#happy holidays kastle fam!

[zushigirl]

“Be honest with yourself, Karen. You’re as likely to see Frank Castle again as you are to bake gingersnaps in your grandmother’s kitchen.”

She leans back, eyes wandering. Gazing at the Christmas lights strung along the balcony across the alleyway.

It’s then she remembers the nutcracker in her purse.

Happy New Year’s Kastle fam! I am late as always in sharing my holiday-themed fics, but I hope you’ll enjoy a belated Kastle Christmas present 🎄💛

[ninzied]

p.s. i—

frank’s letters get returned to sender.

a kastle christmas fic. for frosty friday: longing, surprise reunions.

also on ao3.

The first one Frank sends almost by accident.

He’s been on the road. Driving if only to keep one horizon ahead of him, and the other in his rearview mirror. He stops for gas, and for coffee. Some nights he doesn’t even bother with a motel to sleep off the long day’s drive; the air is cold but not always unbearably so, for December, and from the cargo bed of his pickup, he has full view of the stars.

He’d almost forgotten what they looked like, having lived in the city so long.

He’s sitting at a roadside diner, making his way through some bacon and eggs when something catches his eye on the counter. It’s a spinning display of holiday postcards, most of them nothing to write home about. But Frank finds himself picking up a card of the northern constellations, the ones expected to show around Christmas – which, again, not likely from the city.

He’s scrawled out Karen’s address on the back before he’s even aware of asking the waitress for a pen.

He doesn’t write a note. Doesn’t even sign his name, including the one the government gave him.

Somehow, he thinks she’ll understand.

…

After that, it becomes something of a habit.

He starts with short messages – a simple Hey from the Smokies, it’s me, and an equally brief Hope you’re well while he’s hiking through the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The first few words are the hardest, but once he’s gotten them down it’s like a dam has been broken. Then it becomes almost terrifyingly easy, like it would defy some law of physics not to keep going. To stay connected to her in these small ways.

Think you would like this, he writes when he finds himself driving past Edith Wharton’s estate up along Massachusetts' west border. He’s not familiar with her work, but he’s seen some of her novels on Karen’s shelf before.

He keeps driving for a while, not ready to turn back just yet. Herman Melville’s place is not much farther north. Overrated, Frank writes on the back of that postcard.

Even when he returns to the city, he can’t seem to stop.

Instead of postcards, now, it’s letters. Short ones, still, for the most part. Telling her about a new coffee shop he found, one that hasn’t been overrun by the hipsters. When he gets a job as a foreman, he writes her about that too.

He never signs his name. But he does start leaving a return address. The place he’s just moved to is a walk-up in Brooklyn, in a quiet little neighborhood with a dog park down the street. He takes the paper there in the mornings, finds himself scanning the local crime pages. The headlines start running together after a while, but they’re not the real reason he’s looking.

He leaves that part out when he writes her.

Two weeks after he’s moved, tucked between ads and an internet bill, there’s a letter.

He pulls it free, the inside of his chest going tight. Karen’s name is written there, in his handwriting. A bright red RETURN TO SENDER has been stamped into the corner of the envelope.

He has no way of knowing when she moved, or how long she hasn’t been getting his letters. His postcards, even. If she’s received any of them at all. Most of them didn’t have an address to bounce back to, a place where he’s finally stood still, until now.

…

They keep coming back to him, one after another.

He thinks about calling her, but it’s vastly more daunting than sending that first handful of postcards had been. He thinks of everything he’s written her – all the things he’s said without saying – and the prospect of trying to voice them aloud in a phone call is enough to have him hanging up before he’s finished dialing her number.

The letters pile up on his counter, wrinkled through and creased at the corners, their seals all worn apart. Frank doesn’t want to imagine how carelessly they must have been handled. Worse – he doesn’t want to imagine anyone else reading these words he’d written for Karen, discarding them where they might’ve meant something to her.

But he does, and it eats at him, making that ache in chest crack wider each time another letter gets returned.

If he’s doing this, then he’s doing this right. Karen deserves to hear everything he has to say face-to-face. She deserves the chance to close her door on him, too, if that’s what she decides she wants.

And Frank – what Frank wants is—

…

He’s waiting to hear back from Lieberman when he gets the last letter he’d sent her.

He tries to remember what he’d written. He’d been at the coffee place that day, reading The Age of Innocence. The barista had made some remark about how he fit right in, the black coffee and flannel, the beard and the unusual choice in books. Frank had taken none of this lightly, and expressed as much in his letter, stopping short of what he really wanted to say to her – You should be here. With me.

I—

He picks up the envelope. This seal’s broken too, but he’s come to expect that. This one looks particularly weathered, like it’s been through hell and back. Not exactly a stretch, considering where her old neighborhood had been. Frank checks his phone again, in case Lieberman’s called with an update. He hasn’t. Frank thumbs open the letter, sliding it free.

A single white rose petal falls out.

Frank stares at it for a long moment. Feels its softness, the delicacy of its contours that haven’t been fully pressed out by the letter. It’s still fresh, not quite browned at the edges. Fragrant. Almost dewy to the touch. It can’t have been sent back to him more than a couple days ago.

And it can’t have been anyone other than Karen.

He piles everything together, touching each one with a new kind of wonder. All those letters, all the words that he wrote her – she’d read them. More than that, she’d read in between them. Into the space where he’s trying to settle, into the life that he’s slowly finding a way to rebuild.

And now, he thinks, she’s asking him to finally, finally, make them mean something real.

Frank’s bundling the letters into his jacket when he gets the call from Lieberman. He lets it go to voicemail.

He knows where he’s going, now.

…

Her place is exactly as he’d remembered it.

Even the doorman’s the same. Frank pulls back his hood and lifts a brown paper bag as he passes. The doorman waves him through, hardly glancing up from his computer.

Karen’s still in her work clothes when she opens the door. Another black skirt, a soft cream-colored blouse. She’s wearing black tights this time, a concession to the colder weather. She’s already toed off her heels, but then, Frank’s oddly used to seeing her barefoot by now.

