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milkymoon2483 · 2 years ago

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Flames made of Snow

Push & Pull - Episode 2 Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OFC

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Summary: Frank can't keep his eyes or thoughts away from you. He struggles to accept his feelings, since he thinks they are deeply wrong and he shouldn't be acting on them. You sense something is different but every time you attempt to draw closer Frank just pushes you away.

Disclaimers:

I’m Jewish (and plus size) but I do not live in the US, so there might be some differences in the way certain things are done and some inaccuracies. My apologies.

Yes this is self indulgent because I’m feral for this man.

I’m secular and will not be discussing Judaism in length. Will explain some basics though that are mentioned in the story.

Rating: E.18+. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: Alternating POV, age gap (legal), Mentions of alcoholism, drinking, smoking, divorce, trauma, plus size reader, insecurities, problematic relationship with food, and probably a bunch of other stuff. This is a little dark. WC: ~4300

Thank you my lovelies. @romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @boysddontcry @imaswellkid

Flames made of Snow

Hannah Leah Friedman. All grown up.

Frank's eyes rested on you the moment he came into Deborah’s house. It was impossible to avoid you, shining brighter than any other person in the room, you kept circling his peripheral vision, drawing his eyes in. No teenage awkwardness clang to you, you were graceful, feminine, and Frank found it hard not to notice.

And he hated himself for it. She’s so young. Too fucking young.

He’d hoped and prayed that three years ago he imagined something that wasn’t there, instead it was now amplified tenfold. You’d glance at him briefly, causing his gut to stir a little each time your eyes would meet.

The Unbearable weight of people's presence was getting too heavy for you to carry. The first day of the Shiva was in ‘full swing’ and Deborah’s house was buzzing with activity. According to tradition the first of kin are supposed to be in mourning, and it was other people’s job to cater to you. Deborah didn’t let that minor detail get in the way of her running around and making sure everyone was taken care of, it was obvious she wanted to keep busy. You were right behind her, refilling trays of food, loading the dishwasher and actively avoiding any old yente that would inevitably ask you about having a boyfriend, or going on a diet ‘because you're so pretty’, or both.

Passing behind ‘The Ednas’, two of your late father’s aunts, who shared a name and an attitude, you did catch word about the ‘handsome goi’. It made you chuckle, realizing that the women in your family must have a ‘type’.

A handsome goi indeed.

You tried not to think about him, not to pay attention to him, focus on the fact that this is your father’s shiva and it’s clearly not a time to ogle at him.

Dressed in a thin black sweater with the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, his ridiculously toned forearms, laced with veins that ran all the way down to his large hands. He was giving you plenty not to think about.

People called your name left and right, asking questions, trying to make small talk, pushing their noses into your life and giving you unsolicited advice, making the nauseating lump in your throat grow larger. The cacophony of noises and smells and faces drowned you, each 'commiserating' hug making it harder to breathe.

“Don’t eat that, it's pure sugar” your mother noted when you attempted to take a bite from a cookie. The first bite of food you’ve had in hours. A wave of shame washed over you, just like it did when you were younger, no bite of food escaped your mother’s prodding eyes, and she didn’t spare you any commentary. This is why you preferred to eat alone. That woman took all the joy out of eating.

You rolled your eyes at her as blatantly as you could, putting the cookie down and grabbing your glass of red wine with you as you exited the room.

Fuck you, Jaqeline.

You took your coat and silently snuck out into the back yard.

The thin layer of snow crunched under your boots as you lit up the cigarette, inhaling deeply and allowing the nicotine buzz to dissolve the nausea, soothing your frayed nerves.

“So you smoke now?” the low grave voice called behind you, making you turn your head swiftly.

“And drink, and eat carbs, and do a bunch of other shit mother would disapprove of” you replied, the exhaustion and bitterness loosening your tongue.

"A bunch..huh" Frank chuckled at your response. “I’m gonna tell Deb” he jokingly threatened.

“Go ahead. We shared one this morning, I’m sure she’d love to take a break” you smirked, taking another puff.

He raised his arms in defeat.

“How have you been kiddo?”

“I’m 23 Frank, not a kiddo anymore” god you hated that fucking nickname. The sight of him was too much, too heavy for you to bear at that moment, making you bite back.

“Ok Han, sweetheart, how are you?” he asked again, softening his voice.

