#fuck me up frank castle

[aiobhlin]

Witness

When Karen’s safety is threatened after she’s witness to an almost unspeakable crime, she sees Witness Protection as her only hope. Frank Castle has other ideas about how to keep her safe.

Set in a world where I didn’t rewatch any of the shows before writing it, and I just never watched Daredevil 3 or Punisher 2, so there’s lots of canon inconsistencies. Take a deep breath, buckle in, and just ride it out. We’re gonna have a good time.

This is a (mostly) finished work that I will post in semi-regular installments for my sanity and to make sure I have everything all buttoned up. I hope to have the whole thing posted before November 2023.

Credit to @garglyswoof for the magnificent, thorough, thoughtful, and supportive beta. I truly couldn't have done this without you.

For this first chapter, The Evidence, Karen goes undercover to get a story for the Bulletin and ends up seeing more than she anticipated.

“Are you going to approve my leave?” Karen kept her face neutral, and met his eyes straight on. It was a challenge, and he rose to it, holding her gaze with a challenge of his own.

“No.” He turned away.

“No? Ellison!”

“I said no, Karen. The last reporter I had who went deep on a Fisk story died. Do you remember him? His name was Ben Urich. He left the paper…”

“You fired him…”

“…chased after the story, and ended up dead.”

“I am not going to end up dead,” Karen started to protest, but Ellison waved a hand in her face and cut her off.

“Look, Ben was careful, okay? He took things slowly, asked questions discreetly. You’re like a bull in a china shop.” Karen looked like he had punched her in the gut, and Ellison mentally patted himself on the back for bringing Ben into it. “One thing I admired about Ben, and that I admire about you, is how devoted you are, how driven to report the truth. But there’s a difference between taking a chance on reporting corporate embezzlement and putting your life on the line by looking into whatever Vanessa Fisk is doing.”

“I’m hardly going to be putting my life on the line!” Karen recovered and rolled her eyes, her task of sorting files long forgotten.

“Going after anything regarding the Fisks is putting your life on the line, don’t you see? Ben was murdered for what he was trying to expose.”

“Yeah, and Fisk’s now in prison because of that.”

“I don’t want you to get killed, Karen.”

[chvoswxtch]

i’ve been on a sabrina carpenter kick this past week and i’ve decided it’s cannon that foggy is a sabrina stan and sings nonsense around the office all the time and matt hates it bc goddamn that song is catchy and he finds himself perched on a rooftop like a fucking gargoyle at 2am and he’s singing it to himself bc he can hear foggy belting it 3 blocks away

also foggy definitely blasted feather every single night during s3 after finding out that backstabbing little bitch was alive

[wazzappp]

I am a woman of weak will with no excuse for this @moosemonstrous thank you for being my most trusted enabler advisor and @cicada-candy thank you for your encouragement <3

WOE. GHOST RIDER MAGICAL GIRL AU HELLFIRE GALA FITS BE UPON YE.

Ok so the first genre is High fashion/Familiar themed!

Robbie is in something edgy and asymmetrical. Lots of variations in texture with solid, glitter and mesh areas. A fun grungy makeup style that I thought would suit him well. The more solid areas have a snakeskin texture that I'm not sure came through in the image export sorry lol. Delicate silver pieces help to balance out the harshness of the general aesthetic of the dress. Overall tried to mimic the slithering motion of a snake with the twisting pattern of his dress materials and made it a little more obvious with the snake bracelet.

Danny's focuses on layered sheer materials. Lots of feather and wing embroidery to connect him to his familiar. Nice silver chain around the waist to give the dress some shape and structure and help separate the top and bottom areas. Leg slit to create some interest so things aren't too symmetrical and boring (also you have moose to thank for the boob window lmao). A fun little wing pendant for the back detail ties it together pretty well I think.

JOHNNYYYYYYYYYY pulled a LOT of Avril Lavigne vibes and I'm honestly not sure why. I guess I just really wanted to see in some 'trashy' Y2K fashion (trashy in quotation marks cause I think it's COOL actually) and she's the first person that came into mind. Fur at the top of the dress contrasts with the shiny/glitter material on the rest of it. White tips on the ends of his boots and gloves because of Zaradogs lil sock feet <3. A fun ponytail with some black chain necklaces finishes everything pretty well.