“Frank.” She looks at him, and there’s a soft kind of knowing in the way she leans into the doorframe. “I take it you got my message.”

“Took me longer than it should’ve,” Frank admits. He sways forward a step. “You’ve been getting my letters.”

“Yes,” she says simply. “And I’d like them back now, please, if you have them.”

He pulls the stack of them out of his jacket. “What’d you do, bribe your mailman or something?”

“Not exactly.” There’s a twinkling kind of light in her eyes. Frank feels like he’s in the back of his pickup again, looking at the stars. “I helped him out once. He owed me a favor.”

She takes the letters, tucking them against her arm. Holding them closer than Frank feels he deserves, but he’s not about to ask her to stop. Not now. Not ever. Not anymore.

“I can tell you about it sometime,” she says. “If you want.”

“Yeah?” Frank raises the bag in his hand, beer bottles clinking. This part feels familiar, too, and yet so very, terrifyingly new. Like both nothing and everything’s changed, all at once. “Is, uh. Is now good for you?”

Karen bites her lip, the corner of it lifting up in a smile. “I’d say it’s about time, Frank,” she says, and nudges her hip into the door, letting him inside.

[carry-the-sky]

merry and bright

summary

Foggy has seen his fair share of crazy shit— alien portals, ninjas, dudes with glowing fists and bulletproof skin, ninjas again. His best friend—who’s blind, by the way—spends his nights in a red spandex suit leaping across buildings and running down criminals. Foggy can’t say he’s used to any of it yet, but he’s getting there. 

Well, he was. Frank Castle standing in the entryway to Josie’s might just be the final straw. 

[read chapter one on ao3]

kastlechristmas 2021 || santa saturday | christmas parties with friends (hers), gift exchanges, definitely not a date (definitely)

happy holidays, kastle fam  ❄🎄❄ 🎄❄

Foggy has seen his fair share of crazy shit— alien portals, ninjas, dudes with glowing fists and bulletproof skin, ninjas again. His best friend—who’s blind, by the way—spends his nights in a red spandex suit leaping across buildings and running down criminals. Foggy can’t say he’s used to any of it yet, but he’s getting there. 

Well, he was. Frank Castle standing in the entryway to Josie’s might just be the final straw. 

His first thought is why now? That shitshow of a trial was eons ago; there’s no way Frank’s back because of that, right? It’s not Foggy’s fault the guy went ballistic up on the stand. And how the hell did he manage to track Foggy here? 

But then Foggy sees Karen standing next to Frank, her arm looped in his. 

Huh. This must be what having a stroke feels like.

Karen spots him across the bar and waves. He just saw her at the office yesterday, but she looks, well, different. Her hair’s a little curly at the ends, and even from over here, he can tell she’s wearing makeup. 

They’ve started walking toward him, and his brain kicks into overdrive, the past couple of weeks flashing behind his eyes like those flipbooks he used to make when he was a kid— Karen staring off into space at her desk, Karen’s face going tomato-red when Foggy asks if she finally caved and downloaded Tinder because she’s glancing at her phone every two seconds, Karen breezing into the office late, apologetic but also weirdly smiley—

Oh, no. No no no—

Frank turns his head, says something into Karen’s ear, and she laughs softly. 

Okay, this is what having a stroke feels like.

They’re ten steps away, and Foggy’s hit with the absurd urge to arm himself with something. Not that there’s any point; Frank could probably murder him with his pinky finger and make it look like an accident. Instead, Foggy casts a quick glance around. Marci’s over at the bar talking to Josie, and Matt’s not here yet, per usual. There are a few other people hanging around, but none of them have looked twice at Frank. Maybe it’s because the guy has an honest-to-God mountain man beard and is wearing— is that flannel? Whatever, the point is that he actually looks halfway normal, not bruised to hell and bleeding like the last time Foggy saw him.

Which is weird.

Maybe Josie slipped something into his beer. That would explain why he feels like he’s been hit over the head with something very heavy.

“Foggy?”

Karen’s voice. Karen’s right in front of him, and so is Frank. 

“Uh— hi?” Foggy manages to croak out, waggling his hand in a tiny wave.

Frank presses his lips into a thin line, like he’s trying not to smile, or something, which, yeah, okay, add that to the list, because up until this nanosecond, Foggy was convinced the guy did nothing but brood, yell, and shoot things. Specifically in that order.

Karen glances between him and Frank. “Foggy, you remember”—her eyes skitter around the bar— “you remember Pete?” 

Foggy’s mouth opens and closes a few times; then he’s bobbing his head like an idiot. “Pete! Totally remember Pete. Because that’s his name. Yep, no brand new information to process here at all.” 

Frank snorts, ducking his head, and Foggy swears he sees a flash of teeth. 

Well. At least one of them is enjoying themselves.

Karen gives Foggy a shaky smile that seems to say I’m sorry and please don’t freak out simultaneously, which is a mighty tall order, especially because now that he’s looking, he can see that they’re both holding what appear to be gift bags.

Karen follows the line of his eyes. “For the white elephant exchange,” she says, like this whole situation is completely normal and not what’s currently giving Foggy an aneurysm. “Unless— did we miss it? We’re a little late—” 

“Nope,” Foggy says weakly. “Not late. Uh, our table’s back there, you can just—” he gestures toward the back of the bar, eager for the excuse to put space between himself and the known mass murderer who apparently just crashed his Christmas party.

Frank must have ESP or something, because he takes a step back, jerking a thumb at the bar. “Gonna grab some drinks. See you back there?”

Karen bobs her head, watching as he walks away. When he’s out of earshot, she turns back to Foggy. “Okay, I know you must have a million questions—”

Foggy barks out a laugh. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. Let’s start with: why? And more importantly: how? And then maybe circle back to why again, because I feel like my head’s gonna explode.”

“I didn’t plan for this, if that’s what you’re asking.” Karen dips her head a little, hand darting to tuck her hair behind her ear in a gesture that Foggy instantly recognizes as nerves. “God, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Give me the Spark Notes version.”

