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goldenlikedayl1ght · 10 months ago

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false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?” He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #smut #marvel smut #daredevil smut

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curmudggeon · 3 years ago

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Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

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elen-tari2 · 5 months ago

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I am kind of newly joining the more active online Kastle fandom, but I have been shipping them since DD S2 aired in 2016. I was willing to believe they just had a professional respect for each other through Frank’s trial, but when he threw her to the ground at her apartment, I almost fell out of my chair.

There’s something so beautiful in how it’s filmed, how it goes from her about to shoot him to him saving her life in a matter of seconds. The camera tilts, the lighting is a little bit yellowed, his hands are in her hair, she’s gasping and clinging to his arm, he’s covering her body with his and her long legs (in heels!) are writhing a little on the floor—it’s just extremely sensual. He’s protecting her, shielding her life with his, no questions asked.

This is happening on a day when Karen already survived a major shoot out at the DA’s office. In that scene, Matt protects her. Matt, who called himself her boyfriend up until the end of the trial. Matt, who she thought she was falling in love with, but knew he was lying and keeping secrets from her. Matt did it to save her, to protect her as well, but he never trusted her. That is why their relationship ultimately failed, and watching it play out over the course of the season, while Karen and Frank just keep deepening their connection to each other in their search for the truth—it felt like with how Matt was treating her the whole time (and having an emotional affair with Elektra on top of it all), it was just clear that Karen deserved better and she and Frank understood each other in a way no one else could.

The diner scene just kind of sealed the deal. Frank the mass murderer rhapsodizing about love? Karen letting the mask slip a little that she’s seen some shit and done some shit too? Hell yeah, sign me up for this level of chemistry!

The Punisher s1 was basically like a really good fanfic playing out on screen! He brought her flowers? They talk about loneliness? He takes a bullet for her and says “I will come for you” as she’s dragged away by a terrorist? The elevator scene???? I could cry.

And finally, they are just the ultimate Hurt/Comfort pairing, which is basically my favorite trope. The reason I obsess over this ship is because Karen has endured so much grief and so much trauma, and she deserves someone she can share it with and she deserves to be loved. She could never have told Matt about killing Wesley without him judging her against his Catholic ideals. With Frank, there’d be no judgement, just acceptance and understanding. The same with what happened to Kevin. It drives me WILD that Frank has no idea about Karen’s past and how she lost her family too. Karen is grieving and walking around punishing herself, just like him. And he has never really stopped to wonder about or ask her why she has always helped him, why she was never afraid of him??

Anyway, give me all the fics where Frank finds out about Karen’s past and gets to hold her while she cries, or him getting in a confrontation with Paxton Page for abandoning his daughter. And give me BAMF Karen Page, where she gets to save Frank’s ass from danger or defeat Bullseye/Fisk herself—instead of being the hostage or the victim. I love them working together to fight crime and heal each other’s pain. I want them to hold each other all night long and *not* have sex—just let it be *profound*. I want them confessing their love for each other and then having incredible, romantic and passionate sex… because God, this show has been brutal about keeping Karen Page chaste. Even Frank got to hook up with Beth and Karen wouldn’t even go on a date with Ellison’s nephew. Sorry, this is getting tangential into another personal rant of mine about the show, but basically it comes down to this—Karen Page deserves to get laid and it deserves to be with someone who loves her, who knows what she’s been through, and understands. And that person is Frank. Just like she is the only one who saw him as human when he saw himself as a monster, who gave him his family back, who restored his will to live.

Anyway, it has been EIGHT YEARS of shipping Kastle and I really hope they will give us something worthwhile in DDBA. I don’t even need them to kiss… just, like, put some smolder in the slow burn and I’ll be satisfied. And then keep the fics coming because I trust fic writers way more than the mcu writers at this point!

(Sorry for this rant. I don’t really know how tumblr works, but the Kastle brainrot is real).

What was it that drew you to kastle? Did you watch all of Daredevil and see it unfolding in real time and fall in love or were you exposed via twitter/tumblr?

#kastle #frank castle #karen page

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peterjakes · 3 years ago

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Frank x Karen ‘a million smiles cover your heart’

Karen and Frank meet in the park. They become closer, closer than before. They end up exactly where they need to be.

a slightly shorter fit this time! I wasn't too sure about this one, felt like it was too much filler but now I'm finished with it I'm actually pretty pleased with it! hope you enjoy x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/37680754

“You’re moving up in the world.” Frank gestured towards the newspaper in his hand. He’d flipped to the middle, and there it was. Another article on the great work of Nelson and Murdock and Page. It was short, could only be a few paragraphs long but it was enough. Enough to make him feel a sense of pride. Pride for Karen. She’d already done so much and was bound to do a whole lot more. He was sure she’d probably already seen it but wanted to show it to her regardless. It was as if he wanted to show her how much he cared. In the past he’d kept tabs on her, wanting to make sure she was keeping safe, make sure she was good. But now it was different. Of course, he still wanted to make sure she was safe, but something had shifted. He didn’t need to keep ‘an eye’ on her, not anymore. She was her own person. But he wanted to keep up with her. Her life, her news, things that had happened at work, everything. Frank wasn’t exactly sure when this had happened. But it was a feeling he didn’t want to let go. He was letting Karen in, just as she’d let him.

The two had met in Central Park, one late afternoon. Work had almost destroyed Karen this week she and needed a nice distraction. Her workload just seemed to rise and rise with no true light at the end of the tunnel. She couldn’t complain though, this was what she wanted to do, what she had to do. For herself and everyone else. She missed being in Frank’s company, though. It wasn’t as if she spent every waking moment thinking about him, but he often plagued her mind. No matter how much she tried to not get so distracted.

Frank’s week hadn’t been as busy as Karen’s. He had tried to occupy himself, keep himself busy. The hustle and bustle of New York made it pretty easy at times. But sometimes you could feel like loneliest person in the world. That loneliness and anger, those feelings Frank had gotten so use to feeling, that didn’t feel as strong now. Sometimes they were still there, of course they were. But whenever Frank thought of Karen or was with Karen, something better took their place. Something more hopeful. Something better.

“Maybe.” Karen was biting her lip, her eyes focused on the photograph in the article. This had become a weekly occurrence; it was rare that the smaller cases got any publicity but that wasn’t why they did it. It certainly wasn’t why Karen did. She just wanted to help people. But that didn’t stop her from feeling just a little embarrassed. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, maybe it was Frank. Of course, it was Frank. It always was.

“Don’t be so coy.”

“I’m not, I’m not. I…I don’t know.” Shaking her head, Karen’s fingers found a loose strand of hair covering her face and tucked it behind her ear. Karen knew what they were doing was good work, of course she did. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have doubts. There were never any doubts about Foggy or Matt. No, the doubts always laid with herself. It was hard, trying to shake off that feeling. Trying to rid the idea that she was a bad person. That anything bad was her fault. That she didn’t deserve a good life. Karen had never been good at taking praise. But there was something different when the praise came from Frank. It never felt superficial or false. Frank was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. He was always honest with Karen. Always. Maybe not in the way she had expected. But still.

“You’re doing good work.” Frank said this so sincerely, as if he couldn’t believe anything else. Karen was special, in so many different ways. It wasn’t just the work she’d been doing, although that was enough for anyone to burst with pride. She was always special. She saw the good in people, when they couldn’t even see it themselves. She believed in people, she wanted to help them. Karen almost made Frank forget all the bad, forget everything that had happened. Karen made Frank almost believe that there could be something, something more for him. Something for both of them.

“Yeah?” Her eyes diverted from the article over to Frank. He was slouched against the park bench, looking relaxed. More relaxed than he had been in the past weeks. It suited him, looking this way. And it made Karen happy, seeing him so comfortable, so comfortable outside, even. Karen herself was sitting only a few inches away from Frank. But for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to move any closer. It was as if something was forcing her not to. The two knew how they felt about each other, even if those words hadn’t exactly been uttered. But they didn’t need to. They knew and that was enough.

“You’re smart, you’re brave. You care about people. Stubborn as hell. Won’t take no for an answer.”

Karen nodded silently, not in agreement exactly with what was being said, but almost acceptance. She wanted to accept what Frank was saying. Maybe he was just trying to big her up, but there was something in the way his lips formed the words, in the tone of voice he took, the look in his eye. He believed in her and so should she.

“So, construction?”

“Ah, yeah. Good at it, so.” Frank shrugged, avoiding Karen’s eye. He first focused on his fingers, enwrapped with each other. Before too long, his focused shifted around the park. Looking around, he watch people jogging around the path. Dog walkers. Couples. Families. Children. A slight chill seem to enclose around Frank for a moment. It wasn’t the cold, autumn breeze. No. It was almost like a reminder of what had been. In a different life, Frank could be sitting in that very spot. He could be alone. Karen could disappear. Or he could be like any other family spending a day in the park. His family… But that wasn’t what was happening. Karen was beside him; life had moved on. Frank knew that. And he was moving with it.

Karen gave him a gentle smile, without any hint of sadness. Not this time. Karen hadn’t expected Frank to say any more than that. And she didn’t need him to elaborate, not really. If he was happy, she was happy. And she expected Frank felt the same. She hoped he did.

Frank furrowed his eyebrows at Karen’s smile, not in anger, never in anger, but in almost curiosity. When Karen smiled like that, when she smiled at Frank, it destroyed any inhibitions he had about what they were doing. Whatever it was exactly. Frank wasn’t very good with labels and in all honesty, hadn’t even thought about it. Maybe Karen had thought about it. Maybe she’d thought about it far more than Frank had. But as long as Karen carried on looking at him like that, Frank could never be unhappy. He would never be lonely again.

“What?”

Karen’s eyes smiled, a small glint appeared, as if she was very happy with herself. Frank couldn’t stop looking at Karen now, his eyes firmly planted on her. Sometimes he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him. If she knew how sometimes she drove him absolutely crazy. If she knew how much she meant to him. Maybe he needed to show her. “Oh, nothing. Nothing, Frank.”

Frank started to twirl a loose strand of her hair with his index finger, she watched it go around and around, almost mesmerised by this touch. “I didn’t think I’d get you out.” This had blurted out of Karen, almost unexpectedly. She hadn’t meant it to come out as it did. It wasn’t exactly harsh, but not kind either. Frank had become a bit a recluse since back in New York, or at least that was what Karen had seen. The only time they saw each other was in her apartment, and sometimes that was few and far between. She’d asked to meet this time. Just a simple call was all it took for Frank to come. He hadn’t kept his hood down, as if he wasn’t worried about being spotted. Maybe that wasn’t important to Frank anymore. But from what Karen had gathered, Frank still didn’t have much of a life. Or at least not like before. She wanted to help. She wanted to change that. He deserved a life. He deserved one that was good. He deserved something.

“I’m not a recluse, Karen.” Tilting his head, Frank gave Karen a bemused look, a small chuckle managed to escape from his mouth. Maybe it seemed that way to Karen, but Frank had been trying at least. It was different this time. There wasn’t this big battle Frank knew he would one day have to face. Life was much calmer now, almost stationary. His whole life had been filled with so much anger, so much chaos. And now it wasn’t? Frank wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with that. But it would be different now. Now he had Karen.

“I know, but this is kinda big, right?”

“It’s a park.” Frank glanced around, almost laughing. His hands found his jacket pocket, trying to find something to hold onto. His keys were the first things he found. Twirling them around, he faced back to Karen. She was looking at him, clearly she’d been watching him these past few minutes, trying to gage his next move.

“Ssh, you.”

“You’re right, though. I, uh, don’t get out that much.”

“Why?” Frank gave Karen an incredulous look, as if the answer was obvious. “You did before, why not now?” Things had changed, things were different. Karen knew that, of course she did. But there weren’t any ties now. Frank was essentially free. Like he’d said, he was Pete. Pete didn’t have a past, only a future. He could do whatever he wanted, whatever he pleased. But Karen doubted that was going to be easy for Frank. She never wanted to push or probe, but sometimes she had to ask. That was what she was good at after all.

“Easier that way.” Frank said this whilst managing to avoid Karen’s eye once again. Easier. It may seem that way to Frank, but was it easy? Really? Sometimes it didn’t feel that way. Easier to not let anyone in. Easier to shut off. Easier to forget. Easier to be alone. But it couldn’t go on forever, it couldn’t always be this way. And Frank didn’t want it to, not anymore. He was slowly coming around to the idea.

“Is it?” Karen almost whispered this, as if she didn’t quite want to ask the question. It may easier in some ways, Karen knew that better than anyone. But she didn’t want that for Frank, she couldn’t let that happen.

“I wanna try, Karen. I do.”

She relished in that admittance. She relished in knowing that this meeting was special, regardless of what Frank had said. She knew in his heart he didn’t mean it, and he did too. It was just his way. But the more they spent precious time together, like this, Frank was opening up. He was sharing more of himself with Karen. He was allowing her in. He was handing her his heart, piece by piece. She was taking it and would never let go.

“I know. Me too.”

Karen couldn’t help but let a small smile escape from the corner of her mouth. She took the paper from Frank’s hand and scooted up next to him. Their thighs were touching now, and Karen made sure to smooth out her pencil skirt, trying to ease both herself and Frank. Without realising, her fingers seemingly fell down towards Frank’s thighs which were stretched out on his side of the bench. She allowed her fingers to drift across a small patch of Frank’s darkened jeans, moving ever so slowly. Only watching them for a moment, Karen’s eyes moved up to Frank’s who too was glancing down at Karen’s slender fingers. He quickly moved his left hand over Karen’s, his fingers brushed against her. This small, but delicate touch almost made Karen jumped as she hadn’t expected it. Whenever Frank touched her, it was also so gentle, so calm. He was never rough, never too quick. As if he could never be too careful, like he didn’t want to do anything to hurt Karen. To make her leave. To let go of her. The roughness of Frank’s hands brushed against Karen’s still, she could feel the remnants of a few old cuts. But there was an almost softness in that touch. A touch that Karen didn’t want to let go of.

Moving more slowly now, Frank’s hands moved across up to Karen’s face. His hands were warm, shocking her pale cheeks, contrasting with the cold chill in the air. His fingers brushed against her cheekbone, as if they were trying to find a more comfortable position. His thumb moved across the cheek, caressing them nice and slowly. Karen couldn’t help but close her eyes, as if wanting to get lost in the moment. But then there was something else. As if she didn’t want to let go of Frank, she didn’t want to stop seeing him. Just before she could open her eyes again, Frank planted a small but sweet kiss on her lips. Blink. And she would have missed it. He would have missed it. But it had happened. It was there. It was enough.

It wasn’t just a regular kiss. Frank had kissed Karen before. Karen had kissed Frank. They’d kiss each other in the darkness, finding each other regardless of everything. They’d kissed in the morning light, eyes still tired from the night before. They’d kissed each other when nothing else would do. But here, out in the open, for all of New York to see. Frank had kissed her. And she had kissed him.

