dollsvampi

[dollsvampi]

the infamous telling of something haha

[THE PUNISHER: Vol. II, No. 56, Early December, 1991 - The Final Days Part 4 of 7 - PRISON!]

[dollsvampi]

muscle man

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  frank castle x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  frank castle would love nothing more than to just sit and maybe even relax a little, but you just can’t stand looking at him like that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  biting. 

The quiet in the safehouse wasn’t just peaceful—it was intimate. A stillness born from exhaustion, trust, and the kind of love that didn’t need constant tending to be felt. It lingered in the soft hum of a box fan propped in the window, the distant creak of old floorboards settling, the faint scent of gun oil and laundry detergent that clung to Frank like a second skin. You were both sunk deep into the battered couch, close enough to share body heat, which Frank provided in generous, furnace-like quantities. His thigh pressed against yours, his hand lazily resting on your leg like it had forgotten anywhere else to go. The kind of casual, unconscious affection that made your chest ache a little. You were scrolling mindlessly on your phone watching a video of people you barely knew going on vacation, when Frank grunted low in his throat and tugged at the collar of his shirt making both of you shake just a little. You were already mostly naked in just a half shirt and shorts, and the fan was working well enough that you were unbothered by Frank being so close to you. 

“Hot as hell in here,” he muttered, taking in a big deep breath and tapping his fingers on your leg some more with more vigor than he had been. 

You barely looked up. “It’s the fan or nothing. The AC unit’s busted.” You rolled your eyes thinking about how it was probably going to be down all summer because keeping Frank not only inside but home anywhere was difficult. 

He shifted beside you, large fingers hooking into the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, I know.”

You didn’t think anything of it—until the shirt came up. And then time stopped. His hand came up off your leg for just a moment.  You caught the first flash of skin out of the corner of your eye—just a hint of his stomach, the sharp dip of muscle under a soft trail of dark hair. But it kept going. He peeled the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it somewhere behind him without ceremony. His hand landed in exactly the same spot it had just been, to him nothing happened at all. 

And you forgot how to function.

Frank Castle shirtless wasn’t rare. You’d seen him like this. Touched him, kissed him, left nail marks on that skin more than once. But it still hits like a truck every damn time from the pit of your stomach, down your legs, and back up to your neck.

He was ridiculous.

Broad, thick through the chest and shoulders, every inch of him packed with strength that didn’t ask for attention—it commanded it. His torso was a brutal map of scars: faded bullet wounds, slash marks, burns. But somehow, they just made him hotter. Right now every single piece of skin he had was wet with a sheen of sweat that the fan was not fixing. The man ran hot and he was clearly making it his mission to make you the same way. 

His biceps were what really broke your brain—veined, solid, the kind of thick that made your hands itch with the urge to grab. He settled back against the couch with a low exhale, his arm stretching across the backrest like a casual invitation. The muscle shifted with the motion, slow and deliberate. You swore he knew what he was doing.  You weren’t breathing. Your phone was sitting in your left hand just sitting ready to fall at any second, you were looking at his arm and his hand that was just resting. The calloused pads of his fingers were now rubbing at the skin as he was hyper-focused on the tv he had decided to turn on. You were trying—trying—to be normal. Be chill. You were in a relationship, for God’s sake. You lived together. This shouldn’t be such a big deal. But it was. Because Frank Castle was sitting there shirtless, looking like he belonged in some kind of R-rated firefighter calendar, and it was a lot.  And then he flexed his arm. Just a little. Just enough to adjust. But the bicep bulged, and you lost all control. 

“Jesus,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to touch him back, he was making you feel like you could puke, like this was the first time you had ever seen him like this. Your mistake was turning to look at him entirely. The way he was just so comfortable flexing his abs on and off by just breathing, the way no matter how relaxed into the couch he was his muscles sat perfectly. 

Frank turned his head slightly, brow raised. “What?” 

Before your better judgment could talk you down and before Frank could examine you to see what any of this could possibly be about, you leaned over and bit him.