FRANK. DIFFICULT AS ALWAYS. HAD to include fur I had to connect him to Cat-stle somehow. Other than that his look is very Matrix inspired. Very slick and fairly practical. SPIKY ass boots and a fun laceup back add some detail to the otherwise very simple fit. Some mesh areas on the jacket also include just a little bit of variation in texture.

BALLROOM LOOKS!! We getting FANCY.

Something light and fun for Robbie with LOTS of gradient chiffon. A more solid waist wrap to help eccentuate a more solid shape for the more drifting ends of the dress. I'm a sucker for sheer sleeves brother I have no excuse.

EEEEEE PRINCESS DANNY COMING THROUGH!! I LOVE how this one came out! Fun off the shoulder moment with gloves to make sure his arms don't look too plain. Faux silver corset that dissolves into layers of sheer glittery material to form a full length ballgown with lots of nice volume.

JOHNNY YOU GAVE ME TROUBLE. Wanted to include lots of geometric shapes (moose and I looked at QUITE A FEW reference images) so I was able to fit that in with the tessellation patterns on the sleeves and mesh sides, as well as the triangular shape of the top area of the dress. Tried not to overdo the gold glitter by limiting it to a strip down the middle with longer black panels on the sides.

Frank with a VERY classic look I'm a sucker for a square top. He's also got the fun mesh sleeves, this time with some lace patterns. Layered skirt with a bit of volume and glitter ends (I'm a SUCKER for glitter ends). Vibrant red top to show off his signature color with some ribbing to mimic a corset.

AFTER PARTY DRESSES. Fuckin. Euphoria lookin ass dresses. Idk man I just love these kinds of dresses and thought I would go ham at the end for one final nonsense fun look.

[greasydumbfuck]

i dropped the show after episode 3 but whenever i see one of these gifs with netflix frank drinking bottled beer due to recent happenings my brain blasts the fucking cerveza cristal jingle and it is miles funnier than anything in the actual show

[winters-kid]

fight scenes make me absolutely feral

[saintmurd0ck]

i’m watching the punisher for the first time and just got to this scene

i’m not okay

i’m not okay

i’m barely breathing

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

Here I am, listening to Frank Castle tell his story in a grave yard, and trying not to cry.

[no-mercy-bby]

do you usually listen to music while you write? i like to listen to music that fits the vibe of what im writing but i always end up gett distracted by it 💀

I'm kind of half and half. If I'm writing during the day, I'm probably listening to music. If I'm writing at night, then probably not.

Lmao😭 I'm the same way too, like I have my Eddie playlist but if I listen to it while I write, I start singing along and shaking my ass ya know

[stillbreathing-aer]

i'm back on my bullshit!

[adventures-written]

Tag dump 3/?

(Ignore this, my tags got deleted)

[aiobhlin]

Witness, Chapter 3: The Agreement

Frank doubles down on his plan to join Karen in Witness Protection. Excerpt:

Once the door was shut, Karen whirled around to face Frank, putting her hands on her hips. “What is so important, Frank?”

“Karen, I’m going with you.”

“We already talked about this…” she began, but he interrupted her.

“Look, I don’t trust the FBI or the US Marshals or the CIA or whoever to keep you safe, okay? I’m going with you.”

“Frank, this is a bad idea.” She started pacing the room, agitated. Frank started to smell victory.

“Give me one reason,” he said. “One reason this won’t work.”

“Well, you’re recognizable, for one.”

“Not outside of New York. Nobody’s even heard of The Punisher once you get out past 100 miles.”

Undeterred, Karen continued, “If you’re so sure I’m going to be in danger, then you’ll be in danger, too.”

“I’m familiar with danger, in case you haven’t heard,” he deadpanned. “It obviously doesn’t bother me.”

She shot him a look, but kept pacing, chewing on a thumbnail now. “I just don’t think it will work the way you think it will work.”