#the punisher #daredevil #frank x karen #kastle #kastle fic #kastle fanfic #kastle fanfiction #karen x frank #frank x karen fic #my writing #mine #a million smiles cover your heart

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2seokfan · 4 years ago

Text

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 4

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

warnings: mentions of physical abuse

word count: 5.3k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4

summary:

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year? So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

a/n: Y/N gets the surprise of her lifetime today! Also to clarify, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is an old cowboy movie with a very famous theme song (just in case some people don’t get the reference). Thank you for being patient! Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns!

tag list: @wilhelminalucinda @ghostkat23 @ayoo-bangtan @sadgurllayha

How come whenever you’re excited for something, time purposely slows down?? It’s like the weekend can’t come fast enough. Each day feels like a whole week and each hour stretches like two. You swear the clock hanging on the wall of your clinic has some sort of personal grudge against you, the second hand moving at the pace of a snail.

You’re currently on the last two hours of your shift. The hustle and bustle of morning appointments have died down but that doesn’t stop the constant train of incoming calls. You wonder if there’s an award out there for maintaining a professional voice after getting asked stupid questions, because you deserve that award, exhibit A being the person you’re dealing with right now. You pick at your nails while you balance the work phone on your shoulder.

“Sorry ma'am we’re actually a hybrid clinic so no, I can’t put your son down for a checkup. Mhm. Mhm. Uh huh.” You peel off a hangnail and flick it into the trash can under your counter. “I understand you're frustrated but none of our doctors specialize in human treatment. May I suggest the hospital? Ok have a good day now. Bye.”

You hang up as a string of expletives are leaving the receiving end of your phone. What part of ‘hybrid clinic’ did she not understand?

You lean back into your office chair, vowing for the 100th time to invest in one of those lumbar support pillows for your poor, aching body. Checking today’s schedule, you see that a first-time client should be coming in any minute now. Her voice had sounded eerily familiar when she called all those days ago, but you didn’t bother to think twice.

Right on cue, you hear the clinic door open. A very familiar arctic fox hybrid is ushered in by her impatient owner.

“Hurry up won’t you! We don’t have all day!”

Yep. That’s blondie alright.

Sylvia has already recognized you, giving you a small smile when her owner isn’t looking. You’re shocked by her appearance, small cuts and bruises adorning her face and a noticeable bandage around her left wrist. You smile back, trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

Blondie hasn’t noticed your presence yet, currently rummaging through her gigantic purse for a pen. She freezes when she finally looks up, making eye contact with you.

You both narrow your eyes like it’s some sort of cowboy showdown in the old west, theme song from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing in the background. If it weren’t for the counter in front of you you’d probably be slowly circling each other, hands ready to draw your pistols from your holsters.

Except it’s the 21st century and all you can do is clench your jaw and offer her a steely glare.

“What are you doing here?” Blondie is the first to break the silence.

“I work here,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t you own hybrids?” Her voice is menacing, but it doesn’t mask her confusion. “How can a receptionist afford two hybrids?”

“I’m here on my off time cause I have nothing else to do.” You find it so much easier to lie to her now that you’ve successfully done it before. No harm in stretching your little fable.

Blondie huffs, having no rebuttal ready.

“Anyways, I need you to fill this out here.” You decide not to push her temper further since you’re at work and need to act civilly. You hand her the basic information form and contact the doctor about their arrival.

While blondie is busy filling out the paperwork, you make quick eye contact with Sylvia, mouthing a silent ‘are you ok?’ to her. She gives you a tense nod but nibbles on her bottom lip and shifts her pupils in blondie’s direction. You can’t forget that look on Sylvia’s face, one of desperation and misery, and you want so badly to pull her out of this situation.

Blondie finishes and hands the papers back to you. You glance down and find her name on the forms. “And Karen,” of course her name is ‘Karen’, “how did Sylvia get these injuries?”

A flicker of panic flashes across her features but it instantly disappears into a frown.

“She fell down the stairs.” Karen snaps, then proceeds to tap her foot impatiently. “Well? I’ve got an appointment??”

You sigh and swallow down the urge to talk back. “Dr. Lao is ready for you. Just head down the hall and into the office on your left.”

Karen puts her pen back in her purse, then grabs her fox by the elbow and pulls her down the hallway, out of sight. When they disappear, you sit back and take the time to process what just happened.

You don’t believe for one minute that Sylvia fell down the stairs. Her injuries seem obviously inflicted by another person, most likely Karen, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. Since you have no proof, you can’t really report the issue. Also you’re well aware of how corrupted Hybrid Services are and you don’t want to leave Sylvia in their hands.

The phone rings, bringing you back to your senses. Oh yeah, I’m still at work. You remind yourself to google some safe hybrid help centers when you get home. There’s nothing you can do now but you’ll be damned if you won’t try.

The two emerge from the checkup after an hour or so. Karen turns to your counter, face still in her signature scowl as she approaches you.

“I need to schedule a second appointment.” Her tone sounds a little stiff, as if she didn’t want this outcome. “Sylvia will need another checkup for her wrist.” Her entire demeanor is suspicious to you at this point. When you met her for the first time, you were only focused on getting her to stop bothering your two hybrid friends. You regret not noticing her obvious physical aggressiveness.

As the two head out, Sylvia turns back and gives you a small ‘bye’. You melt at how cute she is despite all her injuries. You give her one last wave, determination welling up inside.

You head home and immediately dive to your laptop. Sylvia’s next checkup isn’t till two weeks later so you want to use that time to become as productive as you can in finding the numbers of various hybrid centers. Even though your work revolves around hybrids, you have no personal experience helping any of them out of trouble so you need the advice of professionals. You have no idea what any of these centers can do and you’re aware that your lack of information means you’re starting from scratch but you refuse to sit by and do nothing. Not when something fishy is obviously going on.

You’re surprised to find no decent hybrid centers, even though you live in a pretty big city. Most seem like shady adoption centers that put in the bare minimum amount of effort in taking care of and re-homing their hybrids. One center was so repulsive you’re surprised they’re legally allowed to operate. You click on their ‘About’ page for shits and giggles and the description makes you want to gag. ‘Having problems with your hybrid? Don’t worry! Call this number and we’ll take them off your hands!’ What the actual fuck!? It’s like one of those junk collecting commercials where they take away your old furniture except they’re talking about living, breathing hybrids, not an old refrigerator. This goes to show how little the government actually cares about hybrids and you find yourself involuntarily clenching your fists.

After a few websites that lead nowhere, you stumble across one for a Hope Hybrid Center that seems promising. The description indicates how they’re dedicated to the ‘safety and comfort of all hybrids without discrimination’. The only catch is that the particular center in your city has just been built and will not open till later this week. Nevertheless, you decide to trust this location since there are several other branches under the same name littered across the country that all have raving reviews. You bookmark the page and remind yourself to contact their main call center tomorrow.

You don’t know what’s come over you. It’s true you’ve always had a soft spot for hybrids, and you’ve always been in full support of every new law that passes, bringing them closer to citizenship. But you’ve never been this passionate about personally helping them. It’s a good feeling, being actively involved in something you care about. Saving your two hybrid friends two months ago has really opened your eyes to what human bystanders can do. Every action, big or small, can have an impact and you mentally scold yourself for not being aware of your surroundings previously. Oh how ignorant you were.

The rest of your research is futile, and you end up closing your laptop with a sigh of defeat. This is all you can do right now. Who do you think you are? Some sort of vigilante? What power do you have to make any change?? You’re just one silly receptionist against the big bad world.

Before you start mentally beating yourself up even more, you close your eyes and remember the image of Sylvia’s face. She looked so hopeless, so resigned to her fate, that all your self pity dissipates. Whatever miserable situation you’re in, you know she’s probably experiencing something ten times worse.

You think about bringing this run-in up with Scarlet and Hazel but you chicken out last minute. They’ve been pretty busy on the days leading up to your dinner doing god knows what. They’ve been polite enough to reply to you but you can tell from the short, quipped answers they supply that they have other things going on right now. You know that they’re not doing this on purpose so it doesn’t bother you too much, but you do miss the comic relief they provide in your hectic life. Guess you’ll tell them all about it when you see them on Saturday.

The last thought in your head before you shut your eyes is to call the Hope Hybrid Center as soon as you go on break tomorrow.

“Hi! Thank you for calling the Hope Hybrid Center! This is Jodie speaking, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi yes!” Jeez why are your palms so clammy? It’s just a phone call, you do these everyday! “My name is Y/N and I was wondering if you can help me with a couple questions about hybrids, if that’s ok?”

“Of course!” Jodie sounds all peppy and excited. You wish you still had her energy when you do your customer service calls. You were like her for only a brief period all those years ago when you began at the clinic. Boy did that die down fast.

“Um,” You’re not really sure where to start. Do you just straight out say someone is hurting their hybrid? That might sound a little too accusatory. “What do I do if I think someone is abusing their hybrid? Like I have no proof but I still feel like it’s happening?” You’re not used to doing things behind other peoples’ backs, even for someone as awful as Karen, and it’s got your entire body erupting in cold sweat. You mentally reprimand yourself. I’m trying to help. This is for a good cause.

“That’s a good question.” Jodie’s voice is reassuring, like she can hear the nervousness of your tone through the call. “There are several things you can do actually! The first thing we recommend you do is observe their behavior as much as you can and try to record or take note of any signs of aggression displayed by the supposed abuser. This can be used in case any legal action is taken.”

“Uh huh.” You reach into your purse and grab your handy dandy little notebook, pull out the pen stuck in the spiral, and quickly flip to a random blank page to jot down everything she says.

“Now if you want to take direct action, that can be a little riskier but it is possible. The best option is to take one of our unique business cards and pass that along to the hybrid in need.”

“Unique business cards…?” She lost you there.

“Yes. You can find them at each of our shelters or we can mail them to you.” She answers fast, and you have a feeling she’s used to this question. “Each of our business cards contain an emergency phone number, a security code, and are coated with a unique scent that is virtually undetectable by humans. When the number is called, our first question is to ask for the security code, then confirm the matching scent of their business card. These cards work best with the majority of hybrids that contain a heightened sense of smell, such as the mammalian hybrids. We may need to adjust for certain bird or aquatic species that rely on other senses.”

Your writing arm is sore from taking all this down but you pause to answer Jodie. “She’s a fox hybrid, so that should be ok I think?”

You hear a large sigh of relief over the receiver. “Ok that makes things a lot easier.” Her tone switches to serious once again. “But remember this can only be done if the hybrid is willing to contact us in the first place. Beyond that, someone will have to catch them in the act of abuse and that can be very hard to do.”

You nod your head in agreement, forgetting that she can’t see you. “I understand. There’s a small chance this may just be nothing but I want to try and help at least.”

“That’s awesome! It takes a lot of guts to report these issues and you’d be surprised how many people let them slide under their noses.” She’s so encouraging that for a short, sweet moment, you envision the whole plan falling into place. You can see it now, a happy Sylvia free from her oppressive captors. Wow they really do a good job. Jodie deserves a raise.

“Thanks Jodie that means a lot!” You shake your sore arm, trying to relieve the pain. “I might need you to mail me a business card since the Hope Hybrid Center in my city isn’t open yet.”

“No problem! I’ll just need your full name, an email and phone number, and your address.”

You relay all your information over. By the time the call is finished, you have a whole 2 minutes left on your lunch break. You look down at your untouched PB&J sandwich and cry internally. It’s for a worthy cause you repeat again and again in your head like a mantra.

Friday. Finally. This week has been the longest you’ve experienced since midterm week of college. You received a package from Hope Hybrid Services this morning and it’s currently sitting on your bedside table. You won’t need to open that up till Sylvia’s next appointment.

You power through another hectic day at work, motivated by the prospect of seeing your two friends in person tomorrow. Both boys are now well aware of your work schedule and take extra care not to text you until you’re off.

5pm rolls around and your phone vibrates just as you enter your car and buckle your seat belt. You check and see that it’s from ‘Hazel’s Nuts’, your favorite groupchat. You gun it towards your apartment, wanting to reply to them in the comfort of your own home. You must have made it in record time and you’re surprised you didn’t get a speeding ticket. Listen, you aren’t the best driver out there but no one’s died on your watch so you count that as a win. When you arrive home you immediately jump onto the couch and unlock your phone.

Hazel: Hi Y/N. Sorry we’ve been so busy this week but we’re excited to see you tomorrow

You: that’s ok! I figured you were occupied

Hazel: Yep. Had to take care of some stuff but we’re all set now

Scarlet: Y/N!!!!!!! I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOOUUUU

Scarlet: (excited emojis)

You: Same!!!

Hazel: Oh yeah

Hazel: We’re meeting at La Cucina Classica tomorrow btw

You let out a small gasp of surprise. No fucking way?! La Cucina Classica is one of THE most expensive restaurants in your city. You’ve never stepped foot inside their doors because they’re usually booked months in advance. Karli’s lucky ass managed to eat there once before and she described the food as, and you quote, ‘orgasmic’. How on earth did they manage to nab a spot there?

You: No way! Really?

Scarlet: Yes way!!

You: how the hell did you manage to get a table???

Hazel: We pulled some strings

You: omg u mysterious boys

Scarlet: We promise to tell you everything tomorrow!! <3

You: ok! but don’t feel obligated or anything

You: i trust u guys

Hazel: Good

Hazel: So tomorrow. 7pm

Scarlet: Oh yeah! Also dress nice

You: you bet! It’s a fancy place so i can’t let them know i’m secretly poor

Hazel: Lol

Hazel: I have to make a call for work so bye for now Y/N

You: bye kitty

Scarlet: See you tomorrow! I can’t wait!!!

You: me too!!

You: bye!

You set your phone down and whisper to yourself. “What does he mean by ‘work’? They have jobs??”

And they got a table at La Cucina Classica by ‘pulling some strings’, like it was no big deal to them?! Oh my god do you need answers!

You wake up promptly at 9am.

Why? Because it’s #SelfcareSaturday. And this has nothing to do with seeing the boys in person tonight at 7pm. Nothing at all.

You usually have a lot of shit to say about how crappy your little apartment is but today you’re feeling thankful because your dingy bathroom comes equipped with a little tub. You have a bath bomb that was a birthday gift from one of your college friends and you pray these things don’t expire (they do lol) because you’re about to crack this baby open for the first time.

You’ve still got 9 hours, 23 minutes, and 16 seconds till dinner tonight but who’s counting? Not me, you think as you slowly sink into the rainbow-colored tub water. The atmosphere is perfect. You’ve lit up two of your scented candles and have a lofi hip hop playlist on shuffle. You should really do this more often except, you know, water bills.

Right after bath time you decide to do one of your more elaborate skincare routines, hoping to remove the stress and fatigue from your face after a week of work. You facetime Karli so you’re not alone during the whole process.