Not hard—just a firm, deliberate nip at the swollen curve of his bicep, right above the vein. Your teeth sank into warm skin, and the taste of him, salty and sun-warmed, was unfairly good. Your hands moved to touch his shoulder and his leg to steady yourself. The mark you left was so small in comparison to the size of his arm, the two little canine marks being the most pronounced.

Frank jolted like he’d been electrocuted, but he didn’t shove you off or even really move anything other than his head,  “The hell?”

You pulled back, grinning, chin still resting lightly on his arm, the hand you used to his shoulder moved down to touch the little mark,  “Couldn’t help it.”

He looked at you like you’d just declared war, his deep brown eyes looked black with the way his pupils were dilating. “You just bit me.”

“This was entrapment and partial delirium from the heat.” You defended yourself just a bit letting your hair fall to the front of your face, biting your lip just enough to make him look. Frank stared at you in dead silence. His expression was a perfect blend of exasperation and disbelief. 

“Entrapment,” he repeated flatly using two slow blinks as his way of telling you that was the dumbest excuse he had ever heard for something that had no reason to happen. 

You nodded, completely unapologetic, you slid off of one side to sit completely on his laps, your thighs outside of his, your skin sticking together as the heat of him immediately trapped you. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me. Sitting there all...big.”

He blinked and didn’t even more as you slipped your hands behind his head and started running your fingers slowly from the back of his head down his neck.  “Thick.”

“Like a tree,” you said lazily letting your upper body fall back a bit so you could look at him even more, the shirt you wore was now riding up just a bit on your side and Frank stuck a hand there to keep you from putting it back down. “A warm, angry tree I wanna sink my teeth into.”

Frank’s jaw twitched, but his lips threatened a smile. You could see the war happening in his head—stoicism versus the fact that he was hopelessly in love with a total fucking moron. What did not help him think was the fact that you were now using your hands to expand to the back of his shoulders running your hands back and forth over the skin. 

“You’re insane,” he said, voice rough but amused, you took the back of his head in your hands as well as you could and pushed his forehead into yours.

“And you’re comfy,” you sighed, practically whining as he now placed his other hand parallel to the other.

There was a pause. A warning in the quiet. Before you could lean in any further, your lips practically touching, you could feel the warmth of his breath and the smell of coffee, he held himself back with the tensing of his neck. 

“Next time,” he said, voice low and steady, “I bite back.”

[dollsvampi]

it's my bday soon so can i have some hcs about how frank would be spending his girl's bday? 😖

oooh, mine too! are we birthday buddies? mine's may 5th 🪇

- frank is not casual about your birthday at all.

- the man starts planning thinking about it about a week in advance. in the years that you guys had been together, he'd only managed to miss it once, and though you were absolutely fine - (the Nelson, Murdock, and Page trio had certainly seen to that) - he vowed to never let it happen again.

- sex. it's always incredible with frank, but birthday sex just hits different with him. his favourite part of the process is kissing you awake, and then settling between your legs, his hot, languid tongue lighting every nerve ending in your body ablaze. he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you before the golden sun's even risen for the day - "c'mon, sweetheart - I know you can give me one more. there we go, that's it." peppers ticklish kisses to your temple, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. "plenty more where those came from, your birthdays' only just begun."

- gifts. the man's never been one for grand gestures, and you've never been one to want for them, so it all evens out. he pays close attention to you throughout the year; what interests you've harbored, which hobbies you've taken up. when he eventually gets around to asking you what you'd like, your answer is always the same - "you, frank. I just want you." you want him content - not even necessarily happy, because that's a complicated emotion for him - but healthy, and strong. "you've got me kid, for as long as you'll have me. now stop being so damn stubborn and tell me what you want."

- traditions. he's big on 'em, despite everything. they're a remnant of his past life, and something he really only feels comfortable exploring with you, but he looks forward to your birthday every year because of them.

one of his favourites? making you breakfast in bed. it's never anything fancy, but belgian waffles and an assortment of mixed fruits are usually his go-to. if you ever wanted to go out for dinner, he'd be more than happy to take you, but he knows how much you value his cooking, and home has never been so cozy as when its just the two of you.

another one of his favourite traditions is finding out what cake you're feeling that year and going all-out with it. black forest? no problem. victoria sponge? he's got no idea what the hell that is, but you're gettin' it. this year, when he finally finds out your wish is for a fresh tiramisu, sarah lieberman happily whips one up for you.

