gudfornuthin

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter eighteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: good intentions, bad outcomes

Word count: 1.8k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, violence

A/N: I'll be glad once I'm done writing this. Not because I haven't enjoyed it, I really have, more so just because I've committed all my time to this story and want to get back into my novel writing. But I can't focus on more than one thing at once lol. Anyways, thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

It's been a little over a week since their official date, and the couple have grown accustomed to the routine they've built around themselves. Waking up together, sharing a hearty breakfast, Frank going down to work with Y/N occasionally tagging along. Then taking the end of the day to relax, making a new dish for dinner and eating it in front of the television as it plays some cheesy rom com or horror film. The night is spent holding each other, intimately or not it depends on how they feel. But the routine is good. it's something they both needed for a long time.

The two of them are now over at the studio, Y/N finally feeling comfortable enough to go over there. At least with someone else with her. They're finishing off painting the walls, hoping to get it done by the end of the week so they can start taking after shots to post on her website promoting the place.

Frank glances over to where she is leaning precariously against a ladder, reaching high to cover the top of the wall. He can see she's struggling, and growing more and more frustrated, as she almost slips off one of the steps.

He walks over, quickly steadying her. "Hey, why don't we take a quick break? I can do that after."

She shakes her head. "It's fine I just need to-"

She reaches up once more, and again misplaces her footing. Frank wraps his arms around her as she falls down, almost face planting into the wet wall. He pulls her back up into a standing position, rubbing her gently on the back.

She huffs. "It's just stressful," she looks up at him. "This place is supposed to be open in two weeks."

"And it will be," Frank replies. "You've just had a couple setbacks. We'll get it done."

She mumbles something under her breath in agreement, placing the paint brush down into the pot and perching on the ladder. Frank kneels in front of her, wiping his hands on his already paint-stained pants.

"Y'know," he starts. "Got a call from my dad the other day. Talked about the little blow up you had on him."

"Ah shit," her eyes widen. "I'm sorry if I made things worse between you two, but I had to say something."

"No, you didn't," he interrupts her. "Was actually the first semi decent conversation I've had with him since mom passed."

He shrugs. "It wasn't perfect, but it didn't make me feel like shit, Y'know? He's not used to people standing up to him like you did. Think he was proud l'd found someone like that."

Y/N smiles sheepishly. "Well, I'm glad to help ease some of the tension between you two."

She looks around, cursing under her breath as she suddenly remembers something. "Ah crap. I forgot to bring the gloss up earlier."

Frank waves her off. "S'fine, I'll go grab it now."

She thanks him as he squeezes her hand when he passes her, leaving the studio and walking downstairs out to his car. He opens the back, finding said gloss and lugging it out. He's about to walk back into the building, when he spots movement down the alleyway.

Frank furrows his brow, heading in that direction and leading behind the building. He turns the corner and sees the one person he wishes he didn't. Y/N's ex-boyfriend Jonah, snooping around and continuously looking up at the studio window. He knows he should handle the situation with maturity, but thinking about the state he found her in, the pent-up anger builds up once more.

"Just when I thought you couldn't be any more of a fuckin' loser," he speaks up, startling the man to turn around and face him. "You wanna tell me what you're doing back here?"

Jonah smiles condescendingly, slowly walking up to Frank. "Just checking on my girl. Making sure she's not getting too comfortable."

Frank can feel himself boiling over. "She's not your girl. You don't get to do the shit you do and then act like you still deserve her."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," they're now toe to toe. "And I'm not gonna let her rebound tell me what to do."

Frank breaths in deep. "I'm only gonna say this once. You stop bothering her, and we won't have any problems."

"I already have a problem, I'm looking right at it," like the immature man he is, Jonah spits on the floor in front of Frank. "If I can't have her, l'll make sure no one else can."

Frank looks into the man's soulless eyes, the image of Y/N's bruised and bleeding face flashing through his mind once more. Jonah's sadistic smile is wiped clean as Frank's fist connects with his jaw. He goes flying back, falling into a heap of empty boxes and full trash bags.

He's not entirely sure what takes over him, but once Frank has his mind set on something, he finds it hard to stop. He storms over to where Jonah lies pathetically on the dirty floor, kneeling down and throwing punch after punch. Jonah tries fighting back but is unable to land any hits as Frank grabs him by the throat and squeezes tight. He carries on punching him in the nose, definitely breaking something, then his jaw and eyes.

"Fucking bastard!" he yells in his face, standing up to kick him in the stomach and sides. "Worthless, piece of shit!"

He hates how good it feels, and a small voice in his head is desperately trying to get him to pull back and give it up. But he can't. He won't. Not until the scum learns his lesson.

He gets down on his knees once more, grabbing Jonah by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. "You get the fuck out of here, and never show your face again. You do, and I'll put a bullet in your head."

He shoves him onto the ground again, watching him as he trips over his own feet and runs away down the alley. Frank lets out a huff, running a hand through his hair and looking at the marks left on his fists. Just another thing covered in bruises. He turns around and hears a scuffling from above. He glances up to find Y/N's head poking out of the studio window. And she looks far from happy.

Frank is quick to make his way into the building and back upstairs, walking in to find her pacing with her arms crossed. She hears him come in and looks up, about to speak but Frank quickly cutting her off.

"Everything's fine, I dealt with him. Hopefully now he'll get the hint," he reaches out for her, arms wide. "No need to get mad."

She steps away from his open arms. "No I am mad. I'm mad at you."

Frank shakes his head in confusion. "Me? The fuck did I do?"

Her eyes widen. "I'm sorry, were you not the guy outside beating the shit out of my ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I was, and he deserved it," Frank can feel himself getting mad again. "He fucking attacked you."

"And now he's gonna do the same to you!" she runs her hands through her hair stressfully. "Frank, you don't know what Jonah is like-"

"He's a big fucking asshole who thinks he can treat you like shit, that's all I need to know," he interrupts her, his voice's volume gradually matching hers.

"He's involved with shady people, he never told me the details, but I was always too scared to ask," she starts pacing again. "You doing this could make him get these people involved which could lead to you getting hurt or worse. I don't want that."

"I was in the Marines, people wanted me dead all the time! | think I can handle Jonah and his stooges," Frank waves his hands around. "That's beside the point, what I don't get is that this has somehow been turned on me and how I'm somehow the bad guy in this!"

"You're not the bad guy, Frank-"

"Then what're we doing, huh?" he cuts her off again. "Why're you getting pissed off at me and not Jonah?"

"Because you're acting just like him!" her words pierce through the air.

Frank feels his stomach drop, staring at Y/N like a kicked puppy. She instantly regrets the words that came out of her mouth.

"You're, no, you're not him. I know you're not him," she backtracks, crossing her arms to try and provide herself some comfort. "It's just, you went crazy, you lost your shit. And you did it thinking you were protecting me, standing up for me. But you just made it worse."

Frank lowers his voice. "S'not what I wanted to do. I just thought-"

"You didn't think at all, Frank," it's her turn to interrupt him. "That's the thing. And that's what he would always do. And I can't go through that again. You know that."

"I know," Frank says, a lump forming in his throat. "I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head. "I think you should go."

Frank can feel his heart beating faster, but not in the way it usually does when he's around her. "Sweetheart, please-"

"I just need time to think. Be alone," she says, not daring to look at him.

He wants to say something else, continue screaming and apologising, hoping for all of this to blow over and be forgotten about. To go back to his apartment and eat dinner together, watch a shitty horror film and fall asleep in each other's arms. But he knows if her mind is set on something, no one can change it. And he respects that. However much it hurts him.

"Alright, I'll see you back at mine?" he asks with hope in his voice, already feeling like he knows the answer.

She simply hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with what he said.

He waits a breath, then nods and leaves, glancing back one last time at her. She still keeps her head down. As he goes, she walks over to the door, closing it gently. No soon after do the tears start to fall, covering her face and trying not to have a full-blown breakdown.

When all seemed perfect, something had to come along and ruin it.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior @strawberrycheesecake262

[gudfornuthin]

can I be tagged in the baker and ballerina series?

I’m so sorry I’ve only just seen this. Of course you can, adding you now! :)

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter seventeen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: a small filler episode, the calm before the storm

Word count: 0.6k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, violence

A/N: This is really short but I'm adding this chapter in between as I feel like jumping from the last chapter into the one I had planned seemed too quick. So I thought l'd just write some short fluffy filling before we get back into the main stuff. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

The empty space next to Frank is cold, as he wakes up feeling well rested and like he could eat a meal for 10. Last night's events run through his mind, his body wrapped around hers, meeting each other in pure ecstasy, coming undone and letting their walls fall down. He's never felt this way before, not as quickly as this at least. It's a high he doesn't ever want to come down from. He's just hoping she feels the same way.

Frank hears the low sound of the television coming from the living room. Gradually moving himself out of the bed, he finds a discarded pair of boxers and puts them on. He leaves the bedroom and heads towards the noise.

He feels bad for not waking up before Y/N to offer her a drink or some breakfast, but the sight that greets him makes that feeling go away.

The curtains are still shut, the only light source coming from the television and the singular lamp in the corner of the room. A YouTube video is playing on the screen, something clearly recorded in the late eighties or early nineties. A woman performing at what appears to be a recital, elegantly showcasing her talent, one ballet move after another. Y/N, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of mismatched socks, copies the moves in perfect sync. She radiates a sense of calm, something Frank isn't used to feeling in his apartment. It's something he hopes to get used to.

Frank clears his throat, alerting Y/N as she stops her movements and turns to face him. She smiles at him, walking over and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"M'sorry, did I wake you up?" she mumbles into his chest.

Frank wraps his arms around her shoulders, placing his chin a top her head after kissing her lightly. "Nah, just wanted to see what you're up to."

They stay in this position for a little longer, neither wanting to leave the warm comfort the other is providing. Frank glances back to the tv, still holding her as tight as he can.

"You normally wake up at the crack of dawn and practice your pirouettes?" Frank jests.

She leans back, staring at him. "You know what a pirouette is?"

He kisses her on the lips. "Nah, s'just the only ballet term I know."

She squeezes his arms, leaning close. "You want me to teach you?"

Frank rolls his eyes and laughs. "Keep trying, it's not gonna happen."

He walks away as she calls out to him. "Hey, if you can teach me how to bake then I can teach you how to plié."

He shakes his head. "Whatever, you hungry?"

"I could eat," she replies, continuing the video and performing alongside the woman on screen.

There isn't a lot in the apartment to use to make breakfast, but Frank is able to scavenge enough ingredients to make scrambled eggs on homemade English muffins. He starts making the food for them, occasionally catching a glimpse of her turning and twisting in the other room. While the rest of the world sleeps, she dances, and he bakes.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter sixteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: a proper date, a mess up at booking, and a last-minute surprise.

Word count: 4k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, smut, violence

A/N: This is my new favourite chapter I've written! Can you guys tell I just love to write banter between characters Imao. Also writing smut makes me uncomfortable but I still tried my best so hopefully you all enjoy. Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated :)

MDNI

Y/N hasn't left the apartment in three days. Technically. If she's not in the apartment, she's downstairs pottering around the bakery. After the encounter with Jonah, she's terrified that it might happen again.

She's also terrified of being left alone. That's why she's practically been attached to Frank's hip. She hates being so reliant on someone, but she's thankful that he doesn't seem to mind. Plus, she loves his company, as well as David's. She knew moving across the street would have its perks, but she never expected to make friends this quickly. More than friends. Family. She won't say that to David though unless she wants to be teased relentlessly.

While Y/N catches a few extra hours of sleep, Frank is downstairs in the kitchen bakery, going over order prep. He continuously glances at the door leading up to his apartment, hoping she'll come down to take her mind off of things. Alas, the door stays closed.

"You're like a puppy," David says, stuffing his face with a botched muffin. “Where’s your owner? Why isn’t she in my eye of site? I can’t live without my owner by my side!”

"M'just worried about her," Frank grumbles. "She's not eating, she's spending most of the day in bed. If I'd gone over with her that day-"

David stops him. "Frank, you gotta stop blaming yourself. You didn't know, she didn't know. If you feel bad about not being with her then, just try and be there for her now."

Frank crosses his arms. "Just wanna do something to cheer her up."

"Here's a thought," David says as he chucks the rest of the stale baked good in the trash. "Have you guys actually been on a date?"

"We had takeout in her studio-"

"A date that wasn't you guys sitting on the floor getting Chinese food down your top?"

Frank huffs. "Guess not."

"Well there you go," David shrugs, not believing that he had to come up with the idea. "Take her out, properly this time. Go somewhere fancy, dress up to the nines, give her a proper reason to put this shit behind her."

"Guess she'd like that," Frank nods, looking at his friend. "You know anywhere fancy to eat?"

David spreads his arms out wide, raising an eyebrow as if to say, 'does it look like I go to fancy places?'.

Frank rolls his eyes. "I'll figure something out."

- - -

After his talk with David, Frank got straight to booking a nice meal out for him and Y/N. He knew she wouldn't want to go too far, and the only place close by was some five-star Italian cuisine restaurant. Frank couldn't understand half of what was written on the menu, and almost blacked out at the prices. But for her, it was worth it.

It took a while to convince her that it was a good idea for them to go out. Not that she didn't want to spend an evening with Frank. She just thought it'd be better to spend their time inside, away from the world and the dangers that come along with it. But eventually, she agreed. Her ex-boyfriend wasn't going to control her life choices. If she wants to go out with Frank, then they're going to go out with bells on.

