Warnings: angst, attempted rape, conflict/tension, and fluff (( but that’s not a bad thing :) ))
This new life with Frank was very simple. Not much else to be said about it. You both went to work and came home. Day after day, week after week. Simple.
It had been almost five months since Frank had finished off the last of the people responsible for his late family’s death. You could tell it still hurt though. It stung deep in his core. Like there was a ton of bricks inside of his chest, weighing him down. It hurt you too, to see him like that. Work for him was just a way to let out everything he was holding deep inside of him. He worked at a construction site, tearing down an old building. Sometimes he didn’t come home till dark and that scared you.
You worked at a catering company. You would go to the companies and help cook and keep the food refreshed. Cooking was something you really loved to do, so when you were able to get this job it really helped the situation.
Frank was dead. And technically you were too. Not really anyone knew about you, but you had to be dead too. Now you both were living in a small, one room apartment.
You would come home around 5:00pm every day. Frank never beat you home. The last five months had been rough to say the least. Your marriage felt like it was hanging by a thread. You hardly talked and there was always this tension between you two. Some days you wouldn’t see Frank at all. He would come home after you were asleep, take a quick shower, find the plate of dinner in the fridge, then go to bed. You always made him dinner. Without fail. Frank loved your cooking. He was always starving when he got home.
And by the time you woke up in the morning, he’d be gone. It gave you this ache in your heart when you woke up and he wasn’t beside you in the bed that was much too small for the two of you.
So you would get ready for the day, then head out the door for work. It was always the same. Unless on the rare occasion, Frank would be dead asleep next to you, breathing heavily. He slept so hard sometimes it made you worry about how intensely he worked.
Work was long today. It felt like everything was ten times harder than it usually was, so you were looking forward to getting off your feet and sipping some tea, while reading a book. The little things meant the most living like this. The air was cool as you walked along the busy, Brooklyn streets toward home. You pulled your coat collar up against your neck, attempting to warm yourself.
After a few flights of stairs, you pulled your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. You set your things on the table in the middle of the room and put your coat in the wardrobe that was just small enough to fit in the room. You looked around the apartment. The bed was facing you, across from the door and the wardrobe. In the middle a table sat there with two chairs on each side. To the left was a door that led to the smallest bathroom in history. Then a doorway beside the bathroom led to the narrow kitchen. The cabinet space was limited and there was a small oven and only a little bit of counter space. The Fridge seemed to take up the most room. It wasn’t much, but you did your best to make it feel like a home. Flowers on the table— they were dried up and dead now. A rug in the kitchen, a knitted quilt on the bed, and a few books on the nightstands.
You made your tea, then made dinner soon after. Just like always, saving a plate for Frank. You had finished dinner, avoiding the mess, now sitting at the table, reading and indulging in another cup of tea to help you sleep well tonight. Then you heard a key slide into the lock and the door opened. Frank’s heavy boots stepped in, the weight of his feet sounded like he had had a long day too. He placed his metal lunch box on the table, and sat down to take off his shoes.
“Hey,” his deep voice whispered.
“Hey,” you said just as quietly.
He put his shoes by the door, then went to the bathroom to wash his hands. You watched him from where you sat. His dark hair was getting longer and his beard made him look so different. You didn’t mind it though. Your eyes traveled down to his hands. They were so calloused with so many welts and blistered. More proof he worked so hard.
“I wish you wouldn’t work so hard,” you said without even thinking about it.
Frank turned off the water and patted his hands dry. You knew he had heard you, but he pretended not to.
“I’ll heat up your dinner,” you said, setting down your book and heading for the fridge, avoiding eye contact.
As his plate made its way around the microwave, you stared at it intensely, lost in a jungle of thoughts.
You and Frank had met during his massacre in Hell’s Kitchen. One night (or early morning) you were walking home from your dead-end job at a crappy diner, when a strange man came up behind you, sticking a gun against your side. He casually told you under his breath to stay quiet or you were dead. You felt fear spread through your entire body, not one finger left without terror. You continued to walk, the panic making it hard to put one foot in front of the other. But the man helped you out by shoving you along.
“Wha-What do you want?” you managed to crack out.
“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his voice sounded evil and cold.
Your stomach fell through, your heart pounded even harder. You had hoped he had just wanted your wallet, but now it seemed he wanted more from you.
“Come here,” he growled, shoving you into an alley, no one around to possibly help you.
You let out a cry as he shoved you against the wall, your head felt like it could have split against the brick. You sobbed out little pleases and cries.
“Shut up!” the man yelled in your face.
You finally saw what he looked like and you almost wished you hadn’t. He began to pull off your coat with one hand, the other holding the gun at your stomach. You felt paralyzed. You wanted to fight back, to never let this man take this from you, but you just couldn’t. Once your coat was off, he started on your shirt, a white button down, your diner uniform.