“Hi Y/N!!” Karli’s face pops up onto the screen. It’s a little more blurry than usual and the sunlight is harsh behind her so she must be outdoors. “Why is your face all glittery?”

“Oh this?” You point to your cheeks. “Remember that fancy Japanese face mask I bought when I got my holiday bonus?”

“Oh yeah! But you said you’d only open it for a special occasion. Unless,” then she comes to a conclusion. “is it for the boys??”

“No!” You correct her too fast. “I mean yes, but also no.” There’s a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Sometimes a girl just wants to treat herself…”

“Sweetie, your idea of treating yourself is ordering takeout and drinking wine on the weekends, but I’m not gonna pressure you.” Karli sure loves to tease.

“Shut up you don’t know me,” you pout. You’re furiously red at this point.

“Au contraire, I know you too well. You’re like that mole I have on my left ass cheek, I’ll never get rid of you.”

Classy.

“True.” She’s not wrong. You two have been through thick and thin and everything in between. It’ll take divine power to separate you now.

“Oh yeah good thing you called! I’ve got some news!” She’s raising her voice since the background noise of traffic behind her is a little deafening.

You tilt your head, a question forming on your lips. Is it about the wedding?

“Remember that Bryce guy?”

You do now, since she brought him up. But it does bring back a few embarrassing memories. “Yeah?”

“Well he told me he has a football game coming up so he’s probably gonna text you soon to ask if you can go.”

“I forgot I said yes to that,” you wince as you suddenly remember that night.

“I mean, you can always let him down gently,” Karli suggests.

“No, I shouldn’t. That would be mean. I did agree to go.” Just admit it. You don’t like disappointing people.

“Ok girl, if you say so.” She doesn’t push you, probably cause it looks like she’s hurrying somewhere. “Ugh I promised to meet my coworkers for lunch but why did I wear heels downtown!”

“I don’t know girl, sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You snicker at her.

“Hey don’t be fucking rude!” She quotes that famous Kim Kardashian meme perfectly.

“Stop! Don’t make me laugh too hard!! It’s gonna mess up my face mask!” You’re trying to keep your face still but it’s damn near impossible at this point.

The rest of the day you spend pampering yourself, the whole nine yards. You even booked an appointment with the nearby nail salon after one glance at your unkempt cuticles. God you’re a mess. All you had today was a salad you picked up after your nail appointment because you want your stomach to prepare itself for the gorging you’re about to do tonight.

As the evening approaches, you hunt in your closet once again for appropriate dining attire. The words ‘dress nice’ echo in your head. This time you do open your ho drawer, because you remember having some sort of shimmery dress that isn’t too bad and can probably pass for being presentable in such a fine dining environment. You reach into the furthest corner and finally feel the soft, silky fabric, pulling it out and hoping against all odds that it isn’t full of wrinkles. Lucky for you, the dress is still in good condition. It’s a spaghetti strap and flows all the way down past your ankles. You’ve never found the occasion to wear it, only buying it cause it was on sale and you thought it was so pretty at the time.

You put it on and glance in the mirror. Usually you have a lot to critique about your physical appearance but today you admit you don’t look so bad. The dress shows a little bit of tasteful cleavage and there’s a slit that rides up your right leg but it isn’t too revealing. Attach some chunky, strappy black heels and you’re good to go. Except makeup, you’ve gotta do that first.

As the clock ticks closer to 6:30, you finish up on your smokey eye and swipe on a little lip tint. You’re definitely taking an uber tonight because you don’t want to miss out on the restaurant's excellent drink selection. Also parking on a Saturday night? Absolute nightmare.

The place is downtown and a good 20 minutes away so once you get in the car you tell the driver to step on it, promising to tip him extra when you get off.

You can’t stop the constant drumming of your heart as the car nears the location. You feel like a kid who’s been told they’re going to Disneyland and you’re giddy with excitement. Maybe it’s better not to see them in person because you might faint on the spot.

As the car pulls up you take a deep breath. Calm down Y/N, you think to yourself, I’m just meeting two good friends for dinner.

The restaurant is located at the rooftop of one of the taller buildings downtown. You enter the elevator, smoothing your dress and your nerves at the same time.

When the doors slide open, you’re greeted by an immaculately dressed hostess. You glimpse at the restaurant behind her. Expensive is definitely the right word to describe this place. There’s dimly lit, warm lighting above each of the tables, and a live band is playing soft tunes in the corner. Waiters and waitresses are carrying loads of food on only one hand, serving each table with grace and poise.

“Name?” The hostess asks you, breaking you out of your observation.

“Um,” You’re unsure what to say. Did they put the table down under Scarlet or Hazel? That can’t be right since those are fake names.

“Y/N?” You try with your name first to see if that’ll lead anywhere.

“Right this way Miss Y/L/N.” Holy shit, ok. Guess that worked.

You’re led past the many tables, ladened with various couples, and back into a private room. They even managed to book a private room?!?! You really feel out of place with your drugstore makeup and cheap dress.

The hostess graciously opens a door for you and-

“Y/N!!”

“Ooof!” You’re enveloped by the familiar scent of honey and cinnamon. “Hi Scar.” You try to compose yourself since he smells too good to be true. Hazel is right behind him, signature sleepy smile on his face. You back away from them, taking in their appearance

Oh. My. God.

Your jaw drops. Beautiful isn’t enough to describe what’s standing in front of you. Scarlet is in a perfectly fitted, baby blue suit that shows off his lean physique. One of his top buttons is undone, revealing his caramel colored skin and collarbones. You pry your eyes away from such sin and opt to look in Hazel’s direction but that does nothing to help you since he’s also dressed to the nines, wearing all black, silver jewelry sparkling on his neck and fingers, a stark contrast to his milky white skin. You look in between them instead, fearing you’ll drool if you stare at them any longer.

Hazel steps forward and also gives you a small hug. His scent is floral, with a spicy undertone, and you want nothing more than to drown in it.

“Hi Hazel,” God you must be blushing like crazy right now. You can’t help it since they look so delicious. Stop that! They’re your friends and they’re not interested!! You want to slap yourself for thinking such impure thoughts.

Well you say that but the way they’re taking in your outfit sends a shiver down your spine. Is it just you or did their eyes darken? The atmosphere quickly returns to normal and you start to wonder if that moment was all in your imagination.

“Look! We already have the champagne ready!” Scarlet’s tail is wagging a mile a minute as he returns to his seat. Hazel slides next to him right after, trying to swat away the offending appendage that’s taking up his spot.

“How ‘bout you control that tail of yours, hm puppy?” Hazel huffs, finally managing to sit down once he successfully shoves the tail back into Scarlet’s lap.

“Hey!” Scarlet looks downright offended. “I’m a fox, not a dog! We’re a much more sophisticated creature.” He crosses his arms and states pointedly, “just like you can’t control your purrs, we can’t control our wagging.”

Hazel only sighs. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m mated to you.”

“Because you love me. Now shut up or poor Y/N’s gonna feel like she’s being third-wheeled.”

Now this is the Scarlet and Hazel you’re used to. You sit across from them, nursing the sparkling flute of champagne that’s calling your name and trying not to snort out loud at their antics. It’s still extremely hard to maintain eye contact with either of the boys but you put in effort all the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but we already ordered.” Hazel shifts in his seat, one hand ruffling the back of his hair.

“Actually that’s perfect!” You chuckle. “I have no idea what to get in places like these.”

“Ok, good.” His voice is now sounding a little bit shaky, which is very puzzling. Is he nervous?

You take a better look at them, temporarily ignoring their attractiveness (which is a very hard thing to do), and you notice their body language is off. Both their tails are now twitching anxiously and their ears are a little droopy. What’s going on?

“Hey guys.” You keep your voice gentle. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! There’s just, um…” Scarlet is twisting the napkin in his lap. “We have some very important things to ask you and-”

“Wait!” You interrupt him, putting one hand up. You need to get this across before the boys tell you anything. “Before you continue, I just want you both to know that under NO circumstances do you ever have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with. I understand that you have a lot of secrets to keep, being two hybrids who probably don’t have owners. I want to respect our friendship and your privacy, and if that means not knowing a lot of your secrets, then fine by me.” You’re almost out of breath from letting all this out but it’s worth it because you truly value your friendship with them. You always joke to yourself about wanting to know what they’re hiding but deep down you cherish being their friend more than anything.

Both boys glance at each other for a second, nerves having vanished, then they suddenly throw their heads back and erupt into giggles. Scarlet is full on shaking, slapping his knee while he roars with laughter. Even Hazel is cackling, gummy teeth on full display.

This throws you off and your eyebrows furrow together. What’s so funny? You were being sincere and trying to protect them from revealing secrets they don’t want to tell you.

By this time the waiter has come by with a tray of small appetizers so you grab an olive and chew on it in confusion, waiting for their laughter to die down.

“See? What did I tell you about her?” Hazel is wiping a stray tear off his face.

“You’re right, you’re right!” Scarlet nods back in agreement.

Their laughter has finally fizzled away and they both turn to face you once again.

“Um,” You’re completely lost for words so you take another sip of champagne for courage. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No not at all!” Scarlet is quick to reassure you. “In fact, we were nervous at first but you’re making this so much easier for us.”

“Easier?” If you had a penny for all the times these boys have confused you, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“Right.” Hazel leans into the table a little bit, a small smirk on his face. “You see, there’s something very important we want to ask you tonight.”

“But first,” Scarlet juts in, also leaning in next to Hazel, “just to clarify. You trust us right, Y/N?”

“Of course.” You say without hesitation. These boys literally have no reason to harm you. Except they’re a little too close to you now and you resist the urge to fan yourself because oooh boy do they have the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. And their ears! Why are their ears so fluffy looking?! You bet their super soft to touch but you dare not reach out.

“Even though you don’t know our real names?” Hazel urges you on.

“Well, I always figured you’ll tell me when you’re comfortable...” Your voice is getting smaller now, and you feel yourself getting red from head to toe. They’re too close to you and you try not to let your obvious attraction show so you look down and twiddle with your silverware.

“Excellent.” Both boys snap back into their seats, startling you.

“Y/N.” Scarlet clears his throat and tries to make his voice sound serious but he can’t hold back his smile. “We would like to officially ask you to adopt us.”

The fork you’re playing with clatters onto the table.

#bts fic #bts hybrid au #hoseok fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfction #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #bts hybrid fic

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fireblaze5555 · 4 years ago

Text

Sleeping Over

Smutty mcsmut smuttington smut. This is pretty much just smut. Thank you for listening.

I wrote this pretty quickly this morning in between work and it is lightly proofread so I apologize for any mistakes!

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900966

Title: Sleeping Over

Frank woke to sunlight streaming through a window that definitely wasn’t his. It was far too clean and bright. But when a weight shift on his arm and he got the faint smell of vanilla and honeysuckle he remembered, he had crashed at Karen’s last night after finishing up a mission. It hadn’t gone terribly but it hadn’t gone smoothly either. He stopped by with the intention of just checking in, she liked to see that he was okay after his jobs, helping him patch up whatever injuries he may have received. He always tells himself he isn’t going to stay, just assure her that he was fine and go on back to his place. Of course, it almost never goes that way and more often than not these days he finds himself curled around her in the morning.

At some point he is going to have to accept that he basically lives there already and just move the rest of his meager belongings in with him. Karen had already made a point of telling him she would like that, she didn’t pressure him, just put it out there so he could make the decision for himself. As he laid there and continued to soak up her warmth, he began to think that ‘at some point’ was going to be very soon because he couldn’t seem to conjure the feeling of needing to leave. It took him a long time to get here, not feeling incredible guilt for the time he spent with Karen Page. The guilt was still there, like he didn’t deserve her or her love, her compassion or her kindness, but it didn’t drive him away anymore. It wasn’t a sharp pain anymore, more a dull persistent ache in his gut.

“I hope as loud as you are thinking that you are at least thinking about what you are going to feed us.” Karen’s voice was thick with sleep and had the teasing reprimand she reserved for him when she knew he was too much inside his own head.

Frank pressed a kiss to her hair and stretched an arm behind him to support his head, “Yes ma’am,” he didn’t count that as a lie since she already knew he hadn’t been thinking about food. “Though when I checked last night I saw half a jar of mayonnaise and beer in your fridge so I think it might be an order in kind of day.”

“I’m okay with that, it means we don’t have to leave the bed.” She said.

Karen chuckled and rolled to her stomach, her face pressing into the mattress as she gave a luxurious stretch, her back arching prettily. Frank couldn’t help but to let his eyes wander down the length of her, he turned his head and let his eyes linger at the graceful curve of her neck, down over her shoulders where her hair was in disarray, something he loved to see. Karen was always meticulous about her hair, he knew he was one of the very few that got to see it anything less than perfect and, if he were honest, that simple knowledge always gave him a flare of pride. Especially since her hair looked like that more often than not when he spent the night.

Frank continued his perusal, eyes drifting down her arched back before following the enticing curve of her ass where it was now peeking out from the t-shirt that served as her night clothes. He followed the black lacy line of her cheeky underwear, they contrasted exquisitely with her pale skin and suddenly Frank’s mouth went dry and he was achingly hard. He marvelled at that fact an innocent stretch from her turned him on so thoroughly, so fast but really it didn’t take much for Karen page to turn the big bad Punisher into a horny mess.

Before his brain thought better of it, Frank slid his hand under Karen, past her chest and over her taut stomach until his fingers slid over the seam of her through her panties. She had made a questioning noise at first but it turned into a small gasp that made Frank’s blood spike. He slid his hand up just enough to maneuver it past the waist of the lacy garment in his way and had to bite his bottom lip to keep a needy noise in when he repeated the motion again only this time drawing his fingers fully through her folds and pulling a needy whimper from her.

Frank repeated the motion a few times before dragging his fingers up to circle her clit, drawing the most beautiful sounds out of her. His eyes snapped up to her face and he nearly lost his control. She was watching him, those incredible blue eyes fixed on him, her full lips parted as she panted his name and a flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck and, goddamn, he wanted to lick every bit of it off.

His fingers worked expertly over her so it didn’t take long before her hips were grinding down into his hand and she was gripping the pillow, shaking with the need for release. Frank’s cock was straining against his own underwear and the friction it caused was not nearly enough. With his free hand, he slid the boxer briefs down just enough for him to grip his arousal and give a few languid strokes. He couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him, the pressure of his own hand coupled with the incredibly enticing view before him, Karen’s hips grinding in slow circles, her eyes shut tight as she chased her release, made it impossible for him to stay silent.

Karen heard the little noise somehow past her own pleasure and her eyes snapped open before they slowly trailed down his chest to where his hand languidly pumped the length of dick. Her hips jerked and she tugged at her bottle lip with her teeth as she watched him and the sight had him on fire, the blood rushing in his ears so loud he almost missed the beautiful sound she made as her orgasm finally hit her. Her hand flew up to grip his bicep as he worked her through the rolling pleasure, her nails biting into his skin, fanning the flames to the point he felt like he could combust.