“Karen,” Frank said, cocking his head to try and get in her eyeline. When that didn’t work, he walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, stilling her. “What is really bothering you?” he asked gently.

[chvoswxtch]

preview of the next chapter of the bodyguard with no context

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … TOJI FUSHIGURO TAKES A LIE DETECTOR TEST… 9.6M VIEWS

꩜ actor!toji (& implied actor toji x actress/actor reader)

⤷ synopsis: toji thought this lie detector test was going to be a breeze. he was a little mistaken.

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, toji & reader are secretly together, toji lying!

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

⪩　 　  ₊　    🍪 　 　✧ 　 　⁺

“i ain’t nervous,” toji claims, cracking his neck and smirking as the crew members attach the needed equipment to his body, “i ain’t no liar either. so i got nothing to worry about here.”

“i sure hope that’s true, mr.fushiguro.” the polygraph examiner replies slyly.

“are you ready, toji fushiguro?” the interviewer asks.

“yeah, i am,” toji claps, “hurry up and get started.”

“is your name toji fushiguro?”

“yes my name is toji fushiguro.” he looks to the polygraph examiner. “it is, right?”

the woman simply stares at him.

“..alright then…”

the interviews asks another question. “are you about to take a polygraph exam?”

“yes, yes and yes, now give me the real questions!”

TOJI FUSHIGURO TELLS THE TRUTH

YOUR CAREER

“we’re going to start with the category of your career.”

toji nods and looks to the examiner. “how ‘m i doing?”

“you’re very calm, nothing unusual yet.”

“hm.”

the interview begins to speak. “one of your most popular roles as an actor was when you played Frank Castle in the Netflix series, “The Punisher”. some would say this is when you became a heartthrob. do you think is this true?”

toji sighs and shakes his head. “nah-”

“LIE.” the polygraph examiner calls out.

toji raises his hand. “…because, i was already a heartthrob before alla that.” he smiles, looking proud of himself. his answer is met with silence.

“ok.” says the interviewer and goes onto the next question. “do you face a lot of pressure being a heartthrob?”

“nope.” toji answers easily. “i’m just that kinda guy. i ain’t gotta try too hard for much, especially not ‘being hot’.”

he looks at the examiner.

“he’s telling the truth.” she states. she almost seems disappointed by the fact.

“see?” toji says, folding his arms, “as i said, ‘got nothin’ to lie about.”

“in the punisher,” the interviewer starts, ignoring toji’s cocky replies, “do you wear a muscle suit to look bigger than you actually are?”

toji throws his back, cackles echoing around the small room. “fuck no!” he gestures to…his whole body, “‘it look like i need a muscle suit? ‘didn’t even know that shit was a thing… i’m big enough without any of that stuff.” he shrugs, looking into the camera. “i think we can all see that.”

the examiner nods curtly. “..he is telling the truth.”

“do you workout often?” asks the interviewer.

toji scoffs. “i thought i’d get good questions..but yeah, yeah i do workout.”

“would you consider yourself fit?”

“yep. ‘hundred percent.”

“would you consider yourself fitter than,” the interviewer slides a photo of the actor gojo satoru towards toji, “this man?”

“pfft-” toji chortles. “oh, ohh yeah. easily. he’s like..” he looks for the correct words, “a little boy. are we kidding?”

he looks to the examiner and then to the interviewer.

“he is being truthful..again.”

toji smirks at the camera, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “toji never lies.”

POP CULTURE

“this year, you were named “The Most Sexiest Man Alive” by People Magazine. do you believe you’re sexier than this man, 2022’s sexiest man, nanami kento?” the interviewer slides another photo, this time of the actor nanami kento.

toji looks at the photo for a second, before scoffing a little. “oh yeah. definitely. ‘guy just has a permanent frown on his face. he ain’t ugly but he could smile a little, y’know?”

“what about this ‘guy’, 2021’s most sexiest man alive, ryomen sukuna?” the interviewer also slides a picture of him to toji.

toji strokes his chin. “heh..yeah..yeah i would say so..this guy..he ain’t ugly either but..theres this energy about him..”

