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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

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A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol).

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed.

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt.

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that.

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options.

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.”

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall.

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past.

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run.

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone.

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him.

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch.

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself.

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine.

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour.

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being.

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.”

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man.

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.”

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.”

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life.

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while.

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.”

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them.

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head.

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off.

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit.

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack.

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?”

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something.

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.”

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar.

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly.

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.”

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw.

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story?

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you.

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment.

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime”

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood.

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention.

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped.

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him.

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before?

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it.

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?”

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said.

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming.

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch.

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned.

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box.

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed.

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment.

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.”

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin.

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.”

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight.

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe.

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.”

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits.

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter.

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned.

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.”

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze.

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.”

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?”

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.”

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.”

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner.

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground.

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta.

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.”

“Culinary school, huh?”

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.”

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?”

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted.

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall.

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.”

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home.

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile.

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes.

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven.

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder.

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed.

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her.

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.”

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin.

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile.

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way.

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response.

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?”

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it.

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.”

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.”

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?”

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged.

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.”

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze.

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation.

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct.

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.”

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over.

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile.

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why.

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him.

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy.

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal.

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself.

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.”

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?”

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.”

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life.

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his.

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.”

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle.

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you.

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her.

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely.

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods.

“I’d uh…I’d like that.”

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you.

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye.

You were definitely going to be the death of him.

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance.

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever.

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me.

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec.

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though.

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous.

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.”

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly.

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs.

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism.

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown.

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled.

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him.

“Fine. Yours?”

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled.

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.”

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?”

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected.

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one.

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh.

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?”

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.”

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.”

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fc #my writing #gray skies

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months

Text

Down to the Meadow

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, descriptions of depression, descriptions of violence/gore (canon typical), more of Frank being concerned about what reader is eating (very vague ED references)

a/n: AHHHHH I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! A huge thank you to the anon who reminded me that it was Monday LOL. I am so glad that someone else enjoys this story because I love writing it. This chapter delves into Franks trauma and mental state and I hope you all enjoy!

w/c: 5.5k

The dream evolved after the first iteration. Each time he closed his eyes, a new horror cemented itself into the sentient nightmare that was slowly consuming his entire life.

As with the first dream, it started with you joining Maria in his standard nightmares. Your beautiful figure sitting on the carousel alongside his late wife and kids as those assholes gunned you down. A patch of red slowly spreading across your pretty white dress as your smile morphed into a face of horror.

The weird thing was, his subconscious laced the nightmares with gorgeous, peaceful images of you. Like his mind was desperately trying to remind him that good things are easily ruined.

You pulling cookies out of the oven. Then, you being blown to bits in front of him in the field. You laughing at a joke he didn’t mean to make. Followed quickly by your screams as the life drains from your face.

You picking flowers in a sun kissed field, before a large black mass overtakes you, swallowing you whole.

Though his resting mind was eager to pry him away from you, to spare you a terrible fate, his waking mind was yearning to let him wrap himself around your finger. The fine line he was treading started to look more like a noose—and he was weaving it himself.

A cold, squishy object nudged Frank’s outstretched hand deliberately. Groaning, the Marine retracted his hand into the cocoon of sheets he had created in his uneasy sleep. A pitiful whine shattered the early morning silence and sent a white-hot strike of pain through his skull.

Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, his throat twisted in a silent cry of pain. Prying his eyes open, he was blinded by the daylight, searing an imprint into his eyelids.

Nausea burned in his gut as he contemplated opening his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lie here and rot all day, but Max clearly needed to go out. The thought of bringing Max outside the apartment right now was enough to make a gag rise in his throat. An idea rattled around in his skull, the pain of his hangover too intense for him to even remember that Frank Castle never asked for help unless he was on his death bed. Braving the sun’s unintentional inferno, he let his eyes slide open again.