“I’m fucking amazing, all things considered” tears prickled your eyes again, making them look glassy and huge.

Please don’t hug me, please don’t hug me.

Frank fought the urge to wrap you in his arms, offering instead a sterile pet on your shoulder. Maybe coming after you was a bad idea, it probably was. It was selfish and stupid. He should have left you alone, should have let you rest from the prodding eyes of others, even his own.

He watched your plush lips, in a shade of berry, wrap around the cigarette, immediately diverting his look to his boots.

“Do you want me to go? It’s ok if you need a few minutes to yourself” he continued, hoping you’d tell him to stay.

“No Frank, I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“S'ok, your dad’s passed, and you weren’t super close but it still hurts.”

“I’ll be ok, I’m just a little overwhelmed by all the living people right now” you chuckled wryly.

You stood there in silence, not an uncomfortable one. Frank's presence was surprisingly calming. Or maybe just less of a burden than anybody else's. As long as you weren't looking at him you were fine.

Frank reached out to you, plucking the cigarette out of your hand.

He pulled his bottom lip, licking and scraping his teeth over it, and placed the lipstick-stained filter between his lips, taking a deep draw. The orange tip burned bright as your heart rate accelerated.

"Fuck I miss this shit" he said as he returned it back to you, exhaling the thick smoke.

You gulped.

His eyes sat heavy on your face, making you self conscious. You attempted your best nonchalant smile before drawing the cigarette back into your mouth.

“What?” you finally asked, tilting your head.

“Nothin’..I better go inside” he replied before quickly going back into the house.

Frank’s gut churned. Get the fuck away from her.

*******

The day was finally over, only 6 more of them left. You turned into bed as early as you could, craving some relief from other people, cuddling up under the blanket in the cold guest room.

The image of Frank's lips on your cigarette swirled constantly in your mind. You were seeking its meaning, like you always have, with everything he did. It was probably just as meaningless as any other gesture.

Your phone softly pinged

21:44 Frank Hey Han, just wanted to check on you. Need anything?

21:45 Hannah Hey Frank. Sorry for the salty attitude. I'll be ok. Debs taking good care of me.

21:46 Frank youre allowed to be pissed, didnt scare me. Thanks for the smoke btw, needed that.

21:46 Hannah I got more where that came from. Dont actually smoke, just bought one pack.

21:48 Frank Nah I think that was enough for me at my old age.

21:49 Hannah I think youve still got a few good years in you zayde.

21:53 Frank You callin me grandpa? Ouch

21:54 Hannah Did you google that now?

21:54 Frank Did no such thing, meidale

21:55 Hannah Showing off your yiddish Im impressed

21:57 Frank Thats about all I got, and the cuss words your dad taught me Gonna miss that schmuck

21:57 Hannah Schmuck indeed Gonna miss him too

21:58 Frank Goodnight Han

22:00 Hannah Goodnight Frank

You were thankful you were too exhausted to try and decipher the meaning of this. Frank rarely texted you, and it was always one message, letting you know some logistic detail. This was different. Or you just wanted it to be, you couldn't tell anymore. You fell asleep shortly after, too tired to dream.

Frank attempted to convince himself this was ok. just making sure she's ok. He was being a good friend to Saul, that's all. He didn’t cross any lines, he didn’t say or do anything inappropriate. Every thought about how badly he wanted to hug you was pushed as far back as he could manage. The thoughts about how pretty you were, weren’t even acknowledged.

*******

When you woke up the following morning it took you a few moments to piece together the events of the previous day. It was one of those days that felt like a week. Just 24 hours ago you woke up in your dorm room and now you're here, and your father’s dead and buried.

The realization of 6 more days of shiva hit you hard, you didn’t even know what you’d be doing after it’s over. Maybe if you went back to college you could pretend it was all a weird dream.

But then there was Frank, and he was different, and you didn’t know what to make of it. If anything at all.

Central heating finally made it warm enough to draw the covers back, and you dragged yourself into the kitchen to get some much needed coffee.

Mercifully, the house was quiet and the fresh coffee pot was all yours. Everyone else was still asleep as you sipped in silence, enjoying some precious solitude before the house was filled with people again. You drew the checkered curtain back, allowing the cool winter light to pour through the kitchen window. A fresh layer of snow covered the front lawn, piling on the bulbs of the metallic menorah lawn decor, creating flames made of snow.