It’s her turn to huff out a laugh. “I’m honestly not sure I can, Foggy. So much has happened since the trial, things that you and Matt didn’t—” she bites her lip. “There’s a lot more to his story than we thought. I got caught up in some of it.”

“Got caught up in? Or ran headfirst into?”

“That’s fair. A little of both, I guess.”

“Okay, that checks out. But that still doesn’t explain why he’s here. I thought the guy was still, you know—” he mimes a stabbing motion with his fist.

“He’s not,” Karen says simply. “Not anymore.” 

“So that’s why his name is Pete, now?”

Karen nods. “Clean slate.”

Foggy frowns. “And you’re— you’re okay? I mean, he’s not, like, holding you hostage, or something?” Karen quirks an eyebrow at that, and he holds his hands up. “Hey, just trying to determine if I should be calling the cops or trying to stage an intervention.”  

“Again, fair,” Karen laughs. Then her eyes soften. “I really am sorry for springing this on you.”

Foggy searches her face. As long as he’s known her, he’s never seen her with her guard completely down. He remembers sitting here with her a lifetime ago, listening to her talk about the city and its dark corners. She was alone, then. Alone and scared. She doesn’t seem to be either of those things right now.

Hell with it. Maybe Josie really did spike his drink, or maybe Foggy can’t bring himself to be mad when his best friend is looking at him like that, like she’s mentally bracing for impact, like she expects him to freak out or yell or tell her she’s crazy. Which— she is. But maybe that doesn’t matter. After the year Foggy’s had—the year all of them have had—maybe it’s enough that they’re here, together, safe. Maybe it’s enough to enjoy a hard-earned night out with people he loves. 

And Frank Castle.

Foggy heaves a sigh. “I’m not saying I understand, because I sure as hell don’t, but— if you’re happy, I’m happy. Or, I will be, after several more of these.” He lifts his beer, tries to give Karen a smile that says it’s totally fine and not at all insane that you’re maybe-possibly dating the freaking Punisher. 

Relief spills across her face, and she reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Foggy.”

“Couldn’t have just downloaded Tinder like the rest of us, huh?” he asks as they make their way to the back of the bar. Marci has commandeered a spot by the pool tables; she’s waving them over eagerly. 

Karen smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Fun. Yeah, scratch the beers. This is gonna be a drink-the-eel kind of night.

[goddamnitkastle]

Wait For Me

Happy #KastleChristmas! 

Yes, I did wait until the last possible second to post 🙃

And yes, I followed none of the prompt days (I think this falls under frosty friday, tradition thursday, and festive friday?? Maybe?)

Anyway here is a reunion fic, post TPS2. It’s the holidays, Karen is waiting for a package to arrive but Frank arrives instead, and it’s angsty cause of course it is.

Inspiration came from all over this time. It just might be a Christmas miracle that I didn’t find a scenario to rip off and make it Kastle for this fic. Huzzah!

A huge thank you to @evilbunnyking for being my beta reader. You are the best, your encouragement and enthusiasm made this fic happen.

Happy New Year Kastle fam! Here’s to 2022! 

Enjoy! 

“Karen Page, please stop refreshing the FedEx page. Now you’re giving me anxiety.”

Karen looks up from her phone and realizes that Ellison has strolled into her office, papers in one hand and the other hand in his pocket.

“How do you know I was checking for the package again? I could’ve been checking Twitter.” Karen fibs a little too quickly in an attempt to cover her stress.

“You and I both know you don’t do Twitter. Also this package has been the bane of both of our existences since Thanksgiving.” Ellison reminds her, which only adds to her irritation.

“If I knew ordering a case of wine and getting it shipped all the way across the country would be such a process, I think I would’ve just gotten Foggy and Marci literally anything else.”

“And remind me again, this is for their engagement party…?”

“Yes, their engagement party that they are hosting on New Year’s Eve.”

“I am sure it will get here before then.” Ellison assures her.

“It’s not just getting here before the party, Ellison, I have to sign for it - they’re not just going to leave a case of alcohol with my super. And FedEx will only make a certain number of attempts to get it delivered to me, and if I am not able to accept the delivery during any of their attempts they’re going to ship it back…”

Karen knows she is ranting at this point, so it’s a relief when Ellison raises his hand.

“It’ll be fine. And I think I can help you take your mind off of it.”  He says as he shakes the papers in his hand. “Can you look at this last editorial piece? We have to finalize this holiday edition of The Bulletin…”

“Yes, of course.”

Karen gets out of her chair and puts her phone in her back pocket. She follows Ellison to his office but she still can’t take her mind off of that damn package. Nevertheless the rest of her Monday carries on with edits and meetings, and when Karen locks her office for the night, the package remains in transit from Chicago.

…

That night Karen lies in bed, continuously refreshing the tracking page on her phone. She knows better; nothing is going to change in the three seconds it takes for her to press the curved arrow next to the URL, and yet... 

Karen groans in frustration. Snow has begun to fall outside the window. It glistens, each snowflake made of a thousand tiny diamonds illuminated by the street lights on her street. Something about the dim yellow light brings a memory, a flash of a man in black sitting across from her in a diner booth. He’s drinking coffee and giving advice about how to hold on to the people you love with two hands and to never let go of them.

She hasn’t seen Frank Castle since the hospital, when she offered him a way out. A way out of the war he refused to let go of. Why was she even thinking about him? He had made his decision and she was done standing by. He made it clear that there was no after for him and that he would not fight for one. When she walked away, she felt a chapter close.

Or so she thought. Another memory. She came home from work one random day and saw a pot of white roses on her kitchen island. She found a card with a phone number scribbled on it. She knows she should’ve been concerned that he managed to break into her apartment, but then again he did break into her car once so it honestly didn’t phase her.

She added the phone number to her phone under the initials F.C. and ripped up the card. She had thought about reaching out to him on numerous occasions but chickened out every time. 