A hiss of pain escaped his lips and he drew a hand up to block the rays as best he could while he took in his surroundings. He had fallen asleep on his couch after making a mess of his apartment, but his phone sat prominently displayed on the coffee table amid a smattering of empty bottles. Grasping it for dear life, he sent a message as quickly as possible before shutting it off and letting his head fall back to the pillows.

Frank: I hate to ask this but could you take Max out for me? I’ve got a bad headache.

A vibration let him know that you’d responded, prompt as always.

You: I’m sorry you’re not feeling well ☹️ I’ll be right over.

Breathing deeply, Frank heaved himself off the couch, stumbling to the door to unlock it before retreating to his created sanctuary.

Frank: You can let yourself in. Door’s open.

Drifting in and out of a painful consciousness, Frank hazily remembered the door opening, a cool hand on his face, the same gentle palm offering him some extra strength painkillers and a glass of water, before all signs of other life disappeared from his apartment.

When he woke again, you were returning with Max in tow—your ethereal form outlined by a halo of golden light as you crouched in front of him. Frank was vexed by the sight of the skirt of your beautiful dress pooling on the floor.

“Hey, big guy. Feeling any better?” Your voice was soft as your dainty fingers stroked his arm with a featherlight touch.

Frank grunted in affirmation, not trusting himself to look at your dazzling eyes and risk seeing honest concern. There was no way his fatigue riddled mind could resist you, it was too dangerous.

You gave him a small smile. “Well I took Max for a walk to and around Central Park, so he should be a happy camper for a while. Did you want me to stay?”

Blood rushed to Frank’s ears. This is exactly what he was afraid of. Do not say yes. Do not say yes. Do not— “Please.” His voice cracked around the word, making him cringe. You fucking asshole. You piece of shit.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but tell it to quiet down. It doesn’t seem to be helping.” Your knuckles brushed over his cheek and he leaned into the touch, weakening your worried frown.

“I just…I ain’t good company, sunshine. I shouldn’t let you stay, I can’t ask that of you.” Your pinched expression intensified as you listened to his deep grumble crack on the pet name he used for you. Cupping his cheek tenderly, a small smile slipped through as you reassured him.

“You don’t need to be good company for me to enjoy being with you, Frank.” You shuffled closer to the couch, hand moving to scratch lightly at his scalp which made him groan in appreciation, eyes falling closed.

Frank sighed, a strong sense of guilt ballooning in his chest “I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh stop. You deserve to be happy. Whatever and whoever helps you get there, yah?” Your voice was definitive, almost stern, which made the corners of his lips twitch up in a smirk.

“So bossy.” He murmured, his smirk growing as you gave his hair a small tug in retaliation.

“Can I sit?” You jerked your head to his couch and he nodded, sitting up to make room for you.

Ignoring his desire to let you care for him, he rested his arms across the back of the couch. The ghost of your body heat dancing over his exposed skin in an almost comforting waltz. It wasn’t a great placebo for your gentle touches, but it would have to do.

You were quiet for a moment, worriedly glancing around the apartment. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the coffee table. While you wouldn’t dare call Frank’s place “messy,” your rigid, grouchy neighbor was never less than meticulous. He’d mentioned his military background to you once, which would explain his precision and attention to detail. And that was why the litter seemed so out of place, you supposed.

Preoccupied with brainstorming a way to assist, Frank nearly made you jump when he broke the silence.

“Sorry I ain’t much fun.”

You chuckled, poking his shoulder. “I already told you, tough guy, you don’t have to be fun. You can sleep more if you want.”

“Nah.” Frank’s face contorted with a grimace making you giggle.

“Ok, have you eaten yet?” You tilted your head at him, darling smile persisting even though his place was a mess and he was a disaster. His doubt began churning again. She deserves better. Send her away.

Frank just shook his head, both to clear it of the whirling thoughts and to answer your question, so you continued. “How does an incredibly greasy burger sound?”

The Marine groaned, “Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Giggling, you took his hand. “I know a good diner not far from here. Join me for lunch?”

“Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” Frank allowed you to pull him from the couch, appreciative that you took care not to jostle him too much. Armed with more painkillers and a pair of sunglasses, the two of you headed out for a meal.