- you are his first introduction to taurus women. and like - he's been blessed to have had some pretty strong and amazing women in his life, but have any of them ever been as stubborn as you? have any of them ever driven him to the brink of insanity just to pull him back and make him sick with yearning all over again? the jury's still out on that one.

- your favourite part of the day is actually the evening. the only source of light in the room emanating from the candles that gutter in the cool evening breeze. you're nose-to-nose beneath the sheets, every beautiful fleck of gold in his eyes, suspended in a sea of burnt honey. "did ya have a good day, kid?" "the best day, frank." "did you make a wish at dinner?" "I did." he traces a tan, calloused fingertip down the side of your cheek, your lips, your neck."you should make another one now, just between us two." your eyelids are heavy with the weight of looming sleep, but you smile regardless. "okay, frank."

- he wants to make your birthday special not because he feels obligated to, but because he genuinely derives pleasure from treating you well. from seeing you happy. he works hard to make you feel loved each and every day throughout the year (some days are certainly better than others), but your birthday is an excuse to show you how much you mean to him, and he doesn't take it lightly in the slightest.

[dollsvampi]

Miren a quienes me encontré hoy en la fonda de "Doña Pelos"

( Look who I met today at the "Doña Pelos" fonda / Olha quem eu conheci hoje na fonda "Doña Pelos" )

[dollsvampi]

cw : dryhumping! sloppy kissing! (18+) [Y/N]

[A/N: Woo this is based on a dream I had. I'm loosing my mind seriously. This was a great start to my ovulation week 🤩🫦🤭 ]

You had been lounging on the bed when Pedro suddenly strolled into your shared bedroom. The man seemingly on a mission. He didn’t linger or lean against the door frame to see what his love was up to. No, he needed to get to you. The blanket thrown on your lower half shifted a little, putting yourself in a somewhat upright position.

Pedro hadn't said a word, his brows slightly narrowed in concentration. His brown eyes rake over your form as if it were possible to undress you right then and there. You got his cues immediately, moving the blanket aside a slight smirk forms on your lips.

Recalling vividly each and every lingering caress, darkened irises of pure eager need. It simply wasn’t necessary to voice out loud. Allowing your alluring intimate connection to speak for either of you.

"Look at me,” your voice catching his attention, his gaze going from your grinning lips to your eyes swiftly.

That slight pout on his lips couldn't be missed; it amused you each and every time. But before getting any words in, he caged you in. Pedro placed his knee on the bed to make his way between your legs. The soft mattress sinking, yielding gently, accommodating to the familiar pressure. His strong arms are rather close to you now. The warmth of his forearms pressing against your sides, as he supports himself on the bed, hovering above you.

Pedro leans his head closer catching your lips in a desperate passionate kiss, making you reach out and place your hands atop his sturdy arms, your head practically spinning. The quickening of breaths, mouths open just a little wider moving in opposite directions. Tongues exploring messily in thorough affection.

Moving your legs to wrap around his lower waist. He voices roughly, "That's it move your hips against mine.” While applying more pressure to the contact you both obtain.

The constant and rhythmic movements of hips causing a delicious friction. Either of you chasing the euphoric bliss, regardless of being fully clothed.

“Just like that, Y/N.”

There are more rough exhales and pants as the fervor continues. His erection eliciting pleasure to your arousal. Hips moving a bit more frantically to come to a climax.

When that enveloping feeling hits you a harsh moan escapes your lips, not long after his low grunt. Your lips connect to savor the moment, real slow and passionate. Leaving the both of you breathless.