Frank waits in the living room while Y/N gets ready in the bathroom. He's dressed in the only good suit he owns, one that he hasn't worn in a long time. A dark blue pair of pants along with a matching jacket, a simple white shirt and tie. It's uncomfortable and constricting, but he doesn't care. It's worth it. And he knows showing up to the restaurant in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt would offend them to no end. Shaved and hair slicked back, he's never felt so well groomed.

He hears the door to the bathroom creak open, as the clicking of heels sound from the hallway. He turns to look just as she walks around the corner. It's hard to describe the emotion that takes over as he stares at the woman in front of him. The A-line dress sinched at her waist and flowing out around her legs compliments her figure perfectly. Black, with a slight shimmer when it catches the light. Her makeup is limited, considering how little she bought with her to Frank's. The bruising isn't as noticeable due to a heavy amount of foundation and concealer. The expression on her face though, that takes the cake. Smiling wide with glossy eyes, she walks towards a starstruck Frank.

"I can't remember the last time I dressed up like this," Y/N says, brushing non-existent dust off her dress. "Or the last time I felt this beautiful."

"You always look beautiful," Frank responds, taking her hands in his own. "But I'm glad. Wanna make sure you have the best night."

"We will," she says, leaning in for a kiss.

He leans in too, the kiss deepening as he cups the back of her neck.

Y/N opens her mouth and lets out a moan as Frank slips his tongue in. The make out session is only a few steps away from the pair of them falling back on the couch and forgetting all about their reservation.

Unfortunately, Y/N is the one to stop it from going that far. "Come on," she pulls away slightly. "I'm hungry for some Italian."

Frank smirks, moving her closer once again. "You've got some Italian right here-"

"Stop," she rolls her eyes, shoving him lightly.

He laughs as he takes her hand and leads her out of the apartment, neither of them able to hide the smiles on their faces.

- - -

A short walk later and the couple arrive at their destination, stomachs rumbling in anticipation. As soon as they enter the restaurant, they're immediately hit with the rich aromas of butter, garlic and all different kinds of pan-fried meats.

Frank has his arm loosely wrapped around Y/N's waist as he leads her to the front desk where a hostess is waiting. She smiles at them both as they stand in front of her.

"Ciao, welcome to Alessandro's. Just the two of you?"

Frank nods. "Yeah, thanks. I got a table booked under Castle."

The hostess looks down at the screen in front of her, rapidly typing in search of their reservation. This goes on a lot longer than expected, as Frank starts to feel unsure. This feeling only grows when he sees the confused look on her face.

"I'm sorry, I don't see your name on the reservations. It was definitely under Castle?"

Frank grunts in response as the hostess desperately tries to find their booking. He glances at Y/N by his side, her expression one of defeat, as she soon realises that they most likely won't be eating here tonight. Their first proper date, and he's already fucked it up.

The hostess speaks up once more. "I still can't find it. Are you sure you booked?"

Frank tries hard not to kick the desk in front of him. "Yeah, I'm sure. Are there any tables available? Even just for half an hour, so we can get a drink?"

She glances further into the restaurant then back at him, shrugging in defeat. "Fully booked I'm afraid. The wait is an hour and a half at the least."

He huffs, about to bite back at her until Y/N interrupts. "Hey, it's fine. We'll just go back home and order some takeout."

Frank can't bear to look at her, feeling guilty for making her dress up just to leave disappointed. He wasn't going to accept that. He promised a night out in a fancy restaurant, and somehow, he was still going to provide exactly that.

He pats Y/N on the arm lightly. "Wait here, just give me a second."

Before she has a chance to question him, Frank walks over to the entrance and heads outside. She carries on looking at him as he pulls his phone out, tapping a few times then raising it to his ear. Clearly talking to someone, although she can't hear what he's saying.

"Your boyfriend seems desperate to impress you," the hostess's voice says from behind her. "Making up for something?"

She knows her words are meant in jest, but they bug her to no end.

Y/N turns to glare down at the hostess. "He's not my boyfriend," she's about to end her sentence there, but an idea comes to mind. "He's my husband. It's our one-year anniversary and this restaurant was where he proposed to me."

The hostess's eyes widen. "Oh, well congratulations. I really do apologise about this."

Y/N shrugs, as if not bothered, but turning around to wipe a fake tear from her eye. She tries not to smirk as she does so, hearing the hostess stumble over her words, not wanting to deal with someone who seems to be one wrong move away from having a mental breakdown.

"You know what," the hostess says, making Y/N turn back to her. "That table might not be available, but I'm sure I could find something for the lovely couple to take home with them."

"That would mean so much to us, thank you," Y/N sniffs, the smile creeping back on her face as the hostess walks away.

She sways on her feet, now alone and wondering what Frank could be up to. She looks out at him again, still on the phone. It must be important, as he appears serious, chattering away with whoever is on the end of the line.

"Here we go," the hostess returns, a small bag in her hand. "Orange Polenta, one of our most popular desserts."

Y/N takes the bag. "It smells delicious, thank you again." The hostess nods, focusing back on the screen in front of her.

The door opens and Frank comes back in, resting a hand on her back. "Sorry about that. You wanna go to the park? Walk around for a bit?"

"Sure, that sounds nice," she replies.

They're about to leave, when Frank points at the bag. "What's this?"

"Free cake. I wasn't leaving here empty handed."

- - -

They make it to the park, hands now intertwined as the pair take a leisurely stroll around the small pond. It's dark at this point, the only light coming from the streetlamps, creating a soft yellow path for them to follow.

"So, who were you on the phone with?" Y/N asks.

Frank waves her off. "S'not important. I just feel bad for how this night turned out."

She pulls him to a stop, holding his biceps in a tight grip. "This night has been perfect. We don't need a fancy restaurant with poncy food to make us happy. I'm here because of you. That's why it's perfect."

Frank smiles. "I feel the same way," he leans in and kisses her. "Poncy, huh? So you wanna just throw the Polenta away?"

She scoffs, as they continue walking. "Hey, I'm not wasting something that would've cost us like 40 bucks."

Frank laughs. His phone suddenly pings with a text message, as he pulls it out of his pocket. He reads it over, making sure Y/N can't see it. He quickly responds, then puts his phone away.

"Come on, let's head back to the apartment," he says, dragging her in that direction.

"Alright," she follows along, not questioning his odd behaviour.

It doesn't take long for them to circle back to the Bakery, Frank unlocking the door and leading her in first. It's dark in there, as Y/N moves her hand against the wall, trying to find the light switch. Before she's able to, they seem to flick on by themselves. She can't help but let out a gasp at the sight that greets her.

The several lamps littered around the bakery make the space feel warm and cosy. In the centre of the room, a circular table is placed with two chairs on either side. Empty wine glasses are placed in front of them, a top a slightly wrinkled picnic blanket. A candle is in the middle of the table, waiting to be lit. Y/N is speechless, looking back and forth between the set up and Frank.

"How did you-"

If she couldn't find the right words before, she most certainly can't now, as someone walks out of the kitchen to greet them both. It's David, dressed in an incredibly tight-fitting suit, with a cloth draped over his arm and a pair of menus in his hand.

"Good evening to you both," he says in a slightly off Italian accent. "Table for two?"

Y/N can't hide the mischievous smile on her face. "Wow, David. You wear that suit to your Bar Mitzvah?"

"Don't start, you know how much time this jackass gave me to set this all up?" David grumbles, dropping the act.

Frank clears his throat. "Stick to the script, or you're not getting tomorrow off."

David quickly falls back into the façade. "So, table for two?"

"That would be perfect, thank you."

"Of course, right this way, sir and madam."

Y/N laughs at the men's antics, going along with their last-minute plans. They only need to walk two steps before arriving at the table, Frank pulling out her chair as she sits down. He moves around to the other side and does the same. David pulls a lighter out of his pocket, holding it near the candle and setting it ablaze. He then places the menus in front of them. It's written in sloppy handwriting, the only options being items from the bakery.

"'I’m guessing this is what the call was about?" she asks slyly.

"Had to do something," Frank replies, only now feeling a bit sheepish. "This okay?"

"Like I said, perfect," she responds, glad that the restaurant never received their reservation.

David stands by the side of the table, hands behind his back. "Would the lovely couple be so inclined to have a beverage to quench their thirst?"

"Turn it down a bit, Giuseppe," Frank mumbles under his breath.

David once more breaks character, arms stretched out in defence. "You just said-"

Y/N quickly stops their bickering. "We would love a beverage, thank you. What d'you have?"

"Coffee or tap water."

She raises an eyebrow as Frank rubs his forehead in frustration.

David's eyes widen. "This is a bakery, Frank! We don't typically have wine at our disposal."

Y/N nods. "I could go for some coffee."

"Fine, coffee," Frank agrees.

David bows dramatically and moves behind the counter, brewing a fresh batch for them.

The couple look at each other, reaching over the table to link their hands together.

"So," Frank starts. "Is this where we do the awkward first date small talk?"

She squints at him. "You've stuck your tongue down my throat, I think we're good."

"Gross, there are other people here trying to enjoy their meals," David jokes, walking back over with a piping hot jug of coffee. "This is a Guatemalan and Kenyan blend, with a slight floral aroma adding to the acidic aftertaste."

David leans heavily into the act he's putting on, presenting the coffee jug to both of them, and carefully pouring a tiny bit of the liquid into their (plastic) wine glasses. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Y/N takes the glass, swirling it around a few times then bringing it to her nose and sniffing loudly. She takes a tiny sip, swashing it around her mouth and sucking air through her pouted lips. She has no clue what she's doing, only going along with what she's seen on pretentious wine tasting videos.

She finally swallows, smacking her lips together. She hums. "This will suffice. Leave the jug, would you?"

David places the coffee jug down like she asked him to, pulling out a pen and pad as Frank shakes his head in amusement at their antics.

"Now for your mains?" David asks.

They both stare at the scribbled words on the paper.

Y/N points at one of them. "Is this caramel pecan muffin any good?"

David pinches his fingers together and shakes his hand slightly. "Our top seller. You're gonna love it," he looks at Frank. "And for you, sir?"

"I thought we ran out of pistachio croissants this afternoon."

"We did, these are from the dud batch we were gonna throw out. I'm sure you'll survive though," David takes the menus and bows once more. "Your meals will be ready in precisely two minutes. I would warm them up, but the microwave has blown a fuse."

Frank does a double take. "You fucking kidding me?"

David is already walking away. "Yeah, should probably check that in the morning. I'll be right back with your food!"

Y/N takes another sip of her drink, hiding her smile behind the glass. Frank stares at her softly, the glow from the lamps as well as the candle in front of them making her appear more angelic than she usually looks.

"I'm sorry if this night isn't exactly how you pictured it," Frank feels the need to say, still consumed with guilt that he messed up their reservation.

She frowns. "You have nothing to apologise for. If I'm being honest, the idea of going somewhere so fancy put me on edge. But this," she gestures around the bakery. "No one's ever put this much thought into a date for me before."

He smiles. "You must've been dating the wrong people."

She smiles back. "Yeah, guess I was."

David soon comes back in, placing their food down in front of them along with some knives and forks. Still wanting to play into the gag, Y/N delicately picks them up and neatly slices the muffin, taking the smallest of bites each time. Frank follows after her, the pair laughing like school children the entire time. For a brief moment, they're able to forget about all their problems. Her ex-boyfriend, his father, studio plans. None of it matters right now, not when everything feels so perfect and natural.

After taking much longer than necessary to eat their baked goods, David clears away their plates and they get up from the table, moving everything back to where it was before, ready for tomorrow. David comes out from the kitchen, now wearing a coat and carrying his bag.

He walks up to Frank, clearing his throat and holding out a hand.

Frank looks at him in confusion. "What d'you want?"

David squints at him as if it's obvious. "My pay."

"Your pay? I told you it's having the day off tomorrow."

David shakes his head. "No, that was just for me coming down here this late. I went above and beyond for you."

Y/N can see this is about to turn into a petty fight, so quickly intervenes, grabbing the bag she got from the Italian restaurant. "David, here. A fresh orange cake from the finest restaurant within a five-block radius."

He takes the bag, sniffling and wiping away a pretend tear. "You don't know how much this means to me." He throws his arms dramatically around her, wailing into her shoulder.

She laughs loud as Frank pries him off her. "Alright, asshole you've proved your point. Go home and eat your overpriced dessert."

David stops the act, saluting to them both and patting Frank on the shoulder. "You've picked a good one, pal. Y/N, you could do better." He finally heads for the front door and leaves.

Frank rolls his eyes and Y/N smiles up at him. "You ready to go upstairs?"

Frank breaks his gaze away from the door and looks at her. "Yeah, come on."

They slug their way through the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment, the evenings events tuckering them both out. They walk through the door into the living room, standing in front of each other, a sudden awkwardness taking over.

"I don't usually go into the guy's place on the first date," Y/N jokes, leaning back on the balls of her feet.

"D'you usually kiss the guy on the first date?" Frank jokes back, although there's a serious tone in his voice.

She hums. "No, but I think I can make an exception."

They both lean in, kissing each other softly, as Frank wraps his arms around her waist and hers around his shoulders.

"Thank you," she says as they lean back.

"For what?" he asks.

She shrugs, looking at him with pure admiration. "For everything. For what you've done, since the very first day we met. For a perfect evening."

Frank goes in for another kiss, no other words needing to be spoken.

He's always been better at showing his affection through actions anyways. He pulls her in impossibly close, his hands roaming down her spine and cupping her backside. They moan into each other's mouths, as they move clumsily further into the apartment. She tugs at his hair, causing him to grunt in pleasure. Frank already has a feeling he knows how tonight will end.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he mumbles in between breathless kisses.

"Never been so sure about anything," she replies.