The amount of care you took, in the short walk between his apartment and your destination, to ensure his comfort on the bustling NYC streets was honestly outrageous. How someone could give two shits about a man that massacred people without trying was beyond him, but he was grateful nonetheless. Keeping a tender hold of his hand, you led him around the other New Yorkers with immense grace, your sweet face bright with a smile the entire time. Thinking it would be best for his pounding head, you refrained from making conversation, simply turning around to grin at him every once in a while.

As you reached the diner, you pulled open the door for him before his outstretched free hand could touch the handle. Frank was always so chivalrous around you, it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. Smiling sweetly, you bit back a laugh at his narrowing eyes as he skeptically accepted your action.

“Thanks, sunshine.”

“Why of course, sweetheart.” You coated your voice with honey and Frank grumbled, furrow above his brow deepening. Bringing his calloused hand up to your lips, you placed a kiss on his knuckles before brushing over them with your thumb. “Relax, Frank. Let someone else care for you this time, hmm?”

The tension on his face ebbed before evaporating. Poking his cheek, that was now dusted with a rosy blush, you giggled, pulling him towards an empty booth.

Sitting across from you, Frank slid his sunglasses off to fully appreciate your appearance today while you read over the laminated menu. Dolled up in one of your signature floral sundresses, your hair was styled differently—pulled away from your face, revealing more of you to him. Natural light poured in from the window framing your booth, highlighting your slender hands and neckline that plunged deeper than normal. Frank found his eyes tracing the line of fabric down into the valley of your visible cleavage until your sudden movement spooked him from the trance.

“Ooooo the red onion and goat cheese burger looks good. That must be new or I would have tried it before. What are you going to get?” You beamed at him, blissfully unaware of the way his thoughts lingered on your skin. Stuck in his own head, he wondered if your melodic voice would respond to his touches the way he wished it would. What would you sound like if he ran a hand over your thighs? Would you get louder once it became his tongue?

“Frank?” You took hold of his arm that was resting on the dull plastic table, startling him. Your pretty brow pinched, eyes running over his face for any sign of distress. “Are you ok? Is it too loud or bright in here?”

“I’m a’right, sunshine. Jus’ lookin’ at ya, is all.” He grumbled, picking up his own menu as heat rushed to your face.

“Oh, well, er—everything is good, so whatever you choose will be, um, good.” You stumbled through the sentence, trying not to dwell on Frank’s consistent compliments.

A waitress eventually approached the two of you to take your order. Taking your cues from Frank, you ordered a strawberry milkshake with your burger while he requested a chocolate one—Frank seemed more than pleased about the addition to your meal and you weren’t quite sure why.

While waiting for your food, you and Frank were looking out at the flow of people through the window beside you. You happily commented on their outfits, and what jobs you thought they held. Though it was clear you were being overly goofy to lighten his mood, he encouraged it—asking you to describe their personality and voice along with their job.

Letting your lilting tone wash over him, he focused on the way your fingers fit so perfectly in his. Your thumb continued drawing patterns across his knuckles, even though your focus was outside.

While you were giving a ridiculous impression of a man in a full suit that clearly thought he was tough shit, Frank felt a confession bubbling up in his throat.

“Friday is my daughter's birthday. She would have been 18.”

“Oh, Frank…” The devastation in his statement made emotion well up in your own chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thought I owed ya an explanation. F’r the mess.” His hand circled towards himself lamely.

“You don’t owe me anything. Not one single thing, sweetheart. I’m here for whatever you need, explanation or not.” You squeezed his hand again, looking at him with concern, but not pity.

“I meant what I said earlier. You deserve better.” Keeping his eyes downcast, his heart plunged when your fingers stilled over the back of his hand before slipping out of his hold entirely.

Closing his eyes in disappointment, he assumed he’d rightfully lost your support until he felt a burst of heat settle against his side as you wrapped him in an embrace. Your hand buried itself in his hair and he let you pull him into your neck.