Maybe it is loneliness. Maybe it is curiosity. Maybe she genuinely just wants to know if he is okay and still alive. It really doesn’t matter in the end. Karen calls the number and is greeted to an automated voice saying to leave a message after the tone.

She doesn’t remember what she says. It was something along the lines of that she hopes that he has found peace and that he is happy.

She goes to bed after that, thoughts of Frank dominating her mind rather than the case of wine and where it may be on its journey.

…

The rest of the week passes in a blur of twinkling lights, red and green swirls, and winter snow constantly in Karen’s peripheral vision. It’s the week before Christmas and there were deadlines to meet for the holiday edition of The Bulletin. It’s ready to go on Friday afternoon, just in time for the office party. Baked goods dominate the kitchen area as cheap wine fills everyone’s plastic cups. Karen dodges away from the festivities in her office and checks the Fedex tracking page for the first time all day.

The package has finally arrived in New York but it is taking its sweet time getting to Queens. The estimated delivery times have come and gone and now this time it is supposedly going to arrive between 4:00 PM and 8:00 PM.

“You can go Page.”

Karen jumps. Ellison has once again gotten the drop on her. He’s leaning against the door frame, shaking his head as he bites into a chocolate chip cookie. She almost wants this package to go missing just so she can get her heightened sensitivity back to normal.

“I’m so sorry, Mitchell. I honestly have not checked all day, I set up notifications to be sent when there were updates, at your suggestion. Which apparently don’t work, because I didn't even see that they have given me a new arrival time frame.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Foggy and Marci are your friends and you want to make sure that they get their gift. Just wanted to say that you did a great job this week. Now go.”

“Thank you - happy holidays!” Karen says as she grabs her purse and her coat. Ellison gets out of her way and then she’s out the door.

“Make sure you text me when the package does arrive, the suspense is killing me,” Ellison shouts to her over a Mariah Carey song. Karen gives a hasty thumbs up and laughs while descending the stairs.

…

Karen is back home in an hour and there is no sign of a FedEx delivery truck anywhere on her street. It is only after 6:00 PM though, so she still has two hours for this package to arrive.

She tries to keep herself occupied. She puts on pajamas, makes herself dinner, puts on a holiday movie with that actress from that popular teen movie, and pours herself a glass of wine. Only fifteen minutes have passed and no ring from her buzzer. She shuts the movie off and refreshes the tracking page on her phone again. Nothing has changed.

“Ugh! Come on!” Karen fumes.

Just then her buzzer goes off. Karen flies off her couch and runs to press the door button. Normally she would have asked who it was but all she could feel was elation that this package had finally arrived. 

“Oh shit.” Karen pats her pajama pants pockets and realizes that she doesn’t have her drivers license. She rushes back to the couch to grab her purse, runs back to the door, and rips it open.

It is not the wine delivery.

“Frank?”

He takes a step back but doesn’t say anything in response. In that moment all Karen does is process the fact that Frank Castle is standing outside her apartment door. His hands are in his pocket and he has grown a beard. He doesn’t look like he’s been in a gun fight and he wears a black coat. It’s a stark contrast to the last time she saw him lying in a hospital bed, handcuffed and still haunted by the loss of his entire world.

“Frank, what are you doing here?” Karen asks, realizing that he still hasn’t said anything.The prolonged pause between them has gone past the point of awkwardness.

“Hi, Karen. Did you, uh, order in?” he finally says. 

“No, I am expecting a delivery. I’ve actually been waiting on this delivery for… it feels like forever. I thought you were… a case of wine.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not.”

“No, you’re not.” Karen confirms.

“May I come in?” he asks hesitantly.

Karen involuntarily tilts her head to the side and lets out a sigh.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you said no. But you did call.”

“Yes, I called and left a message. I just wanted to see…” she starts to confess.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was in Louisiana…” Frank interjects, and Karen would swear that he sounds ashamed.

“Oh God, Frank, I didn’t expect you to come in person. I just thought you would call me back. You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, I did.” he says after a moment.

Karen opens her mouth and then closes it. She steps to the side and opens her  door wider. Frank walks in tentatively. After Karen closes the door and locks it, she approaches Frank.

“Seriously Frank, why did you come here?”

“I had to see you,” he admits quietly. “And ask you in person…”

“Ask me what?”

“Why did you call me?”

The silence hangs between them and Karen struggles to find the words. It was impulsive to call him but she doesn’t regret it. Okay, maybe she does a little bit, given how he is asking her why. Karen then realizes that she’s been here before with him. Last time she was barefoot and he was wearing a hospital gown. His I don’t want to lingers in the back of her mind and every instinct in her wants to shut down.

“I honestly don’t know.” She says eventually. ”The way we left things…” 

“I know. I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again.”

“Is that what you wanted?” 

“I thought it was for the best.”

How does he do that? Continue to put her in a new hell every time they’re together? She knows he feels the same way she does and yet he continues to break her in the name of honesty over and over again.

“For the best? To push away the one person that still cares about you?”

“I did it for you, Karen.”

“Frank do not…” She seethes.

“I had to do it,” he says with a confidence that doesn’t meet his eyes.

Karen rolls her eyes, tucks her hair behind her ears and starts to walk toward the couch. She thinks he’s going to follow but when he doesn’t, she has half a mind to kick him out. She honestly should. Instead she turns around to face him.  

“No you didn’t. I said we could figure it out together. I gave you that choice.”

“Why did you? Why did you offer that choice at all?”

“You’re seriously asking me why?” Karen asks incredulously.

Frank scratches his beard and looks away. Karen braces herself, ready for him to walk away again. It’s what he does, nothing is going to…

“I need to hear you say it.”

Karen’s eyes widen and for a split second, she thinks she can’t do it. She’s still so angry but now he’s looking at her like she is holding his life in her hands. And they both know it, one word from her and she will never see him again.

Many nights have passed where she would stay up and think about what she would say to Frank. It was a moment she thought would never come. But here he is and he’s looking at her, agonized but hopeful. And suddenly, it comes to her.