When she came down from her high, Karen’s eyes slowly left where he was still gripping himself to meet his eyes. The need he saw there made his lungs seize and if that wasn’t enough to get him moving, the husky way she breathed his name over his shoulder was.

In an instant Frank was on his knees, hooking fingers into the lace of her underwear and jerking them down the glorious length of her legs before throwing them somewhere over his shoulder. He’d find them for her later, he had something much more important to do right now. He felt lightheaded, the sight of her arching below him, just waiting for him to move was almost too much. His cock throbbed with impatience but he forced himself to stop, to appreciate the picture before him. Frank slid a heavy hand from the curve of her ass, up the length of her back before he scooped her silky hair into his palm and moved it over her shoulder. Dragging kisses replaced where the strands had been, little nips at her shoulder before he slowly ground his arousal against her. He repeated the motion a few times before she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Frank, please.”

He could never deny her. So with a growl he canted his hips back enough to align with her entrance and slid into her easily, both letting out little curses and gasps. Frank sat up enough so that he could grip her hips then slide both hands up her back to grip her shoulders. It gave him the leverage he needed to grind into her. God she felt so good, he would never get tired of how perfect she felt around him. He repeated the motion again before letting his hands drift back down to her hips. Karen for her part was pushing back against him, fighting for every bit of friction she could find. Finally he took mercy on both of them. He started slow, holding her hips in place while he slid in and out of her in an easy rhythm but it didn’t take long for him to increase his tempo, slamming into her. It was a frenzied pace and one that he knew would send them both careening over the edge before long but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

As he suspected, Karen’s voice pitched with more urgency and he felt her starting to tighten around him. He’d say sensation would have brought him to his knees but he was already there. It didn’t take much for Karen to bring Frank Castle to his knees.

Leaning over, Frank put his hands on the bed above her shoulders to help keep her in place while he increased the already punishing pace. It changed the angle, driving him somewhere impossibly deep in her and in an instant he felt her go rigid below him, a scream tearing from her lips that was muffled by the mattress as she pressed her face into it.

Karen cinched around him and if he hadn’t been lightheaded before he most certainly was now. A desperate sound escaped him as he continued to pump into her and all it took was one swivel of her hips once she had recovered to send him into oblivion as well. His hips stuttered and he pressed his forehead to the crook of her neck as he released into her, the pleasure spreading so strongly through him Frank wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his weight off of her. As the waves began to ebb he was pressing kisses and adoring words into the skin of her shoulder, not yet ready or willing to leave her warmth. Karen purred under him, her head now rested on one of her arms while the other reached back to run soothing fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

Finally though, Frank made himself pull back but only just enough to roll off of her and pull her into his side once again.

Karen hummed, resting her head on his shoulder and running an idle hand up and down his chest. She looked up at him sleepily and when she spoke her voice was husky and sated in a way that fed his male pride.

“Do you think GrubHub delivers straight to your bed?”

Frank gave a startled chuckle and looked down at her, “I somehow doubt it ma’am. Besides, I’m not sure it would fit in with our safety plans if the delivery drivers for your favorite restaurants all have keys to your place.”

She shivered at the low timber of his voice but pressed on, “Well, you may be right but that doesn’t change the fact that I am very reluctant to leave this bed and I am still incredibly hungry.”

“Well we can’t have you starving to death so I guess I’ll have to take one for the team and order some food, yeah?” He traced a finger up and down her arm and watched goosebumps rise in its wake. He felt some of the heat returning to his body, he wasn’t ready to go again just yet, god knows he isn’t that young anymore, but he felt like he may have something left in him when burning blue eyes and a sultry smile turned up to him.

“I appreciate your sacrifice but...maybe we can stay in bed, just a little bit longer.” She finished the sentence with her lips pressed against his jaw and he didn’t need any further convincing. He’d buy her whatever the hell she wanted to eat, whenever the hell she wanted it as long she kept her lips on him.

And she did.

It was quite some time before he was able to hold up his end of the bargain but the delivery driver for the Chinese place around the corner was happy to receive the incredible tip, despite the frightening man at the door covered in cuts and bruises and what looked distinctly like hickeys.

#kastle #frank castle #karen page #frank castle and karen page #oneshot #smut #fluff and smut #cuddles #fanfic

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ofsinnersandsaints · 5 years ago

Text

nothing warmer than ‘i love you’

rating: M word count: 2424 one shot

AO3

Frank tells Karen he loves her for the first time

Karen came out of the shower with her hair still wet, wearing a black shirt which barely hit her mid-thigh.

Frank smiled when he saw it, remembered when she’d first brought it home and she’d been nearly giddy with laughter. She’d been walking home when she’d seen the vendor selling the black shirts with white skulls on them: Punisher merchandise.

Naturally, he couldn’t wear it, but Karen got to wearing it around the house and the first time he’d seen his mark on her chest he’d fucked her on the living room floor until the neighbors complained about the noise. He wasn’t overcome with lust just now, but it always made him smile to see her wear it.

“You’re cooking?”

“I figured it was better than letting you near the stove,” he teased. “For someone who worked at a diner for years, I’d think you’d be better be at it.”

“There was a reason I took orders,” she quipped back, pulling herself up on the counter. “I never forgot a face or an order. Foggy wants to know if you’re coming this weekend.”

Frank paused, knowing Karen had intentionally made the last comment sound casual to avoid pressuring him, but he also knew how much his answer meant to her. “Do I have to go?”

Her expression didn’t change at all but he thought he saw her eyes dim a little as she picked up one the peppers intended for the stir fry. “Of course not, I just… He’s trying, Frank, and that means a lot to me.”

Foggy was getting married and his engagement party was going to be a bash held at Josie’s-which proved just how much his fiancée love him. Karen was the best man and Foggy had told her she was more than welcome to bring her boyfriend.

When Karen had asked if he wanted to come Frank had been evasive; Foggy was hardly Frank’s biggest fan, even if he’d often been Frank’s biggest advocates. Franklin Nelson might have kicked ass as his attorney, but Frank knew the lawyer had to be dragged to the case kicking and screaming.

But that had been his reputation on the line, and now it was his friendship with Karen, which Frank knew was probably more important to Foggy than his job.

And Karen was more important to him than anything. He couldn’t very well tell her no, could he? “I’ll come.”

Her smile was bright and warm as she leaned forward to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He’d do just about anything to keep that smile on her face. “Is he going to remember to call me Pete?”

“Absolutely not,” Karen laughed, taking two more peppers and eating them like popcorn. “He’ll probably introduce you as ‘Karen’s guy’ to everyone he meets to avoid saying the wrong name.”

Frank laughed, “I’ve been called worse.”

“Cute.”

He took the pepper out of her hand, the fourth one she was trying to eat from the cutting board. “If you eat all the veggies there’s not going to be any left for dinner. Are going to head back to work tonight?”

Going back to the office after six pm wasn’t anything new because she tended to work herself to exhaustion and he didn’t try to stop her, she was a big kid and could make her own decisions, he just made sure she was fed and slept at least six hours.

Which was why he was cooking veggies and meat and not ordering take out for the third time this week.

“No, Ellison said if I came back to the office this weekend he’d fire me.” She leaned forward to try and steal a piece of steak but he swatted her hand away. “God, this smells good.”

“I thought he threatened to fire you yesterday.”

“He threatens to fire me everyday,” she clarified. “Some days he means it and some days he doesn’t. I think this time he might have meant it so I’m yours for the rest of the weekend.”

Frank glanced at the clock above the stove. “All six hours of it?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Have you gotten any more information from Dinah about the trip?”

Dinah had done some masterwork of bureaucratic nonsense and gotten him a kind of freelance job with Homeland. On occasion she would call him up for help; Frank told Karen it was basically SWAT work, and it mostly the truth. Since the foundation of their relationship was built on the fact that he always told her the truth, he didn’t lie to her about what he was doing, but he did downplay the danger involved.

And he was pretty sure she knew that. “We leave on Tuesday morning, should be back within 24 hours.”

“You’ll call me?”

Frank stood in front of her, keeping his gaze level on hers so she would see he was being honest. “As often as possible.”

“Is it weird that I hate you being in danger far away more than when you’re close by?”

He hated it too, and the more time he spent with Karen at his side, the less he liked leaving it. Hell, it had been almost a month since he’d gotten himself in any kind of serious scrape. “Maybe it’s because I’m too far away to yell at.”

She loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, “It is more fun scolding you to your face.”

Frank leaned forward and kissed her, nothing rush or hurried, because they had all the time in the world. He enjoyed these quiet moments when the rest of the world was held at bay, and even the violence which had brought them together couldn’t touch them. “You remember Schoonover?”

Karen snorted, “I think I remember him, yeah. Why?”

“Well, I think we can both agree he’s an asshole.”

“Was an asshole,” she reminded him with a sharp look which was a fraction of the anger she’d had that night in the woods. “What about him?”

“He may have been a terrible person, but he did say something to me that stuck back in the day. That our job was stressful, and heavy, and that everyone needed a chair.”

“A chair?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Frank nodded, “A place to sit down, to set down your worries and destress from the job. For some people it’s scotch, or a book, or the boxing ring. You know what I figured out when you came in here just now?”

“That I need matching Punisher sweats to go with my shirt?”

“No,” he answered, wondering at the calmness in his chest. Awed by it. “I figured out you’re my chair.”

Her smile was small, but warm and soft so it filled him from the inside out. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Give me a second, and I’ll do you one better,” he promised. “I’m in love with you, Karen Page. And I figured I should tell you at some point because it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon.”

Karen’s eyes went wide, her mouth falling open just a little at the confession and then her lips curved into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She reached out and ran a thumb over his cheek, “I love you, too.”

Overwhelmed because he didn’t think he’d ever get a chance to have this again Frank kissed her, this time with more than just the moment in mind. He buried his hands in her hair, enjoyed the feeling of the damp silk threading through his fingers.

She kissed him back with a littler more desperation, a little more want, and clutched at his shoulders. “Take me to bed, Frank.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, he tugged on her ankle and getting the hint, she hooked her legs around his waist and he carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom, to the place they’d slept and loved each other every night for the past few months.

Technically he still kept a place in another part of the Kitchen but it was more safe house than anything else at this point.

This was home.

With her.

He laid her down on the comforter and kept on kissing her because he had hours until either of them needed to be anywhere. She reached up and tugged off his shirt, her fingers tracing old scars and new tattoos. Frank had always felt like a brute, but she always managed to make him feel like something else, something he didn’t have a word for.

Maybe it was loved.

He reluctantly stripped of her shirt, and happily tossed her underwear to the side so he access to all the smooth skin beneath. When he kicked off his sweats settled on top on her, the feel of her skin against his was a familiar feeling but it still got him going every damn time.

He wanted to remember everything about this moment, how nothing was rushed or frantic between them. This was not the time for rough hands or dirty talk, instead it was all soft touches and easy sighs as they loved each other.

He kissed her on the mouth, the cheek, the lovely length of her neck and down her body to crest her over that first climax with lips and tongue. She said his name a benediction, her fists clenched in the pretty pastel comforter that always slid around on the bed while they slept.

Frank felt her peak and sigh, her body going liquid beneath his hands.

When one of their phones rang they both ignored the sound, preferring instead to stay wrapped in each other.

She guided him with soft sounds and sharp breaths and he followed the road map she created for him, enjoying every inch of the journey. When he was done tasting the heat of her he rose up above her, looking down at her. Her hair was going to dry in a mess and she was going to complain about it later, but loved how she looked just now in that moment.

“Say it again,” Frank asked as he settled between her thighs.

“I love you,” she whispered, her hands touching every inch of him she could reach. “I love you.”

“I never thought I’d get so lucky,” he confessed as worked through them both up towards a quiet and easy pleasure with hands and teeth and pressure.

“It’s not luck,” Karen assured him as she ran her hand down the back of his neck, pressing her lips to his jaw and throat. “We deserve this, Frank. We earned it.”

And he couldn’t argue with that.

They’d fought to be where they were; they’d both clawed their way out of darkness and despair, fighting against guilt and depression.

Falling in love hadn’t been luck, and it certainly hadn’t been easy.

In fact, Frank thought as Karen slid over that second climax, falling in love had been the hardest thing for either of them to do.

She dug her heels into the mattress as she arched against him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back and he wanted to give her as much as she’d given him. He wanted to kiss her for every scar she’d healed, for every reason he’d had to smile in the past few years.

For the rest of his life he wanted to make sure she was happy, protected, and loved.

Frank didn’t want there every to be a moment where Karen wondered if she was wanted, if she was needed, because she was everything to him.

Wild, reckless, curious, dangerous Karen Page.

His Karen Page.

Just as he was hers.

He could feel his own orgasm building at the base of his spine, could feel his own control slipping and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered as he wrapped her close.

She did as he asked, wrapping her legs around his body, her arms around his neck, and when he spent himself inside it was a different kind of release than he’d ever experienced before.

Karen was pressing her lips to his as he came too, and spoke to him between kisses. “We forgot to turn the stove off. I think dinner’s ruined.”

“Fuck,” Frank answered, more out of a knee jerk response than any actual anger. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be angry again. “Guess you’re going to have to make dinner tonight.”

She grinned. “Then I’m definitely making Thai food.”

“I’ll get your phone.”

But she didn’t let him go so he could get up, instead she held on tighter. “It can wait, Frank. I want to hold onto this a little bit longer.”

He brushed a hand down her back. “It’s not going anywhere, Karen. I’m not going anywhere. And the smoke detector’s going to start screaming in a second.”

With a reluctant sigh she let him go and he got up to turn off the stove, then picked up their phones to see who had called-her phone didn’t show any missed calls but his did.

“That’s not a good look,” Karen commented as he came into the bedroom. “Who called?”

“Matt.”

Her brows furrowed. After coming back from the dead Matt had been distant at best, and Karen still hadn’t quite forgiven him all the way for lying to her again. And because he was on Karen’s side first and foremost, he hadn’t quite forgiven Red either. “Did he call me or you?”

“Me,” he pulled up the message and read the voicemail Matt had left. “He needs my help.”

“Tonight?”

“Now.”

She took a deep breath and reached for her shirt, pulling it on as she walked towards him. “Okay.”

Frank looked up at her, surprised. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say? If Matt called you for help, he needs help.”

“Okay.” He turned and went to the closet, pulling down his gear as Karen texted Matt back saying he was on his way. “I’ll call you as soon as I know more about what’s going on.”

“I love having the exclusive,” she teased as she handed him his phone back and it almost made him smile because they were now both wearing his signature white skull. “Be safe.”

“Of course.” He framed her face and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And off to the darkness he went, carrying a piece of the light with him.

Karen loved him.

#kastle #kastleff #kastlesmutweek #kastlenetwork #ksw: silky sunday #it's 9:19pm here so it's technically still sunday

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karenpage · 6 years ago

Text

you’re honest. you never lie to me

an essay (?) about Karen Page + the importance of the truth.