*******

By the 4th day of the shiva the crowd dwindled significantly, only a few 'regulars' remained, some of which you knew came for the free food. The house was filled with a constant quiet murmur, like a background noise you didn’t realize was annoying you until it has stopped. Deborah operated on what seemed like an endless source of renewable energy, while yours dissipated with each passing day.

You’ve already admitted to yourself that you were waiting for Frank. He told you he would be able to make it again that evening, and you snuck back into the guest room to fix yourself up as discreetly as possible. Vanity had no room in the jewish shiva, you weren’t supposed to wear makeup, or change clothes, or even look at yourself in the mirror. A jewish person in mourning must immerse themselves fully in grief. But your grief was overshadowed, pushed to the side by an urge you have been suppressing for nine years. There was no logic behind your actions, yet you were compelled.

As Frank entered the living room he found you deep behind ‘enemy lines’.

“So Hanneleh, do you have a boyfriend back at college? No? That’s a shame.” “You know you can try the Atkins diet, I’ve lost ten pounds on it last year” “Remind me what it is you major in? Psychology? Why doncha go for something more practical like Ruthy, Moshe’s girl. She’s studying computer science”

He admired how you addressed every question with poise, seemingly unfazed by the not so subtle jabs of criticism pointed at you by the three older women that surrounded you.

“Excuse me ladies. Deb asked me to get Hannah, she’s needed in the kitchen” Frank’s voice boomed over the chatter.

You gave him the most thankful look and followed him towards the kitchen. A horrifying thought crept up on him, he would do anything for you to keep looking at him like that.

You both slipped silently into the empty kitchen. Frank took your hand, leading you into the pantry and shut the door behind him.

He knew this was risky the moment his hand touched yours but his body acted before his damn brain had a chance to catch up.

“Shhh” he put his finger on his lips. “Be very very quiet” his impression of Elmer Fudd made you both chuckle.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue, but I would have handled that myself” You said with a slight smirk.

“I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, why stop now?” He replied quietly, in a more serious tone than he would've liked. “For the record, I think you're doing great”

“I try” you said, looking down at your hands because you felt like holding his gaze would break you. Frank's eyes followed yours. “That’s pretty” he took your wrist in his large hand, running his thumb gently over the small rose tattoo. Heat began to pull in the apex of your thighs while your belly stirred so violently it made you nauseous.

“Thanks, that’s for grandma Rose” you carefully raised your eyes to meet his.

You didn’t notice that you have stopped breathing altogether.

You stood there for a moment that stretched, a pregnant silence between you, pulling the blood from your head towards your gut. The air drained out of the small space, and it was suddenly obvious how close you were standing.

The fuck are you doing Castle?…Frank scolded himself. It’s like he couldn’t help it. Knowing this was wrong didn’t make him stop. He was breaching his own boundaries, the ones he promised himself he wouldn’t. He crossed them one by one, taking little steps in your direction.

“Frank!! Did you find the dates in the pantry?” Deborah’s voice called, making you gulp for air.

“Yeah Deb, thanks” He replied loudly, before grabbing the box and gesturing you to follow him back out.

********

By now texting with Frank at night has become a ritual, something you looked forward to at the end of each exhausting day. You'd always dance around anything too serious, too personal, too suggestive.

22:01 Frank Hey Han, good seeing you today How are you?

22:03 Hannah Yeah, you too Im ok. Thanks again for the rescue mission They would have eventually made me lose my shit

22:04 Frank Couldve fooled me I told you dont mind em, youre doing great And youre beautiful.

22:05 Hannah Well youre not so bad yourself Im not everyones cup of tea and thats ok.

22:06 Frank I bet youre lots of peoples cup of tea trust me on that bet boys chase you all the time, maybe some girls too

22:07 Hanna

Youre gonna make me blush now And people only chase me to ask me for my class notes But youre right, its both boys and girls.

22:08 Frank Im serious. If I was in their place Id be hogging your class notes too.

22:10 Hannah Well I guess sometimes its not that simple But thanks.

22:11 Frank You know I mean it

22:11 Hannah well now i AM blushing

22:13 Frank Im going to shower and head to bed. Goodnight Han.

22:14 Hannah Goodnight Frank.

Every breach of the invisible border around what you both avoided was met with the same response. Was he trying to let you down gently? Were you reading him all wrong? Would there come a time when he didn't stop you?