[dollsvampi]

fighting for my life on twitter

[dollsvampi]

We love the pretty, (occasional) “co-workers”

Marvel Universe; Illustrated edition January 1, 2015 [The Punisher Border Crossing - Friend from Foe (Part 1) 2015 - EDMONDSON, MAURER, GERADS, CARNERO • NOTO]

[dollsvampi]

The Punisher | Edmondson/Gerads

[dollsvampi]

Frank & Max 🐾

[The Punisher #54 (Marvel Nov 1991) The Final Days Part Two of Seven: ATTACK! ]

[dollsvampi]

Behind me? BABY THE ONLY THING I SEE WHEN I LOOK BEHIND ME IS 50 POUNDS OF ASS

[ MARVEL The Punisher Vol. 1: Dark Reign - Remender • Opeña (Living in Darkness -Part 2) 2009 ]

[dollsvampi]

If I had a nickle for every time I had a liking to a character with a skull on their person as well as serve in the military, I'd have two nickles.

Which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice

[dollsvampi]

byee he had no business saying this lol

Marvel Universe; Illustrated edition January 1, 2015 [The Punisher Border Crossing 2 (El Diablito Part2) EDMONDSON, MAURER, GERADS, CARNERO • NOTO]

[dollsvampi]

Echoes of the Tide

Frank Castle x Reader

Description: Haunted by emotional wounds, only to seek solace in Frank's arms longing for a path to healing. [Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Life, Emotional Vulnerability] (Pet names used: Baby, Darlin') [No use of Y/N]

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Familial Dysfunction & Guilt, Emotional Distress. (3.2K words)

A/N: First post ever lol bare with me. I didn't like this sitting in my notes on my phone so why not share

Every once in a while, you reach that breaking point—a moment where everything feels too heavy to bear. A dull, residual numbness settles in, aching deep in your chest. It feels unbearable, as though your mind is trapped in an endless cycle—spinning aimlessly before crashing into an invisible wall, only to start again. You're stuck, caught in a loop with no way out.

Is this what shutting down is?

Only a few words passed between you and those around you it was hard to connect when you didn’t feel like yourself. It was as if you were caught in plunging, rushing water, one foot forward and the other behind, your body twisted mid-motion with arms outstretched, grasping for something to hold onto. You couldn’t take another step; your hips frozen, your body trying but failing to move forward. Instead, you were drowning in an endless tide of swimming thoughts, unable to tear your gaze away from the weight of the past.

No, it wasn't often you felt like this, but it was inevitable feeling overwhelmed and hollow, from the weight of the trauma of it all. Just thinking about or seeing your family can bring on a wave of triggers. Most of the time you check on them and it simply brings dread.

Sitting on one of the kitchen island stools to prep a few things for dinner, your brows are slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Frank is polishing and cleaning his guns. He had a direct line of sight of you, studying you cautiously. He noticed each and every little thing about you. "Baby, you alright?" Frank didn't want to push—testing the waters. He didn't want to outright inquire; How come you weren't yourself? How come you didn't strike up a conversation? How come you aren't laughing? How come you aren't playing music?

The poor man thought back to his own actions—had he possibly done something wrong or forgot to do something? Glancing up from the scattered ingredients, you manage a faint smile, "Yeah." He didn’t believe you, but then again, neither did you. Your family, though—they would have, without question.

"I was thinking..." the vigilante, sharp and observant, piqued your curiosity. You hummed in acknowledgment as he went on, "We should eat outside and finally test out that hammock we got."

You thought some fresh air might be nice as you cleaned up the kitchen island, "Sounds good." Frank rose from his seat, heading off to store his guns, but paused. He walked over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his free hand lightly squeezing your hip, "Alright, I’ll go get started outside."

Once the food was prepared—delicious and fresh—it was carefully arranged in its respective containers and plates, ready for the little backyard feast. Frank quickly cleaned off the table and chairs before setting up the hammock. Propping it up was effortless—it was a sizable design made for two. The framed canvas, adorned with pastel blue stripes, even came with a matching pillow.

It took several trips to retrieve the food, beverages, and utensils. Frank assisted with the final touches of setup, including bringing out the speaker you have. He handed you his phone almost immediately after turning it on and connecting it, "Go on, play music."