I’m going to preface this with yes, I ship Kastle, but a lot of the details, the facts and the principles that will be shared throughout this post are some of the primary reasons I do, and not intended to necessarily change people’s perspectives to their own romantic pairings.

We’re going to open with Daredevil s1, where it all began.

The introduction of Karen’s character is flanked by ‘guilt’ by ‘the truth’ and what it means depending on where you’re standing when you look at it. She’s framed for murder (an ultimate act of dishonesty), because she was investigating the truth - she lost her job, lost everything, in her pursuit of what was actually happening behind the smoke and mirrors of Union Allied. And at this point, it just looked like money being moved around, which, while illegal and immoral, wasn’t as violently criminal as say, organized drug trafficking and gang-related violence (like the Italians or Kitchen Irish).

She relies on Matt and Foggy trusting her. She relies on that blind faith. And the few times Karen lies to them (and she does lie initially) was rooted in her paranoia. Her fear. Especially when you continue further on and she’s almost killed in her holding cell, and she doesn’t know who to turn to, who she can place her trust in.

Enter: Daredevil. (that’s a fine looking high horse)

He’s representative of good, working along the margins of the law (vigilante justice), but it is absolute. Of course, she has no way of knowing the shape of his moral code, but he’s the first person shown to save Karen so she latches onto that ideal fiercely. A continued theme of her thinking that Daredevil is the end all be all; he’s saved her, he does what’s ‘right’, or at least what the man beneath the mask believes to be.

Karen’s story arc through the entirety of season 1 is the pursuit of truth. It starts with Union Allied. It starts with Ben Urich. And then it twists into the guilt of Karen feeling the weight of the truth she unearths - doing what’s right, what’s just, starts to come at an incredibly high price. Karen’s life is threatened ROUTINELY, and she persists. She doesn’t stop.

I don’t think it’s necessarily a death wish so much as it is: people have died on this journey and to stop? To give up because she’s scared? Would be an insult to them directly.

And then she’s at the business end of a gun. And then she’s got so much blood on her hands she can’t breathe.

We now know (with the release of dds3), that Wesley wasn’t the first person she shot. That Karen Page has always been perfectly capable of handling herself but Wesley’s death is important in the shift of her reality.

It isn’t black & white any longer.

Because self-defense has a very narrow threshold and while her life would continue to be in direct danger if James Wesley was allowed to live, right then, and after the first shot into his shoulder, he wasn’t an immediate threat.

Karen emptied the clip into him and buried that trauma, that guilt, way down deep.

But his isn’t the first life she’d taken. It isn’t the first ghost that sits in her shadow.

So why is Karen so interested in the absolute truth, every inch of it laid bare even if it makes her look bad? Even if it’s ugly?

Cut to Daredevil s3e10: Karen.

After two seasons of Daredevil and one season of The Punisher teasing the tragedy of Karen Page’s backstory, we’re given insight into what’s clearly a defining set of circumstances for her later behavior, for her grief.

Karen made bad choices, and bad things happened; her brother dies in an accident caused by her addiction, by her abusive boyfriend and it’s an absolute, soul-rending ache that we see reflected throughout her adulthood thereafter.

But her dad, a man who had no sense of responsibility, culpability, let his denial of their circumstances make decisions for them and was emotionally abusive -- he took away her ability to grieve. Her ability to take the blame in guilt.

He made the death of her brother about him.

Karen was CLEARLY upset when he told her that she wasn’t ‘there’, that the sheriff was going to call it a one person incident because their family didn’t need more suffering. After her mother’s death, now her brother’s, what would that do to her father if she ended up in prison? It was exceptionally manipulative on his part to phrase things the way he did and that stuck with Karen.

A lie. Not the first but the one that defined her relationship with the truth. With honesty. With justice and vengeance.

A lie that blamed her brother for his own death and a lie that haunted her each and every day, and will continue to until she’s able to come to terms with the truth of it.

We see a scene of her looking at the newspaper (a clipping about the accident), and I think there’s a deliberate parallel there to a scene in dds2, which we now segue into. (we’ll come back to dds3 after, I just thought this was a necessary bit of past information that ties into .. well .. pretty much everything).

Onto dds2, or; the inevitability of Frank Castle.

The theme’s that tie Karen to Frank are constant, and, in my opinion, needfully heavy-handed.

Karen learns there’s a man killing criminals, a man who sees the wrong in what people have done and is taking them out with military precision. He doesn’t miss his targets, so why is she lucky enough to get away from The Punisher? What if he knows what she’s done? What if he, like Ben or Ellison, dug a little too deep and saw why she’d come to New York in the first place? Or caught the scent of James Wesley, the gun at the bottom of the Hudson.

What if she deserved it?

The guilt complex manifests tenfold after she kills Wesley, and continues on throughout season 2 with Karen believing that the reason Frank Castle exists as a concept, is due to the nature of the city. That really, these vigilantes are a product of circumstance. When people like Wilson Fisk rise to power, when there’s a wound in a city of that size, it doesn’t just go away. It leaves a permanent mark and Karen’s literally dedicated her energy to defending the downtrodden. To helping those who need help.

To learn the reason ‘why’ behind every defense sentencing.

It starts with: he has to have a reason. He knows who his targets are, it’s not a madman gunning down randoms. So there’s logic to what he does, however, distorted by perception, but logic nonetheless.

We see Karen throw herself headlong into this internal, isolated investigation BEFORE they have reason to dedicate their time and energy to finding a probable defense for Frank.

Karen goes digging before she’s obligated.

Because she needs to know. Her truths (how many of them now?) are all buried, all dead, all six feet under so that desperate endeavor for honesty and absolution drives her to break into Frank’s house after seeing the files. After seeing what happened to him.

And it grows from there.

Karen finds the truth, wants the truth, and starts to see her grief in the haunted flint of Frank’s eyes and while all of this is happening, her relationship with Matt Murdock has shifted into something romantic. She trusts him. Gets girlish and sweet, maybe even a little vulnerable in his company.

And in the middle of Karen talking to Frank, in the middle of Karen rooting around in a past that so many have tried to cover up, to hide, Matt is routinely and repeatedly betraying that trust.

Truth. Honesty. Integrity. Components to the walls that Karen keeps up around her, why she keeps most things, most people, at an arm's length.

They either hurt her. Or they die.

And she wears plenty of guilt for that. Karen’s her own worst critic, her own judge, jury, and executioner.

Now, Matt’s odd behavior is initially explained by Foggy as ‘drinking’, which wasn’t meant to be a lie that’d hurt Karen ultimately. Foggy did as Foggy does; he protects his friends, and maybe he’d panicked a little and that felt reasonable, right? Better than telling Karen Page that the vigilante she’d been enamored with is actually the blind man that she’s grown separate, and intimate feelings for.

Again, we look into Karen’s past and we see that she struggled with addiction; pills, powder, alcohol - she’s been there. And her empathy towards Matt, all those hours spent worrying .. are housed in betrayal, ultimately. And he can phrase it like he’s protecting her but really, they both know better, they knew better, and Matt was probably afraid of what would happen if she knew.

A lie is still a lie, no matter the intentions behind it.

Now Frank’s this sort of ... emotional lifeline for Karen after that first act of heartbreak is echoing around in her mind. Walking in on Matt and Elektra (which, and while I personally resent pitting two women against each other, I recognize the significance and circumstances of; this is all meant to dialogue about Karen Page, not to paint or argue opinions).

She turns to Frank, finds comfort in HIS justice, and it’s definitely an act of emotional projection. Her family is dead. Her family did not, and cannot receive the justice they deserved but Frank’s? That’s an honest to god tragedy (nobody comes out of that okay).

Their relationship continues in such a way that’s built on bald honesty. Even if it’s ugly, maybe especially then. Regardless of whether or not it’s chosen to be read romantically, it is significant, the line Karen has with Frank is probably one of the most important of her character: You’re honest. You never lie to me.

We know why that trait stands out among the rest. After all she’s learned about Frank, knows the skeleton’s in his closet; she doesn’t judge him. Not when the dust settles and the blood on their hands runs the same color red.

Guilt and grief are hard to differentiate when you’re in the thick of it but Karen’s always drawn a pretty distinct line.

No matter what, above and before all else; we are our truths.

And when she collapses in front of her wrecked car (Ben’s, car, isn’t it?), she’s faced with two ghosts: Kevin’s, and Frank’s (he’d told her he’s already dead, what difference does another bullet through another skull make?)

And then he’s dead for real, she thinks. She’s grieving a dead man, loving and mourning him all at once. The scene with Matt hearing her heartbeat? It was done deliberately; he knows what hell he’s put Karen through by then, he knows she’s come to care about Frank in a way that he fundamentally disagrees with, but can’t talk her out of.

But Frank lets Karen know. It’s a pointed scene, on the rooftop. What is it, to be a hero?

It’s not Midland Circle. It isn’t dying, and staying dead but living in the margins and letting your friends hurt.

It isn’t telling her: I’m Daredevil, and letting the mortification and pain and rage of the last year wash over Karen Page.

So we’re at Daredevil s3 (with an inclusion of The Punisher s1, and how loving dead men makes Karen Page switch to espresso)

We’ve already touched on her backstory, so I’m not really going to reiterate that here and now.

But the big Lie. The big HURT for Karen this season is Matt.

He died, but she refuses to believe it (even if she can’t know absolutely either way. Matt’s her friend. As angry as she gets at him, as dumb as he gets, Karen loves her friends fiercely).

He’s ‘back’, but not really. Karen feels absolutely and fundamentally betrayed; if Matt was back, he wouldn’t let us think he was dead.

So much for him promising he’d stop lying.

And at this point? There’s no degree of self-preservation to it, he doesn’t mask it as keeping them safe. He just cannot live with what he’s become. Matt Murdock dies with the love of his life under midland circle and Daredevil’s fit-together broken pieces.

Karen’s don’t fit with his, but she cares, and she persists. Because that’s what Karen Page does.

She helps. In spite of or despite the circumstances, Karen Page does the right thing in the face of all the wrong.

Her forgiveness to Matt is slow coming and hell, her defense of Frank to him at the very beginning communicates volumes as to where her headspace is.

Karen’s tired of grief. Tired of being tired. Tired of people dying in the name of her truth; look at the Bulletin. She’d pushed the Jasper Evans lead, she’d pulled on that thread KNOWING it’d bring Fisk’s wrath -- she still has nightmares -- and that’s because discrediting her, the agent of honesty and truth, is imperative for the liars to keep good in the business of lying.

So Karen uses her truth as a weapon when she goes to Fisk herself.

No one else gets caught in the crossfire because of her. No one else dies. this is the shape her justice takes and it is as brave as it is stupid, admittedly.

We close the season on transparency; all seems well with Nelson, Murdock & Page. Truth sits behind her teeth at all times but lying doesn’t go away, it sheds it skin and it grows and Karen Page values honesty. Values justice.

Not how it looks to her alone. But how it fits into the to City they call home.

#p #my meta.#karen page #daredevil #karen page meta #kastle #kinda?#not really but I want to tag it so people don't have to see it if it's blacklisted!#character: karen page #meta: karen + truth #long post for ts #THIS IS REALLY LONG AND I HAD 100000000000 FEELINGS BUT #here it is #long post

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writerbri-archive · 6 years ago

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🖤

This is just a little snapshot at canon but sorta domestic kastle that popped in my head. I hope you like it, my love!

send me a 🖤 and i’ll write a kastle fic

Sometimes it was as easy as breathing. Sometimes it was like dragging her feet through thick, unyielding mud. No one ever said that being in love with the Punisher would be uncomplicated. But even when it was hard as hell, Karen wouldn’t have given it up for the world. Especially in the quiet, soft moments like this.

Their legs entangled on the bed in the dim evening light that filtered through the window, his shirt discarded on the ground, her curled into his side with steady fingers tracing over smooth skin and mottled scars. He saw his body as a war zone. A weapon. Some deadly thing to be wielded against those who deserved it most. Karen simply saw a kindred soul and a wounded heart.

He held a book in his right hand, his eyes scanning the pages as the fingers of his other hand stroked through her hair. A murmur of apology passed his lips when he caught on a tangle and tugged without meaning but she simply lifted her hand, loosely entwining her fingers with his and turning her face to press a kiss to his palm.

Her eyes traced over his calloused, weathered hand, catching on the silvery scars that decorated his knuckles and his bluntly clipped nails. Then she fixed on his third finger, her mind going straight to a woman she’d seen only in a picture, a bright smile on her face and life shining in her eyes. Maria wasn’t a ghost for her, not like she was for Frank. But she was still a presence. There was no use in denying that.

Karen brushed her thumb over the empty space of that finger, her head turning and her eyes settling on Frank. It didn’t take long for his mouth to twitch and his eyes to move away from the book, their dark depths fixing on her. One eyebrow rose questioningly, his thumb pressing between the pages of the book to keep his place as he flipped it closed.

“What?” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

She hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lip hesitantly. His head tilted to the side, his eyes telling her to just get out with it already.

“What happened to your ring?” Karen asked, a wince building in her as she knew she definitely could have asked that more gracefully.

Frank’s eyes darted to his hand and back to her, a small line forming between his eyebrows as his questioning look turned to a frown.

“I, uh…” he trailed off, clearing his throat and setting his book on the bed. “I don’t know. Woke up without it at the hospital after the…”

He didn’t finish the thought, shrugging one shoulder.

“Never got it back.”

Karen felt a surge of anger on his behalf, threading her fingers through his and squeezing lightly. She’d never stop hating the people who put him through this, even though all that they’d been through put them right here in this moment. Turning more fully towards him, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and touched her forehead to his.

There was nothing more to say. No amount of “I’m sorry’s” that would make the pain go away. So she just laid there pressed flush to his side, her own wounded heart aching for him. His arm slid around her waist and hauled her in even closer. They breathed as one, their inhales and exhales matching perfectly and intentionally.

It wasn’t always easy.

But it was always worth it.

#kastle #kastle drabble #kastle fanfiction #karen x frank #frank x karen #my writing #drabble #frankcastle

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silencefromafar · 6 years ago

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I think I’m gonna start compiling a list of Reasons Why We Should Have Season 3 of ‘The Punisher’ and the first one is:

Karen Page deserves to get laid.

C’mon! After all this woman went through she definitely deserves some naked loving! Everybody else in this Marvel Netflix Universe got some - main and secondary characters, heros and vilains - on and off screen. Only Karen has been living in celibacy.