“what energy would that be, toji fushiguro?”

“the energy of a fuckin’ mass murderer that’s what!” he laughs at his own joke, looking at the picture of this ‘ryomen sukuna’, who is glaring into his soul through the image. “yeahh, i’d say i’m more attractive than him. just.. just a little.” he holds two fingers close together emphasis. “jesus christ, that’s one scary looking fuck.”

the examiner inspects the polygraph and looks towards toji and the interviewer. “he has been telling the truth.”

“yeah.” toji nods, exhaling through his mouth and sliding the pictures away from himself. “‘course i am.”

LOVE LIFE

toji had been doing well so far, but the category of ‘love life’ would be his downfall.

“do you want to get married in the future?”

“yeah, yeah i do.”

the examiner nods.

“have you ever been in love?”

“..yes.” toji responds, thinking about his past for a second.

the examiner nods again.

“are you in love right now?”

toji pauses for the first time in the whole test. he takes a deep breath. “no. yeah, no. ‘m not.”

the examiner raises an eyebrow at the results. “questionable.”

“oh, c’mon.” toji groans, rolling his eyes.

“is there someone you’re in love with?”

“nope. nobody at all.” he interlinks his fingers, tapping them against each other. “..nobody at all..”

“questionable. again.” the examiner states, pointedly looking at toji.

toji sighs. “oh, brother…”

“did you happen to meet this person..on set?”

“no, ‘cause there is no person?” toji says firmly.

“again.” the examiner says. “questionable.”

“christ…”

the interviewer asks another question. “do you believe in love at first sight?”

toji huffs. “no, that’s just two people who wanna fuck.”

“i see. then,” the interviewer takes out three pictures, all of them being people who he has worked with on set, including you.

“are you in love with any of these people?”

toji gulps, hesitating for a split second, his eyes focused on your picture. “nope. not oneeee bit.”

“LIE.” the examiner shouts excitedly, happy to have finally caught toji out on lying. she rings the negative buzzer repeatedly. “lie!”

“‘you serious?” he asks incredulously, looking between the interviewer and the examiner. “listen, maybe it was just my heart murmur or somethin’ like that,” he looks to side, cheeks rosy and shifts in his seat a little, “i-i don’t-”

“those are the last of our questions.” the interviewer says to toji, smiling knowingly. “thank you for taking part in our lie detector test.”

toji grumbles.

౨ৎ

tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000

a/n: this was longer than i planned 🤥

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Can I get a whiskey with Frank castle and “I don’t deserve you” please?

Multi Talented.

warnings - smut. cursing.

haven't written frank in so long!! thank you for requesting <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

"Oh fuck, Frank."

You thread your fingers through his hair and pull, eliciting a groan from the man who's broad shoulders are keeping your legs apart.

"Shit, Frank. Just- I just - fuck, give me a minute to just-"

Your back arches off the bed as he sucks particularly hard, teeth grazing over your clit. You're panting, chest heaving, hands scrambling for purchase. You're not sure if you're pushing him away or pulling him closer.

He's doing this thing with his tongue, making it difficult for you to breathe. There are silver stars floating in front of your eyes, blurring your vision, shifting your reality.

The city outside hurries on, sirens and car horns soundtracking the night. The room is dark except for the light of the streetlamps, illuminating the shining purple bruise on Frank's cheekbone.

He pulls away to mutter under his breath, barely audible. You wouldn't hear if you weren't so in tune with everything he says or does.

"That's it, pretty girl."

"Atta girl. You got it."

"Yeah. Good fuckin' girl. So good f'me."

His low, raspy tone is what sends you over the edge, gasping as his fingers curl just right. You see salvation in your release, the universe white hot and blinding.

"Where did you learn to do that?" you ask breathlessly, relaxing back against the sheets.

"Told ya I know a few things," he chuckles, crawling up your body so you're face to face.

You kiss him eagerly, tongue slipping into his mouth to taste yourself.

"I don't deserve you," you laugh.

"Let me show you how much you deserve me," he whispers against your lips, strong hands gripping your thighs to part them for him again.

