jamesdeerest

[jamesdeerest]

this is weird but vigilante girlfriend and frank who needs her help with some mission and at some point he gets mad at her and scares her

weird but how do u think he'd act when he comes to find her again? just had this idea and i feel like you write really good and show his character well

That’s not weird at all I mean that’s Frank Castle in a nutshell! Thank you for the request too, I've been wanting to write for Frank but I had no ideas.

Summary: You’re a vigilante like him—just a little brighter, a little less bloodthirsty. You patch him up, you work together sometimes, and even though no one says it, you love each other in that aching, unresolved way.

The job had gone sideways. That wasn’t the problem, things always went sideways. What messed him up was you. The way you darted into the fire to cover his ass, reckless and burning with that same fury he saw in the mirror. You weren’t bulletproof. You weren’t him. But you acted like it. And when the dust settled and you stood there, breathing heavy, bleeding but grinning like the chaos was your oxygen, Frank snapped.

“You think this is a game?” he barked. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You think that would’ve been worth it? Charging in like some goddamn idiot?” Your smile died instantly, the light draining from your face. You flinched like you’d been hit—not by his words, but by the way he threw them. His voice had been too loud. Too sharp. Too much like every man who ever tried to make you small. You stepped back. One, then two paces. The expression on your face cracked something in him he didn’t know could still break. “Just trying to help,” you said quietly, and then you turned and walked.

Didn’t yell back. Didn’t argue. You just walked. And he just let you go.

+++++++++++++++++++

Frank didn’t sleep that night. Not because of the wounds or the heat still aching in his fists but because your face wouldn’t leave his mind. The way your shoulders curled inward, the way your eyes widened and brows pinched, the way you stopped looking him in the eye. The way you left like he was just one more man who didn’t see you clearly.

You weren’t afraid of danger. But you looked like you were afraid of him. That was enough to make him hate himself.

“Fuck”. He groaned knowing he had to go find you. 

He found you on a rooftop, wrapped in your own silence. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, watching your silhouette against the city lights. “I ain’t good at this,” he finally muttered. “Never really was” You didn’t turn. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added, voice lower now. Raw. Like gravel under water. He clenched his jaw when he still got no answer, no response at all from you. “I know what it’s like to be yelled at by someone who’s supposed to have your back,” he said. “And I-I did that to you. I—shit—I’m sorry.” That made your head turn, just a little. Frank Castle didn’t apologize. Not real apologizes, not like this.

You let the silence stretch between you, long and aching. Then, finally, “I wasn’t scared of you hurting me.” He nodded slowly, but he could feel his shoulder ease, feel his chest finally lighten after hearing that. Waited. “I was scared I made you hate me,” you admitted, voice tight. “Like I disappointed you. Like you finally got sick of me.”

His body tensed all over again, how could she ever think that? Frank stepped closer. Not all the way just enough that you could feel his heat at your back. “You’re not the problem,” he said gruffly. “It’s me. I saw you get hurt and I—” He paused. “I don’t have a word for what I felt. Just that it came out wrong.” Finally, you turned to face him. There were still bruises on your cheek, dried blood near your temple. But you looked at him with that same impossible soft heart, the one he didn’t think could still want him. And he saw it there, still.

Wanting.  Loving.  Trying.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said, softer now. Like it hurts to admit it. You took a step forward, closing the space. “Then don’t raise your voice like I’m an idiot for caring if you live or die on me,” you said. “You don’t get to protect me and then punish me for doing the same.”

His jaw clenched. And then he nodded, “Okay, you’re right.”

Three words, honest and heavy.

You reached out first, fingertips brushing his wrist. “I’m not going anywhere, Frank. But I need you to stop treating me like I might break if you tell me you care.” He stared at you like you’d said something holy. And then, barely, he nodded. “I do care. I care too damn much.” You smile softly up at him, looking at him as if he was worthy of everything. “Then next time, lead with that.” And he would. He’d try at least. 

It wouldn’t be perfect, not right away at least but Frank Castle would do it the only way he knew how: fiercely, protectively, like it scared him, but tonight he realized nothing could scare him as much as the idea of losing you did.