“Frank… I still feel the same way I did back in that hospital. Back in that elevator. Back by the waterfront. Back in the diner. I really can’t put it into words… the moment I met you I just knew. I knew you were going to be important to me. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know in what way. I love you. It’s that simple. And also difficult. But I want to try. And I think we can make it. So if you came all this way to tell me that you don’t want to for the second time then…”

In two steps Frank closes the distance between them and then his mouth is on hers. He’s cradling her face gently, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pulls back, that soul searing stare of his boring into her. 

“Does that… clear some things up for you?”

Karen doesn’t answer right away. Her chest is tight and yet she feels like she’s flying.

“Yes. However I think I still need some further clarification…”

She reaches for him and crashes her mouth against his. He responds and grips her waist and back fiercely to him. When he pulls back again, out of breath, he rests his forehead against hers. There’s no blood, panic, or a gun in their space this time. Just their warm breath, the hardwood floor beneath their feet, and an ease that Karen has not felt in a long time.

“Frank, what do you want?”

“You. Just you.”

It’s everything Karen wanted to hear. She feels his heart racing beneath her palms and she wants to believe he’s feeling happy but she knows him. Frank is a man who will look for danger first, and he will throw himself in the line of fire if he thinks it will protect the people that he loves.

“I want to believe you, I just…”

She looks at him. Frank brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead. His gaze has softened but when he takes her hand in his, he is holding it like she’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I know. I pushed you away. I was trying so hard to run away from this, and it was because I was scared. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, too. But I’d rather spend whatever time I have left with you, then never see you again. I hope you’ll let me stay by your side. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He kisses her again and she burns, he burns, they burn.

…  

They’re drinking their morning coffee on the couch. Frank only had the clothes on his back but Karen managed to find an old pair of oversize sweatpants for him. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” She asks for the fifth time since they woke up.

“No. In fact your apartment is hot, you got the heat on full blast or something?” He asks in a half serious, half joking tone.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to talk to my super. I don’t pay for heat here…”

Just then the buzzer goes off.

“Is that the case of wine?”

“Oh my God. I think it is.” 

Karen gets up from the couch and presses the door button. A few moments later a FedEx delivery man is in the doorway with a case of wine from a winery in California Marci visited on her 30th birthday. She pushes the delivery aside, breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Was it worth the wait?” Frank asks, emphasizing the wait. He meets her in the kitchen, sets their mugs down on the kitchen island.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” He is in complete disbelief.

“Really.” she echoes, strong and steady.

She grabs the mugs and rinses the remnants of the coffee in the kitchen sink. Frank walks over and wraps his arms around her waist, kissing the crown of her head.

“So… got any plans for New Year's Eve?” Karen inquires, hoping the question lands lightly.

“What did you have in mind?”

Karen smiles, and proceeds to tell Frank about a certain engagement party. Hopefully Foggy and Marci won’t mind that she is bringing a plus one now.

[fortysevenswrites]

kastle secret santa 2020

Happy holidays Kastle fam, and specifically to @ninzied, I’m your Kastle Secret Santa! 

Nina requested developing relationship with angst with a happy ending, which, yeah, that’s what you’ve got! Also featuring Karen and Frank in a small, isolated cabin in the woods, dealing with all that 2x11 nonsense while the vigilantes of Lower Manhattan deal with a little issue (read: Karen’s life is in danger, you know, again).

Hope you enjoy! Second (and hopefully final) chapter coming soon!

(my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand) read on AO3

Chapter 1 (of 2?)

Karen hates everything about this.

It’s bad enough that she almost died, because some idiot military doctors decided to play god and use Benjamin Poindexter as their damn guinea pig for whatever medical marvel they’re apparently on the verge of discovering.

Of course, because her life treats her like the protagonist of a goddamn horror movie, Poindexter escaped, revenge the only thing on his twisted mind.

She doesn’t even remember how it all happened.

Everything between leaving the office after a hard-won victory on one of Matt and Foggy’s cases and waking up in a quiet room at Metro General is just one big blank.

Not remembering, waking up to the just-barely-beginning-to-heal stab wounds on her side, bruises on her ribs, the sprained ankle, the knife wounds on her arms that are probably going to scar, and the long scrape on her cheek, pain radiating through her entire body—it makes it worse.

[zushigirl]

It’s Frank’s final mission as the Punisher: Infiltrate a high profile mobster’s Halloween party and find Karen Page. The only problem…he let David Lieberman pick his costume 🎃 💀

Happy Halloween Kastle fam! Posted on AO3 last night, but had to share with you all.

Next up…the final chapters of Castle’s Auto Shop. (And a little work on a holiday fic that’s taking shape in my mind 🎄👻)

[zushigirl]

Happy New Year Kastle fam! Posted part two of my holiday fic last week, but couldn’t resist making a mood board to go with it ✨

Hope you enjoy reading about Karen’s Christmas gift to Frank…💛🍾🎄

[zushigirl]

Frank’s had some shitty Christmases in his life, but one not-so-horrible holiday sticks out in particular…

Happy Christmas Kastle fam! Hope you enjoy Part One of my twist on Gift of the Magi 🎄😉 Part Two coming to you as we ring in the New Year.

[zushigirl]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36012406

Happy holidays Kastle fam! I am loving all of these creative fics. So much fun!

Totally intended this fic for Santa Saturday 🎅🏼 Better late than never lol! Hope you enjoy a little angst, cuddles, some help from Foggy Nelson …and cookies 🍪

Frank has a new mission: Restore Karen’s Christmas spirit. In order to succeed, he’ll need a little help from a few unlikely allies. He'll also need an oven mitt.

[goddamnitkastle]

Tell Me Where Your Heart Is

Hello Brooke! (@the-restless-brook)! Yes, I am your Kastle Secret Santa. Ta da! 

You prompted me with “anything cozy, domestic, or angsty (as long as there’s a happy ending).” 