[agirlcandream84]

Neighbor!Frank Giving Daddy Vibes When He Offers To Help You

This isn't smut but it also isn't fluff but it is comfort but also hot? Like listen, I want Frank to step in and make.things.better. And you know he would.

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 1,732 (~6 min read)

You felt like an idiot, sobbing on your living room floor over a damn futon. It wasn't even the futon, really, it was the colossal mess that acquiring the futon created. As a single girl, you should have guessed Facebook Marketplace was a sketchy place to buy your furniture but you were broke and desperate.

You'd been in your new apartment for a month and your living room was still an empty box with some pillows on the ground as a sad replacement for a couch. You saw the listing for a futon for $50, including delivery, on Marketplace and jumped on the offer. The guy had seemed nice enough and you arranged a time for drop-off on the front stoop of your building but the man pulled up in his truck with a hunk of dissembled futon parts instead of the assembled futon in the picture. Your heart sank instantly and you told him you didn't have the tools to assemble the futon.

"Not my problem," was all he grumbled as he opened his truck bed and started unloading the parts onto the sidewalk, clanging with every toss.

"Please, I'm sorry, I can't take this. I don't have any way to assemble it," you shout over the rattle of the pieces amassing on the sidewalk. He ignores you and continues to unload until the last scrap is cleared from his truck.

"I'm not paying for this," you tell him indignantly. "This isn't what the picture looked like."

He spits on the sidewalk as he strides over to you, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking the $50 from your hand and mumbles, "Yes you fucking are."

As he drives away you contemplate just leaving the pieces there but your landlord has security cameras and the problem will circle back to you quickly enough. And so, after 30 mins of hauling parts up four flights of stairs and nearly two hours of attempting to assemble the futon using god knows what tools you had lying around the apartment you find yourself in heaving sobs on your living room floor.

The sharp rap at your door snaps you out of your spiral as you mumble a faint, "hello?" towards the door.

The voice on the other said says "Hey, uh, it's me. It's Frank." Frank kept to himself but you had both settled into a kind rhythm with each other. You occasionally dropped off your leftovers (he didn't seem like the type to cook much for himself) and he'd occasionally help take your trash out to the dumpsters or made sure your windows had working locks.

He wasn't one to talk much, usually just ringing your bell and grumbling something before lending a hand, and you assume it's by design. The thing is, you worried about Frank. Though he'd never say anything about it, you saw the way bruises would occasionally bloom across his face. Or the way he'd limp back to his unit down the hall. Sometimes he seemed to be gone for days on end. But despite all signs screaming, DANGEROUS MAN, you trusted Frank and he always treated you nicely. His presence was a comport even, if he did seem to attract danger.

"Oh, uh, coming," you mumble as you weave through the maze of futons parts scattered across your floor and quickly the wipe the tears from your cheeks. You open the door to find Frank leaning with his raised forearm against the doorframe, his hulking form above you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey Frank, everything ok?" you ask, eyes cast upward toward him, door only cracked a little to conceal the mess you were currently in.

"Came to ask you that question," he responds, chin jutting up to indicate your direction. "Thought maybe I heard some cryin' in there," he adds.

Shame flushes your face and radiates through your body. You weren't above asking for help when you needed it but to be caught in the middle of your mental breakdown was another humiliation entirely.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you could hear. I hope I didn't bother you. I'm so sorry," you rush out, your cheeks a vibrant pink.

"Hey, no no," he stops you, those brows furrowing, "don't apologize. Jeez sweetheart, I came to see if you're ok. Somethin' I can help with?"

You couldn't decide if it felt infinitely more embarrassing to accept Frank's help or if it was a tremendous relief.

"Well, I don't know. It's this.." you trail off, motioning to the room he can't see.

"Let me see, a'right?" he offers gently, "Can you open the door a bit for me?" he asks, his hand landing on the knob. You nod and step back, making room for Frank to enter.

"It was a Facebook Marketplace thing... the guy was a jerk," you start and describe what transpired. Frank appears to be growing more agitated at the story continues, his arms crossed across his chest and big breaths huffing out through his crooked nose.