We already know that Frank likes to go at it all night. Let the guy give Karen some quality naked time ffs

#let karen page get some quality naked time 2k19 #karen page meta?#crack post #but really #kastle #marvel's the punisher

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soulfireinc · 6 years ago

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So I finished DDS3

I shall be processing for many days but MY GOD. Overall, I loved. A lot. Spoilery fangirling and criticisms under the cut

- The opening scene: AH NOW that’s a bit mystical considering the tone of the show. I mean, it looks beautiful but come on. He should’ve been way more dead than that. Would’ve been better if he was just found by people who wanted to pay Daredevil back for all he’s done and who bring him to Father Lantom ‘cause they’re in his parish and know he’s sound. Him grabbing that randomer and giving instructions was a tad much, I thought. Also, why Lantom and not Claire when he’s super injured? Except of course that sweet baby Rosario is gone from Marflix.

- ELEKTRA NEEDED TO BE MENTIONED MORE. And generally I think a bit more specificity on survivor’s guilt ‘cause WHY was he the only one to be schlurped out the drain? Sure, Karen could be fine glossing over how he survived and got out ‘cause she refused to think he was dead, but Foggy should’ve asked more.

- Reunion with Foggy felt a bit rushed and forced to me. I think it needed more time for staring and holy-shit-you’re-alive-ing.

- MAGGIE J’ADORE

- LOVE that we had more over suicidal Matt discussions, that was needed

- Sweet baby Nadeem, you poor you. That Jack parallel at the end. My heart.

- THE HALLUCINATIONS YES YES YES SUCH FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELS! Love Matt not idolising his dad as much and having him be back in the narrative. Felt he was really missing from S2.

- KAREN YOU ARE PERFECT AND NEED MORE HUGS IN YOUR LIFE DON’T YOU LISTEN TO YOUR FATHER

- Okay okay okay. People (Karen) needed to be more concerned about Ellison in the Bulletin fight. Like, is he dead? We don’t know, he’s treated like an extra til we see him in the hospital.

- IF YOU TOUCH MY FOGGY I WILL RIP OUT YOUR SPINE AND BEAT YOU WITH IT CRETIN

- Marci. J’adore.

- FISKING HELL WHAT A FISKING FISK THAT FISKED

- K I N G P I N

- BULLSE-EY-EY-EYE! Done so well, I loved. His therapist deserved so many awards

- As does Charlie Cox and Vincent D’Onofrio and Deborah Ann Woll cos WOW, just wow, so much wow

- Right, so. That confrontation at the end. Is it just me or was it OOC and a bit plot-device-writing-y for Fisk to just ... let Matt win? Sure, he’s hurt and dazed and came that close to being killed, but shouldn’t his reaction be to just grab a shard of chandelier and stab Matt? Especially when Matt just sits down and holds his head for a minute? Why didn’t Vanessa kill the man who almost killed her hubby? Sure, he saved her like eight times, but still. It was weirdly passive for Fisk to just kneel there for minutes when he could’ve killed the man who ruined everything. Who he’d tried to kill a bunch all season. For all he knew, he just killed Dex. Why not Matt? This might need a fix-it fic for me. It might’ve even been a more powerful moral victory for Matt to be physically hurt for choosing his own soul, considering the themes of ignoring his true self and physical deconstruction.

- Speaking of Matt’s vulnerability, I feel he needed more small wins, or a bit more space to grieve and be given physical affection at the end. Every single episode had at least one hit for him and yes, he beat Fisk and he got his friends back and has started to trust himself with them/them with him. These are all huge wins, but not huge enough to balance thirteen episodes of misery. His last paternal figure died right in front of him. He could’ve stopped it (he’ll think). They argued right before. The woman he trusted who saved his life lied to him every day for months and years. (Loved how that ended, but goddamnit he needed one fecking hug that lasted more than half a second)

- NEEDED MORE MATT HUGS

- NEEDED A KAREN HUG OR AT LEAST AFFECTIONATE HAND SQUEEZE AT THE BROTHER/WESLEY REVEAL MY GOD MATT I KNOW YOU’RE HURTING BUT JESUS SHE JUST LAID HER SOUL BARE FOR YOU AND ????? I know you’re emotionally constipated but honestly honey, you could’ve said something a lil more comforting. Like, jeez.

- Honestly, Dex. Triumph.

- MELVIN NOOOOOO?! Glad leaving him to be FEDified was addressed, but god, Matt. That’s not okay, you poor thing. I hope they can be friends again but Gladiator’s gonna have to happen first yay

- Ellison is underappreciated and I love him. That set up? #dadboss

- Matt should’ve been more hurt after Midland Circle. I’m glad we got so much whump, but I’d’ve killed for the angst of him lacking his independence. It would’ve added to his early arc so much to see him being helped to the bathroom or even better, to eat.

- FOGGY’S IRISH? HI FAM :D SLÁINTE!

- Damn Foggy’s suits were amazing. He looked fantastic. Also his jumpers.

- Everything about Karen My Hero Page. You did not kill your bother, sweet baby. Not really. *feels*

- Please please please let all that Vanessa stuff be gearing her up to be the Kingpin while Fisk’s away. I would be SO HERE for that

- The whump uwu

- TAMMY HATLEY listen here. I had to pause for a MINUTE to give out when she turned out to be dirty, I loved her SO MUCH and y’know what? She was just great, all around. What a character. A+

- No but really. Matt chose to die with Elektra. That needed to be brought up again. She needed to be there, whether only in mentions. Although hallucinating her when he was still severely injured in St Agnes would’ve been beautiful. Can you imagine the guilt? The love? The angst? I may need to fic that.

- I 100% need Madame Gao to come back. That cannot be her end.

- If that ends up being Elektra’s end I will need a refund. She deserved better. Kill her off to further the man pain and then don’t mention the man pain like what

- Father Lantom and Karen MY HEART!

- Matt. Sweet, precious baby Matt. I love you. You’re an idiot.

- That nasal bloodbath bit?? Perf. Dramatic, but perf.

- WHY COULD WE NOT GET MORE OF THE TAXI SCENE???? I know you don’t see Matt’s struggle in the comics but dang guys, adapt! I found that really disappointing. That’s not a scenario (near-drowning) that they’re likely to do again and I feel mildly cheated. May need to fic that too.

There is definitely more to say and my subconscious is already writing essays but for now I must go watch it again sleep

UPDATE HOW COULD I FORGET THE BULLETIN BULLSEYE FIGHT THAT WAS AMAZING AND MORE IMPORTANTLY THE WORRIED!KAREN AND THE H A N D H O L D I N G be still my shipper heart

#daredevil #season 3 #dd season 3 #matt murdock #karen page #foggy nelson #wilson fisk #bullseye #dex #s3

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ambrosiaswhispers · 6 years ago

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On Target: Chapter Three

Hello Cabin - we've been here for three days. There's only one bed...and still only Blue as a chaperone. (O).(O) Frank...Frank...Frank??? Please excuse the writer she has to go chase the murder-cupcake down, again! *Get back here!!!!*

Also, the writer is really really unsure about their voices here. So any feedback would be greatly appreciated. AO3 Link

Chapter Three

Frank had been tortured before, also by cause of an order been a torturer, so he understood of how it worked. The worst type of people to torture were psychopaths, not because they couldn’t be broken, but it was exhausting to do so. Psychopaths cared so little about everything that it was hard to get them riled up enough to break the rhythm. Not that he would ever compare Karen to a psychopath, but her nonchalant attitude about her unintentional torture of him just might cause his long overdue death.

It had been three days since they settled here and he should have realized that Karen Page was not one to sit still for long. She was on the mend and had developed a wicked case of cabin fever. Currently, he was sitting on one end of the couch reading a book, while she sat at the other end writing in a notebook.

“You should take the bed tonight.” She moved the eraser of her pencil over the page.

He arched an eyebrow, noting that she hadn’t bothered to look up, “No. You’re still healing. The couch is fine for me.”

“Don’t be such a martyr. I’m letting you sleep in the bed for the night, not taking a bullet for you.”

“I’ve done that.”

“Don’t remind me.” Karen lamely tossed a throw pillow at him. “See if I wasn’t feeling better I couldn’t have thrown that at you.”

Frank looked at the pillow that had traveled two inches from Karen’s thigh. “Careful that speedball’s got some heat.”

She rolled her eyes and gingerly got up from the couch, waving off his offered hand. “I’m fine. Do you want more coffee?”

“If you’re going that way.”

She picked up his cup and padded to the kitchen. Her range of motion was already improving, but she still wearing the zip-up hoodie as it was easier to get on. He should have grabbed her a button-up shirt.

He diverted his eyes from her and went back to reading getting through a few pages, before noting that Karen hadn’t returned. He glanced back up to find her staring out the window at the falling snow. It had snowed on and off since their arrival, not blizzard conditions, but enough to blanket the forest surrounding the cabin. The couched creaked as he pushed himself up and paced up behind her, following her gaze.

“It’s so peaceful.”

He made an affirmative sound.

“I remember my Christmases looking like this. Did you ever go outside of the city in the winter?”

“Does the desert count?”

Karen inclined her head back to look at him, head turned slightly up, due to their height difference. The setting sunlight illuminated the highlights in her blonde hair and warmed her skin-tone. “You know what I meant.”

A smile crept over his features as a pleasant memory flashed in his mind, “Once or twice. Maria hated the snow, but the kids loved playing in it. On our last trip, they both went sledding down this crazy hill and I thought they were both gonna break their necks.”

“Suicide straight…”She mused, “Growing up, we had this impossibly steep hill by my high school and only the craziest kids took it on.”

“So you were at the front of the line.” He assumed.

“No, that was my brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I did.” She closed her eyes.

He laid his hand on her shoulder, “Sorry.”

“It was a lifetime ago.” She leaned back against him and he stood still, taking her weight as his hand trailed down her arm to rest on her hip. She relaxed her head back against his shoulder, “Frank?” Her breath tickled his neck.

“We should sit back down. You’re still recovering.”

“Let’s take a walk. I need to stretch my legs.” She countered, eyes still closed. “I bet Blue wants to walk.”

The grey Pitbull seemed to materialize out of another dimension and was instantly nudging at Frank’s leg. “She cheats, Blue. She’s using you to get me to say yes. What do you think of that?”

Blue let out a soft whine.

“That’s all you got to say, huh?” Frank shook his head and sighed. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” Karen smiled and shifted away from him, but slowly as his hand lingered a moment too long on her hip. If it bothered her, she said nothing.

She retrieved a heavy coat from the hall closet. The cabin was in a popular snowmobile area so there was extra winter gear for guests to use. Frank pulled on his coat and boots, before glancing over at Karen to see her lowering herself into one of the dining room chairs. She lifted her foot to another chair as she attempted to tie the boot, but hissed under her breath.

“You need help, Miss Page?”

“If you would be so inclined, Mr. Castle.” She smirked.

He made a face. “That’s my father.”

“Just making a point, formalities seem silly at this point.” She shrugged. “Everything we know about each other. Everything we’ve been through.”

He sat in the chair near her and took care tying up both of her boots, making sure they were laced tight. He didn’t want her feet getting wet. He got back up and helped her get into her coat, zipping it up to her collarbone. He was staring at her, those blue eyes of hers, so clear and honest, as she bit down on her lower lip. He wanted to brush his thumb over her lip, make sure she didn’t make that imprint again, but he didn’t. He ached to kiss her, to see what she would taste like, to hear her…

“Frank?” She inquired, “Are you okay?”

He nodded and whistled for Blue as he opened the door, the cold wind snapping him back to reality. They meandered slowly through the woods around the cabin. He let her set the pace, mindful of her injury and the weather. They shouldn’t be out too long. Blue was trotting along beside them occasionally catching a scent, but never straying too far.

The sun set as they walked, but he had a flashlight in his pocket and the moonlight was plenty bright. They arrived at the edge of the woods and he stared out over the grey ocean crashing against the frozen sand. The docks were covered in a layer of snow and icicles extended down from the railings.

“I hate this. I hate being helpless in all of this.” Karen grumbled next to him. “And dragging you…”

“You think I wouldn’t have volunteered to keep you safe?” He flexed his hands in his pockets.

Karen pulled down her scarf a bit, “I don’t doubt that for a moment. But I know you’d rather be out there hunting him than hiding with me. I hate hiding with me, this isn’t me.”

“Red had a good plan. This is the best way to keep you safe. If I had to be hiding with someone, I’d rather it be you.” He shifted his feet the snow crunching beneath his boots. “We shouldn’t be out much longer, it’s colder than I thought.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Karen covered her face again.

He stood next to her, watching her out of the corner of his eye, her breath, even through the scarf, was visible in slow puffs. Blue bumped his leg, he scratched her ears, and she nuzzled his hand. There was a ship in the distance, even a freighter wasn’t immune to the ocean and it’s power. The lighthouse up the coast flashed the light as a warning.

Frank touched Karen’s shoulder and they wordlessly started back to the cabin. She walked slower this time and took shorter steps. She stumbled, but he grabbed her before she could hit the ground. She cursed in pain at the jostling.

She leaned into him for a moment as she caught her breath. He steadied her in his arms, the vinyl of the thick coats they were wearing creaking. He was still holding her arms and her fingers were dug into his skin near his jean pockets.

“You alright?” He questioned, his nose pressed against the top of her hat as the hood of the coat had fallen back.

She looked up and their frozen noses brushed as she nodded.

He’d never been angrier or more grateful for a scarf in his life. “Come on.” He kept his hand against the small of her back and made sure she didn’t trip again. He opened the door for them and rubbed a towel over Blue’s paws to get rid of the snow, before toeing out of his boots. He knelt in front of Karen and unlaced her boots, helping her out of them staying focused on the simple task.

He pushed himself back up to standing and Karen’s cold, but ungloved hands cupped his face. She leaned in and kissed his cheek above her hand. “Thank you.”

She might have moved away but he covered her hands with his, closing his eyes relishing the contact. The memory of being pressed to her in that elevator flooded his senses. Go…Go… He’d wanted her, but knew he couldn’t have her. He didn’t deserve her. He tilted his head down he pressed his forward to hers. He still wanted her. “Karen…”

“Shh. Shh.” She moved her hands into his hair, rounded nails scraping against his scalp. He let her. He just stood there and let her touch him, as his hands fell to hips, framing them. One of her hands moved to the back of his neck, coaxing him to her the gentle touch like a siren’s song. She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, silently asking permission for more.

Featherlight and fearful that this was some kind of nightmare that would crescendo in bullets and blood, he risked the slight incline and skimmed his lips over hers. He couldn’t deny her, but…

She responded immediately, grazing her lips back over his with an exploration that almost felt like a yielding, almost. After a few minutes, her tongue swept over his bottom lip luring him to chase after her. He raised his one of his hands and held her face as this languid exploration continued. She tasted of coffee and her hands lowered to his shoulders, as they held on to each other.

He bumped her back into the wall and she gasped out in pain, his hands flew to her ribs, trying to support them. Instantly a flood of guilt hit him as he listened to her panting in his ear, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“I did it, Frank. You didn’t, I did. It’s okay.” She was still holding onto him and his hands were still on her. This was so dangerous.