As soon as the words slip out, Frank is lifting her off the ground, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. With little effort, he leads them down the hallway and into the bedroom. He gently places her down on the bed and runs a hand up her thigh. The noise of lips smacking together continues, all the while his fingers glide close to her core, slipping beneath her underwear.

"Please," she whimpers, a wetness already forming between her legs.

"What d'you need, sweetheart?" Frank's gruff voice whispers in her ear.

"Need you," she gasps as one of his fingers circles her clit. "Inside of me."

He practically rips the underwear off of her, crawling higher up and continuing to make out, as she struggles with the zipper to his pants.

She's eventually able to undo them, pulling them down slightly along with his underwear. He's thick, the thought of him filling her up making her heart race faster than it already is.

Frank pauses for a moment. "Are you-"

She seems to understand what he's asking. "I'm on the pill, don't worry."

He breaths out, gripping her legs in both of his hands and spreading them apart. She pulls his face back down, kissing his jaw and neck. He moves his hips closer to hers, his tip rubbing against her. He pushes inside, beginning a steady rhythm as he thrusts back and forth. Her legs wrap around his hips as she urges him to move faster. She tugs at his shirt, and he gets the hint, helping her take it off as he does the same with her dress right after. Her fingers drape down his back, most likely leaving deep, red scratch marks in their path. He takes her breasts and cups them, his rough hands a complete contrast to her soft flesh.

Their movements grow faster and more needy, as the bedframe rattles against the wall. Hair a mess, sweat dripping everywhere, and pornographic sounds vibrating off the walls, the couple fall into a heavenly bliss. It wasn't the night they had planned, but it was a night they'd never forget.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

Sadly no update for ‘The Baker and the Ballerina’ today as I underestimated how long this chapter would be lmao. Sitting at 2.5k words and only halfway through. Should be done tomorrow though. For anyone wanting to catch up on the series, you can do so here! Thank you :)

[gudfornuthin]

Thank you🥰

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter fifteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: casual affection, plans for the studio, and something goes horribly wrong

Word count: 2.3k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: TW as this chapter contains abuse. Nothing too detailed, only descriptions of the aftermath. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated

It's the following afternoon and Y/N is sitting in Frank's apartment by herself, sorting through emails and hoping to find clients for when the studio is open. She can't stop smiling, as she relays to Farah what happened the night before between her and Frank.

"And then he kissed me, and I kissed him back."

The screeching on the other end of the call forces Y/N to move the phone away from her ear.

"I knew it! I knew this was gonna happen," Farah exclaims. "I need all the details, what happened after that?"

She pauses and shrugs as if her friend could see her. "We kissed for a bit, went back up to his apartment, and feel asleep."

There's silence on Farah's side, as Y/N can imagine the eye roll paired with her throwing her arms up in frustration.

"Then why are you wasting my time?" Farah's words are harsh, but she knows she's just kidding.

Y/N lets out a huff. "Because, you said you wanted to live vicariously through me and my love life. I thought this was a pretty important part of it."

"It is, really I'm just messing," Farah clicks her tongue. "So you think it's gonna turn into something more now?"

She rest back on the couch. "I don't know, I don't wanna force anything. I didn't really want to get into a new relationship. Yet here we are."

"Then don't force it," Farah says like it's obvious. "Everything that's happened with Frank up until this point has happened naturally. Keep going at the pace you are now you'll be married with kids in not time."

Y/N laughs, not completely opposed to that idea.

"Anyways, you almost done with Studio work?" Farah continues.

"Yeah, pretty much," she gets up and moves towards the front door. "I'm just gonna go over and take some before shots and then Frank and I are finishing painting when he's free."

"You sure you're okay to go over there by yourself?" her friend asks.

"I'm not some porcelain doll that needs to be protected and kept locked up in a box," she can't help but roll her eyes. "If I have to go out, then I'll go out. By myself."

"Alright, well call me if you need help with anything."

"Will do. Have a great rest of your trip in San Francisco."

She hears Farah scoff. "Yeah sure, all the sightseeing in the world and I'm stuck inside listening to people I don't care about talk about stuff I really don't care about."

Y/N smiles. "You like your job."

"Yeah, not stopping me from complaining about it any chance I get. Bye."

They hang up the call, as Y/N makes her way out of the apartment and down into the bakery. David is in the kitchen as she enters, head down focusing on rolling pastry paper thin. She goes over and pats him on the back.

"You okay?" she asks as he glances over to her.

David hums. "M'fine, not as fine as lover boy out front."

She tries to remain casual, feeling the heat building in her cheeks. "What d'you mean?"

"You don't think he told me what happened?" David laughs. "Guy is on cloud nine at the moment. Don't remember the last time I saw him this happy."

She scoffs. "So much for privacy."

"You're telling me you haven't told your best friend?"

"Shut up," she mumbles, walking away from him and into the front of Bakehouse 31.

David wasn't kidding, as she spots Frank behind the counter talking to a customer, laughing loud with a big smile on his face. It was weird to see him this open, but she definitely wasn't complaining. A shy feeling washes over her, as she's unsure how to approach Frank after the kiss they shared. Their relationship is in murky waters at the moment, no real label for where they are with each other. Keep it casual, that's what she keeps on saying. But as she stares at Frank's side profile, the light stubble forming on his cheeks and his thick hair growing longer by the second, it feels harder and harder to just remain casual.

Thankfully, Frank doesn't seem to be having the same unsureness, as he turns and spots Y/N by the door, his smile somehow growing even wider. All of her worries seem to disappear in that moment.

"Hey," he greets her, walking over and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

She wants more, but holds back, as making out in front of a packed room full of waiting customers is probably not the best idea.

"You want anything to eat? Free hazel croissant for my favourite customer," Frank winks at her.

"Favourite? Flo's not gonna like that," Y/N jokes. "No thanks, I just need to head over to the studio and check on some things."

Frank's mood shifts, a sudden protectiveness taking over. "You need me to come with you?"

She shakes her head. "You're busy. And it'll only take a few minutes. I'll be back in a bit."

She's about to walk away, but quickly reaches up and plants a soft kiss on the side of Frank's mouth. They smile at each other, and she finally leaves, her heartbeat going crazy. She feels like a silly schoolgirl with a silly crush, and she can't help but love every second of it.

Y/N lightly jogs across the road, entering the building and walking up to her studio space. It's looking good, as she takes out her phone and starts snapping photos. She sees the paint samples covering the walls and quickly remembers she needs to order more. She checks her phone and looks online at the options they sell.

A creaking noise sounds from the hallway. she turns and looks at the open door, waiting for another noise.

"Hello?" she calls out.

No answer. It's an old building she thinks to herself. Nothing weird about hearing random creaks. Just the house settling. She turns back around and carries on checking paint samples on her phone, figuring the best prices.

Footsteps. Heavy ones can be heard entering the room. This time, Y/N doesn't bother checking, figuring that it's Frank and he chose to abandon David at the bakehouse to come and see if she needed help. She felt bad, not wanting to drag him away from anything important.

"Frank, I told you l'm fine. You can come over and check everything out after work."

The voice that replies isn't Frank. "You sure you don't want my help, baby?"

Her blood runs cold as a shiver crawls up her spine, paralyzing her. Memories that she wishes she could forget flash through her mind.

Before she has the chance to react and defend herself, something solid knocks her on the side of the head.

---

Frank stands behind the counter, glancing out the window every few seconds. He tries to busy himself with work but finds it difficult not to get distracted.

"She's only been gone a few minutes, man," David says, rolling his eyes at his friend's behaviour.

"It's been 23 minutes," Frank mumbles.

David huffs out a laugh. "Not that you're counting."

Frank's still not convinced, now looking out the window unblinking.

David continues. "She probably just got distracted, maybe got a call from her friend."

"I'll be right back," Frank grumbles under his breath, ignoring his friend's words.

"What? Frank we've got shit to do-"

David doesn't have the chance to say anything else as Frank skirts around the counter and rushes out the door, practically sprinting over to the building opposite. David watches him go, shaking his head and continuing with his work.

"I gotta ask for a raise."

Frank enters the building and rushes up the flights of stairs, thankful she left the door open but worried about who else could've got in. He gets up to the studio and walks in, looking around in hopes of finding Y/N completely fine and confused as to why he's over her. But the studio is empty.

He tries not to panic, instead reaching into his pocket for his phone and clicking on her number. He waits with bated breath, then hears a phone ringing. It's coming from the floor below him, just barely conceivable. He goes back down the stairs as the ringing gets louder, coming from the bathroom.

He walks over and reaches for the door handle, but it doesn't budge. It doesn't appear to be locked, as Frank can pull down fully on the handle, but something is blocking him from entering. Or perhaps someone.

"Sweetheart, it's Frank. You in there?" he asks, trying not to think the worst has happened.

No answer at first, so he tries to push at the door again. Still no movement.

"Y/N, if you're in there, please move away from the door 'cause I'm about to kick it down."

"Please don't," a soft voice mumbles from the other side.

Frank pauses, waiting to hear anything else. Groaning, followed by some scuffling on the floor. Once more, it stops.

"Okay, come in," her voice sounds out again.

He slowly twists the handle and opens the door. The sight that greets him is horrific. Y/N on the floor slumped over, blood on her hands as she wipes away the tears from her swollen face. Bruises are already starting to form across her cheeks and nose. Frank's seen this before. Looking in the mirror, the blue and purple scattering his face merely reflections of his time at war. But this shouldn't be the case for someone like her.

"What the hell happened?" Frank asks in his regular gruff tone, quickly kneeling down to look closer at the damage done.

Y/N finds it hard to steady her voice as she aches all over. "Jonah was here." This makes Frank tense up. "He was waiting for me, and I don't know what happened. But I just... curled into a ball and waited for it to be over."

Frank isn't sure if physical contact is best for her at this moment, but this soon proves to be untrue as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He wraps an arm around her as gently as he can, pressing his mouth to her crown.

"It was never this bad," she continues. "He'd push me around sometimes, but it was always mental with him, y'know? This was... primal. Animalistic, like he wanted to kill me."

Frank just breathes in, trying not to freak out and make things worse.

"He eventually left out the back entrance, made sure to call me a whore and a slut for moving on from him so quick. And now I'm just..." She can't finish her sentence as more tears begin to fall and she gasps for air.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard, but I need you to calm down before you pass out," Frank says, moving her away and wiping at the mixture of blood and tears on her face.

She tries to take some slow breaths in, slowing down her beating heart. Frank helps her off the floor and onto the toilet seat, holding her arm while also opening and closing the cabinets. As if she knows what he's looking for, Y/N points to the one above his head. He opens it and sees the first aid kit, taking it and placing it on the counter in front of him.

He grabs one of the anti-bac wipes and cups her face. Thankfully, the blood only seems to be coming from her nose and a split lip. He wipes carefully over it as she winces every so often.

"Sorry," Frank says, though there's no real reason to apologise. "He get you anywhere else?"

She shrugs. "Went for my arms and stomach, but nothing needs fixing. Just bruises."

Frank can't bite his tongue any longer. "Something does need fixing. And the only way for that to happen is me finding the bastard and putting him six feet under."

"Frank, no-"

"You think it's okay he gets away with this shit?" Frank steps back with his arms outstretched, finding it hard to bottle up his anger.

Y/N's eyes widen. "Obviously not, but I go to the cops every time this happens and-"

"And nothing happens, big fuckin' surprise," Frank wipes his forehead, sweat building across his brow. "So if I gotta take this into my own goddamn hands, then that's what I'll do."

"You think violence is the answer?" she can already see the yes about to fly out of his mouth, so presses her hands against his chest to stop him. "Well I don't. I want nothing more than to see Jonah get what he deserves. But I don't want the sacrifice to be you getting into trouble over this."

Frank huffs, but moves closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Jonah's a slimeball, that’s the nicest way I can put it," she says. "But he knows how to play the system. And he knows a lot of scary people. You don't want to get into all that."

Frank looks at her, wishing he could remove all the bruises from her face and smash them hard into her exes. "He deserves to pay."

"He will, eventually," she replies, not sounding fully convinced.

Frank leans in to press a light kiss on the side of her mouth, not wanting to anger the already scabbing wound. "What'd you wanna do now?"

"I just want to go home."

Frank has a strong feeling that she isn’t talking about her apartment.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

Not my two favourite characters in Squid Game being killed off in the same episode minutes apart I hate it here

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter fifteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: casual affection, plans for the studio, and something goes horribly wrong

Word count: 2.3k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: TW as this chapter contains abuse. Nothing too detailed, only descriptions of the aftermath. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated

It's the following afternoon and Y/N is sitting in Frank's apartment by herself, sorting through emails and hoping to find clients for when the studio is open. She can't stop smiling, as she relays to Farah what happened the night before between her and Frank.

"And then he kissed me, and I kissed him back."

The screeching on the other end of the call forces Y/N to move the phone away from her ear.

"I knew it! I knew this was gonna happen," Farah exclaims. "I need all the details, what happened after that?"

She pauses and shrugs as if her friend could see her. "We kissed for a bit, went back up to his apartment, and feel asleep."

There's silence on Farah's side, as Y/N can imagine the eye roll paired with her throwing her arms up in frustration.

"Then why are you wasting my time?" Farah's words are harsh, but she knows she's just kidding.

Y/N lets out a huff. "Because, you said you wanted to live vicariously through me and my love life. I thought this was a pretty important part of it."

"It is, really I'm just messing," Farah clicks her tongue. "So you think it's gonna turn into something more now?"

She rest back on the couch. "I don't know, I don't wanna force anything. I didn't really want to get into a new relationship. Yet here we are."

"Then don't force it," Farah says like it's obvious. "Everything that's happened with Frank up until this point has happened naturally. Keep going at the pace you are now you'll be married with kids in not time."