So full disclosure I really had no idea what I was gonna come up with for your gift. I thought about doing some sort of AU for you (because you really are the the Queen of the Kastle AUs) but that ended up being a red herring cause Season 2 of Virgin River came out and OH BOY did I get inspired lol

And so I ultimately decided to go full on angst, which I hope you will like. There is a happy ending, I promise. And there’s also a couple Marvel/Netflix Universe nuggets I threw in, I hope you’ll catch them :)

But to keep it simple, here’s a post The Punisher Season 2 fic in which Frank and Karen meet up at Josie’s. Will they make their way back to each other? (well, yeah, duh but it will be an angsty ride).

Enjoy! And Happy Holidays, Kastle Fam! <3

Josie’s on a Monday is pretty dead, even in December. Honestly a graveyard is more lively on this weekday than the bar in Hell’s Kitchen, despite the homely effort of the Christmas decorations put up by Josie herself. So when Karen comes strolling in, just dodging the light rain, and takes a seat, she’s not surprised by the look on the bar owner’s face.

“Wow. Must’ve been a hell of a day. Starting early for the week, huh?”

“I guess you can say that. Can I get a bourbon?” Karen asks as she places a twenty down on the bar top.

“You got it.”

Josie turns around and grabs the Four Roses bottle off the shelf. Karen takes a quick survey of the scene, clocks everyone here. Rob and Mira Donohue are having drinks at the table by the pinball machine and Tom Belkin is at the pool table with a friend.

“Here ya go, love.” Josie places the glass in front of her and takes the twenty. Karen takes a sizeable sip, tries to focus on the burn going down her throat rather than her rattling nerves. She doesn’t miss Josie’s eyes go wide though when she gives her her change. 

“Hey should I be worried tonight, Page? This isn’t your usual night and look, I don’t mind... usually…”

“It’s fine, Josie. I’m just... meeting someone. And I need this place to be quiet. I think they need... quiet.”

Josie shakes her head, walks over to the end of the bar. She pulls back a small curtain, revealing a safe hidden under the register. She turns the combination lock, opens it, and pulls out a 9mm.

“Josie come on, that’s not…”

“It’s a precaution. I do trust you... usually... but I got an establishment to protect.” Josie says as she ejects and checks the mag.

She clips it back in and clicks the safety off when the bell rings by the entrance door. Karen resists turning around, even though she is dying to see him.

God how long has it been since the hospital she thinks.

She goes for another sip of bourbon, tries to feign casualness even though his very presence has changed the mood of this dull Monday night. The Donohues have stopped talking and Tom and his friend have stopped playing. Heavy boots pad their way to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, Frank Castle comes into her line of sight. He’s in all black, sporting a full beard, and scowling, but it doesn’t feel lethal to her. Josie though is gripping her gun like a lifeline.

“What can I do for you... scary hipster?” Josie asks.

Karen has to choke down her laughter. She covers her mouth with her hand and squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’ll just take a beer.”

Frank sits down a seat away from Karen and the tension lifts once Josie clicks the safety back on. The bar patrons resume their activities as she quickly serves Frank a beer, gun still in hand. Josie walks toward the end of the bar toward the safe but not before giving Karen a quick I will never let you in here again if there’s trouble tonight look. She just shrugs in response.

Neither of them say anything for a good while. Karen just focuses on her bourbon. Frank was the one who called her, he can start this. Not like she has anywhere to be...

Although drinking at Josie’s on a Monday night isn’t exactly at the top of her list.

“Hell of a place you picked.”

“Didn’t know what I was getting into. Knew it wouldn’t be crowded here... and I needed a drink.”

“What about your place? Don’t tell me you had to move again…” Frank cracks as he takes a swig of his beer.

“Nope, I’m still there.”

Frank takes a step closer to her. Karen can’t help it, she turns to face him and take him in. No bruises and his hair is growing out again. He looks the way he did when he first came back into her life, just without a blanket and not asking for change.

“Wasn’t sure you were gonna say yes to meeting me.”

“I wasn’t either. Still debating on leaving, actually…”

“Do you want to?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Okay. You can go.”

“Right.”

Karen starts to get up and she wishes she missed Frank’s face. Looking like a puppy who got kicked for chewing on someone’s flip flop.

“Hey.” Frank says intensely as he grips her arm. “Come on. Don’t…”

“Don’t what, Frank?”

“Don’t... go.”

“You literally told me I could go. Look, what do you want Frank? Can you just tell me why you called…”

“I will when you stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Being pissed at me.”

“Being pissed... oh boy.”

She bites down on her bottom lip; a suppression to not straight up scream at him.

“I want to talk, Karen. But if you need to say something to me just say it. Just get it out in the open so that we can move forward.”

His eyes bore into hers. Karen hopes Frank isn’t looking into her soul, he doesn’t get to do that anymore. She knows she needs to break this, needs to move on. He chose the war. He chose to continue being The Punisher. The people that care about him, the peace he could have found... he pushed it all away. And he can’t just decide to want it now after almost a year of silence.

“Fine. I do have some things to say. But first, you’re gonna buy me a drink. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She walks back over to the bar and sets her bag and coat down again on the chair. Frank follows. Josie saunters over.

“Another bourbon, Page?”

“No I’d like two shots of whiskey please. He’s buying.”

Karen jerks her head toward Frank who immediately pulls out a wad of cash from his coat pocket.

“You got it.”

Josie walks away to get the shots. Karen takes a seat and Frank takes the one next to her.

“Didn’t take you for a hard liquor kind of girl.”

Karen opens her mouth, then closes it. How exactly is she supposed to respond to that? People have been making assumptions about her all her life and she’s in no mood to tell Frank that he’s wrong.

“But I guess I don’t know that much about you, do I? You always... surprise me.”

The genuineness throws Karen off. She wonders if she should cut him some slack. It’s not like they owe each other anything. The connection that Madani had told her they had will probably always be there but as it stands she doesn’t fit into his life and vice versa. What’s the point in trying to make it work?

“No. You don’t know anything about me.” She says after a prolonged pause.

