy already. It didn’t help that you hadn’t slept well last night, too busy shivering. 

“It’d go faster if I helped,” you pointed out.

Frank’s head darted up when you spoke, a stern set to his mouth as he finished tugging his jeans up his legs. “All you’re allowed to do,” Frank began seriously, “is stay in bed and sleep. You got that? If I come back and see you’ve been up, I’m draggin’ you right back to bed, sweetheart.”

“Oh?” you asked, a grin slipping onto your lips as another shudder ran through you. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Frank zipped his jeans up, his head tilting to the side as his eyes narrowed at you from across the bedroom. There was no amusement on his face and your smile immediately faltered.

“You think I’m jokin’, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ll only say it once more. You stay in bed.”

Expelling a sigh, you rolled your eyes at him before snuggling further beneath the sheets. “Alright, alright. You win,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and tugging the blankets up to your chin again. “I’ll rest instead of poking the bossy, grumpy bear today.”

Frank snorted at your comment, the sound drawing a smile wide across your mouth. You knew despite his brusque words that he just wanted you to get better, because deep down the man had a strong desire to care for someone–and that someone just happened to be you.

“You do that, sweetheart,” he ordered. “Just focus on getting better.”

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: FLOWER CROWNS 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 2 - Forget-Me-Nots

Prompt: 2 - Flower Crowns Character: Frank Castle Pairings: Frank Castle x Reader Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Warnings: Fluff, original child character, reference canon character death, grief Tuna-Tober Masterlist 2024

Forget-Me-Nots

There was something so adorable about your daughter Sophia making flower crowns. She was so serious about it. Asking for very specific flowers. Brows furrowed, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she painstakingly assembled each crown. No mistaking who her father was. Frank got the same look on his face when he did maintenance on his guns.

But your little one was enjoying herself. That proud, little smile when she finished one said it all. Along with the big, ear-to-ear one when she presented each crown to its intended recipient. So far, everyone had accepted theirs and donned them immediately.

Including Frank. He immediately knelt down so his daughter could place the crown on his head. It should have looked absurd. Big Marine with a delicate flower crown on his head with thin blue ribbons trailing down his back. But it didn’t. It looked sweet.

The ribbon matched the tiny flowers. You wondered if Frank recognized them. Forget-me-nots, symbolizing true love, memories, and remembrance. It was rather apt but it was unlikely Sophia knew just how apt. She probably just thought that flowers would look pretty on her daddy.

Which they did. The sky-blue color was a pleasing contrast against his dark hair.

You’d bet a similar logic governed the hibiscus gracing your crown. That she just thought the colorful flowers were pretty. And familiar since you grow them in the garden. But even though it was just coincidence, it’s meaning of being consumed by love was so true. You had never felt so much love as you did now, in your little home with your husband and your daughter.

There was no mystery behind Sophia’s choice of sweet-peas for her own crown. Frank had been calling her sweet-pea since the day she was born.

On the other hand, Sophia had made other apt choices for flowers. Irises for Karen (your friendship means so much to me), sunflowers for Foggy (constancy and devotion), and chrysanthums for Curtis (you are a wonderful friend). Just to name a few.

The love and devotion of lavender for Matt was rather apt but Sophia seemed to have picked it for its sleep-aid properties. Given that she solemnly told him that he needed more naps when she placed the crown on his head. It had taken all of your willpower not to laugh. You were not alone in that regard.

The pale purple flowers seemed to be working their magic. Your boss was practically dozing on your couch, his head pillowed against Karen’s shoulder. Which was rather amazing considering that was Sophia and her friends had set up shop just feet away in the kitchen. And they weren’t being quiet.

Speaking of Sophia, she was tugging at Frank’s hand, “Daddy, daddy, I need your help!”

“Sure, sweet-pea,” he said, allowing himself to be tugged toward the crown making. You followed the pair, curious. Sophia had been very adamant about making her crowns herself, that she was a big girl.

On the table in front of her chair, you could see the beginnings of another flower crown. This one also featured forget-me-nots.

“What do you need, sweet pea?”

“Lisa’s favorite flower!”

You felt your breathe catch. There wasn’t anyone at this party with that name. There was only one Lisa she could be talking about.

“Lisa’s favorite flower?” Frank repeated. His voice was surprisingly even. Provided that you didn’t know him. You, however, could hear the brittleness. Frank might sound calm but he wasn’t feeling calm. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Curtis drift closer.

“Yes, for her crown.”

Frank took a deep breath. “Baby, Lisa’s in Heaven. She can’t wear a flower crown.”

This time he couldn’t keep the pain out of his voice. You put your arm around your husband’s waist, silently offering your support. His body felt like stone under your hands. But he put his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

“I know,” Sophia said. She looked up at you both with those big brown eyes. Frank’s eyes. Her expression was unusually somber. “But she was my sister. She deserves a crown too.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “You’re right, sweet-pea. Lisa deserves her crown.”

He looked over the collection of flowers. His hands shook a little when he gathered up the yellow roses, handing them over to Sophia. Who took them with a little smile for her father. Silently she became to weave the roses amongst the forget-me-nots. The same flowers she had gifted Frank.

You weren’t surprised when Frank excused himself, claiming that he had to use the bathroom. Nor that his eyes were red when he returned. But he smiled when Sophia showed him Lisa’s crown. “It’s beautiful, sweet-pea. Lisa would have loved it.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Yellow roses mean friendship and remember me.