Y/N laughs, not completely opposed to that idea.

"Anyways, you almost done with Studio work?" Farah continues.

"Yeah, pretty much," she gets up and moves towards the front door. "I'm just gonna go over and take some before shots and then Frank and I are finishing painting when he's free."

"You sure you're okay to go over there by yourself?" her friend asks.

"I'm not some porcelain doll that needs to be protected and kept locked up in a box," she can't help but roll her eyes. "If I have to go out, then I'll go out. By myself."

"Alright, well call me if you need help with anything."

"Will do. Have a great rest of your trip in San Francisco."

She hears Farah scoff. "Yeah sure, all the sightseeing in the world and I'm stuck inside listening to people I don't care about talk about stuff I really don't care about."

Y/N smiles. "You like your job."

"Yeah, not stopping me from complaining about it any chance I get. Bye."

They hang up the call, as Y/N makes her way out of the apartment and down into the bakery. David is in the kitchen as she enters, head down focusing on rolling pastry paper thin. She goes over and pats him on the back.

"You okay?" she asks as he glances over to her.

David hums. "M'fine, not as fine as lover boy out front."

She tries to remain casual, feeling the heat building in her cheeks. "What d'you mean?"

"You don't think he told me what happened?" David laughs. "Guy is on cloud nine at the moment. Don't remember the last time I saw him this happy."

She scoffs. "So much for privacy."

"You're telling me you haven't told your best friend?"

"Shut up," she mumbles, walking away from him and into the front of Bakehouse 31.

David wasn't kidding, as she spots Frank behind the counter talking to a customer, laughing loud with a big smile on his face. It was weird to see him this open, but she definitely wasn't complaining. A shy feeling washes over her, as she's unsure how to approach Frank after the kiss they shared. Their relationship is in murky waters at the moment, no real label for where they are with each other. Keep it casual, that's what she keeps on saying. But as she stares at Frank's side profile, the light stubble forming on his cheeks and his thick hair growing longer by the second, it feels harder and harder to just remain casual.

Thankfully, Frank doesn't seem to be having the same unsureness, as he turns and spots Y/N by the door, his smile somehow growing even wider. All of her worries seem to disappear in that moment.

"Hey," he greets her, walking over and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

She wants more, but holds back, as making out in front of a packed room full of waiting customers is probably not the best idea.

"You want anything to eat? Free hazel croissant for my favourite customer," Frank winks at her.

"Favourite? Flo's not gonna like that," Y/N jokes. "No thanks, I just need to head over to the studio and check on some things."

Frank's mood shifts, a sudden protectiveness taking over. "You need me to come with you?"

She shakes her head. "You're busy. And it'll only take a few minutes. I'll be back in a bit."

She's about to walk away, but quickly reaches up and plants a soft kiss on the side of Frank's mouth. They smile at each other, and she finally leaves, her heartbeat going crazy. She feels like a silly schoolgirl with a silly crush, and she can't help but love every second of it.

Y/N lightly jogs across the road, entering the building and walking up to her studio space. It's looking good, as she takes out her phone and starts snapping photos. She sees the paint samples covering the walls and quickly remembers she needs to order more. She checks her phone and looks online at the options they sell.

A creaking noise sounds from the hallway. she turns and looks at the open door, waiting for another noise.

"Hello?" she calls out.

No answer. It's an old building she thinks to herself. Nothing weird about hearing random creaks. Just the house settling. She turns back around and carries on checking paint samples on her phone, figuring the best prices.

Footsteps. Heavy ones can be heard entering the room. This time, Y/N doesn't bother checking, figuring that it's Frank and he chose to abandon David at the bakehouse to come and see if she needed help. She felt bad, not wanting to drag him away from anything important.

"Frank, I told you l'm fine. You can come over and check everything out after work."

The voice that replies isn't Frank. "You sure you don't want my help, baby?"

Her blood runs cold as a shiver crawls up her spine, paralyzing her. Memories that she wishes she could forget flash through her mind.

Before she has the chance to react and defend herself, something solid knocks her on the side of the head.

---

Frank stands behind the counter, glancing out the window every few seconds. He tries to busy himself with work but finds it difficult not to get distracted.

"She's only been gone a few minutes, man," David says, rolling his eyes at his friend's behaviour.

"It's been 23 minutes," Frank mumbles.

David huffs out a laugh. "Not that you're counting."

Frank's still not convinced, now looking out the window unblinking.

David continues. "She probably just got distracted, maybe got a call from her friend."

"I'll be right back," Frank grumbles under his breath, ignoring his friend's words.

"What? Frank we've got shit to do-"

David doesn't have the chance to say anything else as Frank skirts around the counter and rushes out the door, practically sprinting over to the building opposite. David watches him go, shaking his head and continuing with his work.

"I gotta ask for a raise."

Frank enters the building and rushes up the flights of stairs, thankful she left the door open but worried about who else could've got in. He gets up to the studio and walks in, looking around in hopes of finding Y/N completely fine and confused as to why he's over her. But the studio is empty.

He tries not to panic, instead reaching into his pocket for his phone and clicking on her number. He waits with bated breath, then hears a phone ringing. It's coming from the floor below him, just barely conceivable. He goes back down the stairs as the ringing gets louder, coming from the bathroom.

He walks over and reaches for the door handle, but it doesn't budge. It doesn't appear to be locked, as Frank can pull down fully on the handle, but something is blocking him from entering. Or perhaps someone.

"Sweetheart, it's Frank. You in there?" he asks, trying not to think the worst has happened.

No answer at first, so he tries to push at the door again. Still no movement.

"Y/N, if you're in there, please move away from the door 'cause I'm about to kick it down."

"Please don't," a soft voice mumbles from the other side.

Frank pauses, waiting to hear anything else. Groaning, followed by some scuffling on the floor. Once more, it stops.

"Okay, come in," her voice sounds out again.

He slowly twists the handle and opens the door. The sight that greets him is horrific. Y/N on the floor slumped over, blood on her hands as she wipes away the tears from her swollen face. Bruises are already starting to form across her cheeks and nose. Frank's seen this before. Looking in the mirror, the blue and purple scattering his face merely reflections of his time at war. But this shouldn't be the case for someone like her.

"What the hell happened?" Frank asks in his regular gruff tone, quickly kneeling down to look closer at the damage done.

Y/N finds it hard to steady her voice as she aches all over. "Jonah was here." This makes Frank tense up. "He was waiting for me, and I don't know what happened. But I just... curled into a ball and waited for it to be over."

Frank isn't sure if physical contact is best for her at this moment, but this soon proves to be untrue as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He wraps an arm around her as gently as he can, pressing his mouth to her crown.

"It was never this bad," she continues. "He'd push me around sometimes, but it was always mental with him, y'know? This was... primal. Animalistic, like he wanted to kill me."

Frank just breathes in, trying not to freak out and make things worse.

"He eventually left out the back entrance, made sure to call me a whore and a slut for moving on from him so quick. And now I'm just..." She can't finish her sentence as more tears begin to fall and she gasps for air.

"Sweetheart, I know it's hard, but I need you to calm down before you pass out," Frank says, moving her away and wiping at the mixture of blood and tears on her face.

She tries to take some slow breaths in, slowing down her beating heart. Frank helps her off the floor and onto the toilet seat, holding her arm while also opening and closing the cabinets. As if she knows what he's looking for, Y/N points to the one above his head. He opens it and sees the first aid kit, taking it and placing it on the counter in front of him.

He grabs one of the anti-bac wipes and cups her face. Thankfully, the blood only seems to be coming from her nose and a split lip. He wipes carefully over it as she winces every so often.

"Sorry," Frank says, though there's no real reason to apologise. "He get you anywhere else?"

She shrugs. "Went for my arms and stomach, but nothing needs fixing. Just bruises."

Frank can't bite his tongue any longer. "Something does need fixing. And the only way for that to happen is me finding the bastard and putting him six feet under."

"Frank, no-"

"You think it's okay he gets away with this shit?" Frank steps back with his arms outstretched, finding it hard to bottle up his anger.

Y/N's eyes widen. "Obviously not, but I go to the cops every time this happens and-"

"And nothing happens, big fuckin' surprise," Frank wipes his forehead, sweat building across his brow. "So if I gotta take this into my own goddamn hands, then that's what I'll do."

"You think violence is the answer?" she can already see the yes about to fly out of his mouth, so presses her hands against his chest to stop him. "Well I don't. I want nothing more than to see Jonah get what he deserves. But I don't want the sacrifice to be you getting into trouble over this."

Frank huffs, but moves closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Jonah's a slimeball, that’s the nicest way I can put it," she says. "But he knows how to play the system. And he knows a lot of scary people. You don't want to get into all that."

Frank looks at her, wishing he could remove all the bruises from her face and smash them hard into her exes. "He deserves to pay."

"He will, eventually," she replies, not sounding fully convinced.

Frank leans in to press a light kiss on the side of her mouth, not wanting to anger the already scabbing wound. "What'd you wanna do now?"

"I just want to go home."

Frank has a strong feeling that she isn’t talking about her apartment.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter fourteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: An abrupt wake up call, a baking nightmare, and the moment we’ve all been waiting for

Work count: 3.3k

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: We're here! It's only taken fourteen chapters but we're finally here lol. I'm honestly so proud of this chapter, it's definitely my favourite so far. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

The sun peaks through the slightly ajar curtains, cascading a soft glow over the two bodies intertwined under the bed sheets. At some point during the night, Y/N subconsciously drew herself closer to Frank some point during the night, her head now resting on his chest with her arm and leg thrown over his body. One of Frank's hands spread across her waist as the other lays over the leg hiked around his middle.

Their poses are almost too perfect, as if set up for a cheesy Calvin Clein photoshoot. The pair breath in a rhythmic pattern, completely dead to the world. That is until the banging at the door wakes them up.

They both jolt awake, and before either of them have time to react to their tangled state, a voice yells from the other side of the door.

"Frank! There better be a good reason for why you're not down in the bakery right now, like maybe you're dead or somethin'," it's David, sounding less than pleased. "Whatever, either way there's a line forming outside, and we have nothing to sell. There's nothing prepped! The one time I have a late start and you're a no show."

Frank glances at the clock on his bedside table, the time reading 10:30am. That's a good five hours of wasted time he should've been using to start making and baking orders.

David continues talking. "So l'm gonna say this as politely as I can. Get your ass downstairs and help me, so we don't lose out on a day's income."

Frank swears under his breath, throwing the covers off his body and practically leaping out of the bed. He rips off his top and pants, seemingly forgetting about the person currently watching him run around the room in only his underwear. No time to dwell, as he grabs the first pieces of clothing he can get a hold of from his closet.

"Sorry about all this," Frank says to Y/N, as he struggles to get the shirt over his head. "I gotta get down there and help David. Before he blows up on one of the customers."

She watches him grab an almost empty can of body spray, using what little is left in there, and trying to flatten his bed hair as best as he can.

As he's turned away from her to look in the mirror, she sees the label on the back of his shirt on full display.

"Uh, Frank?" she says, as he turns around to face her.

Y/N is unsure what comes over her, perhaps due to her still sleepy state, or how close they were before the sudden wake up call. But she doesn't say anything else, slowly moving to kneel at the end of the bed where Frank stands and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. He freezes, as if in a trance, while she pulls it up to expose his stomach. He doesn't stop her from doing so. He's confused to say the least, but not opposed to what was happening. Her palms brush against his toned chest and neck, until eventually he's shirtless. Frank looks down at her, unsure of whether to make the next move.

Y/N takes the shirt in her hand and fixes the problem, smiling sheepishly at him, only now aware of how suggestion what she just did was. "It was inside out. Didn't want David to tease you about it."

Frank clears his throat. "Yeah, thanks," he might've avoided getting teased for having his shirt on inside out, but now David has a better reason, as Frank knows he won't be able to hide how flushed he suddenly feels.

He takes the shirt and puts it on the right way, moving back from how close he was to her. Now running even later, and preparing for a definite earful from David, Frank rushes out the room, calling to her over his shoulder.

"There's coffee and cereal, maybe some eggs but I can't remember the last time I went shopping. Help yourself to anything!"

As his final words ring out through the apartment, the door closes behind him and Y/N is left alone. She looks around the room, unsure what to do with herself. Possibly make some breakfast. Maybe go across the street and check the studio. Or practice ballet. But as she looks out the window and sees the line formed outside the bakery getting longer by the minute, she knows what she needs to do.

Moving over to her yet to be unpacked suitcase, she grabs some clothes she doesn't mind getting covered in flour and throws them on, checking herself briefly in the mirror and rushing out the front door.

Y/N walks into the kitchen, the chaos already presenting itself to her.

Although it's only Frank and David running the place, it feels cramped and loud as they move about, the counters full of ingredients and bakes yet to be finished.

"Mind your back, twinkle toes," David says to her, as she moves out the way so he can squeeze past.

"That better not stick," she jests, referring to the nickname he just gave her.

David smiles. "Now I know you don't like it? It's definitely sticking."

Frank walks over to her, a tray of croissants in his hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just thought you guys could use some extra help down here," she replies.

He waves her off, although she can see the stress weighing on him. "I couldn't ask you to do that, it's fine."

She shakes her head. "No, I wanna help. I know I'm not a baker, but if there's anything I can do to just lighten the load."

Frank doesn't say anything, so David pipes up for him. "You think you could handle customers out front?"

Y/N looks at him and nods. "Sure. I worked at a coffee shop a few years back, you can imagine the crap I put up with at 6am every morning."

"Perfect, she can deal with that, and we'll finish off back here," David claps his hands once, getting back to work.