If you like my work, please let me know! Reblogging, commenting, and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work, and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Requests are open <3

Tagging:

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[jamesdeerest]

guys i have a vision

din smutty one shot in razor crest to “sportscar” by tate mcrae

[jamesdeerest]

guys i kinda want to write again but i don’t even know what fandom for ,, like I’m not really into Harry Potter anymore and that was the main thing i wrote for before lol

i love the pedro boys and like tcw boys but i don’t know if i could write for them as I’ve never done it before lol

[jamesdeerest]

ARGH i was halfway through redoing my blog layout and tumblr refreshes and deletes it all

[jamesdeerest]

also i made so many typos and it is acc bugging me

[jamesdeerest]

have been rereading posts from my active era (aka like two years ago) and i keep switching between oh i was kinda funny and oh my god i was the cringiest sixteen year old on the planet

[jamesdeerest]

me when i lie

ww84 is really good you guys 🥰

[jamesdeerest]

just saw a joel miller to the archer by taylor and it was a heartbreaking way to start the day🫠

[jamesdeerest]

1000 FOLLOWERS OH MY GOD!!!!!!! thank you so much you guys i will try to get this remus request ive got sitting in my drafts out over next couple days <333 THANK U SM!!!!!!!

[jamesdeerest]

980 followers!!!!!

[jamesdeerest]

guys we hit 970 followers?!!! that’s insaneee tysm girliess

[jamesdeerest]

Happy Christmas everyone!

[jamesdeerest]

awww 100 notes on diner darlings !! thank u so much girlies <3

[jamesdeerest]

was anyone else the next step girlies or was that just me

[jamesdeerest]

i just found out we are putting my dog down on wednesday so I will be a little inactive for a couple days 🫠

[jamesdeerest]

run me over RUN ME OVER 🚚🚚🚚

Lemon & Tangerine in BULLET TRAIN (2022)

[jamesdeerest]

SO CUTE I LOVE

EARLY MORNINGS. — remus lupin

summary: you help remus with his injuries one early morning.

warnings: fluff, injuries (nothing graphic,) cuddling, implied pining on remus’ end, bad writing.

a/n: i haven’t had a thought in my life but cuddling with remus is so soft so… take this

word count: 0.4k

you’re not surprised when remus shows up at your door at the crack of dawn.

you’ve gotten used to it, frankly. it’s like clockwork—every month, on the dot, remus shows up at your door at an ungodly hour. he’s always worse for wear; bruised, bloodied, exhausted.

you gesture him inside, too tired for words yet, and shut the door behind him. remus finds a place to sit in the living room, and you dig around in the kitchen cabinets, finding your first aid kit and starting a cup of coffee.

you yawn as you sit beside him, pulling out rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, and start to clean the wounds on his face. they’re not too bad—mostly shallow cuts and yellow-ish bruises, but there’s quite a few. remus doesn’t say anything.

“would it kill you to wait a few hours?” you say as you clean a particularly deep cut just beneath his eye. “the sun’s barely up.”

“sorry,” remus mumbles.

you wave him off. you wouldn’t help him if you didn’t want to. you pick up a band-aid, applying it with steady hands. remus looks at you as you work—though, with your proximity, it’s not like he can look anywhere else.

once you’ve finished with his face, you take one of his hands in yours, cleaning the wounds there. some seem self inflicted; crescent moon shapes that line up with his hands. you don’t ask. that’s part of the deal, the unspoken agreement—you don’t ask questions. you just help.

you pick up your wand and mutter a spell, ridding a deeper cut of dirt and grime, and remus winces, his fingers flexing unintentionally. you clean the cut, and pick up a roll of bandages, wrapping it around his hand.

you cut and tie off the bandage, and look at him, rubbing your eyes slightly. you can’t see any more injuries you need to deal with, just a few minor abrasions.

you sigh, close the first aid kit, and yawn. you rub your eyes blearily. maybe if you go back to sleep, you can get back to whatever you were dreaming about. you get to your feet, take remus’ hand, and walk towards your room.

“uh,” remus says, “where are we going?”

“bed,” you reply, too tired to be embarrassed. you stop in front of your bed, let him go, and gesture towards it. remus, face pink, looks at you in incomprehension. “you,” you say, pointing at him, “go to sleep.”

“i’m not that tired, honestly—”

you roll your eyes, take hold of his sweater, and pull him into the bed with you. you pull the covers up over him, wrap your arms around him, and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he’s warm, and he smells good. remus stills, his breath catching in his throat.

“then shut up,” you say, yawning again, “and let me sleep.”

remus laughs, shaking his head, and wraps his arms around you. “alright, sunshine. sweet dreams.”