You sighed heavily. A mixture of arousal and defeat pooled in your gut. The thought of him in the shower, the hot water pouring down his muscular back, the scent of his soap, you could almost smell it, almost feel it on the tips of your fingers. "Show me..show me how you touch yourself baby" you imagined his deep voice rumble through your body, the ghost of his hot breath in your ear. "That’s right…make yourself feel good, pretty girl"

A pathetic old man lurking around a young girl's social media like a goddamn creep. That's what he was. His long forgotten instagram account was being put into use in the most fowl way. The content was relatively tame for what he imagined girls your age posting. You looked different in the pictures, happier, carefree. Your life seemed full, and fun, and you seemed to fit right in it. His eyes lingered on the short video of you dancing, the skirt of your floral dress swirled around your legs, soft curves swaying to the music, laughter bubbling, face flushed from the heat.

He imagined peeling that dress off, the scent of your sweat and perfume clinging to your dampened skin, the pads of his fingers digging into your soft flesh, you calling his name, pleading for him to touch you. His cock twitched in interest at the thought, Frank pressed on it with the heel of his palm, feeling the familiar spark of pleasure begin to skittle along his abdomen.

Fuckfuckfuck no…no.

He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of any thoughts of you, and your sweet smile, and your lovely smell, and your plush body. Fuck you looked so soft. He would not be touching himself with you still clinging to his memory. He was determined to do right by you, by your father. It didn’t matter what he wanted, or what you thought you wanted.

********

He didn’t plan on coming to the shiva again, staying away from you was the main objective, but when Deb called asking him for help he couldn’t refuse. He attempted to mentally prepare himself to face you, but when you greeted him at the door his resolve crumbled.

"Heya” you smiled brightly at him, embracing him with one arm while holding a pile of napkins in the other.

He’d been fighting with himself on this for days, and he kept losing. Maybe he was tired of fighting, so when you asked him to give you a ride back to your dad’s house, he happily agreed.

The day was finally over. It was finally done. You breathed a deep sigh of relief as the burden slowly began to lift.

Your head throbbed as Frank loaded your luggage into his truck. You needed to think, to process this on your own, to sit with yourself in silence and figure out your next moves.

“You sure you wanna be in that old house all alone honey? Maybe stay a few more days with us” Deborah kept insisting and you loved her for it, but after seven days of constantly being around other people you just craved some solitude.

“Thanks Deb but I’ll be fine. I really need to clear some stuff out of the house, and if anything happens Frank is just across the street” you answered, hoping she would finally let you go.

Frank drove in silence, the radio played faintly in the background, it was just enough to steer your stream of consciousness towards the music, but not enough to bother you. “Fields of gold”...you always did love that song.

You barely stole looks his way, his profile was striking, sharp cheekbones, strong jawline, and the slope of that dramatic nose you adored. The eyes that seemed sharp and solely focused on the road ahead, averted straight towards you as soon as the car stopped at the red light. They were deep, soft, empathetic. The corners of his mouth lifted only slightly, but his eyes creased nonetheless.

He wanted so badly to lay his hand on your thigh, let the warmth of it seep through your tights. Offer you some comfort, a strong wall to lean against. Whatever that other feeling that stirred inside of him was, it never dulled his need to protect you.

It was surreal, driving up to your father’s house. The pale blue two story looked just like you remembered it. You walked up the snow covered trail to the front door, suddenly dreading what you’ll find inside.

It was the smell that hit you first, bringing that familiar nervous energy you always had walking in there, not knowing what version of your father you’re going to meet.

His black coffee cup was still sitting on the kitchen table, contents molded and disgusting. His robe hung on the recliner, next to a paper that was barely two weeks old. The scene was tragic in it’s simplicity.

Just two weeks ago he was here, very much alive, maybe he waited for you to come visit. Maybe he wanted to call or text, maybe he was getting worse and he thought he couldn't burden you with that.

Tears began to blur your vision, as your chest caved in at the sight of your father’s empty home.

Frank had carried your suitcase straight upstairs to your bedroom. When he went back down he found you in tears. He ran towards you, and as his arms wrapped tightly around you, some deep voice inside of him whispered finally. He banished the selfish beast, quickly returning his focus back to you. But you were soft, just like he imagined you’d be. Soft and warm and lovely. You fit in his arms perfectly.

“Shh…Hannah, sweetheart…it’s ok.” He spoke quietly, running his heavy hands on your hair.