He stepped back, “Still, I…I should make something for dinner. You should sit and rest.”

The look in her eyes wasn’t quite readable, but the silence was damn near deafening. Karen slipped off her coat and hung it on a dining chair before escaping into the living room with Blue on her heels.

Whatever his plans were for dinner they know involved stir-fry so he would have plenty of chopping, tedious work to focus his mind. He could still feel her skin under his hands, hear her breathlessness, taste her; he was going to need a cold shower. The recipe was too simple, he was too at ease with a knife, it was completed far too fast.

He knew Karen was not happy, he didn’t blame her, he just didn’t know how to…how to get…He was a mess and this was going to…

“Why don’t I set the table, while you get Blue’s dinner ready?” Karen brushed by him to get out the dishes.

He nodded not trusting his voice or the sudden helpfulness of the spitfire reporter. She pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge and set them on the counter by the stove, then laid out the flatware and bowls.

As he uncapped the beers and she sat down at the table and informed him wryly, “Don’t worry. I’m in no condition medically to jump you from the across the table.”

The bottle cap went flying to the other side of the kitchen and Frank started laughing, a real honest-to-God laugh that he couldn’t stop. Karen’s eyes lit up mischievously and genuine smile illuminated her beautiful face.

He opened the other beer and took it over with the prepared food, dishing a portion out for each of them. “You’ve got a good laugh.”

“You’ve got a beautiful smile.” He informed her sincerely and was surprised to see a blush darken her cheeks. “I thought we tradin’ compliments.”

“This is good.” Karen took a bit of the dinner. “Thank you for cooking. And as thanks, I’m going to insist you take the bed tonight.”

“Is there an echo in here? Didn’t we have this conversation already?” He took a long drink of his beer. He chuckled at her scowl. “You’re still healing, in no condition to be sleeping on that shitty couch.”

“So it is miserable to sleep on. I knew it.” She snapped her fingers.

Well, now he’d stuck foot in his mouth.

“Look, it’s queen sized bed.” She finished her beer, “and we’re both adults, we can share.”

He finished his own beer, eyeing her. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“If I get uncomfortable, I’ll kick you out. As long as you don’t sleep naked or drool.”

Frank chocked out a cough, “I was in the military and I had children. There was only one reason I ever slept naked…”

“And you’re worried about hurting me, so that’s not going to happen. We’ll be fine.” She smirked and gathered up the dishes washing them, before vanishing to take a shower.

Frank took a shower after Karen but returned to the living to read for a bit, praying the woman would fall asleep in the meantime. He glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight, so he turned off the lights and left Blue sleeping on her bed by the fireplace.

The room was dark, but the moon illuminated it enough that he didn’t need to turn on a light. Karen was curled up on one side of the bed, but the covers were pulled back on the other side. This wasn’t smart, but that couch was miserable. His back was killing him.

Military training dictated that socks stayed on and you slept mostly clothed in case of attack. Moments, when he was home, sleeping in shorts and nothing else, was a luxury he had to talk himself into. He split the difference, opting to stay in the soft pants and t-shirt, but removed his socks. He gingerly crawled into the soft bed, making sure to sleep on top of the sheet so there was some separation. He couldn’t catch the sigh that escaped as he laid back.

“See that’s why I’ve been sleeping in.” Karen murmured, shifting a bit. “I’m sleeping on top of the sheet. Don’t worry.” She yawned, “Goodnight, Frank.”

“Goodnight, Karen.” He shook his head, no point in moving now. He laid in the semi-dark was watched the woman sleeping for a few minutes before closing his eyes to get some actual sleep.

.:.

I really hope you guys enjoy this!

#Kastle #kastle fic update #frank and karen #on target #chapter three #frank is a murder cupcake #I really hope you guys enjoy this #thank you for reading #I am so not sure about their voices #yikes #still hope it's a good read

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i-may-have-a-point · 7 years ago

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Review of 14x10 “Personal Jesus”

So many people were fantastic in this episode, but my review mainly focuses on April’s story as she is the one I connect with the most.

“In a course of one day, Job received four messages with separate news that his livestock, servants, and ten children had all died. He continued to be a faithful servant. He praised God. He persevered. Job’s faith was tested, and he passed the test. And for his faith God rewarded Job with twice what he had before.”

There is an idea in many circles of Christianity that has been perpetuated for years. To really be a Christian, you must prove yourself. You follow all the rules, you stay as far from all forms of sin as possible, and you never question the teachings of the Bible. If you can do those things, and do them well, then maybe you will be a good enough Christian.

April Kepner was taught those same ideas. She grew up believing, knowing, that God is the answer for all of life’s difficulties. All she needed to do was to believe in him and follow his teachings, and life would go according to plan.

Except it didn’t.

It didn’t go according to plan in that hotel room in San Francisco when her feelings for her best friend contradicted everything she had learned about sex and virtue. For the first time in her life, she stopped following the straight path that was laid before her. She took a detour and found, that if she let it, life could be fuller and hold more joy than she ever imagined.

And it was. For a moment.

But the guilt and shame that come from being taught your whole life that good Christians don’t sin quickly caught up with her, and her unshakeable pillar of faith swayed just enough to crack the surface.

Christians fail, though. She knew that. She only needed to ask forgiveness and to reaffirm her faith, and eventually she did. The on-call room escapades stopped, and she grounded herself again, back on the right path. She would work harder at being a better doctor, a better person, a better Christian and eventually, God would reward her.

And the she met Matthew, who was seemingly everything she ever wanted. A kind, handsome man who was strong in his faith and loved her completely. Her world had been set right. Except for that quiet spark, deep in her soul that yearned for more. She heard it in still moments. It would whisper to her that there is more to life than settling for what you are “supposed” to do. She continued to silence that nudging voice, until the day she was supposed to marry Matthew, and the voice became a roar. It was so loud that it was all she could hear as she turned from the altar and ran from the church with Jackson, terrified and overjoyed all at once.

Her faith shook once more, unsure that she had made the right choice, but then peace came.

God had brought her happiness. She married Jackson, they were expecting a baby, and all was right with the world. Until it wasn’t. Until she was given an unimaginable test. Her child was sick, and no medicine in the world could cure him. She held her son and watched him take his last breath. She had no explanation. She prayed for a miracle. Her whole life she had been taught to be faithful and obedient and God would answer her prayers. Yet he didn’t. And this ripped a hole in her faith so large that it could never fully close.

The hole grew as she traveled to Jordan searching for healing, but she lost her marriage instead. Jackson was her rock. He was one of the few people in her life who had ever truly believed in her. Losing him made the hole grow bigger.

Oh, but Harriet. Harriet is her strength. Her reason to keep going. Her light in the darkness.

But she is still hurting. She has to ask herself, how can someone like her, a good Christian, face so much pain? And why would a loving, caring God allow one of his followers to suffer when he could prevent it all?

This season has been building to April being forced to look at her life and the decisions she has made, and this episode is a turning point in that journey.

April walked in to season 14 with a broken spirit when she told Jackson that what they were doing was causing her pain. Her heart was broken over Jackson, and things only got harder from there. All season, she was repeatedly reminded of Samuel, Jordan, leaving Matthew at the altar, losing Jackson, and her insecurities as a doctor.

Like Job, she has been tested. Job lost everything that was dear to him, and yet he still kept his faith. He was patient because he knew that, no matter what, God was with him. April did the same. Through her trials, she kept believing in God and his grace. Until today, when all of her struggles and all of her failures were placed in her path at once.

Paul is brought in as a hit and run victim and April treats him, while Meredith, Jo, and Alex discuss how best to handle the situation. Mer goes into the room to check on Paul’s status, and tells April not to kill him. “You really can’t lose him.” April is constantly being told she is not as good as Meredith, but this is not actually a moment of Meredith distrusting April’s abilities as a doctor. Mer tells her she can’t lose him because she is afraid Jo and Alex will be charged with murder. Unfortunately, April doesn’t know that, and it comes across as Mer doubting her. We see that when April calls after her, “Thanks for the vote of confidence!” Once again, April feels that she is not good enough.

Because she is so trusting, she thought that Webber had asked her to run the contest because she is a good leader. She soon finds out it was simply so he could compete, and now, she is missing out on a great surgical opportunity. This is another small reminder that she is still not valued as a surgeon in her peers’ eyes.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because Karen Tayler is very pregnant and will not make it to Labor and Delivery before her baby is born. So, April steps in for Robbins, delivering the baby who turns out to be Matthew’s daughter. It seems that Matthew, the man she left at the altar, has the happy life she dreamed of, and she is forced into a front row seat to witness it. She is happy for him, though. He deserves happiness, and this is reassurance that she made the right decision leaving him. He is happy. Even if she isn’t.

(Side note: Arizona claims she didn’t tell April that she was treated Matthew’s wife because of HIPPA. Arizona sure didn’t care about HIPPA when she told Jackson that April was pregnant.)

Deluca drives the pain in a little deeper by telling April that Matthew’s wife is just like her. At this point she is visibly frustrated, but she spots Jackson and heads over to him, knowing he will understand. They have an adorable exchange about the embarrassment of treating Matthew’s wife as well as the contest. April tries to get Jackson to take back the contest, which he unbeknownst to her, created. He, of course, says no, and we get our first hint that this contest is going to be big for both of them.

Their conversation is cut short as April has another incoming trauma. A twenty-year-old man tried to cut off his own hand because he couldn’t stop masturbating, and according to his interpretation of the Bible, this was the only logical thing to do. This patient is a message directly for April, but also for the audience. The Bible is a book of stories that has wonderful teaching and morality lessons. However, in no way should we interpret what it says literally at all times. It has been translated countless times and was written by human hands. Fallible human hands. It is a guide book and not a how-to manual.

The next trauma is another sign for April that God doesn’t always intervene, even when he can. Eric, a twelve-year-old boy, was shot by a police officer climbing in the window of his own house. Jackson and Bailey are visibly angered by this, as things like this happen too often in our country. He is an innocent child who was shot for no reason other than the officer’s assumption he was a criminal based on the color of his skin. April does not have personal experience with this, but she can see the cruelty and unfairness of the situation. She jumps in to help and the weight of the day’s injustices begin to weigh heavily on her.

Like Jo tells Jenny, “The good outweighed the bad. Until it didn’t.”

Everywhere April looks she sees bad. Paul, Karen and Matthew, Eric, Jackson, her career. But she still has faith, and she tries to explain that to the guy who attempted to cut off his hand. “God doesn’t tempt us beyond our ability. He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” And one of my favorite lines, “When God created the world, he also created metaphors.”

The only problem with this is that God does give people more than they can handle, and April is feeling that right about now.

Eric’s family arrives and April watches as his parents and Jackson have to fight for him to be treated as a child, a human. How could these cops, who swear to uphold justice, clearly be so wrong?

She exchanges a silent look with Jackson, a look that holds so much tension and unspoken thoughts, but Karen Taylor is in pain, and she is pulled away again before she can decide to speak.

Karen has a blood clot on her vagina, and April finds herself in the embarrassing situation of having to drain the blood clot off of her ex-fiance’s wife’s vagina. Talk about humbling. But that’s okay, because as Karen reminds her, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

This message is repeated for April because she is feeling overwhelmed with sorrow, but her Christian upbringing has taught her she is suffering this much for a reason. God is teaching her something, and she just has to be patient, like Job.

During Eric’s MRI, April hears about the discrimination Jackson faced from police and she realizes there are things she doesn’t know about Jackson, but again, she doesn’t have a moment to get deeper into what he tells her because she is paged back to Karen Taylor.

Karen is still waiting for a room, and she ends up catching up with Matthew while they wait. She gets to hear all about how Karen is the love of his life. Even after April hurt him so much, he found something better. “She the love of my life, you know? Of course you know. You have that with Jackson.” In that moment, we all heard April’s heart break. Jackson is the love of her life, but she feels that she failed in that, too. Instead of telling this to Matthew, she pretends to be happy. At least something good came from her leaving him. God gave Matthew a great life and she doesn’t want to take away from that. But that happiness is hard to fake when Matthew says, “I heard from the pastor that you were pregnant. So, you have, what a three-year-old now?” Samuel. He would have been three had he lived. “I had – I have – We have Harriett. We have a beautiful daughter named Harriett. She’s one. She is the light of my life.” And the love that April has for her daughter is heard in the emotion that comes through in that line. Harriet is her life at this point.

Matthew is happy for her. “So, it worked out perfectly for both of us, didn’t it? God used that pain and turned it into something beautiful. Guess he knew what he was doing all along.”

He returns to his wife, and April’s face falls as she walks away.

Karma reaches Paul’s room as he injures himself in his angry fit, causing a head injury that leads to him being brain dead. Can’t say I’m sad. Jo is told that she gets to make the call on what to do with Paul. Her reaction from laughter to tears was perfect. And the way she reached out for Alex’s face for support and relief was everything.

Robbins finally shows up to help April with Karen who is in extreme pain just as Eric crashes.

April, Jackson, and Bailey get him to the O.R., and Bailey tells April they can take it from there. April backs away feeling helpless, only to turn back to run into Karen’s O.R. She is shamed as usual by her co-workers, and she is overcome with guilt. Maybe she isn’t a good enough doctor. Maybe she did something wrong. Did she cause this like she caused all the other bad things in her life?

In this time of despair, she turns to the only source of strength she can think of – God. She heads to the chapel to pray for her patients, only to find an angry Matthew. He leaves her, and she sits, beginning to pray for healing and good, but the words of the prayer fail her. She hears no answer. And all she can do is cry.

Cry for Karen, whose body is failing her when her child and husband need her the most.

Cry for Eric’s family, who have to bury their child way too early.

Cry for Jackson, who has to live with bias in his life every day because of his skin color.

Cry for a system that has failed. A system that is supposed to be good. “How am I supposed to have any faith in a system like that?”

Cry for Ben and Bailey who have to explain their son how not to get killed by the police.

And she cries because she has no answer for the patient who questions his own faith.

“Then tell me what to do! If I can’t trust this, if the word of God is just a bunch of stories, what does anything mean? What is any of this even for?”

And that’s the question April cannot answer. That is the questions that brings her faith tumbling to the ground. What is the meaning of a new mother dying and leaving her daughter motherless? What is the meaning of a twelve-year-old boy being murdered outside his house? What is the meaning of her son, Samuel, dying? What is the meaning of her marriage to Jackson ending? What is any of this for?

She has spent her life being good because that is what she is supposed to do as Christian, or so she believed. But why? So she can die with no explanation one day? So she can experience suffering and loss over and over again? So she can watch good people suffer daily? Why is she trying so hard to be good when God allows these terrible things to happen? Why isn’t he doing anything? Because if he is not going to intervene, then there is no reason to try to live this perfect life. There is no point to any of this.