You'd shared your playlists with Frank long ago; he knew exactly what music helped you unwind and relax. He needed you to be at ease. With a few taps on his phone, music began to play softly through the speaker, loud enough to fill the atmosphere but quiet enough for conversation. Frank wanted to bring up the subject, but he held back. He knew you well—when you were upset, your appetite was the first to go, which he didn't want. Patience came naturally to him when it came to you, so he decided to wait for now.

Sitting down and fixing each other's plates, you look around the backyard. The hammock was a nice addition, "Hey that hammock is not bad." He hums, as he glances where you are looking, "Easy to install too." Your eyes don't stray from the space as Frank begins to eat, "We really should get some shade, some trees would be nice."

The man was going to town on the food, which brought a smile to your face. "I wanted to put up the canopy tent, but some trees would be nice darlin'," he was subtle in his reasoning. You could definitely use some sunlight with the way things have been. He gestured with his hand, "We can get some smaller ones, and add on to the garden."

Frank is a man who resolved your words were law. As the both of you continue eating, you give it a good thought to how plans should be. "Yeah, maybe a decent-sized one, right at the edge where the small field begins." He followed your eyeliner yet again, "Perfect, anything my baby wants."

Lowering your gaze slightly you shook your head. Whatever he was doing was working, the sweet-talking, the way he had said it with conviction fulling meaning what he had said. The music in the background is a way to ground you. What had been circulating in your mind is distilling. You were now able to talk about what had been going on, you aren't completely shut.

Maybe you caught on—it was a sweet gesture. Yet, your thoughts still lingered on your family… how something so simple could never be accomplished with them.

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in comfortable silence. Your gaze wandered, taking in the surroundings—the chirping of distant birds, the slow drift of fluffy white clouds across the sky. As you closed the lid on the bowl, your focus shifted, flitting between the patches of grass and the outhouse door, until your eyes began to glaze over.

"You haven't said much all day darlin', what's on your mind?" Frank's eyes were steady on you, and you had to get it off your chest. You couldn't tell him that it was nothing. It would be wrong not to. How was he supposed to understand if I kept holding back?

'Secrecy has a way of evolving—sometimes into something different, and other times into something far worse.' Frank had told you, almost in passing, as if it were a lesson learned from his own experiences. He’d seen how secrets, no matter how small or harmless they seemed at first, could twist into something darker over time. He spoke from a place of understanding, the kind born from years of keeping things buried—things he’d witnessed, things he’d done, and the weight it left on him. You knew he wasn’t just talking about others; he was speaking from his own scars.

Taking a deep breath, after so long being submerged you've breached the surface. "It's just- I don't know what to do... or feel with my family," you couldn't settle your eyes on him just yet. "With these people, it's this guilt, the sense of loss and not belonging. The exclusion they do or just the pure disfunction... it's a lot of things Frank."

He could see how it took you a lot to get to voice this, "That's a lot to carry and even worry about." There were brief mentions of what you had endured, and it really did anger Frank because you didn't deserve that.

"I know I've mentioned but all this stress is inevitable especially how they live out their life. At times I do believe I'm the burden. It's-" You do gesture you often make to stop yourself from crying. Frank knew what you were about to say and immediately cut you off. "It's not your fault, baby. Look at me... look at me." He moves his chair to sit closer to you placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's not your fault." You meet his eyes as tears begin to form in yours. "There you are, breath okay."

Frank grounded you as you focused on your breathing, steadying yourself. Finally, you continued, "Every time I check in or see their posts, I just feel like such an outcast. It’s a reminder that I can never truly be myself around them, and if they ever found out, it’d turn into a whole mess." You can practically hear the comments and insensitive remarks.

"Forget about what they might say, baby. Just be yourself." His voice was steady, resolute. He would defend you without hesitation, daring anyone in the world to challenge you or your worth.

"I know, Frank. With the way my family obsesses over their image, it’s almost impossible not to absorb some of it. All they ever do is critique others. Minding their own business is the last thing they’d consider. They love to nitpick, always searching for the smallest reason to argue or stir up drama." As you spoke you could feel the way he was gently squeezing your shoulder, his thumb moving soothingly.