Josie comes back with the shots and makes herself scarce again. Karen takes the shot and gestures to other one.

“Come on.”

“Jesus…” Frank mutters.

“Not into hard liquor like me? Wait. Let me guess. You actually love wine.”

“I do actually.”

He stares at the shot glass then back at her. He sighs and downs it. The grimace he makes is brief, but then he turns back to her and she knows what has to come next.

“It’s been a year since the hospital Frank. ” Karen starts as she rotates her empty shot glass with her fingertips.

“I think. I’m honestly not sure… anyway. I thought we were done. I thought you were finally out of my life and then those pot of white roses landed on my desk last week and… I really don’t understand what you want for me at this point. If it’s to get information I am not going to do that for you. If you are looking to reconnect I don’t want that either. Not while you continue to wage this war of yours that you chose. Over life. Over love. Over… me.”

She places the shot glass down, the clink on the wooden bar top being the loudest noise in her ears.

“I’m sorry. About that day. And I’m sorry I never called you after that. But I thought you understood.”

“Understood?”

“Why I am doing this. Why I couldn’t accept what you were offering me that day in the hospital. I lost my entire family, Karen. I had to watch them die and then bury them. You can’t even begin to imagine…”

“I’ve buried people that I loved. I absolutely know what you are going through. I know hurt. I know guilt. I know how it feels to want to drive a knife into this world just to feel like I had some kind of control over it. So don’t you dare try to tell me how I feel. I just…”

Karen huffs as she runs her fingers through her hair. Frank scratches at his beard, clearly processing.

“Do you think I like feeling like this? I am never going to see Maria again. I am never going to hold Lisa or Frankie Jr. in my arms. They are gone, Karen. And it is my fault that they are gone. If I let myself love you…”

“Frank…”

“It’s just a risk I can’t take. If anything happened to you… I wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

Frank’s trigger finger taps away on the bar top.

“So is that it? Is that why you called me? To tell me that you will forever be stuck in this black hole of a life? Stuck in a war that can never be won and you think it’s what you deserve?”

“It is what I deserve.”

“No it’s not Frank. The loss of your family… that is something that you will carry with you with the rest of your life. And the grief will always come straight at you, unexpectedly. But you deserve an after…”

“Karen, no…”

“You do. I know you can’t see it but you will come to a day where you’ll be able to think about them but still go on with your life. And that won’t feel like a betrayal...”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I should’ve never called you.”

He practically bounds out of the bar stool and heads for the door.

“Frank!” Karen shouts.

The door swings and he’s gone.

This is a crossroads moment. Karen can feel it. She could let him go, never see him again. Maybe at last find peace with this pain. Find someone else to build a life with.

“You love him don’t you?”

Karen turns around to find Josie looking at her. She’s cleared their shot glasses away and is washing them in the sink.

“Josie…”

“Don’t try to deny it. And he loves you too.”

“Yeah, sure he does.” Karen replies sarcastically.

“He does. I remember that news story a while about that crazy asshole who shot up that hotel trying to kill ya and that senator or whatever. I read that he took a few bullets for you. That’s love.”

“How did you... nevermind. Yes, that is true, but then when I offered the option to love someone else, he said he didn’t want to.”

‘Yeah but then he asked to see you again. Timing is a bitch, that much I know. Come on, at least go out there and give the man a hug. Man looks like he could use one.”

Karen turns back to the front door. Before she can process it she is heading out the door, barely catching Josie‘s laugh.

The sharp, winter air hits her and the light rain Is back. Karen looks down both sides of the street, knowing that he is probably long gone by now. The man knows how to disappear, and will only be found if he wants to.

She goes to her left to head home. As she turns the corner, he’s there. Against the wall of Josie‘s, barely standing.

“Frank?”

She walks toward him but he doesn’t acknowledge her. He looks so broken, looking up at the sky.

“You belong with someone else, Karen. Not with me.”

“Don’t.”

“You do.”

“Well I don’t want someone else, Frank. I want you.”

He turns away from the sky and stares at her, wide eyed.

“Yeah. It’s still on the table. But if you’re not even going to open yourself up to the possibility of an after… And I’m not saying an after with me. I mean for yourself. If you won’t even allow yourself to try to find it then it’s not going to work. I need hope, Frank. I need to believe that there is a better world to make and to be had. Even if that means I am not going to be around for it. I am still going to try to leave it better than I found it.”

“Who was it?” Frank asks after a few moments.

“What?”

“Who did you bury?”

“My mom. My brother, Kevin.”

“Tell me about them?”

“Okay. Walk me to my car?”

She thought it would be a lot harder to tell him about what happened to her mom and Kevin, about who she was before she came to New York City. But it fell out of her, everything. He doesn’t interject nor interrupt her. They’re still a block away when she’s done talking.

They reach her car as Karen fishes for her keys. They are stuck at the bottom of her bag and she groans in frustration. She had almost forgotten that Frank is still with her but then she feels a hand lightly touch her shoulder.

“Karen.”

She looks up. He is looking better but there is still that same lingering, soul crushing sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of his apology stuns Karen. Then it comes back. The memory of when she told Matt about what happened to Kevin.

“Jesus Karen.”

Matt was wrapped up in trying to take down Fisk at the time. Karen was trying to pull Matt back, she knew it wasn’t the right time to tell him. She knows he would’ve probably have had a different reaction under different circumstances. Karen knows this. But Karen would be lying if his response didn’t haunt her dreams every now and then.

“Well I should get home. If you ever wanna talk… well I’m sure you’ll reach me somehow. I’ll keep an eye out for another pot of roses.”

She gets her car door open and climbs into the seat. She turns the key in the ignition but the engine stalls.

“Come on.”

Karen keeps turning the key but the engine continues to stall.

Frank knocks on her windshield window.

“Hey, let me check. I can probably jumpstart your car.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus Karen.”

“I don’t want you here, Karen.”

Karen smacks the steering wheel repeatedly and then screams. And screams. And screams.