Frank is still unsure, his brows furrowed. "I don't want you to feel obliged."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I know, but I promise it's fine. I mean, it is kinda my fault you woke up so late."

As her words sink in, the pair of them feel David's eyes resting on their figures. They turn and see the smirk he's not even trying to hide on his face.

Frank rolls his eyes. "Alright jackass, that's not what she meant-"

"Oh, I know exactly what she meant," David laughs.

Before they can get into an argument over the implications behind what she said, Y/N interrupts. "We don't have time for this. Both of you carry on with whatever you've been doing, l'll go out and deal with the mob of customers. Kay?"

They both nod, mumbling under their breaths and getting back to their assigned posts. Y/N takes a deep breath, and leaves the kitchen, ready for a busy day ahead.

- - -

It's 3pm, and while the bakery is still busy, the trio has it far more under control. Frank stays in the back, making dozens of different batches of croissants, muffins and breads, while David goes back and forth, taking out the fresh bakes and displaying them for the customers to buy. Y/N deals with the customers, packing orders and making drinks. It's perfect, and she could see herself doing this if the ballet studio ever went to shit.

As she has her head ducked, sorting through the cash register, someone clears their throat from across the counter.

"You a new hire?"

She looks up and freezes, coming face to face with Frank's father.

She wrings her hands together. "Um, no. I'm a friend of Frank and David, and just helping them out today."

The man huffs. "Is it that hard to run a bakery? They gotta call in an extra pair of hands."

Y/N bites her tongue, trying not to let his words get to her. Don't fight back, don't make things worse, for Frank's sake.

He continues talking. "Whatever, is Francis around? I need to speak with him."

It sounded weird to her, hearing Frank being called by his full name, clear that his relationship with his father is more professional than personal. Whatever he needs to talk to him about can't be good.

"Yeah. Francis," it felt wrong calling him that. "is in the back. I'll go get him for you."

She waits a beat, wondering if he'll say anything else. When he doesn't, she nods awkwardly and goes into the kitchen. There she sees David, busy rolling out a sheet of uncooked pastry. And Frank, looking more content than he usually does. She hates to be the one to ruin that for him.

"Hey, Frank?" he looks over at her. "Your dad's here. Says he needs to talk to you."

She sees his shoulders tense, as he stops what he's doing and walks over to her. "Can you finish mixing that for me?" He points back at the bowl he was just standing over.

"Sure," she mumbles, as he moves past her and walks out the kitchen.

She goes over to the bowl and does what he says, glancing to the door every so often in hopes Frank will walk back in as if nothing happened.

"20 bucks says it turns into a screaming match," David says from behind her.

"I'm not betting on Frank's problems with his dad," she replies. "Besides, we already know that's how their conversations turn out."

Unfortunately, David is right, as only a few minutes later they both hear raised voices out front.

Y/N looks over at David and he just shrugs. "Good luck. Last time I got in between them the only thing I had to show for it was a busted lip."

She rolls her eyes and goes out to try and resolve whatever was going on.

She opens the door to find Frank and his father toe to toe, faces full of fury. The rest of the bakery have gone silent, watching on as the two men go at each other.

"All l'm asking is for you to not be so selfish and come with me to visit your cousin!" the older man yells, throwing his arms up like a small child.

Frank rests his hands on his hips. "I barely know the guy; I haven't seen him in over ten years!"

"And whose fault is that, huh?"

Frank breathes deep, his face getting redder the longer he keeps the conversation going.

His father continues aggravating him. "Why're you making such a fuss? Why don't you wanna go, really?"

"Why do you want to go?" Frank argues back. "The second you find out my cousin's opened his own bar and you're planning a trip across the country to congratulate him. But when I opened the bakery?Nothing."

"It's different," his father says, not as loud as before.

"How?" Frank pries. "How is his bar any different to my bakery?"

"Because this isn't a real job!" his father snaps, voice rising. "This is just some glorified hobby that you chose over being a Marine. Over being a real man."

Frank just stares at his father, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon. Y/N looks at him, horrified at the harsh words he had to endure from a man who should love him unconditionally. She feels like crying for him.

The older man huffs. "Listen, Francis-"

He doesn't get to say anything else as Frank is quick to interrupt. "Don't call me that."

"But-"

Again, Frank stops him. "Don't fucking call me that."

For a moment, Y/N believes he's about to throw a punch at his father, but instead he takes a step back and turns, storming out of Bakehouse 31. She moves around the counter, watching Frank go round the corner and disappear from sight. Her sadness turns to anger, as she turns to face his father. He looks back at her, slightly shocked at the mad expression on her face.

"How dare you say that shit to him," she doesn't raise her voice, but her tone could scare the bravest of men. "Franks worked damn hard to get where he is now, and you're gonna make him feel like none of it was worth it?"

"Listen, miss-"

Now it's her turn to interrupt him. "NO, you've done enough talking. Frank is more of a man than you'll ever be and if you keep on pushing your insensitive, bullshit thoughts onto him, then you're not gonna have a son much longer."

They glare at each other, Y/N's much more intense than his. She feels hot, the rage inside making her sweat. She looks away briefly, spotting David now watching from the other side of the counter. His expression can only be describes as one of pride, as he nods, as if to say that he agrees with everything she just said. He then gestures with his head towards the door, telling her to go after Frank. She has one last look at Frank's dad, then turns and leaves the bakery.

It takes her about half an hour to find Frank, running around the area like a woman gone mad. She walks through a nearby park, seeing him sitting on one of the benches and looking across the small pond in front of him. She slowly goes over to him, sitting down without saying a word. Frank's eyes are red, and his cheeks are still stained with tears.

She gently rests her hand on top of his. Something gold catches in her peripheral, as she cranes her head to look in between her and Frank. A small plaque is imbedded into the back of the bench, words engraved into it.

For Louisa Castiglione

A loving Mother and Wife

"The perfect place to watch the world go by"

"This was her favourite spot to get away from everything," Frank speaks up, his voice low. "I dedicated this bench to her. Scattered the ashes here. So if things got too much, I knew she'd be in this exact spot waiting for me."

Y/N looks at the plaque again. "Castiglione?"

Frank hums. "Our actual last name. They changed it when I was a kid. But I still used it for a while, until I joined the Marines."

They sit there in silence, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. They watch the water glisten under the Sun's rays, a soft breeze swaying the trees left and right as their orange and red leaves try to break free.

"I can understand why your mom loved this spot," Y/N says quietly. "It's beautiful."

She doesn't even realise until after she's spoken that Frank has tears in his eyes once more. She takes her other hand and rubs it up and down his arm, trying to provide as much comfort as she possibly can.

"I miss her so much," Frank whispers. "Wish she was still here. Maybe things would be different; better."

He rubs his eyes, trying to steady his breathing but finding it difficult. "Maybe my dad's right," this makes Y/N look at him with confusion. "Maybe I've been kidding myself with the whole bakery thing. My life started in the Marines, makes sense for it to end there too."

"No, absolutely not," she lets go of his hand and turns to face him properly. "You may be right about most things but you're completely off about this. Yes, the Marines is a part of your life, but it's not anymore."

He looks deeply into her eyes as she carries on. "Bakehouse 31 is not a damn ‘glorified hobby’. It's years of your blood, sweat and tears forming into something so many people love. Something that your mom would've loved."

Frank sniffs. "Yeah, but my dad-"

"Screw him," she scoffs. "If he can't see how much this means to you, then he's not worth it."

He nods and begins to stand up, Y/N following him. They take one last look out across the water and start walking out of the park.

She remembers something she wanted to ask Frank. "Hope you don't mind me asking, but why’d you get so upset over your dad calling you Francis?"

He clears his throat. "That's what she used to call me. Everyone else, it was either Frank, or Frankie. But not her; it was always Francis. I can't bear to hear it come out of my dad's mouth."

She doesn't say anything else, only taking his hand once more and knocking their shoulders together. Frank smiles slightly.

They make their way back to the bakery, noticing it a lot quieter than it was an hour ago. The sign on the door is turned to say closed, as they open it and walk in. David is behind the counter, packing up any remaining bakes to save for tomorrow.

"The hell's going on?" Frank asks him.

David looks up, finally noticing them. "Closed up shop early. After the show you and your dad put on, I thought it'd be best to call it a day."

"We never close early-"

David stops him. "Come on, we sold out of most things, and you don't need any more stress. We'll start fresh tomorrow."

He walks towards the door, Frank patting him on the back. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, yeah. I left all the cleaning up for you guys. You're welcome."

- - -

It's later in the evening, and Frank and Y/N are finishing cleaning down the kitchen and the counters in the front of the bakery. Most of the lights are off, apart from a few lamps set around the room next to the tables. An unusual choice, but Frank was told they make the place feel homier, and that's exactly what he wanted. They create a soft glow, warming the room more than it already is.

"Well, I'm ready to sleep for the next two days," Y/N says, wiping her forehead and leaning against the counter she just cleaned.

Frank hums in agreement, walking over to stand in front of her. "Right behind you. Thanks, by the way."

She smiles up at him. "For what?"

He shrugs. "For everything. Helping out today, talking me down from the ledge. Making me realise that what I'm doing is worth it."

She moves off the counter. "No reason to thank me. I'd happily do it all again."

She's hesitant at first, but eventually opens her arms and leans into Frank, as he does the same. They stay like that for a while, hugging each other as tight as they can, her arms around his shoulders and his around her waist. They pull back slightly, their faces impossibly close.

Before she has time to react, Frank leans in, the faintest touch of his lips against hers. It's so brief, as she doesn't reciprocate at first. He takes this as clear rejection, pulling back in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

His words are muffled by Y/N's lips pressing back against his, much harder this time. Her hands cup his face as his move up her back. He deepens the kiss, sucking on her bottom lip and eliciting a soft moan from her throat. She could roll her eyes at how typically cliché their actions are, but chooses not to, happy to just enjoy the moment. Two lovesick idiots, no longer scared to show how they truly feel about the other. Alone in a romantic embrace, as if they're the only two people in the world.

Unfortunately, they remain unaware to the person watching them from across the street.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

Jon Bernthal as Michael Berzatto THE BEAR SEASON 2

[gudfornuthin]

Canon

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter thirteen

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: an open conversation and a new roommate

Word count: 3.3k

Series Warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: I was fully ready to upload this earlier then just completely forgot lmao. This is the longest chapter I've done as another two chapters are merged into one. Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated :)

Frank stands in Y/N's apartment, holding and reading the note in his hand, as if the words will magically morph and change into something less sinister. Farah sits next to Y/N on the couch, trying to comfort her hysterical friend.

After finding the note, Y/N immediately called Farah and asked her to come over. She hesitated on whether or not to bring Frank into this, considering how she left their last interaction, but knew eventually he'd find out. And he has the right to know about everything.

"This guy has some real nerve," Frank says, placing the note down and going over to where the two women sit. "You know why he'd do this?"

Y/N tries to calm her breathing, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "It's not hard to figure out. Jonah was controlling, manipulative, practically had me on a leash the last few months of our relationship."

Frank sits down on her other side as Farah continues rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I lost friends, he had me cut ties with my family. I'm just thankful Farah didn't fall for any of his crap, and she stuck by me."

Her friend nods, the sympathetic look aimed at her friend now turning to anger at the thought of Jonah. "I tried to bite my tongue for as long as possible. But when she showed up for lunch one day with bruises," Frank tenses at this. "I let it all out. Told her that she needed to go to the police and report him."

"I can imagine how that went," Frank grumbles sarcastically, already knowing how unreliable the cops can be.

Y/N rolls her eyes. "It never went to court. But the abuse was put on his record." She huffs as the tears start to fall again and her voice shakes. "He's always hated me because of that, and now he's found me again he wants to ruin my life."

"The guy outside the bakery," Frank says, as she looks up at him in confusion. "I'm guessing that was him. Shit, I wouldn't have let him leave if I knew-"

She shakes her head. "You didn't know. How could you?"

Frank raises from his seated position, pacing with his hands on his hips.

"Well, I'm gonna make sure this asshole gets the hint and leaves you the hell alone."

Y/N now stands up too, resting her hands on his chest to try and calm him down. "No. I already hate how involved I've made you in this, I don't want you getting into trouble because of someone like Jonah."

Frank shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Before she can say anything in return, Farah speaks up next to her. "In all seriousness though, what're you gonna do?"

"I don't know. I mean I don't feel safe staying here anymore," she looks at her friend. "Can I stay at yours for a while?"

"You're more than welcome to, but I'm away with work for a week so you'd be by yourself," Farah says, feeling guilty but knowing she can't do anything about it.

Y/N closes her eyes. "Shit. I can't. I can't be alone right now."

Frank hesitates briefly, an idea forming in his head but he's unsure whether to put it out there. Fortunately, a not-so-subtle look from Farah gives him the push he needs.

He clears his throat. "You, uh, you can stay with me."

She pouts. "What?"

"I know it's a lot all of a sudden," Frank begins to overexplain, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable over his offer. "But it's just one friend helping out another like we've done before. You can take the bed and I'll take the couch."

She stares at him, looking like a lost puppy. "I can't let you do that."

"Don't worry, it's a pretty comfy couch," he jokes.

She ponders over his offer. "I don't wanna be a bother."

"Not possible," he argues back. "Not to me."

They continue looking at each other, as Farah glances back and forth between the pair, a knowing look on her face.

"You two are insufferable," she mumbles under her breath. "I'm taking that as a yes, so Y/N why don't I help you pack some things, and Frank will meet you back at the bakery later. Kay?"

They break out of their trance, and quickly agree with Farah's words.

No sooner does Frank leave, giving the two women enough time to sort through anything Y/N wants or needs to take with her for the stay.

However long that stay may be.