”Fuck Frank, he was all alone..I was such a dick to him at the end” you sobbed, smearing your tears on his sweatshirt.

“No, no. It’s been so hard on you. None of this is your fault” Frank cooed.

“I knew he had problems, I knew he was sick, I should have done more, I should have been there for him instead of running away like an asshole” you kept scolding yourself through your tears as the remorse flooded you.

He ran soothing circles on your back, pulling you closer to his warmth, wrapping you in his solid embrace. You were suddenly aware of every part of your body that was pressing against his. He smelled like his cologne, and trees, and leather, and the winter breeze that bit your face. You remained nuzzled into his chest until your tears began to subside.

“Sweetheart, Han, look at me” he begged and you lifted your head, wiping your tears with your sleeves.

His large palms engulfed your face, all red and puffy, as he ran two thumbs under your closed eyes. “Look at me please” he asked again, and you opened your eyes slowly, afraid that the eye contact would make you burst into tears again.

His eyes were so soft when he spoke. “Absolutely none of this is your fault. Do not blame yourself on a lifetime of his bad decisions. He loved you, as well as he could. Please just try to forgive him and don’t blame yourself, Ok?”

“Ok” you replied almost silently.

“Ok” He mirrored your voice.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingered as he drew a deep breath in, inhaling your scent. This was the closest you have ever been, and the proximity made your head spin. Heat drizzled in the apex of your thighs, a mixture of sadness and longing and want.

He broke off the kiss, only to lean his forehead on yours, sliding his palms slowly towards your neck. You could feel the ghost of his breath, getting progressively heavier and synchronizing with yours, as you began to slowly tilt your head upwards, bringing your lips closer to his. His thumb swiped on your cheek, tugging the very edge of your mouth in a motion so gentle it could be mistaken for being unintentional.

Except it wasn’t.

It would be so easy to press his mouth on yours, to taste your lovely lips. He would never dare do that.

"I better go" he rasped, laying one palm on your shoulder.

He gathered every morsel of self control in his possession to make himself stop.

You backed off slowly, turning towards the kitchen to wash your face and salvage a modicum of your dignity, the sting of rejection bringing another wave of tears to your eyes.

“Yeah, thanks Frank. I think…I think I’ll be fine. I’m just so tired” you sniffled. You desperately wanted him to leave, so you could cry again, cry to your heart's content. You wanted to feel the vines of pain that wrapped themselves around your chest, constricting your breath.

“S’ok Han, I know you’ll be ok. Please text me if you need anything, I’ll be home” He smiled back at you.

Frank closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh. You’d be just across the road, yet so far away. He wanted to stay, to comfort you, to make you forget all about it, to kiss you long and deep.

But he knew himself too well, he knew he had a tendency of trying to save people that didn't ask for it, and it usually backfired spectacularly.

So fucking selfish and stupid, Castle. So goddamn pretentious of you to think that you can somehow fix this, that you can somehow 'save' her. She doesn’t need you. And you sure as hell can’t ‘fix’ her drunk dead daddy for her.

To your surprise, the dam didn't break and the tears didn't come. Drained and emotionless, you sat there for a while, staring at the living room that still contained so much evidence of life. A small sad life.

Your eyes were drawn to a picture of you and your dad, right after your bat-mitzvah ceremony. You had just begun speaking again and he was thrilled to be invited. You looked almost normal, just a grumpy teenager in an ill-fitting blue dress and her dad, beaming with pride, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Exhaustion settled in your bones, the full weight of the past week and the tasks ahead laid heavy on you.

When Frank texted an hour later you were already asleep.

22:12 Frank Hey Han. You feeling better?

22:48 Frank Goodnight sweetheart

It’s been more than thirteen years since Frank’s last drink, and he didn’t remember missing it as much as he did tonight. He had failed. He had failed Saul and he had failed you. Wanting you had only made it so much worse. He was undeserving of you, regardless of your age, that was just a small part of the million different reasons he could not allow this.

Guilt ate away at him slowly, bit by bit, and there was nothing he could do to numb the pain.

He hadn’t told you yet, because your father asked him not to, but eventually he will have to. He knew he would have to confess his sins, and that look in your eyes, that lovely thankful look, it would be gone.

FIN.

#frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #jon bernthal #jewish representation #jewish reader #x plus size reader #original character

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