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homiesexual-or-homosexual · 1 year

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Apartment 5c

Pairing: Frank Castle/Punisher x reader

Warnings: based on a dream i had involving Mr. Punisher, you and your friend move to NYC, fictional violence, mentions of a handgun, mentions of blood and wounds, you help patch up Frank, some tension, cops

You and your friend had just moved to New York City. Your friend's job had offered a free flight and the first 6 months paid months in return for the big promotion she just went through. As soon as she found out, she told you. Excited and giddy, she offered you to join her in the big city, saying she could pull some strings and have your seat paid for and for a bigger apartment that would comfortably fit you both. She gave you three days to think about it, and halfway through the second you decided to join her, having done research and noting the many amazing jobs that New York offered.

It took you and your friend about a week to get settled into your apartment, only three blocks from her work. Your own job started in the next week as a higher-up book editor. Life was good.

Until now, when you arrived at your apartment door. You usually get home before your friend, so that's normal that she isn't home. But what's unusual is the fact that your front door is cracked open. You kick it open more, eyes searching the parts of the room you can see. Nothing seems out of the ordinary but your gut tells you otherwise. You start to make your way to the lobby, but don't make it far before you feel something pressed against the side of your head. You freeze, staring ahead.

"You live here?" The person asked.

You don't respond, your vocal chords dried up.

"I said," The person shoved the object against your head. "Do you live here?!"

You stutter before responding, "Ye-yes!"

"You know Clark?" The person asks.

"Clark?" You ask, confused.

"Clark Johnson?" The person pressed.

"Umm uh, no," You answer. "I've never heard of him."

"I don't believe you," The person growled.

You heard something click and panic immediately set in, but before you can plead for you life the person is shoved to the ground. It's a short-haired blond man with a handgun in his hand, probably what he had shoved against your head. You look to the side and see the man's assaultant.

There stands a tall man with short dark brown, almost black hair, and a clean-shaven face. His eyes are dark, darker as his brows are furrowed. He's wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, black jeans, and a thick vest over his abdomen that has a blood-stained skull on the majority of it. He looks towards you and then back at the blond-haired man as he races towards your possible savior.

Your savior knocks the other guy's gun from his hand and punches him in the jaw when he's close enough. The blond man stumbles, holding his jaw before charging again. He makes contact and both men tussle, fear pining you against the opposite wall of your front door, still wide open.

Blood is sprayed across the hallway walls and spilt onto the expensive-looking carpet below. The impact of punches sound throughout the hallway before the taller of the two, your savior, rushes the bad guy, shoving him down the hallway and out the end-of-the-hallway window. There's no fire exit outside those windows and your apartment is pretty high up, so you know the guy fell to his death. You hear a crash out the window and screams of the public below.

Your savior is bloody and bruises, a fat eye beginning to swell. He picks up your assaulter's gun and checks the magazine, making a grunting sound as he clicks it back into place. He eyes your doorway and then looks at you.

"Change your locks," Is what he says in a gruff voice. "Seems like he had a key."

And he's off, down the stairwell to make a quiet escape, bloody footprints highlighting his path.

You race downstairs to the lobby, as fast as an elevator will take you, and hurriedly talk to the building manager, who you and your friend have come to know well over this past week and a half, about what just happened. He helps you calm down and calls the police for you. You lead the police up to your floor and recall the details of what just happened, including the guy who was pushed out the window.

The lead cop calls for forensics and sends some of his partners down the stairwell to follow the footsteps, some to look at the body, and some to look around your apartment with you to make sure nothing is missing.

Forensics arrives, taking pictures of the blood in the hallway, the footprints in the stairwell that stop around the third floor, the body out in the street, and anything that seems to be amiss in your apartment. Your asked questions, which you answer. Your friend arrives just at the start of your explanation, asking questions as well.

Once the questioning is done, the lead cop and your manager take you and your friend down to the building's security room. The guard takes you four back to when the blond guy had used a key to open your apartment door. You all watched it til you fled downstairs.

The lead cop wants a copy of the footage and you, your friend, and the building manager's phone number so he can keep you updated on your case.

While your manager calls a locksmith to change the locks on your front door and to double-check the locks on all your windows, the lead cop is doing a second run-through of the video before he cusses quietly.

"What?" You ask, suddenly more concerned.

"That's Frank Castle," The cop answered.

"Who's Frank Castle?" Your friend asks.

"He's New York's so-called vigilante," The cop answers. "He's worse than Spiderman in Queens."

"You not a big fan of superheros?" Your friend asks.

"Superheros?" The cop laughs, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I don't think other superheros kill as much as Castle does. He causes more loss than gain."

Your friend only hums. Turning around when the door to the security office opens. It's the locksmith. He says your locks are changed and your windows are perfectly okay, just remember to lock them when you're out or asleep.

You and your friend make your way back to your apartment when you're let go. You both mill around your apartment, putting things back to how you like it, putting the new keys on your keychains, and locking all your windows. You don't know how long it takes your friend to fall asleep, but it feels like it takes you for forever.

-- --

It's only a couple months later when something else happens. You're all alone in your apartment when it happens, your friend staying the night at her new boy toy's house. You hear something fidgeting in the living room. You investigate and find one of your living room windows all the way open and a man crawling through. You stay still at the end of your hallway, hoping that the night shadows conceal you away.