- - -

After lugging multiple bags over to Bakehouse 31, and Frank taking them up to his apartment, Y/N now sits behind the counter eating a muffin David gave her, while Frank is on the phone with the police in the kitchen.

"Hey, David?" she calls to the man across from her, as he serves one of the customers. "You ever thought about doing vegan and gluten free alternatives?"

The man grimaces and laughs slightly. "Are you kidding me? We'd be out of business in a week."

She glares at him. "I'm not saying replace all your current bakes with solely vegan and gluten free shit. I'm saying keep an open mind!" she picks at the half-eaten muffin in her hand. "Besides, a lot of people go for that stuff even if they don't have to. Farah isn't vegan but she'll always try the vegan option on the menu."

David hums. "Tell you what. If you can find a muffin recipe that's gluten free and vegan, and doesn't taste like absolute ass, I'll add it to the menu."

She holds out a hand and he shakes it. "Challenge accepted."

David moves away to carry on with the orders as Frank comes out of the kitchen, finished with his phone call and looking far from happy.

"I'd ask how it went, but by the look on your face I can already figure that out," Y/N says, finishing off the baked good.

Frank crosses his arms and leans on the counter next to her. "They said they'll look into it, but we both know what that means."

"Into the filing cabinet it goes, never to be looked at again," she replies. "Not the first time."

She quickly changes the subject, trying to take her mind off of her psycho ex. "So, how're things going with your dad?"

"Don't know, don't care," Frank replies, getting back to work. "Не doesn't want to put the effort in with me, then I'm not wasting my time on him."

Y/N nods. "I get that, but I still feel like you shouldn't stop trying." Frank begins to roll his eyes in protest, but she quickly cuts him off. "If you don't wanna do it for him, at least do it for your mom. Like you said."

This makes Frank pause, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Should've never opened up to you about that."

His words are harsh, but his tone has no malice in it. She smiles wide, watching as David and Frank work effortlessly around each other.

"I have an idea," she continues. "Why don't you introduce me to him?"

Frank laughs. "Yeah, for your own sanity I'm gonna say no."

"No, I'm serious," she gets up and moves over to him. "Maybe I could talk to him and give him a new perspective on the whole 'you being a baker' thing. I can be very persuasive."

Frank still isn't convinced but can't say no to her offer. "Fine, I'll ask him to come by sometime in the week." Y/N pats him on the back. "Perfect."

- - -

It's evening time, and Y/N's first night staying over at Frank's. Because of the stressful day she'd had, Frank offered to cook her a proper, homemade meal. Considering the number of takeout boxes piled up in her own apartment, and studio, how could she refuse?

While Frank gets on with dinner, Y/N decides to have a shower, needing something to relieve the tension building in her shoulders.

She stands under the water as it cascades down her neck and back, eyes closed and breathing deep. Her thoughts are racing. The unfinished studio and the deadline being moved further and further back. Whatever the hell is going on between her and Frank. Just hours ago she was pushing him away, the idea of intimacy and domestic life scaring the crap out of her. Now she's shacking up with him for who knows how long. Then of course there's Jonah, the break in, and his threats. If he found out about her apartment, and found out about Bakehouse 31, then of course he knows about the studio and now she doesn't feel safe anywhere.

The tears start to fall without Y/N even realising it. Her sobs are drowned out by the water hitting the tiles and bathtub, as she wraps her arms around herself. This is what he wants. This is what he always did. That fear, the paranoia of something happening or doing something wrong. He's in her head. And she promised herself it would never happen again.

She turns the water off and takes several deep breaths, trying to get the negative thoughts out of her head and focus on the now. Safe, with Frank, about to enjoy a delicious meal together.

A rich aroma wafts through the halls, as Y/N exits the bathroom, feeling fresh in a new pair of pyjamas. She makes her way towards the kitchen, watching Frank by the stove as he whistles a soft tune. He's also cladded in pyjamas, a fitted grey shirt and a pair of black joggers.

He looks good, his back muscles rippling under the strain of the fabric.

Frank turns when he hears her footsteps, smiling slightly until he sees the redness of her eyes.

"You okay?" he asks in a gentle tone, reaching out a hand to rest on her arm.

She smiles back, trying not to burst into tears again. "Yeah, I'm okay."

She brushes past him before he has the chance to say anything else, moving over to the food. "This all smells amazing, you need any help?"

Frank goes over to her. "Everything's pretty much ready, just need to set out plates and glasses."

She nods. "That is one thing I can do."

After taking everything they need over to the table, they dish out dinner along with a fresh bottle of wine. Unsurprisingly, the food tastes incredible, Y/N not realising how hungry she actually was.

"Honestly Frank," she says, a mouthful of warm bread and pasta. "I don't know how nobody's tied you down yet. With food like this, l'd never have to eat out again."

Frank smiles sheepishly, not used to receiving compliments. "Ah, guess I haven't found the right person yet."

He looks at her after this, as she understands the meaning behind his words. She wipes her mouth with a napkin, taking a sip of wine and moving her eyes around the room.

Frank takes the hint and changes the subject. "I called my dad while you were in the shower. Took a while to get through to him, but when I did, I asked if he wanted to come round tomorrow to meet you."

Y/N raises her eyebrows in delight. "Great, I'd love to! I promise I'll be charming and polite; your dad will love me by the end of the day."

Frank laughs. "I don't doubt that."

After demolishing the meal, the pair clean up their dishes, Frank going over to the sink to wash up. Although Y/N offered to help several times, he insisted as his guest that she should relax. She couldn't say no to that.

As she moves around his apartment, she begins to look at the few pictures Frank has hanging on his wall. One in particular catches her eye. A much younger Frank, possibly 18 or 19, standing in between a man and a woman. Their arms are wrapped around each other, and their smiles beam at the camera.

"Holy perm, batman," Y/N jokes, staring at Frank's insanely curly hair. "I guess this proves you can't pull everything off."

Frank goes over to her, the dishes long forgotten. "Hey, I'm sure you have hair horror stories of your own."

"Nope, always perfect," she replies, now looking at the older woman standing to his left in the photo. She's beautiful, her smile a mirror image of Frank's. "This your mom?"

Frank hums. "My biggest supporter when it came to, well, basically everything. School, band, hell even the marines."

Y/N smirks at him. "You were in band?"

"Shut up," Frank jokes, still looking at the photo. "You can imagine how happy she was though when I chose to leave the marines and open the bakery. It kills me that she never got to see it finished."

Y/N rubs her hand in circles on his back. "I'm guessing that didn't make things easier with your dad."

Frank scoffs. "He was a wreck, obviously," now glancing at the older man. "Mom was always the peace maker between us. Knew what to say to keep him from blowing up. After she passed, it just went from bad to worse."

He tries to hold back the tears begging to fall but finds it hard as his mom stares right at him. Y/N notices, as she reaches out to Frank, wrapping her arms around his waist. He doesn't object, hugging her back just as tight.

"She'd be so proud of you," she whispers into his neck. "And I didn't know the woman, but I bet your mom would kick your dad's ass for how he's been acting."

Frank's mood lightens at her words. "Yeah, you might be right about that."

They stay in each other's arms a while longer, until Frank eventually moves back, wiping at his eyes. "I think I'm gonna call it a night."

Y/N nods. "Of course, I think we both need a good night sleep."

The pair bid each other goodnight, as she heads for the bedroom and Frank stays in the living room where the couch is temporarily set up to sleep on.

She enters the room and faceplants into the bed, the soft mattress willing her straight to sleep. She crawls up to the headrest and shuffles under the sheets, resting her head on the pillow. She breaths deep and smells the fabric softener (and Frank's cologne). It's soothing, and as quickly as she lay down, Y/N is out like a light.

- - -

1:53am and Y/N is awakened by a noise in the living room. She looks over at the cracked door, waiting to see if she hears it again. Nothing.

She rests her head back on the pillow and closes her eyes. The noise happens once more. Like a thrashing, or shuffling sound. Fighting the urge to just ignore it and go back to sleep, she throws the sheets off of herself and walks out of the bedroom.

As Y/N turns the corner, she finally notices the culprit behind the noise. Frank lying on the couch, tossing and turning, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath.

"Frank?" she whispers, unsure how to handle the situation.

He of course doesn't hear her, as his chest rises and falls rapidly. She rushes over and on closer inspection sees the beads of sweat running down the sides of his face. She rests one of her hands on his cheek, his skin clammy and hot. She listens to him as he mumbles random things, about the war, about the innocent lives lost at his hands. Just one of the nightmares Frank had mentioned and getting increasingly worse.

Y/N now rests both her hands on his face. "Frank, sweetie, I need you to wake up."

It doesn't work at first, as she sits on the edge of the couch and moves her hand down to his chest, his heavy breathing worrying her. She's dealt with her own panic attacks multiple times in the past, but how do you deal with it when the person going through it is out like a light?

"I'm here Frank, I'm right here," she whispers close to his ear, hoping somehow his subconscious might hear her.

She rubs circles on his chest, the feeling of his heart beating a million a minute pulsing against her hand. She's about to say more reassuring words to him, before he suddenly shoots up from his horizontal position, almost knocking their heads together.

"I'm sorry, it's just me," she says, snaking her hands up to his shoulders. "You were having a nightmare."

Frank looks around evidently confused, until his eyes rest on Y/N's face. He seems more than relieved to see her. "S'okay, I'm used to them now."

She moves back, giving him some space. "Didn't look like it."

He shrugs. "That was a pretty bad one."

They both go quiet, Frank leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes, trying to slow his breathing, and Y/N trying to provide any support she can for him. A thought crosses her mind, yet she hesitates at first to bring it up. But as she looks at Frank, the fear in his eyes when he woke up, and the obvious bags forming under them, she can't stop herself from saying it.

"D'you think you'd feel more comfortable in bed?"

He shakes his head. "No, you're my guest. I wouldn't want you sleeping on the couch."

"I meant; I'd be okay sharing the bed. With you," she corrects him.

Frank looks at her, brow furrowed. "You sure?"

She's not surprised by his confusion, as recent events have shown her acting distant and afraid of any form of intimacy between them. But this is different. At least for her it is.

"Yeah," she replies. "It's a big bed, you already know that. And I'd feel better having you next to me. Just in case this happens again."

There's a pause, but Frank eventually nods. "If you're alright with that."

They get up from the couch and head for the bedroom, their slumped figures weighed down by their tiredness. Frank heads for the side closest to the door while Y/N goes for the side closest to the window, like clockwork, as if they'd run this routine a thousand times. They both slip under the covers, moving like wooden planks as the awkwardness finally settles in. it'd been a long time since either of them had shared a bed with someone else, the sudden closeness almost shocking. Sure, it is a big bed, but not big enough to toss and turn without bumping into the other person.

Y/N chooses to break the silence, as she settles down on her back. "Hope you don't mind me asking, but when was the last time you slept without having a nightmare?"

Frank glances at her, running a hand through his hair still laced with sweat. "Uh, to be honest? When we were around the studio together and fell asleep on the couch."

She feels the heat rise to her cheeks, as he continues talking. "I guess I found your presence calming. Like you would somehow protect me from those kinda bad dreams."

She can't fight off the smile creeping its way onto her face. "Well I'm glad. Hopefully I can do the same again now."

"Yeah. Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Frank."

Safe to say, the pair aren't disrupted by any more bad dreams the rest of the night.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter twelve

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: an awkward morning after, feelings are questioned, and an unwanted surprise

Word count: 1.9k

Series Warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: I'm shocked that I'm still committed to writing this considering my track record. But it's been fun, and I'm happy that I've proven to myself that I can stick with it. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

There's a loud banging on the door that alerts Y/N from her slumber.

Her entire body aches and the side of her face feels hot from where she was resting. The blanket is almost completely on the floor, most likely being tossed during the night. She slowly sits up, groaning and rubbing the back of her neck. She looks around, confusion taking over for a brief moment, before she finally realises where she is.

Still in the studio, still on the couch, and still lying opposite Frank. She finally remembers the night before. Frank coming over angry at his father, watching trashy reality tv, and soon after falling asleep. He's still crashed out, hair a mess and limbs in uncomfortable positions. And their legs intertwined, with one of his hands resting on her calf.

A sudden anxiousness takes over Y/N's body, as the harmless action feels far too intimate for her. the knocking on the door continues in the background.

She carefully untangles her legs from Frank's and tiptoes over to the door. She opens it to find Farah standing on the other side, a bag in her hand.

"Finally, I thought I was gonna have to call the cops," she exclaims. "I went to your apartment but obviously you weren't there so thought this was the only other place you'd be. Do you know your front doors open?"

She didn't, having not even questioned how her friend was able to get into the building.

Farah continues. "Anyway, I bought breakfast. Thought you could use a pick me up."

Y/N closes the door a bit, not wanting Farah to spot who's currently sleeping on her couch. She already teases her enough about Frank, this would tip her over the edge.

"That's really sweet of you, thanks," she says, reaching for the food and hoping her friend would get the hint and leave. She doesn't.

Farah pulls back, her brow furrowed. "Hang on, half of this is mine! You think I dragged my ass all the way from your place to here just to give away food I paid for?"

Y/N squints. "Dragged your ass'? My apartment's like five minutes away."

"Yeah, but my office is forty-five minutes away, so I'm having to give up my lunch break for this," Farah tries pushing past her again. "So let me in, my coffee's gonna be stone cold by now."

Once more, Y/N stops her. "I really just want a quiet day by myself."

Farah pauses for a moment, then smirks. "You're hiding something from me."

"I am not."

"Then let me in."

"No, I just want to be alone."

Another pause, then Farah shrugs, holding the food out to her. "Fine, okay I respect that."

Y/N takes the bag from her friend. "Thank you."