"That’s not on you, though. You don’t have to carry their baggage or let it shape who you are. Let them exhaust themselves with their nonsense—none of it changes the fact that you’re better than that." He shifted slightly, his hand still on your shoulder, and his gaze softened. His movements were slow and deliberate, with a sense of calm assurance.

Culture played an important role, with traditions deeply ingrained across generations, creating an even greater sense of immersion. The idea that some individuals were unwilling to embrace new perspectives, choosing instead to cast others out, was a harsh reality.

You sigh, placing your hand gently over his. "This is why I feel bad. I mean, it's not entirely their fault either. I see how they choose to live their lives. It makes me feel like I should be doing something to help. But their world just revolves around their beliefs."

He says nothing at first, but his hand moves to hold yours, as if he is carefully considering your words. Finally, he speaks in his consistent, no-nonsense tone, "You cannot bear their burdens for 'em. All you can do is make your own decisions, ones that will keep you standing. If they can’t see that, that’s on them, not you." Frank leans in slightly, realizing that you're still torn. "I get it. You're worried about what they'll say or do if you stand your ground. But you cannot continue to live in fear of their judgment. You've already carried enough for them. You have to put yourself first."

His words hit harder than you had expected, sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. There is natural hesitation, your chest tightening, as if you were in cold harsh water. You try to push down the gnawing feeling of guilt. That fear still lingers, like a shadow you can't outrun.

You glance down at your intertwined hands, resting on your thigh, as if they can offer some relief, and in the rhythm of the music that envelopes the both of you.

You couldn’t help but think about how they’d always handled things—like when your boundaries were crossed, or when your choices didn’t align with theirs. It was never about understanding or compromise, but about control and making sure you fell in line with their beliefs. The idea of standing up to them felt like a storm waiting to break.

"It still eats at me. Every time I see them, it’s like the facade falls into place. We all act like nothing was ever left unsaid—thanks to my parents, I guess. They’re the biggest hypocrites I know." You squeeze Frank’s hand gently. "I was made to believe my problems didn’t matter, that my family had enough on their plate, so why add more? There are things I still don’t know about my own family, things they’ve kept from me. And it makes me wonder—am I even worthy of knowing? Am I not family?"

Frank scoffs, shaking his head. "Christ." He knew that tactic all too well the 'don't say anything to protect either party.' It was a way of keeping everything buried, even if it meant pushing the pain aside. He got an even clearer picture of your constant restraint that kept you from truly speaking your mind. The aftermath of emotional scarring has left its mark, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

Uncertain if Frank would say more, you felt the urge to continue. "I have to force myself into a certain mindset whenever I visit... and prepare for the possible worst, just in case. That's what has been eating at me most of the time, even taking sleep away. It certainly was worse when I was younger."

Frank acted without hesitancy as usual. He was all too familiar with bracing for the impact of something that never felt safe. "You shouldn’t have to do that. No one should have to armor up just to face their own family." He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes hardening in his seriousness. "But no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. You’ve got me. What did you do to keep your head straight, huh?"

The question brought a faint smile to your face—a real one, the kind that had been absent for far too long. You nodded toward the speaker playing your favorite tunes. "Listening to music. I had to distract myself however I could. Sometimes, I’d read or write down the things I wanted to say but—" You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, your chest tightening at the way he's so close to you, and outright providing you with unwavering warmth.

Frank reached up, cupping your face gently with his free hand. "It’s okay, baby. Let it out if you need." His voice was steady, but his gaze searched yours, piecing together what you’d shared. He could see how writing had been more than a distraction—it was survival. A way to give your thoughts a voice when no one else would listen.

You huffed a bitter laugh. "And that’s when I think—if I could just open my mouth and defend myself... but I never know how to say it right. I wish I really knew how to articulate what I feel to them." Your hand tightened around his wrist, grounding yourself in the comfort of Frank’s steady touch. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, a silent reassurance that he was there.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, the words catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. Frank’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking at the pain etched across your face. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would put you through this, why they’d leave you carrying such a heavy burden. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.