“You are exactly the kind of man I deserve, Frank. You’re allowed to grieve, and, honestly, if you showed no emotion that would be a huge red flag. It’s ok to struggle and it’s ok to ask for help. I am always always a door away if you need company or someone to talk to. I know I tend to dominate the conversation, but I have been told that I’m occasionally a good listener.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, stroking over the spot of impact gently when he subconsciously leaned into the contact.

“I don’t doubt it, sunshine.” He idled in your hold before drawing back, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he moved away. “Her name was Lisa. She, um, she died in a shootout. Along with my wife and son.”

Before he could continue, your waitress returned to your table. Thanking her briefly for the food, you positioned Frank’s food in front of him, picking up a fry. Watching you turn to him expectantly, he found himself telling you everything. For the first time in his life, he understood why Red felt so strongly about his religion. Confessing his sins to you lifted a burden that he had lived with for so long, he had previously assumed it was a permanent piece of him. He’d found a new altar to kneel at, and he wouldn’t give that up, he couldn’t.

He talked for what felt like hours. Telling you about Maria, their meeting, their love, their marriage. He told you about Lisa and Frankie, how he felt like he had failed Frankie more so than anyone else because of the responsibility he’d unknowingly placed on the boy’s shoulders. While he didn’t go into detail about their deaths, he spoke about things that had haunted him silently. The pieces of his relationships with his wife and children that he kept so close to his chest, Curtis didn’t even know about them.

By the time he’d picked his plate clean, he was exhausted. Revealing his fears to you was relieving, but it took so much energy. Running a palm over his face roughly, he drained the last of his milkshake.

“I’m sorry, sunshine. That was…a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry. I appreciate you trusting me with this.” Your words were genuine. “Let me finish my burger and then we can go home.”

His heart fluttered at the small implication that his apartment was your home as well. You may not have intended it, but it’s warmed his chest nonetheless. As you worked your way through the rest of your food, you remained tucked into Frank’s side with his arm around your shoulders.

Letting his arm fall to your waist, he stroked a thumb over your hip gently, making you smile. Popping the last bit of sandwich into your mouth, you fell more firmly into his hold. Studying his face with a small smile, you brushed a few strands of hair off of his face, eyes landing on his lips for a moment before you looked away.

Flagging down your waitress, you started to hand over your card but Frank’s large hand settled over yours. Passing the waitress his card instead, his lips twitched in a tiny smile.

“I got this one, sunshine. Could she get the rest of that shake to go?”

You grinned at him, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

Frank was sure he hadn’t smiled this much in years. The pair of you traipsed along the city streets, under the impression that the sunlight would do you both some good. Of course, he’d needed to persuade you and your adorably furrowed brow that his headache had faded and could withstand the bright lights and urban ambiance. You’d once again woven your fingers with his as you ambled along, this time threading your arms together too. The heat of your skin pressed to his was a drug unlike any other. He was infuriatingly drunk on you and his heart refused to do anything about it.

Because it was you, with your brilliant smile and silvery laugh. He’d been constructing walls around himself for years, and you’d strode up with a basket of pastries, walking straight into his life and tidying it up like you had always been there.

Stuck in his own mind, Frank failed to see the teenager sprinting down the sidewalk. His growing daydream of you cementing yourself into his life was shattered as your hand was abruptly tugged from his grasp, your body falling to the cement under the weight of the gangly teen who’d toppled you.

“Oh gosh, are you alright, ma’am? I am so sorry! I didn’t see—“

“The hell?” Frank snapped at the kid, who turned white as a sheet as he stared up at the towering man.

Kneeling beside you, Frank felt his heart constrict seeing the crimson-tinged scrapes on your elbows, small trickles of blood spreading from them across your pristine skin. Not to mention, your beautiful dress was splattered with the remnants of your milkshake, the styrofoam crushed against your chest.

Snarling, Frank turned back to the boy, still crouched beside you, arm outstretched so you could pull yourself up. “Jesus, did ya even look where you were goin’? Or did ya just feel like injuring her and ruining her pretty dress.”

The kid’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped in terror, wide eyes watching Frank’s movements as he backed away in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been paying attention.”