Just as her hands are full, Farah shoves past her. she yelps, almost spilling the food everywhere.

"Farah, for Christ's sake-"

She walks in after her, Farah's eyes trained on a now wide-awake Frank sitting up on the couch. Embarrassment takes over, as their current predicament could easily be misinterpreted.

A Cheshire cat-like grin grows on Farah's face. "What's going on?"

Frank and Y/N glance at each other then quickly look away.

"Nothing. Nothing is going on," she replies, placing the food on the side and taking it out of the bag. "Frank came by last night, we watched tv, we fell asleep. Now you're here trying to make my life hell."

Farah hasn't stopped smiling. "You both still look pretty tired."

"I am tired, and you're making it worse," she hands a portion of the food over to Farah. "Now could you please leave?"

Her friend holds the food, shrugging her shoulders. "Alright, alright! | have a busy day ahead of me anyways."

It takes everything in Y/N not to push her out the door, but she follows behind her, dreading the phone call they most definitely will be having later.

Farah turns around one more time to look at her. "I'm expecting every last detail of what happened last night."

She makes her leave before Y/N has the chance to say anything else. She huffs out a breath and closes the door, turning to face Frank. He's looking at her with a smile on his face, the pair of them basking in the silence. She's not sure what to say, reality setting in once more. Frank gets up from the couch, stretching and moving over to where the food sits.

"Hope you don't mind sharing," he jokes, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip. "You got any plans today? If you need any help with anything."

He passes the drink to her, as she nurses it in both her hands. She looks down at the warm liquid, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I don't wanna take up anymore of your time, I'm sure you're busy with the bakery."

Frank waves her off. "We're not opening until midday. I've got a couple hours."

She shakes her head, still not looking at him. "No really, I've got to go food shopping and then go to the bank. Boring stuff, I don't wanna drag you along for all that."

She finally looks up, Frank already staring at her. There's a look of hurt in his eyes. He tries to hide it, but she knows it's there.

He nods his head. "I get it. Well, if you need anything, you know where I am."

He head for the door, but Y/N quickly reaches out and grabs his arm.

"Same goes for you Frank," she says, not wanting to leave their interaction on a bad note.

He smiles, the look in his eyes still there, but not as much. "Thanks, sweetheart."

He leaves, Y/N finally alone in her studio. She takes a sip from the coffee cup, wincing at the now cold liquid. She huffs, needing a shower and something a lot stronger than caffeine.

---

It's later on in the day, and Frank is elbow deep in Bakehouse 31 orders. He's far more alert than he usually is, no bags under his eyes or almost falling asleep at the counter. He's wide eyed and bushy tailed, as some would say. David happens to notice this too.

"Someone finally woke up on the right side of the bed," he says, packing up some orders. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Frank says in response. "I just had a good night sleep. Best one I've had since I left the marines."

David hums. "Okay. Doesn't have anything to do with Y/N?"

Frank looks at him with faux confusion, causing David to roll his eyes. "I clocked into the bakery early. You don't think I noticed you leaving the building across the street?"

Frank doesn't say anything to that, confirming his friend's suspicions.

He continues. "So be real, what the hell is going on between you two?"

"It's complicated, alright," Frank mumbles.

David scoffs. "What are we, fourteen? You're pushing fifty, man, you don't have time for complicated."

Frank knows he's right, but the thought of ruining what he had with Y/N wouldn't allow him to take that risk. He didn't know much about it, but he knew she'd been in a pretty bad relationship. Of course, he also knows how much he'd do to make sure she never went through that again. Still, is the risk of losing her friendship really worth it?

"I know, Christ do I know, alright?" Frank goes over to make another batch of coffee. "But last night, I just felt safe, y'know? She made me feel safe, like I didn't have to keep one eye open."

"Then tell her how you feel," David says as if it's obvious.

"I think I've already made it pretty obvious how I feel," Frank argues back. "But I know she doesn't want that. And I'm not gonna be an asshole and push it."

"I don't know the girl that well," David turns to face his friend. "But from what l've seen, she wants that with you. She just doesn't realise it yet."

---

"And I promise you, really, we just fell asleep."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"It's just a lot! I've had one-night stands that have felt less awkward the morning after. This was different."

Y/N and Farah are out shopping, talking about the awkward encounter they had earlier this morning. It took a while to convince Farah that nothing else happened, but eventually she believed her words, moving on to a less immature conversation.

They walk side by side, Y/N pushing a shopping cart and Farah picking up random items and putting them back immediately after.

"And what, you just kicked the poor guy out?" Farah asks.

Y/N rests her head against her hands on the handle. "I freaked, okay? How close we were, how he acted so nonchalant about the whole thing. It was too domestic."

Farah rolls her eyes. "You're acting like he proposed and said he wants you to bear his children. Face it, you like Frank more than you wanna admit and that's terrifying to you."

"Well of course it is! I don't want to go into another relationship worrying that it might-" she can't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Farah finishes it for her. "That it might end up like your last one?"

She doesn't respond, instead reaching for some cereal she most definitely wouldn't eat.

Her friend carries on talking, a sympathetic undertone in her voice. "Frank's not like that."

"I know," Y/N says. "But there's still a fire within in similar to Jonah. I've seen it first hand with his dad, with those workers. I don't want to get into that again."

"But Frank isn't like that with you," Farah stops walking, forcing her to do the same. "I've seen that look he gives you. He's bought you pastries, he's made new recipes for you. For God's sake he's taking up all his free time to help finish your studio! I know Jonah never would've done that stuff."

Y/N looks down at her hands, picking at her nails. "I'm just scared of getting broken again."

"Not to sound like a cheesy Facebook quote," Farah starts. "But Frank's the one who's been piecing you back together. I don't think he'd put in the effort just to break you again."

The pair leave the conversation there, carrying on with their shopping and finally bidding goodbye to each other. It's getting late, and all Y/N wants to do is relax in from of the tv with a massive glass of whatever she has in the fridge.

She heads back to her apartment, walking into the building and entering the elevator. After a short journey up to her floor, she exits and makes her way towards her home. As she turns the corner, a chill takes over her body, the bags in her hands almost dropping to the floor. She sees the door to her apartment. Wide open.

Although not the smartest move, she rushes over and walks in, looking around to see if anything had been taken. Thankfully, and surprisingly, everything seems to be fine. She carries on searching the place, her eyes scanning until they land on a small note resting on the table. She goes over and picks it up, the words making her blood run cold.

‘I miss you so much. Your new boyfriend can't protect you forever!’

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

I won’t shut up about how much I HATED this remake. Going back to watch the original 2002 version and lilo and stitch the series just to feel something

my rage increases with everything i hear about the live action lilo and stitch

what do you mean nani gives up custody of lilo.

what do you mean no jumba redemption— and he’s the twist villain???

what do you mean no pleakley in drag.

what do you mean no nani and david romance subplot.

what do you mean no gantu.

what do you mean no ugly duckling scene.

what do you mean no anti-tourism theme.

what do you mean jumba just sounds like some random american guy.

what do you mean cobra bubbles isn’t the social worker

not to mention nani’s actress being in brownface.

and more than anything— showing an indigeneous family being separated by the government, and having it be shown as a “happy ending.” the original ending was perfect. nani kept custody and gained a support system.

disney’s rise in conservatism is showing bigtime

[gudfornuthin]

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter eleven

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: an unwanted visitor at the bakery, an unhappy call, and a much needed sleep

Word count: 2.3k

Series Warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: writing is hard lol. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

Frank is a mess. A gash to his side, his face bloody and bruised, and a limp which has come out of nowhere. He needs to lie down. Get some rest. But he won't. Not when there's a job to be done.

It's another cold and damp night, as he walks along in silence with the rest of his squad mates. They'd been tipped off a few hours ago as to the whereabouts of their target, and now it's crucial they find them before anyone else does.

"Castle, you still with us?" a voice sounds through his earpiece, Frank grunting in response. "North-West building needs sweeping. Go check it out then report back, got it?"

"I can go if you want-" one of his squad mates replies from behind him, before getting interrupted by his earpiece.

"No, this is Castle's job. He can't do this shit by himself? Then he isn't a real soldier. Come on now."

Frank looks back at the guy behind him, noticing the sympathetic look on his face. He hates it. He doesn't need or want sympathy. Makes him feel weak.

"It's fine," Frank responds, taking the gun from his back and holding it in front of him. "I'll go."

His squad mate nods as he carries on with the rest of the team, Frank moving to the North-West building and heading inside. He scopes the area, the corridors a lot darker than he anticipated. Turning on the light atop his gun, he goes from door to door, his footsteps silent on the concrete. For a guy his size, he's surprisingly quiet on his feet when he needs to be.

Seeing that the bottom floor is clear, Frank moves up the stairs and onto the next area, once again sweeping through every room.

A sudden crash is heard to his left, as he turns fast and looks in that direction. The noise comes from a room with the door shut, no other sound following. He pushes forward.

"I just heard something," he whispers into his earpiece. "Stand by."

He opens the door slow, the creaking not helping his stealth. He pans each wall with the light from his gun, not spotting anything at first.

Then movement from behind one of the rotting boxes in the corner.

Frank focuses on it, sweat forming on his forehead and neck.

He walks towards it. "Make yourself known, slowly."

A brief pause, and the thing carefully comes into view. A boy, no older than 16, stands up with his hands raised by his head. Frank is shocked, as he slowly lowers his gun.

"The hell you doin' here, kid?"

"I don't know," the young boy's voice shakes, eyes wide. "I got separated from my family a few days ago. I've just been going place to place to hide and lay low until I can find safety."

"This is a warzone, no one should be here," Frank argues.

The boy lowers his hands to his side. "Yeah, well it was also my home." Before Frank can say anything else, his earpiece goes off once more.

"Castle, the hell is going on over there?"

He grunts. "Building's not empty, one person but appears shaken and harmless."

"Well, you know what to do," the voice says. "Eliminate and move on to find the target."

Frank hesitates. "He's just a kid."

"And he's getting in the way of our mission," the voice is devoid of any emotion. "Who knows what he's seen. We can't take any chances."

Frank raises his gun again, as the boy steps back in panic. "I just wanna find my family-"

"I'm not hearing any shooting." The voice rings loud in his ear.

"Just let me go, I never saw anything-"

"Castle, now is not the time to show mercy-"

"Please-"

"For fuck's sake, Castle, NOW!"

A gunshot. A body hitting the floor. Two sounds Frank Castle will never stop hearing.

- - -

It's another busy day at Bakehouse 31, as Frank leans back on the counter with a coffee cup in hand, struggling to keep his eyes open. For once, David is the one rushing around doing orders and dealing with customers. He looks back at his friend, about to fall sideways and almost completely asleep.

"Frank," his voice alerts the man from his slumber. "Something keeping you up at night, man? When was the last time you slept?"

"It's nothin'," Frank replies, rubbing his eyes. "and I can't remember."

David shakes his head, passing a bag of fresh pastries to the customer over the counter. "It doesn't help that you've basically taken on another job on top of this one."

Frank sips his drink. "S'fine, I'm happy to do it."

"You're happy to do it for her," David smirks, a teasing tone in his voice.

"That's not why I'm doing it," Frank argues back.

"Oh yeah?" David says. "So you'd do the same for me?"

Frank huffs, moving away to sort through a fresh batch of croissants. "Fuck no."

David laughs out loud. "Ah face it man, she's got you down bad."

He doesn't argue with him on that.

The bell above the door rings, as David looks up to see who it is.

"Hey Flo," he says to the woman who just entered, already beginning to make her usual order. He notices the slightly distressed look on her face. "You okay?"

She comes to stand by the counter. "Just some creep, I think he's trying to scare away your other customers."

"What're you talking about?" Frank is now wide awake, the idea of losing business putting him on edge.

Flo points out the window. "That man out there. He's just been standing outside the bakery, pacing up and down. He's either looking into here or looking over at the building across the street."

Frank scans his eyes over to where Flo was pointing and sees the man she's talking about. Pretty average looking, dark hair and pale skin. Although he's wearing a jacket, it's obvious he's muscular. Not as much as Frank, but enough to be noticeable.

"I'll deal with him," he says, making his way around the counter and towards the entrance.

Frank exits the bakery, still standing near the door and glaring at the man. He doesn't notice him at first.

"Hey," Frank says, his voice somehow gruffer than usual. "Can I help you, pal?"

The man finally turns to face him, a smile on his face that could make anyone uncomfortable. He doesn't say anything at first, just staring at Frank, unmoving. He looks once into Bakehouse 31, then across the street at Y/N's studio, then back to Frank. The smile doesn't drop.

"You've got a nice little set up here," the man finally speaks up, putting his hands in his pockets. "Must've cost you a pretty penny, huh?"

"Why you asking, thinking of buying it off me?" Frank jokes, although there's no humour in his tone.

"If you're offering," the man replies. "But I have a feeling you don't wanna sell. Especially when you have a view like that." He looks across the street again. Frank has a feeling the guy isn't just talking about the building.

"You know a lot of people in the area?" the man continues with his odd questions. "I'm sure a guy like you could have any girl he wants."

Frank can't take much more of him. "Alright, I don't wanna sound rude but you're acting like a creep and scaring off customers. I'm gonna ask you to leave before I make you."

The guy raises his hands in defence. "Wow, no need to go all macho on me, man. I'm going."

He's about to walk away, not before turning back to look at Frank, the creepy smile coming back to rest on his face. "One last thing though. You shouldn't take what doesn't belong to you."

The man finally leaves, his words leaving behind a horrible feeling in Frank's chest. Whatever he meant by them, it's not good.

