alexsunmners:

Frank Castle + this prompt list

A/N: @kurtwxgners I’ve never written Frank before so some feedback would be great. Also this prompt was probably supposed to be funny, but I am the Angst Goddess and suffering is fun. @shayara I know Frank is your husband so here 

You should have known better. Fucking your neighbour never works out all that well in the movies, so why should it have been any better in reality. Not to mention that your neighbour was infinitely more complicated than the standard investment banker or whatever from the rom coms. You’ve never been one to make small mistakes, and you’re pretty sure this one might be the your biggest yet.

It had started innocently enough, when your neighbour across the hall had asked you to feed his dog while he was away. It had seemed like an easy enough task and you’ve always liked animals, so you fed Max, Frank’s dog while Frank was out. And then you started tidying his apartment while you were there to feed Max. You’re not really sure quite how it happened, but somehow, being in Frank’s apartment worked its way into your routine, and before you really knew what was happening, you were making coffee for him and having late night chats if he came home while you were still there. And then one day he kissed you. His large hands splayed out over your sides, his lips pressing demandingly against yours as you blindly pushed both of you back through his apartment to his bed, and that had been enough. That was the beginning.

Three months down the line, Frank has a key to your apartment and neither of you really knows what you’re doing anymore. The sex is still great, but you’re not sure when it started bothering you that he never stayed after. It was only ever supposed to be stress relief. The arrangement was never explicitly discussed, but whatever he spends his time doing leaves him with a whole lot of pent up frustration, and you like getting laid. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship, but you never counted on feelings entering the equation.

You’re staring blankly up at the cracking paint on your ceiling as Frank rises to his feet, reaching over to grab his jeans off the floor and pull them on and even though you can see him in your peripheral vision, still feel the warmth from his body in the sheets beside you, you suddenly feel more alone than you have in a long time.

“You could stay.” The words are out before you can think about them, and Frank tenses up immediately.

“That’s not what we do,” he says cautiously, after a long silence. You don’t move, still tracing the spidery cracks in your ceiling with your eyes.

“But you could. I don’t mind,” you reply, and despite your quiet voice, the implications echo around the room as if shouted. I want you to stay. You’ve barely finished the sentence and he’s already shaking his head, leaning down to pick his shirt up and pull on.

“You know that’s not how this works.” He’s a little louder this time, more brusque, and you flinch away slightly at his words, sitting up to look at him, sheets clutched around you in a pointless display of modesty.  

“What, so you get stressed, come fuck me and then leave? Is that how this works? I don’t want you to think of me as your personal sex toy,” you spit venomously, and though he doesn’t meet your gaze, he doesn’t flinch at your words.

“I don’t.” His voice is almost inaudible as he starts to walk towards the door. Something inside you snaps as you watch him go, and you want to call out, you want to scream, you want to throw something, but instead, you just lie back, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what happens next. You hear the metallic clink of your spare keys as they hit your kitchen counter and you know he’s not coming back. You’re not sure whether you should be grateful or not.