“Oh, hello, Y/N,” he sneered, noticing your name tag. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice echo through your head. You knew it would haunt you if you made it out of this alive.
At that moment, you heard heavy feet scuffing against the sidewalk outside of the alley.
“Please,” you said a little louder, hoping the person would hear you.
“Shut up!” the man yelled again, shoving the barrel of the gun into your stomach harder. And just then, a large man shoved into the man who had half unbuttoned your shirt, knocking him to the ground. You cried harder, relief washing over you. The big man got the gun from the criminal and began beating him with it. Repeatedly and with so much force, you couldn’t help but stare. When his head was much too beat in to be alive, the big man stood up, looking down at his work. You just stood, melting into the brick wall. Both of your breath was rapid and heavy.
“You okay, ma’am?” the big man’s raspy voice echoed in the alley.
You just nodded quickly, almost scared of your hero too. He turned to look at you, his face splattered with blood. This was all too much. You were just coming home from work, looking forward to sleeping for twelve hours. But there was something in his eyes. They were dark, but full of something you couldn’t quite place. Your mind began to fog up and you felt yourself lose control. Then your legs gave out and you began to lose consciousness. You felt strong hands catch you around your waist, then you were out.
It was dark and quiet except for the faint sounds of cars and sirens. You were laying down and staring up at the darkness, a small light illuminated the space around you. When you were fully awake, you shot up, looking around. For a second you thought you had been taken somewhere, kidnapped, but when you saw the man who had saved you, your fear subsided some; but still wary of your safety.
“Hey,” his voice just as gravelly as in the alley. “You’re safe.” He added, noticing your nervous eyes.
“Where are we?” you asked, looking around.
“An old building,” he replied. “You’re safe here.” He assured again.
You took in your surroundings again, lost in your fuzzy brain. Then something struck you, and you looked back at the man sitting on the floor. His face was stained with bruises. Dark ones around his eyes and lighter ones on his cheeks.
“Wait…” you spoke softly. “You’re Frank Castle. You’re The-The Punisher.”
“That’s what they’re calling me.” he said, almost pissed off at the mention of it.
You felt a bit of fear stir up inside of you again, but it quickly settled. He saved you.
“Why did you save me?” you asked.
“I wasn’t going to just keep walking when I heard you were in trouble.” his gruff voice replied.
You gave a slight smile, thinking.
“You’re not like what the news makes you out to be.” you started. “I mean, what you did to that man was pretty… intense, but you saved me. They make it seem like you’ll just kill anyone.”
“I only take out the ones that deserve it.” he said matter of factly.
You grimaced a little at that; you didn’t know how you felt about his morals. But you watched him from where you laid. There was something about him that was comforting. Maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from something that would have stuck with you forever, or maybe it was that he seemed like he genuinely cared about your well being.
“Where’s my coat?” you sat up, feeling a little frantic. It was something that felt so important in the moment that it made you anxious.
“Oh, I- I didn’t get it. I didn’t see it,” Frank said, noticing your frazzled state.
“It’s okay,” you sighed. It was just a coat.
“Can I go home?” you asked, slightly pulling the blanket off of you.
“Yeah,” he stood up, a grunt of pain leaving his lips. “I’ll walk you back.”
At first you were going to decline for some reason, but then you realized that was the stupidest thing you could do. You stood up slowly, your head still fuzzy from the passing out.
“Here. You can use this.” Frank laid a big coat over your shoulders.
“Oh- thank you.” you said, caught off guard. You slipped your arms in the sleeves that were too long for your hands to poke through.
“Yeah,” he said under his breath.
As you walked home there was silence between you. You wanted to talk to him though. This all felt so surreal.
Then a loud noise, probably a motorcycle backfiring, came out of nowhere. You were still shaken up by what had happened maybe an hour before, so this sent fear through your body. You let out a fearful cry and grabbed onto Frank walking beside you.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He said calmly. “It’s nothing.” He held your wrists, taking your hands off of his arm.
“I’m sorry,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m so on edge. This isn’t my average night.”
Frank gave you a smile. His smiles were magic, his eyes smiled too.
“This isn’t too unusual for me,” he snickered. “Except for you.”
That made you smile a little wider. There was something about him. Had you known him for twenty seconds, or twenty years?
“Well, this is it.” You said, taking a step up to your apartment building, now more level with Frank’s eyes.
He stood there, stocky frame, both hands in his pockets.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asked, a slight smile on his lips.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you said quietly, almost blushing at the care in his voice. “Do you want your coat back?” You began pulling your arms out of the sleeves.
“No- you keep it,” he put a hand out in front of you in rejection. “I lost yours, so.”