The silence was pierced as you dropped your hand from his. "And to be real honest with you, Frank..." your voice trembled, and your lip quivered as you tried to keep it together.

His heart breaking at your vulnerability.

"I—I wouldn’t want you to go through that... to see it happen," your voice cracking under the weight of the admission. Tears welled up, and before you could stop them, a helpless cry escaped your lips. You turned away, trying to hide your face in your hands, but it was too late.

Frank exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as if willing himself to take your pain away. Then, with the utmost care, he let go of your hand only to pull you into a firm, grounding embrace. "C'mere," he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

You buried your face in his shoulder as the sobs overtook you, his presence the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely. One of his hands moved soothingly up and down your back, the occasional pat adding a silent rhythm of comfort. "Let it out, baby," he whispered, pressing the side of his head to yours.

Frank held you as though shielding you from the weight of the world, his jaw tightening as he listened to your cries. It hit him hard—how selfless you were, even in your pain. You’d been so considerate, worrying about how your situation might affect him when you were the one left battered by it all. The thought of you constantly lying, draining yourself to keep the peace, or worse—standing up for yourself only to be torn down again—cut him deeply. "

"'S okay," he said softly, his voice a firm anchor. "I've gotcha baby. 'S okay."

You cried into his arms until the tears subsided, leaving you drained but calmer. Slowly, you regained your composure, sniffling softly as you leaned back to meet his gaze. Frank’s hand was already there, gently wiping away the lingering tears on your cheeks.

"I love you so much," you murmured, your voice still shaky but full of gratitude. You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the comfort of having someone like Frank by your side.

"I love you," Frank's tone filled with conviction. His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world. "I’ll always be here for you," he added, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss to your cheek.

The tenderness of his words made your chest ache in the best way, and you fought the urge to cry again—this time out of happiness. Tilting your head back a bit, you let your gaze drift to the yard.

"Ah, shit," you muttered suddenly, catching sight of something.

Frank raised an eyebrow, already poised to ask what was on your mind.

"We really should try out that hammock," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Frank burst into a deep, genuine laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and catching you off guard. You turned to him, grinning as you joined in his laughter. Before the moment could pass, he leaned in, closing the space between you and placing soft, lingering kisses all over your face, his affection as natural as breathing.

The weight you’d been carrying felt just a little lighter. You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting the laughter fade into a quiet peace. "Let’s go," Frank said softly, his lips brushing your temple before he pulled back, his hand still resting at the small of your back.

Together, you rose, the promise of something simple yet meaningful—like testing out that hammock—feeling like exactly what you needed.

The hammock swayed gently beneath you, cradling you like a soft ripple on calm swift waters. It was steady, unlike the turbulent currents that had once consumed you. Where your mind had felt like it was drowning in endless waves, here was something solid yet pliable—a quiet buoy against the storm.

Frank beside you, his presence like the anchor that helped you beach. The two of you settled into the rhythm of the hammock's sway, the soft creak of its frame blending with the distant chirp of birds. The past felt far away here, as if it couldn’t touch you in this cocoon of stillness and warmth.

For the first time in a long while, the tide in your chest seemed to ebb, leaving behind a strange but welcome calmness.

[dollsvampi]

Vampirella Stares Into Her Dark Reflections!

Vampirella Stares Into Her Dark Reflections! #comics #comicbooks

Dynamite has announced a brand new series in the Vampirella mythos, spearheaded by one of the most beloved franchise creators and a reunited team, and an epic that jumps headlong into the multiverse of malevolence. Vampirella: Dark Reflections debuts this June everywhere comics are sold! Tom Sniegoski is back once more and teams up again with co-writer Jeannine Acheson as well as interior artist…

[dollsvampi]

[dollsvampi]

Vampirella #12: Death's Dark Angel

by Archie Goodwin and Jose Gonzalez

The Sirens

by Frank Brunner

Cover by Manuel Sanjulian

Warren

[dollsvampi]

#vampirella

Catwoman/Vampirella #1