- - -

Y/N sits on the floor in her studio, looking through different paint samples and trying to figure out the best option. It's late in the evening, so she's shocked by the angry knocking on the door from downstairs. She makes her way down and looks through the peephole, thankful to see that it's just Frank. She opens the door, noting the permanent frown etched on his face.

"Frank, you alright?"

She moves back to let him in and closes the door behind them. They make their way back upstairs as she can hear him grumbling under his breath.

"Saw that your light was on in the studio," he says. "Thought you might like the company."

Y/N raises an eyebrow. "You sure it's not the other way round?"

Frank doesn't say anything in response, enough to answer her question.

She continues. "What's wrong?"

"Just got off the phone with my dad."

He doesn't need to say anything else as Y/N already understands what that entails.

"Come on," she says, leading him over to the couch she set up for any times she may stay the night at the studio. "Let's just try and relax and you can bitch all you want about him. No judgement here."

They both sit down, Y/N resting a hand on Frank's bicep to provide some form of comfort.

Frank sighs. "I thought I could ease the tension between us. Extend an olive branch, y'know?" she nods at his words. "So I called, asked if he wanted to go watch a game or something."

He pauses briefly, shaking his head just thinking about the conversation. "He told me he was too busy."

"And I'm guessing he's not?"

Frank scoffs. "The man's retired. How busy could he be that he can't spare some of his time for his son?"

Y/N rubs his arm, unsure how to make him feel much better.

Frank carries on. "Obviously, the peace offering doesn't last long, l yell so he yells louder. Now I'm over here dumping my shit onto you."

"Gross," she mumbles.

Frank grunts. "Yeah, real fucking gross."

He leans back on the couch, closing his bloodshot eyes. "And on top of that, I had some asshole outside the bakery creeping everyone out and saying weird shit."

"This is New York, what d'you expect?"

Trying to get his mind off the topic at hand, Frank nods towards the paint samples. "Sorry if I disrupted your evening. I can come by and help with any painting you need done."

She waves him off, now leaning back on the couch next to him.

"S'okay, and that'd be great."

She gives him a proper once over, focusing on the heavy bags under his eyes and the unkept beard and hair. It doesn't make him any less handsome, but it does make her worry.

She takes his hand in hers. "You can stay here for a bit if you want? I've got a television downstairs. We can bring it up here and binge some crappy reality tv."

"I can't say no to that."

The couple get up and go to grab the television, slowly bringing it into the room and hooking it up. They sit back down as Y/N flicks through the channels, trying to find the best option.

"ooh," she drawls out sarcastically. "Real Housewives of Atlanta?"

"Jesus Christ," Frank grimaces. "That sounds perfect?"

- - -

Five episodes are watched. The show, as most reality tv, is hot garbage. And Y/N is hooked. Her eyes are wide as she reacts to a glass of wine being thrown at a woman for the third time this evening. She so desperately wishes she had a bowl of popcorn to munch her way through.

"Oh, Dana is not gonna like that," she says, leaning impossibly further off the edge of the couch. "After the shit she pulled with Tina I swear they ju-"

She stumbles over her words as she glances over to where a now snoring Frank lies next to her, his head resting on the arm of the couch.

She isn't sure how long he's been out, but by the slight drool pouring out of his mouth, she can guarantee he hasn't seen the last two episodes.

"Out like a light," Y/N whispers, watching his chest slowly rise and fall.

It's not the most comfortable couch, and Frank will definitely wake up with a sore neck in the morning, but she can't bring herself to disturb him. With all the stress with his father and how many hours he must put into the bakery, as well as the free work he's doing for her, she knows sleep has been the last thing on his mind. That's not difficult to figure out considering she's spoken and spent time with him three times now during the middle of the night.

Getting up from her criss-crossed position on the couch, Y/N tiptoes downstairs and rummages through a box of random things. Eventually she finds what she's looking for and goes back to where Frank lies. In her arms she holds a large blanket, big enough for two people. She unwraps it and places it down on top of him, making sure to cover him fully as the studio can get cold during the night. She moves back to where she sat, taking the end of the blanket and wrapping it around herself too.

She rest back, looking once more over to the man, still snoring away.

"Goodnight, Frank." no soon after is she also sound asleep.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter ten

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: Y/N is worried about the text she received, Frank does some work on the studio, and the couple share an intimate moment

Word count: 2.1k

Series Warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: It only took us ten chapters, but I finally think we're getting into the juicy stuff. Thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated :)

Y/N and Farah are in the studio, the former pacing in circles and rubbing her arms as if cold. Her mind is racing, having just told her friend about the message supposedly from her ex.

"For the love of god, could you sit down?" Farah exclaims. "You're making me feel dizzy."

Y/N stops her movements, facing Farah and wringing her hands together. "I can't deal with this, I won't. I felt like I was finally getting my life together and this shit has to land on my doorstep. He wants to make my life hell."

Farah takes her friend’s hands to stop her from rubbing them raw. "We'll deal with this one step at a time. You called the cops?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but they said unless something actually happens, they can't do anything about it."

"Are they kidding?" Farah scoffs. "He has a criminal record; I think that's enough of something."

Y/N hums, not feeling much better about the situation. Another reason for the cops not pursuing the message is that she had no real proof that it was from Jonah. But she doesn't need proof. She doesn't know anyone else who would do this to her. Who would want to make her feel scared and on edge. That's what their entire relationship was like beforehand. Especially if he thinks there's another man in her life. No surprise that he hasn't changed at all.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes. "I'm hoping it was just to scare me. He didn't actually see me that day and got lucky with guessing I was with someone. He doesn't know where I am." The last part is said less confidently.

"You blocked the number, right?"

She nods her head, finding it hard to say anything else.

"What does Frank think about all this?" Farah asks.

"I haven't told him," Y/N says, as Farah squints her eyes in confusion. "He's got a lot on his plate as is! I'm not piling my problems on top of him."

Farah smirks. "I bet I know what he'd love piled on top of him."

Y/N looks at her friend with a deadpan expression. "Grow up."

There's a sudden knock on the door, the two women stopping their conversation and looking towards the entrance.

"Expecting company?"

Y/N moves past her to the door. "Yes, Frank said he'd come over to help finish the flooring."

Farah purses her lips. "It looks done to me."

"Some of the boards aren't fitted properly, and then we need to polish it."

Farah walks over to her groaning. "Sounds so fun and interesting, the type of date a girl can only dream of."

Y/N's eyes widen. "It's not-"

"-a date, you've said so. Countless times." Her friend finishes the sentence.

She opens the door, and as expected, Frank stands there. In his hands are a bag of lovely smelling pastries and a small bouquet of flowers. She tries not to look at Farah, knowing the woman is staring at her side profile with a suggestive look.

"Hey," Frank finally speaks up, a soft smile gracing his face.

"Hi," Y/N replies, feeling slightly breathless.

"Jesus Christ," Farah mumbles. "I was just on my way out."

Frank moves to the side so she can pass. She leaves the studio, not before turning back around.

"Have fun with your friend, Y/N," she points at Frank. "Don't be too rough with her, alright?"

Y/N quickly grabs the first thing she can get her hands on, which happens to be a crusty paint brush, leaning halfway out the doorframe and throwing it at Farah as hard as she can. It barely misses, as her friend lets out a cackle and runs down the stairs.

"Bitch!"

"Love you!"

She grumbles, awkwardly turning back to Frank, who's trying not to laugh at their antics.

Y/N clears her throat. "So, uh, ready to get to work?"

- - -

They spend the next hour or so thoroughly making sure everything is done right on the flooring, as well as sanding the walls in preparation for when they paint them. Most of the work is done in silence, but it's not awkward. Y/N appreciates the quiet and doing it with Frank feels so natural.

She finally decides to break the silence, hoping what she's about to say won't ruin the mood. "Have you talked to your dad?" Frank pauses briefly, kneeling on the floor. "No, don't feel like getting into another screaming match."

"Why keep in touch if he treats you so bad?" she asks.

He sighs. "Promised my Ma I'd look out for him when she's gone. I only put up with his shit for her."

Y/N moves away from the wall she's been working on and closer to Frank. She pats him on the shoulder as he carries on cleaning the floorboards.

"I have a feeling she wouldn't want you to put up with him if she knew how he's been talking to you."

"Yeah well," Frank stands up, looking at her. "If I don't have him, then I don't have anyone."

"That's not-" Y/N stops herself from finishing her sentence. She wants to tell him how wrong he is. How he has his friend David, how he has all the customers who love his bakery. How he has her. There's no point though. As she's starting to learn that her words don't mean much in circumstances like this. That Frank won't believe her no matter what she says. How fucked that his own father made him feel this way. If she can't tell him, she'll do her damn best to show him.

Frank rubs her arm, pulling her out of her trance. "Anyway, enough about that shit. I think we're finally done."

They both look down at the now completed flooring, pleased with the outcome.

"Honestly, I don't think I could've done this without you," she says to Frank.

"Don't mention it," he responds, picking up some of the left-over material. "I'll just run down real quick and put this stuff in the dumpster."

Frank leaves the room, giving Y/N the chance to slowly walk over their work. No creaking, or chances of getting splinters. It's slightly polished. Enough for her to slide along gracefully, but not too much for her to slip and fall. She takes off her shoes and goes to stand in the middle of the room. She points one foot to the side of her and poses, incredibly still. She uses the slippiness to her advantage, spinning around and performing a perfect Jeté. Her footwork is impeccable, as she's careful not to ruin the work that they've done.

Frank eventually comes back up to the studio, stopping in the doorway to watch Y/N perform. Like before, he's just as blown away by her moves. He smiles when she turns around and notices him staring.

"I don't know anything about ballet," he starts. "But l'd say you're one of the best out there at it."

She smiles back. "I have a feeling you don't watch ballet often."

"I might have to start," he moves closer to her. "So, d'you do any other kinds of dancing?"

"Mainly ballet, obviously," she says. "But I took ballroom classes when I was fourteen."

He hums, the sudden mischievous look in her eye putting him on edge.

She scoots over to where her phone rests on the windowsill, opening her music and clicking on one of the songs. A soft, melodic sound plays, the slow rhythm taking over the quiet in the room. She walks back over to Frank, her hands outstretched for him to take.

He laughs, moving back slightly. "No. Not a chance."

"Come on, just try," she keeps reaching out to him. "I think you'd be good at a little ballroom."

His arms are crossed, not budging. She keeps smiling at him, knowing eventually he'll break. "I promise I'll let you lead."

Frank rolls his eyes, knowing he can't say no to her enthusiastic mood. "You also promise I won't look like a dumbass?"

She takes his hands. "Oh, no I can't control that."

He shakes his head in amusement, as she places one of his hands on her back and the other firmly in hers. Her other hand rests on his shoulder, sending an impromptu shiver down his spine.

"So, let's just start with a basic box step," she says. "You're left foot goes forward, then your right foot goes to the side. Close your left to right, then step back and do the opposite. Right foot, then left goes to the side, then close right to left."

Frank's expression doesn't fill her with confidence. "That's basic?"

She huffs. "'m not good at explaining, I'm good at doing. So just watch what I do."

He does exactly that, as Y/N takes the lead at first. Her left foot goes forward, forcing his right to go back. she steps to the side, and he follows soon after. It's incredibly slow at first, Frank occasionally stepping on her toes. But after a few beats, they fall into sync. One step, to the side, another step, to the side, feet together.

"Good, and your form isn't bad either," she compliments as they carry on moving. "You wanna try leading now?"

"Sure," Frank doesn't sound convinced but tries not to show it.

They swap the moves, Frank picking it up a lot quicker than he did before. After a while, he feels braver, deciding to lead Y/N into a turn. The same movements, but now the pair of them are moving around the room, spinning slowly and swaying along to the rhythm of the music.

"Wow, look at you!" she exclaims, amazed by his sudden boldness. "Maybe you should teach people dance classes instead of me."

Frank smiles. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

They carry on dancing, Y/N forgetting about the message she received. Frank's presence, his warm hands holding her so tightly, her worries leave her mind.

While she closes her eyes in content, she doesn't notice the look on Frank's face as he thinks about what to do next. He grips her hand even tighter and pushes her into a spin. She yelps, as he pulls her back into his embrace and tips her back. Thankfully she has enough time to react, gripping his bicep and firmly slotting one leg into his, the other sticking out in a straight line.

"You wanna warn a girl next time you decide to throw her around and drop her?" she bites at him, although there's no malice in her tone.

"I was never gonna let you fall," he replies.

She grumbles under her breath, his strong arms making her feel safe.

He stands back to his full height, pulling her back up with him. They're impossibly close to each other, heavy breathing and lips a hair's breadth away. Frank's eyes are hooded, glancing over every inch of her face. He leans closer, noses touching as he closes his eyes.

Reality suddenly sets in, as Y/N shakes herself out of the trance and moves back. "Uh, thank you again for helping me with all this."

She sees the deflated expression on his face, as Frank nods his head and removes his grip from her waist. "My pleasure. Thank you for showing me that I'm not completely hopeless on my feet."

They smile at each other, awkwardness setting in.

"So, I should probably-" Frank says, pointing to the door.

"Yeah, of course," she says, as they move out of the studio and down the stairs. "Busy day at the bakery tomorrow?"

"Just like every other day."

They make it to the front entrance of the building, Frank turning around to face her. They stand there for a few seconds, unsure how to say goodbye after what almost happened between them.

Y/N chooses first, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him. "'ll see you soon, okay?"

Frank hugs her back even tighter. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

They say goodbye and he leaves, Y/N slowly shutting the door. She leans her back against it and groans, resting her head in her hands. It's getting harder to ignore the incessant feelings creeping their way into her mind. And right now, she's unsure if she wants them to stop.

- - -

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