You smiled again, putting your arms back in all the way. It was quiet for a little while, just standing in front of each other. The city was mild tonight- well, this morning. It had to be 3am by now.
“Thank you.. Frank.” You said his name, really felt the word, nervous what he would think that you used it. Names are weird to say sometimes… when you don’t know the person very well.
He didn’t respond right away, maybe you were overthinking and it hadn’t really been that long.
“—For the coat.” You giggled, holding the front of the coat with one hand like a model.
Frank snickered, shaking his head. “No problem.” He grinned.
The joke hung in the air for a while as an excuse to not leave each other. But then it left and you both stood there in the silence again.
“Good night… uh.” Frank said.
Frank had seen your name tag, but he didn’t want to sound creepy by knowing your name.
The way his voice carried your name gave you this feeling deep in your stomach.
“Good night.” You replied.
He took a step back and you took another step up.
“Be safe.” He said quickly, then turned away, walking back to where you both came from.
The next night, you were walking home from work again. This time with your pepper spray in hand. As you walked, you felt like someone was following you. You became very aware and walked a little quicker. Then you slightly turned your head and caught a glance of the person. You stopped in your tracks. That frame you knew anywhere.
“Are you trying to get pepper sprayed in the face?” You chuckled.
“Not what I was wanting to happen, but worth it just to know you’re taking safety precautions.” You heard a gruff voice say behind you.
You let yourself laugh out loud, turning around to see Frank in a baseball cap and coat. He was grinning from ear to ear too.
It continued like that. He would walk you home every night. “Just for his peace of mind” he would tell you. That made the butterflies in your stomach fly higher. Those butterflies wouldn’t calm down. Even when you were just at home or at work. Frank was all you could think about.
One night you were at the diner, pulling another graveyard shift. You were in the back filling up the salt and pepper shakers. It had been a slow night. The bell sounded, telling you someone had come in.
“One second!” You called, screwing the top back on a salt shaker. Then you went to the front and saw Frank. You both gave each other bright smiles.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, coming out from behind the counter.
“Had the night off, thought I’d pop by.” He shrugged.
“Oh, okay,” you replied, shrugging too, joking like this was a normal thing he did. “Coffee?” You asked, but already started pouring a mug.
“Thank you.” He nodded. “I’ll just wait over here till you get off.” He went over to a corner booth.
“Okay,” you ducked your head, smiling like a fool.
As things progressed in The Kitchen, Frank walked you home less and less. You knew what he was. You knew what he did. It scared you to think about sometimes. There was something so mysterious about him, but there was something rooted so deeply in him that was just simply good. That’s what you saw every time you looked at him. His goodness.
Frank didn’t tell you much about what was going on, he said he didn’t want you getting in the middle of it; you had a couple fights about that. But you knew about Karen and how she was trying to help him. You were thankful for her. That she was helping him in ways you couldn’t.
He told you about his family. You cried. It broke your heart to hear the way he talked about them. His eyes glossy, his voice growing raspier.
Then he got arrested. You were shocked as you watched the news on the tv in the diner.
As the days dragged along, you felt yourself start to think it wasn’t ever going to be what you wanted it to be with Frank. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop caring about him.
One day, you tracked down Karen Page and told her who you were and you both talked for hours. She told you about how she was investigating his case. You told her what you knew about him, it wasn’t much at all, though.
She told you as much as she could about his case. It was nice to have her, you both got along so well.
You kept up with the trial through the news, it hurt to see the way he was handling it.
Then he broke out of jail. That scared you. You didn’t know what he was doing.
Then all of the shootings happened. Everyone was blaming him, and you didn’t know what to believe. Karen was quick to tell you that it wasn’t him and that he had saved her. Those few days you were a nervous wreck. Karen wasn’t answering your calls and you didn’t know what to do.
Then the next night— or very early morning, you were coming home from work. You dumped your coat (the one that was really Frank’s) and purse on your couch and headed for the fridge; you were starving. Then you heard a sound in the corner of your living room, causing your stomach to flip. You slammed the fridge door in fear. Then a figure stepping forward, into the moonlight coming through the window.
“Frank?” you dropped the apple, tears immediately flooding your eyes. “Wha-What is going on?” Your voice quivered with emotion. You noticed is bruised and bloody face.
“I gotta disappear for a while,” he said slowly.
“Frank,” you said again, running forward, into his arms.
This was the first time you two had had any physical contact like this. His arms wrapped around your waist so tightly, you thought he could break your ribs if he wanted to. Your arms were around his neck, your face in his shoulder. Blood was probably staining your shirt, but you didn’t care.
“Do you mind if I wash up a bit?” He asked after you had parted.
“No, of course,” you led him to the bathroom.
That was the last time you saw him. The news said he was dead. Some explosion. It broke your heart.