“Yah. Ya should’ve. Fat lot of good that does us now, though.” Frank spoke tersely, feeling a hand rest on his bicep.

Sitting up, you gave him a pointed look before smiling at the teen. “It’s quite alright, I just got scraped up, is all. Don’t worry about him, he’s a little protective. Are you ok?”

Only you would be able to experience a mess like that and worry about the idiot that caused it. The kid nodded, breathlessly running his hands through curly, brown hair.

“I’m fine, ma’am. I am so sorry, again, did you need help—“ Bravely (or stupidly), the boy stepped towards you with an arm held out, offering to help you up. Fists clenching, a low growl left Frank, scaring the kid back into his senses.

“Sorry, er, have a good day!” The kid chirped fearfully, dashing away. You giggled, craning your neck to watch him disappear into the masses. Grabbing Frank’s hand with your own sugar-stained fingers, you allowed him to help you stand, brushing a knuckle over his cheek when you saw his fierce scowl.

“I’m ok, tough guy. He didn’t mean it.” Giving him an earnest look, you withdrew your hand from his face, giggling when he slid forward on his toes to follow the warmth of your touch. Gently sliding your palm against his nape, you scratched at his hair—earning a deep, pleased rumble from him—and tugged him back into a moderate pace. “I would love to get this dress washed so it doesn’t stain, though. Let’s get home.”

Tense scowl easing, Frank gratefully let you guide him back to your building.

“Frank, really, I’m ok! You don’t need to—“ You pleaded, watching the man pace around his apartment, grabbing various first aid supplies to tend to your shallow wounds.

Frank ignored your bargaining tone, shuffling through his depleted kits for the supplies he sought. Armed with bandages, saline, and cotton pads, he kneeled before your seated form on his couch. “Course I don’t need to. I want to. That bother ya?”

Sitting before him in a cotton shirt and pajama pants, he felt his heart clench as he studied your soft figure. You shook your head at his inquiry, looking at him with eyes filled with an unrecognizable emotion. Had he upset you? Was he being too pushy?

“No, it’s just…” You trailed off, eyes avoiding his own as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. His stomach tightened, waiting for you to reveal that he’d pushed you away, but the sentiment never came. “I don’t want to be any trouble, Frankie.”

Oh. Oh. It’s not defensiveness, it’s doubt. Guilt. He’d been so wrapped up in his own insecurities that he had forgotten you were fully capable of falling prey to your own. Setting the supplies aside, he took your hands, looking firmly into your eyes.

“Ain’t no trouble. Not to me. Not when it’s you.” His words were honest and the short, strangled gasp that escaped you told him you weren’t expecting it. A hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, making his mouth twitch in tandem.

Silently, he pushed up your sleeve and rotated your arm to expose the torn skin. Dampening a cotton pad with saline, he swiped over the injury as tenderly as he could, terrified of seeing you wince. Holding still, you smiled at him, free hand coming to rub circles over his back as he worked.

Focusing his eyes intently on the wound, he ignored the growing warmth in his chest, expanding with your continued touches. Though he was staring at your ravaged skin, his thoughts were elsewhere—leading him to put too much pressure on the wound. Your hand gave a barely noticeable twitch of pain, but he cursed his existence anyway.

“Shit, ‘m sorry darlin’.” Loosening his hold on you, he bandaged up the shallow cuts. You just smiled at him, tracing a finger over his chin.

“No need to be sorry, Frankie. Thanks for taking care of me.” He blushed, grumbling out a dismissive response and returning to his work.

Though the day had already worn him out, long strings of words spilled out his mouth. Stories pulled from him by your sheer magnetism. You gave reassuring touches and encouraging nods as he once again told you everything. How he’d been a trouble maker as a kid and ended up enlisting, the brotherhood he’d found in Curtis and Billy. There was no way your perceptive eyes missed the flinch he gave when mentioning his former best friend, so he moved on quickly. He spoke about coming home to Maria and the kids, dealing with the shenanigans of two elementary schoolers while struggling with PTSD, the way he’d grown to appreciate the quiet and the way he hated it now.