"fuckin' prick," he mumbles under his breath when you finish as he squats to the floor to inspect the task. "These are the only tools you got honey?" he asks gently, not meaning to embarrass. After nodding your head yes he replies, "Yeah, no wonder you were frustrated. This is a nightmare. I'm gonna get my toolbox and I'm coming straight back, ok sweetheart?"

You nod your head again and he's gone for a moment to his own unit. You will yourself to take a few deep breaths to not only wash away the last of the tears but to calm your nerves. Frank always made you nervous. It was that energy of his -- always in charge-- it was simultaneously immensely comforting and slightly frightening.

You hear his footsteps approach from the hall as he calls "S'me honey," so you wouldn't be frightened. He enters with his toolbox at his side and crouches low to get to work on building.

"Are you sure about this Frank? It's so much work, I know it's a pain," you ramble, twisting your fingers in knots, your embodiment of anxiety. You know he's capable but the man probably had other plans for his afternoon.

His eyes land on your twisted fingers as he replies "Happy to do it, alright? I gotcha," and you relax just a bit. After getting him a glass of water you decide to busy yourself in the kitchen, washing last night's dishes and tidying up. After 30 mins of work, he's nearly complete.

"Hey sweetheart," he shouts into the kitchen, "can you do something for me?"

"Yeah, of course," you reply entering the living and tossing the dish towel aside, "how can I help?"

"Alright, you see this piece here," he says pointing at a bent metal bar that wasn't aligned to the screw hole, "that asshole mangled this piece when he disassembled it so we gotta force back in place. Need you to screw it in here when I start bending it back alright?" he asks as he indicates to the screw hole. You nod in understanding as he hands you the manual screw driver. He places his hands on your hips and says gently, "need you stand here honey," to guide you to stand directly in front of him, the futon in front of you. He feel heat flame your cheeks and thank god Frank is facing the back of your head.

Frank engulfs your form, his chin hovering over your right shoulder as his arms reach around either side of you to land on the bent metal bar. You hear the comforting rhythm of his breath in your ear and squeeze your eyes shut a moment to shake the heat rising in your cheeks. He steps forward an inch to get the right leverage on the bar, his broad chest grazing your back.

"this, uh, this ok?" he mumbles in the shell of your ear, his voice soft and rumbly, confirming your comfort and managing to raise the temperature in the room by about 50 degrees. You can't manage an audible yes but you nod instead. With that, you feel him lean closer, a grunt escaping his lips as he forces the bent bar back into place. You watch as his broad hands grip the cool metal, the ropes in his forearms taut as he bends it back to shape. As the holes line up, you begin screwing as fast as you can, securing the bar in place.

He pants as he releases the effort, an "attagirl" tumbling from his lips as his calloused hand wraps around yours, making the last, hardest 90 degree turn to tighten the screw in place. "Practically built the thing yourself," he teases, releasing your hand.

"I can't thank you enough," you start, turning to face him, his face now only inches from yours, the expanse of his shoulders nearly consuming the room. "I.. uh I..." you mumble, the rest of the thought terminated as you stand close enough to smell the mossy freshness of his deodorant.

"Yeah, hey, like I said, happy to help," he responds, one landing landing on your upper arm and squeezing gently before grazing down to let go. He adds after a beat, "Listen, you talk to me about it next time sweetheart, yeah? I’ll take care of it. Don't go gettin’ in a mess like that," his brown eyes nearly boring into yours.

"What do you mean... take care of it?" you ask, nearly a whisper, tiptoeing over a boundary you weren't sure you wanted to know more about. What was Frank's definition of "taking care of" something and why did you think it involved more bruises? Or worse.

His eyes flick away for a moment before finding yours again. "Yeah, that's nothin' you need to worry about honey," he responds, more breath than voice, and you had decided you didn't prefer to know any more.

After a few minutes collecting and packing his tools, Frank made his way to the door and you followed him behind, thanking him again for the help.

"Yeah, it's no problem. Let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?" he replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek, his hand landing softly on your opposite cheek for only a moment, before turning to walk towards his unit, leaving you with a new problem: were you in love with Frank?