A few days after the news, you learned it wasn’t true. The experience in your living room when he showed up was heart stopping. You woke up around 11am after another late shift. You shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
“Can I get some of that?” You heard the familiar, gravelly voice say behind you.
You gave him the what-for for scaring you out of your skin. But it ended in tears and gratefulness that he was alive. You had to admit, you had a feeling he was.
He left the next day, saying he had to finish what he had started. You tried to convince him not to, but he was too stubborn.
About a week later, he came back. He told you he had to disappear, go underground. He had changed his name to Pete Castiglione and he said he couldn’t see you anymore since he was technically dead. It stung. It hurt him too, you could see it in his eyes. There was something about his eyes that always had you captivated.
“Frank,” you said quickly as he stood up to leave, after telling you all of this.
“What if I came with you?” You knew it sounded crazy, but you felt like Frank was someone you couldn’t live without. You’d known each other maybe a month, but it felt like years. You had a feeling he felt the same way.
He didn’t move, holding his hat with both hands in front of him. You stood up from the couch, turning to face him.
“Tell me you don’t feel like you’ve known me for years, like we were meant to meet.” You said, your face burning with embarrassment as you spoke. “Tell me you want to leave and never see me again. That you could just leave and never look back.” Your voice got caught in your throat.
“Y/N…” Frank whispered, taking a step forward.
“Cause if you tell me that, I’ll let you go. It’ll break my heart, but… I’ll let you go.” You bowed your head, closing your eyes, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. You felt a warm hand grasp your face, so gently. You looked up and was met with those eyes. They were glossy and sad.
“Frank,” You said so quietly.
“I can’t tell you those things, Y/N,” he replied. “I can’t lie to you.”
Your heart sped up as you looked up at him, his thumb grazing your cheek, wiping away fallen tears. You leaned forward, your head resting on his, both of you holding onto the moment with everything you had inside of you.
“I can’t let you go.” You whispered.
“You don’t deserve to live like a dead woman.”
“What about your life? Your friends and family?”
“I don’t have any of that.” You told him that your parents were both dead and you didn’t have any other family. And friends were never your strong suit.
“But I—“ Frank continued. “I can’t put you in danger and you deserve so much better than—“
“You deserve to be happy, Frank.” You interrupted. “I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”
He was quiet. Standing there, you in front of him, your hands now intertwined in between you, he was in awe of you. He never thought he would feel like this again about someone. To him, you were perfect in every sense of the word.
“Please, Frank,” You stood on your toes and place a kiss on his cheek. Your lips felt the tear that had run down his lightly bruised face.
“You’re gonna have to start calling me, Pete,” he said, and both of you broke into the biggest smiles.
You jumped up into his arms in the tightest hug. Then you pulled away, looking at his sweet face. You both dove in at the same time with a deep kiss. It was full of so much love you both felt like you could burst into a million pieces.
“You are everything, Frank Castle.”
A few weeks passed and you both decided to get married. It was scary and something that was difficult for Frank, you could tell, and you didn’t blame him. But he loved you, simply and hard, so he knew it was right.
You changed your last name and quit your job and began to live a different life. A life away from the internet and the outside world. It was difficult to have to forget about your old life. More difficult than you thought it was going to be. You moved into a much smaller apartment and left everything of yours behind. You were dead after all, and you can’t take your things with you when you die.
You had contacted Karen before everything. She was the only person Frank trusted and you wanted to make sure she knew that you were both okay. She was so happy for you both.
Now here you were, months later, that honestly felt like years. Frank had distanced himself from you and you had curled in on yourself too. Things were rough. The routine was the same and everything was stuck in a time loop.
Frank had cleared his plate, now taking a shower. You turned on the clock radio for some music while you tackled the messy kitchen. Music was a safe place for you and it was nice to at least have the radio to keep you company. Then a love song came on that you adored. It was one of those songs that you can’t help but sway to. Frank came out of the bathroom soon after it started, but you hardly noticed as you were lost in the tune. You were standing over the sink, washing a plate, swaying to the slow beat. You did notice Frank enter the small, kitchen area, but you were caught off guard when he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You were stiff for a moment, but quickly softened into his embrace. You laid your head back against his shoulder as you both swayed from side to side, lost in the lyrics.
“You’re my, my, my, my… Lover.”
You felt Frank’s warm breath against your neck. It was so comforting. His arms tightened around you and you dropped the plate in the dish water, moving your soapy hands to on top of Frank’s. This was everything.
The song ended, it wasn’t long enough. You turned to face Frank, looking into his eyes. His eyes. You hadn’t looked at them and gotten that feeling in so long.
“Frank,” you said with your breath, your hand grasping his bearded cheeks.
You felt his hands grasp your hips tightly, and you both leaned in, your lips pressing firmly against each other. Things got a little brighter as the night went on.