While you were more than comfortable carrying a conversation, he’d never found more solace in letting someone listen to him. You remained quiet, but present enough to stoke the embers of his energy as he rambled, squeezing his arm when he stuttered and smiling softly at the anecdotes. With a sigh, he placed the final bandage on your skin and pulled your sleeve to cover it. You were silent for a moment, studying the fabric of your top before his doubt got the better of him.

“I’m sorry, you can leave if you want. I didn’t mean—“

“Oh Frank,” Chuckling softly, you pulled him into a hug. While the gesture was unexpected, he was overwhelmed with gratitude as he melted into the embrace. Pulling back slightly, you pressed your forehead to his. “What on earth gave you the impression that I didn’t want to be here with you?”

Snorting at his own lack of control over his fears, he nudged his marred, crooked nose against your pristine one. “Wanted to give you a route to escape, is all.”

“Don’t want one.” You whispered, growing breathless as he ran his fingers along the soft skin of your cheeks.

The two of you sat there, slowly melding together, for what felt like hours. A cloud of hesitation and want steadily growing around both of you as you desperately sorted out whether or not to make a move. Before either of you could act on your desires, a shrill alarm rung out—startling you so intensely you shrieked, nearly toppling off the couch.

“Shit, sorry, honey that’s me.” Large thumbs fumbling over the screen of his crappy phone, he shut off the horrific noise and chucked the device across the coffee table. “You ok?”

You were panting, on the edge of giggles at your clumsiness, but you nodded. “Something wrong?”

“No, sunshine, nothin’ like that. My friend, Curt, he’s hostin’ group today. Asked me to come.” Frank wallowed in the disappointment of the ruined moment, cursing his own rotten luck for pushing you away.

“Oh, I can get out of your hair. Sorry to keep you!” Standing from the couch, you made to straighten the fabric bunched around your waist but a hand shot out to wrap around your wrist.

“It’s not for a couple a’ hours, if you wanna stay.” Frank’s dark eyes flitted over your face, scanning for any sign of required affection. Luckily, it didn’t take long for you to break into your signature dazzling smile and perch on the edge of his seat, practically sitting in his lap.

“Course I’ll stay. I could make something for you to bring, if you’d like?”

“Somethin’ like those addictive cookies?” Frank asked, raising a brow teasingly.

Leaning in close, your murmur danced across his chin as you grinned up at him. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you the recipe, then you can bring them whenever you’d like. You have to be careful though, these are dangerous secrets I’m revealing to you, sir.”

Frank laughed, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll take ‘em to the grave, sunshine.”

Scrolling through your phone, you sighed as you switched apps yet again. Nothing was holding your attention and the boredom of it all was eating you alive.

Biting your lip hopefully, you flicked your screen to your message inbox, heart sinking when you saw there were no new messages.

You’d spent damn near 8 hours with Frank, yet you couldn’t help but mourn his absence this evening. It was well-known both to you and your loved ones that you were quick to get attached to people, especially if they were brooding or lonely. Leo always referred to this as your “penchant for strays” given your obsession with pitbulls and black cats in addition to society’s lone wolves. But there was so much more to Frank than his soft grumpiness.

Frank was sweet and protective, and his actions were proof that cared for you deeply despite only knowing you a few weeks. Your face felt clammy just thinking about the way he patched up your minor scrapes earlier today. You wondered if his tender first aid skills were developed during his short time with his wife and children.

It was no surprise to learn about Frank’s tragic backstory. Though you had done your best to keep his life private, you’d managed to piece together the key points of his service, his loss, and his downfall. Your conversations today had simply filled the gaps, and fueled your existing desire to learn more about him.

Despite your unassuming, feminine nature, you couldn’t help but empathize with Frank and his violent past. His actions didn’t scare you, revenge was something you’d dealt with intimately throughout your life, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that so many dangerous individuals were no longer around to terrorize your beloved city.

Learning more about his past had only drawn you to Frank even more, as if learning about each segment of his being only strengthened the invisible current that washed you repeatedly against his rocky cliff side. His violence wasn’t unnerving to you, simply more evidence that this man was exactly as passionate as you’d interpreted him to be.