The man gets about halfway through your window before another hand reaches in and grabs the man at the base of his hair, pulling him back and slamming his head on the edge of your window. In shock, the man falls into your living room. Both men get into a tussle, impacts of fists and grunts sound throughout the room. A flash and gunshot sounds through the room followed by a yell of pain. The tussling continues, cussing and pained noises follow before they fall through the window, a fire escape outside.

Now that the two men are outside, the fight seems to get more gruesome and violent. Gunshots sounding out and maybe even the tink of a blade hitting metal before a grunt and the sound of someone falling down the fire escape stairs.

Sirens grow in the distance, and the sound of squealing tires.

The other man, the one that showed up later, scrambles inside your apartment, slamming your window shut. He wheezes, hand cupping the left side of his ribcage.

Before your brain realizes what your body is doing, the light switch is flicked on and your living room is illuminated. Standing beside your window is the man from the month before, bloody and bruised once again. What was his name? Something Castle. You're not very good with names.

You two stare at each other, shocked.

It's only when a knock sounds on your door does Castle have the notion to move, moving to slide behind your kitchen island, crouching down to hide.

You move to peer out the window and relax when you see it's a cop. You open your window and greet the officer.

"We were called to this area and we were just making sure you're okay, ma'am," the officer says.

"Umm yeah," You say. "I heard some commotion outside and was wondering what was going on."

"Nothing for you to worry about this late at night," The officer says. "Just be sure to lock your windows from now on."

You nod and bid goodnight and do as he says, closing your curtains as well. You turn and notice the blood spilt from earlier was minimum and that's why the officer didn't ask about anything that could have happened.

You hear a grunt and look to see Castle heaving himself from your floor, still wheezing.

"You got a first aid kit?" He asks.

"Um uh- yeah," You answer. "In my bathroom."

He nods and walks towards you. You take it as a sign to lead the tall man to your bedroom to get to your bathroom. You fish the first aid kit from under your sink, handing it to the man.

He sets in the counter beside your sink. Opening it and looking through your supplies. It seems your supplies is up to his standards because the tall man immediately starts stripping himself of anything that covers his abdomen.

You look away as the clothing and vest plop onto your floor, blood smudging onto the white tile of the bathroom floor. You hear the clinking of your medical supplies being shuffled around.

"Umm," You speak up. "Do you need help? I know how to stitch and stuff."

"And stuff?" Castle asks, his voice gruff.

You nod.

Castle nods reluctantly, tensing when you get close.

This close, you see a few stab wounds and a few bullet grazes, but nothing that looks life-threatening. You grab a black wash rag from under your sink, get it wet, and begin wiping Castle's chest and abdomen down, cleaning off the smeared blood. You set the rag in the sink and tear open some antibiotic wipes from your first aid kit and start cleaning up the wounds. He hisses, flinching away when you clean up one on his arm. Once done, you grab a needle and some stitching thread and get that ready. You sterilize the needle.

"Wait wait," Castle stops you. "Got any whiskey of vodka?"

"Yeah. I'll go get a bottle," You hand him the needle and fetch some of your stronger whiskey.

You unscrew the cap for him and hand the bottle to Castle. You wait for him to take a, rather large, swig before you start stitching the wounds that need it. You can tell it hurts but you can only stitch someone up right so fast. Once done, you place bandaids on the smaller wounds.

You turn to grab the rag from before, rinsing it out before using it again on his face. Your hands shake when you wipe down his face, meeting his eyes when he winces away when you wipe over a split in his left eyebrow.

"Sorry," You mutter.

Castle grunts.

You change the rag for a different antibiotic wipe, wiping around his scraps and cuts. You put bandaids on his larger cuts.

"You want an icepack for your eye?" You ask, noting the swelling under his right eye. "It'll help with the swelling."

"Sure," Castle nods.

You clean up your first aid kit, wrapping the needle in toilet paper before tossing it in the bathroom trashcan. You lead the way to your kitchen. You search for the icepack and whirl around when you find it, bumping straight into Castle's chest.

"Sorry," You mutter.

Castle wordlessly takes the icepack from your hands and puts it up to his eye, moving to sit at your kitchen island.

"Got anymore break-ins?" Castle asks.

"You remember," You note. "No, not counting tonight."

"That was less of a break-in and more of him getting away from me," Castle says.

"Cause you're New York's vigilante?" You ask.

"You meet Mr. I'm-In-Charge?" Castle asks, a hint of emotion in his voice.

"Umm.. I guess," You try to remember the cop's name that still gave you updates on your case as they tried and failed to hunt down Castle. "He's looking for you still."

"He finds any excuse to look for me," Castle says. "I'm no Daredevil in his eyes. I make more loss than gains."

"Daredevil?" You asks.

"Another one like me, not superhero and not villain."

You nod.

There's a few moments of silence between you both before you awkwardly cough.

"Well, it's late for me," You trail on. "So I'm gonna go to bed. Feel free to stay the night, but my friend comes back probably sometime tomorrow morning so try not to scare her."

"You just gonna let a random man stay in your apartment?" Castle asks.

"Considering you've saved my life at least twice, yes," You start walking to your bedroom. "Goodnight, Castle."

"Goodnight."

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