“Karen! Karen!”

Frank’s voice is muffled and Karen barely registers that he’s opened her door and is pulling her out of the car.

“Karen it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

The screams turn into sobs and Karen stops trying to pull away from Frank.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there in the light rain while he holds her. Her crying does subside in time and all Karen feels is his heartbeat and his hand running up and down her back.

“I know. I know.” He keeps repeating into her ear.

Frank asks if Karen wants a ride home. Karen just simply nods, now realizing that her legs are numb.

“Okay. Let me make a quick phone call.”

Frank gets on the phone and says hi to Micro. Karen manages a small smile. Good to know that he’s not dead.

“Okay so Micro is calling in some favors. Your car is gonna get towed to a lot nearby. I will take care of it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Let’s get you home.”

Frank holds his hand out and Karen takes it. 

...

It takes an hour but they arrive in Karen’s neighborhood. Frank has to park ten minutes away from her apartment, which has him apologizing and cursing alternate side parking in one breath.

Karen feels simultaneously exhausted and wired. Frank hasn’t taken her hand in his since they got out of his van but they keep drifting and bumping into each other as they walk.

“Thanks for driving me back.”

“You’re welcome. You okay?”

“Yeah I just… I told Matt. About Kevin. And it... wasn’t the best timing and I had never told anyone before that moment and…”

“Yeah well I don’t think altar boy has the best bedside manner. Even on a good day.”

Karen can’t help but laugh. They walk up the front steps of her apartment building.

“Don’t worry about your car. It’ll be safe. I’ll pick it up tomorrow and take it to the shop. It’s probably the alternator.”

They reach her door.

“Okay so I have your car keys but you probably need these back.”

He hands her the rest of her key ring. He turns to go down the steps, their fingers interlocking around each other.

“So hold onto it. You have everything. Use two hands and never let go.”

Never let go.

Never let...

She grips on his fingers and he turns around. She doesn’t say or do anything but hold on to the key ring and his fingers. They just stare at each other but something changes, something shifts.

He walks back up the two steps, and they’re now face to face.

Karen can’t explain it but she’s filled with such a longing that she thought she had buried a long time ago.

They are still holding on to her key ring, the metal becoming warm from the heat of their hands. She inches closer and closer to his face, eventually ghosting her lips over his.

Karen places a small kiss on his mouth. He doesn’t react, which isn’t surprising, so she tries again. She can feel how taken aback he is but he starts to reciprocate soon enough. He angles his mouth as she pushes her tongue past his teeth, his hands cup her face as she wraps her arms around his neck.

The flurry and fury of their movements push them up the stairs. Karen has never been more grateful for her one floor walk up. He gets the door open as she gets to work on getting his jacket off. He helps her out of hers with ease, his mouth never leaving hers.

Karen is trying to take it all in but it’s too much. The ridges of the scars on his skin that have stories and how she wants to know all of them. How strong he is, taking her shirt off with a gentle force she has never felt. How soft his hair is, how his beard feels so fucking good on her neck.

They fall into her bed, still partially clothed but Karen doesn’t mind, she’s content to just kiss him and hold him close to her.

His mouth leaves hers and Karen tries to reach for it but stops. It’s that stare of his again. But it’s different this time. She’s seen him vulnerable but never this vulnerable. He honestly looks terrified.

“Frank what is it? We can stop…”

“No. I want to. I want this... I just... when we’re not together... when I don’t see you... it scares me. And I tried to hide from that feeling all year. Karen don’t…”

She runs her hands through his hair and he frames her head with his.

“It’s okay. It’s okay Frank.”

Instinctually, her hand slides down to his chest. Over his fast beating heart.

“It’s safe. You’re safe.”

She reaches for his face, her finger tips brushing against his lips. He kisses her palm and she pulls him back in.

...

Frank is warm. A comfortable warm, not the searing kind that comes from his nightmares. Hands are wrapped around his head and his face is pressed against soft skin. Karen’s skin. This stillness, after all that transpired last night between them, is strangely comforting. As is her slow, deep breathing. And when she wakes up, a smile forming at the sight of him, he still wonders if this is all a dream. 

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

“How do you feel?” Karen asks as she pushes away a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Happy.” Franks answers honestly. 

“That’s good.”

“And safe.” Frank admits quietly.

“That’s exactly how I want you to feel.”

“I do. With you.”

“So do I.”

He reaches for her face, brushes the pad of his thumb on her cheek. For a brief, sudden moment he sees smoke and a bloody cut on Karen’s forehead. How close he came to losing her that day…

“I will come for you.”

Frank shakes away the memory and tries to focus on this one. He wants these kind of memories with Karen, not the ones filled with violence and open ended goodbyes.

“Is everything okay, Frank?”

“Look Karen… I want to be honest. I don’t want to lie to you anymore and… you should know why I called you.”

Frank pulls away from her and sits up against her headboard. Karen follows suit, pulling her comforter up.

“Okay.” 

“I... want to be done. The Punisher… I want it to be over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I won’t, uh, bore you with the details but… I was near death. About a month ago. I really don’t remember much but I wasn’t… planning to come back from this job. But I guess Curtis and Madani weren’t on board. They got me out and… I just remember cracks of light. From the car windows. And each time, I saw you. I honestly thought you had come with them. I kept wanting to let go though, finally be with… but you were there. Telling me to hold on. Cause there was another side to this. An… after. And I did. When I finally came to, I asked where you were. And yeah, I found out you weren’t really there but… it was real. And it got me through. And that was why I called. I want you there. But then you were ruthless... stomped on my heart... which I deserved... and I got scared. I’m still scared, Karen. But I don’t want to live without you anymore. And I don’t expect…”

Karen takes his hand, puts it in her lap. Whatever he was going to say next dies on his tongue.

“This is real, Frank. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He leans in to kiss her and it is the sweetest touch he can muster. He hopes it is enough.

It was a hell of a journey for them to get to this point. And they still have a long way to go. But her heart is safe with him. And now his heart can be safe with her.