“The Punisher” they called him. The name was brutal, absolute. It wasn’t the image of the vigilante that you’d settled on. Yours was complicated, human. Just a man who loved his family so deeply that he was willing to bring hell to the people who took them away. His journey was one you couldn’t fathom, yet you understood.

So you continued to pursue a friendship, maybe allowing it to blossom past traditional platonic boundaries, but how could you resist. Spending time with him meant time flying past, sharing bubbling laughs and stupid jokes with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon. When Frank was with you, his attention was deliberate and profound. He was focused on you and only you, even when surrounded by a myriad of other people and stimuli. You basked in the intensity of his gaze, letting it warm you from the inside out like a bright flame on a dark night. Did the world really expect you to not stoke those embers?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the unique text tone you’d assigned to Frank’s number sounded, igniting a bright smile on your face.

Frank: You might have created a problem for me, sunshine. These guys want me to bring cookies every week now.

You: All good things come at a price, sweetheart. Did you really think that you didn’t need to sell a piece of your soul to make cookies that good?

Frank: Pretty evil of you not to warn me. I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.

You: Damn! You found me out. What can I do to make it up to you?

Frank: Do me a favor?

You: What’s the favor?

A firm knock on your door startled you, making you drop your phone. Tilting your head quizzically, you shuffled over to peek out the peephole, grinning when you saw who had knocked. Pulling the door open, a very stern looking Frank—contrasted by the wiggling, excited pitbull at his feet—stood before you.

“Hey there, sweethearts! C'mon in!” Beckoning the pair into your apartment, you led them to the couch, happily letting Max jump into your lap.

“You’re spoilin’ him. He’s gonna think any furniture is fair game.” Frank’s gruff voice held a tinge of amusement but his face held a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. Clearly, he was avoiding something.

“He’s the bestest boy, Frankie! He deserves to sit on the couch with me!” Squishing the pit’s face, you gave Max a kiss before looking at Frank expectantly. “Sooo…you needed a favor?”

Looking away from you, Frank sighed, rubbing at his nape. “Yah, shit, I hate to ask this, sunshine. I, uh, I was hopin’ you’d be willin’ to watch Max for a few days for me?”

Your heart pounded, body flooding with concern, and slight excitement. “Of course, Frank. Everything ok?”

He nodded, slouching forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, still refusing to make eye contact. “Yah, just a business trip, nothin’ crazy. I just wasn’t expectin’ it and couldn’t get him into his usual place. If you don’t wanna do it—“

“Frank,” You placed your hand on his forearm, stroking his skin softly as you tried to encourage him to relax. “Of course I’ll watch him. That’s not an issue. I’m just worried about you is all.”

Frank snorted quietly, letting you take his hand and pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “No need to worry, sunshine. I can handle myself.”

Sliding out from under Max, you strode over to the broad man on your couch and knelt before him, taking his other hand. “Never said you couldn’t, sweetheart—but I’m going to worry about you anyway. Anybody going with you on this job?”

“Nah, just me. Why, you gettin’ jealous on me, darlin’?” Frank smirked at you and you shoved his knee, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest at the new nickname.

“You wish, Castiglione. I’m cool as a cucumber.” Mirroring his tender affection, you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Just don’t want you to forget about me while you’re out galavanting, is all.”

“Don’t think that’s possible, sunshine. I can’t stop thinkin’ about ya.” Frank murmured, finally meeting your eyes. The two of you hovered mere inches apart, tension growing around you in a thick fog before Frank cleared his throat, dissipating it.

“Anyway, I can leave a key with ya, if that’s not too weird…”

“Yah, yah.” You let go of his hands, standing up to brush off your dress. “That works, Frankie. When do you leave?”

“Well, uh, now. If you’re truly ok watching Max?”

“I’d be honored. Just…promise me you’ll drive safe, sweetheart.”

Frank’s gaze was fervent, drawing you in and pushing everything else away.

“I promise, sunshine.”

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