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Job asked the question, too. But he kept the faith. And what did he get for it? Replacement children. PTSD. Was it worth it, to be a faithful servant? Or would it have been better to just curse God’s name from the beginning? Where was God throughout all of Job’s suffering? He was winning a bet with Satan. Makes you wonder where he is through all of the unfairness and inequity and cruelty in the world. Where is he now?”

To April, God has forsaken her. She was a good and faithful servant. She was patient. And it got her nothing. So, she is done being faithful. We saw the pain on her face as she drank herself numb at the bar and as she stood in the shower, desperate to wash off the pain of the day, the light in her eyes burnt out. This is where April’s journey begins.

Her decision to let Vik in the shower had nothing to do with love or lust. It was just one more thing to numb the pain. She sees no reason to continue to always do the right thing because it has gotten her nothing. She is alone and broken, and those feelings will guide her decisions from now on. So stop saying that the show made April a slut or that this decision was out of character. The character we know as April is not the one who made this decision. This decision was made by a woman who feels abandoned and lost. This decision reflects her hope leaving. I agree that April only having been with Jackson was beautiful, but calling her a slut perpetuates the idea that women, particularly Christian women, should be shamed for having multiple partners. April has felt that shame her whole life. That statement would never be made about Jackson, or any other character on the show for that matter, and April should be given the same grace.

But as Sarah said, this story is not over. Job’s story did not end in the middle of his pain. It ended with him being rewarded with twice as much as he had before. I believe that is where April’s story will end, too. She will come full circle and find her faith and happiness again, so don’t be angry at the turn of events in this episode. Just wait for the moment that forces April to feel again. The moment that forces her to stop being numb. That is the moment when everything will change for the better. Because even though April was reminded over and over again that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, that’s just not true. He does. He gives us so much to handle that we need to turn to him for help and answers. April knows this, but in this moment, she doesn’t believe it. But she will find her faith again. Good things are coming for April, and I still believe for Japril as well.

#grey's anatomy #14x10 #japril #give sarah drew all the awards

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carry-the-sky · 7 years ago

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my head is filled with ruins (most of them, i built with you)

Kastle Christmas gift exchange for @itsybitsylemonsqueezy

(or: Karen and Frank slowly reconnect after the events of TP. Featuring some angst and hurt/comfort with an eventual happy ending. :) Also on ao3. I hope you enjoy, and have a great holiday!)

Karen sinks back into her routine like she’s trying to hide in it, like if she tries hard enough she can avoid thinking and can just be. It’s dark most mornings when she leaves for work and if she’s lucky she’ll actually make it back to the apartment, fall asleep in her bed and not at her desk. Even when she’s not at the office her fingers are never far from her laptop, keeping her busy, keeping the quiet from settling in.

There are some things she can’t avoid. She watches the news, knows that something happened at the carousel but isn’t convinced she’s ready to hear what. He’s alive, he’s alive - and in the rare moments she thinks his name or pictures his face that’s as far as she allows herself to go. She let him go once before. She can do it again.

(She keeps the roses. They brighten up her room and sometimes, without thinking, she finds herself running a hand over them, the petals soft and smooth between her fingers. She plucks one from its stem, tucks it under her pillow and sleeps without dreaming.

There’s a petal hidden between the pages of the book she’s reading, another slipped down into the pocket of her coat. It’s not enough, it’s not enough but it’s something.)

-----

“Karen?”

She jerks in her seat, adrenaline spiking through her as her eyes dart up to see Ellison framed in the doorway of her office.

“Jesus christ, you scared me,” she gasps.

He sighs in response, eyes roving over the empty coffee cups and stacks of paper that litter her desk. “It’s almost midnight.”

She turns her eyes back to her screen. “And?”

“And what the hell are you still doing here?”

He’s on edge, Karen can hear it in his voice and she feels something simmer low in her gut, a quiet anger rising to match his. She’s not in the mood for this tonight so she says, all snark, “My job. You know, the thing you pay me to do?”

“Cute,” Ellison says. “That’s real cute, Karen, I get enough of that bullshit from my kids, now I have to deal with it from you, too?”

Karen swallows the retort burning on her tongue, takes a deep breath and centers herself in the middle of it. “What do you want, Ellison?”

He’s quiet for a moment. She feels his gaze on her like a laser and knows what he’s doing, choosing his next words carefully, methodically turning each one over and analyzing the effect it will have on her. Editorial prowess at its finest.

“I’m worried,” he finally says. “About you. And before -” he holds both hands up - “before you tell me I’m being a misogynistic asshole, I know you can take care of yourself. You’re an adult, you can handle things however you want to, I get it. I just -” he heaves a sigh. “I’ve been around the block, alright? I’ve seen too many friends, good people, good journalists, get swept away and I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Karen laughs, more breath than anything else. “I’m not...come on, Ellison, I’m not getting swept away. So I’m working a few late nights. I’m hardly the first person at this paper to do that.”

“It’s not just about working late, although you really need to stop doing that, I can only pay you so much over-time -”

“Ellison -”

“Does this have anything to do with him?”

Karen blinks, processes the words slowly like she’s hearing them from underwater. She is very, very careful to keep her face neutral. “I don’t -”

“Cut the shit.” His eyes are cold and hard and the shadows cast up from her desk lamp cut dark lines across his face. “You’re the furthest thing from an idiot and it does you no favors to pretend to be one.”

She falls silent, lips cinched tight together and his face softens. “Look,” he says, still firm but with less bite, “it’s been almost two weeks since the world discovered Frank Castle was still alive and suddenly you’re working through the night, barely sleeping, walking around here like a goddamn zombie half the time...you’re telling me none of this has anything to do with him?”

She shrugs. “What do you want me to say? I watch the same news as you do. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing now, it has nothing to do with me.”

Ellison looks less than convinced. “You’re absolutely sure about that?”

Karen feels it then, how tired she is. There’s something hollow inside her, some vacant space she’s not sure will ever be full again and even though it aches to think about him she can’t help but hate Frank for a fleeting, furious moment. She knows it’s unfair, knows that he’s finding the after he deserves on his own terms but she’s sick of dragging all this unfinished business around with her. Just once she’d like someone to lean on, unshoulder the weight and share it.

(She doesn’t have that. She has a few moments in an elevator, his skin on hers and all the things they couldn’t say hanging between them in that shared curve of space. She has roses.)

“Yeah,” she tells Ellison, “yeah, I’m sure.”

-----

Karen’s become a bit of a lightweight since moving to the city. She’s halfway through her second beer when she starts to feel it, warm and tilty like the world’s been pulled off its axis. It’s good, though. It helps.

‘I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to…’ her radio hums from across the room and she takes another swig, sways slightly on the couch. Kevin had spent weeks learning this song on guitar, no music, just him picking and strumming away until the chords came to life beneath his fingers.

The memory stings, cuts through her alcohol-induced fog. Just another reminder of all the things she’s lost. With a frustrated sigh she grabs her phone, scrolls until she finds Foggy’s face and hovers her finger above the dial button. They’ve talked a handful of times since the hotel bombing but he feels like a stranger these days, more uptown lawyer than friend.

She keeps scrolling, stops when she gets to Matt.

“Shit,” she whispers, eyes squeezing shut. Matt’s always been further beyond her reach than she knew, now it’s just permanent. The thought makes something ache, pull beneath her ribs so she shoves it down, straightens up and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch.

No Foggy, no Matt.

Karen opens her eyes, glances towards the empty window sill.

‘With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, let me forget about today until tomorrow…’

She tips her head back and drains her beer.

-----

Ellison starts screening her work mail the day after the bombing. Karen doesn’t bother protesting. She knows it will get her nowhere and as much as she tries to deny it, she really does appreciate that he cares enough to go through all the trouble.

This morning’s delivery is smaller than usual, just a simple package waiting for her on her desk when she gets back from lunch. There’s no name or return address and she peels the wrapping away slowly, uncertain.

It’s a book. Principles of Horticulture.

Karen takes a measured breath, then another. There's something written inside the cover, a phone number, and just beneath: Thought this might help with the roses.

She can’t tell if she wants to laugh or scream. This is just like before, thought I’d try my luck out here, not get my head blown off. The only difference now is that he’s testing the waters from a distance, letting her decide on her own terms if she wants to see him and it’s somehow both infuriating and a relief all in the same breath.

She traces a finger over his words, pulse fluttering in her throat.

Bastard, she thinks and reaches for her phone.

-----

He’s grown his hair out again. Karen focuses on that, on the way the sunlight slanting through the window seems to catch and tangle in it, on his hands absently tugging at his beard as he gives the coffee house they’re sitting in a cursory scan. She focuses on the details and pushes the more pressing questions - why are we here, where has he been, why now why now why now - aside.

“You look good,” she says, more to break the silence than anything, but it’s true. His face is just a face, no bruises smudged under his eyelids or in the hollows of his cheeks and his eyes are brighter than she remembers as he glances her direction.

“Yeah, you too,” he says, tilting his head. “You get a haircut?”

She digs her nails into her palms. “Only a few inches,” she says. “But I like it. I’ve had long hair ever since I moved to the city. Figured it was time for a change.”

“Yeah.” His eyes dart to his thumbs, tapping lightly against his coffee cup. “Yeah, that’s good, change is good.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, not entirely uncomfortable but still enough to put Karen’s nerves on edge. The questions she wants to ask are sitting heavy in her lungs but she fights the reflex to speak, takes a long swig of coffee instead. Frank initiated this meeting and she’ll leave it to him to explain what he wants.

He’s still not looking at her but she can tell he’s anxious, feels the nervous energy radiating off him like sparks. A few months ago she might have reached out, laid a hand on his arm and told him it’s okay, everything will be okay, but things are different now and so is she. The realization is a black hole inside her, nothing but void.

“It's done, Karen,” Frank finally says, low in his throat. “It’s over, and at first I didn't know what to do with that. Everything was so quiet, you know, nothin’ but quiet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out from under that.” He pauses, bobs his head up and down slightly as if to convince himself to keep going. “I have this buddy, runs a group for vets down at St. Mary’s couple times a week. Turns out talking about all this shit, it actually helps. And Curt’s a good guy, yeah? He’s got a good heart. Smart, too, doesn’t take bullshit from anyone. You’d like him.”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers as he says this and she gets the vague impression that he’s trying to tell her something else, something more. She takes a breath. “Frank -”

“Pete,” he cuts in, mouth twisting. “It’s Pete, now, thanks to Madani and company.”

She feels her own lips curve in response. “That’s the best they could give you?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk, “yeah, you know I asked for Eugene but I guess it was already taken.”

Karen laughs, a dry puff of sound. She’s seen this lighter side of him a few times before but it feels different now, genuine, like a weight has been lifted and he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. Maybe, she thinks, maybe this is the closest she’s come to seeing him for who he is. Maybe this is the most honest interaction the two of them have had.

As if he can hear her thoughts, the smile fades from his face, his mouth shrinking into a thin line. “Look, Karen,” he says, soft and ragged and almost a whisper, “I wanted to reach out, alright, let you know I was okay. At the very least, I owe you that. But I’m not -” he scrubs a hand across his face. “I want you to know I’m not looking for anything from you, yeah? If you want me to leave, if you don’t want to hear from me - I get it.”

There are things Karen wants to say, things he needs to hear but she can’t seem to force the words out of her lungs. She wants to tell him that he deserves happiness, he deserves to live a life day after day like everyone else and she’s proud of him for seeking that out, finding his footing on his own. She’s proud but she’s also tired. It’s too much, him coming back and getting pulled away again, not knowing if the next time she’ll see him will also be the last.

She wants to tell him to leave. (She wants to ask him to stay.)

“Okay,” she says instead. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes.

She feels like the look in his eyes, confusion and longing all blurred together like watercolors. Her throat balls up tight as she stands, grabs for her coffee and work bag. “I have to get going -”

Frank’s hand jerks slightly, like he’s resisting the urge to reach across the table. “Hey,” he says. “Thanks, Karen.”

She releases the breath she was holding, turns to leave and says, over her shoulder, “I’m not calling you Pete.”

He laughs and it sounds a lot like hope.

-----

Karen goes the better part of a week without seeing or hearing from him. She knows he has her number and he definitely knows where she lives, but he doesn’t reach out. He’s giving her space, time to decide what she wants.

She’s still working on that part.

With the end of the week and a deadline rapidly approaching, Karen goes into full work-mode, holed up at her desk and ignoring anything and anyone that isn’t her computer. She’s so absorbed that she doesn’t notice Ellison until he’s halfway through her door, poking his head into her office.

“Hey, Christiane Amanpour,” he says. “You have a visitor.”

“Tell them I’m busy,” Karen says without looking up from her screen.

“Yeah, I tried that,” Ellison replies. “This woman’s pretty insistent, says she just needs a few minutes of your time.” He pauses for a beat. “You’re not in trouble with the feds, are you? Because she looks like a fed.”

Karen stops typing and glances up. “Did she give you her name?”

“Dinah, I think she said -”

She pushes back from her desk, runs a hand through her hair. “Shit.”

“Do I want to know what this is about?” Ellison says, fixing her with a scrutinous stare, and she hesitates before answering. This has to be about Frank, there’s no other logical explanation. For a fleeting moment she wonders if his name is really clear, wonders if everything he’d told her at the coffee house had been a lie -

But no, she thinks with a shake of her head, no, Frank’s doesn’t lie, at least not to her. She trusts him.

Ellison is still looking at her so she quirks her lips and gives a vague half-shrug. “Send her in and we’ll find out, I guess.”

Dinah is smaller than she remembers, stepping into Karen’s office a few moments later, but she still carries herself like her spine is made of steel, a force of nature wearing human skin. It’s a strength that’s almost palpable and Karen can’t help but admire it.

“Agent Madani,” she says with what she hopes is a neutral tone, “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Dinah’s lips tug into a grin. “Just a bit of gentle intimidation from one professional to another?”

“More like impending story deadlines,” Karen says, gesturing for her to sit. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Would you believe me,” Dinah answers, eyes sparkling, “if I told you I wasn’t here to talk about our friend Pete?”

Karen laughs softly. “To be honest, no.”

“That’s...fair,” Dinah replies with a laugh of her own, and Karen finds herself momentarily stunned by the sound. We once had a conversation about trust, Dinah had told her after the bombing, and she’d started to believe then, that maybe this woman was different, maybe the system could work.

“Agent Madani -” she starts to say, but Dinah politely cuts in.

“Call me Dinah,” she says, and then, almost as an afterthought, “please.”

“Dinah,” Karen repeats, hesitant. “Listen, I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come across town, but I’m up to my neck in unfinished work -”

“And you’d appreciate it if I skipped the small talk and told you why I was here.” There’s something in Dinah’s voice, something layered just beneath the veneer of poise and professionalism that she recognizes but can’t quite place. “Look, Karen, you’re clearly very good at what you do. I wasn’t trying to patronize you when I said that you’ve made quite a name for yourself since moving to the city. I think we both want the same things. And between the two of us, I think we could do a lot of good.”

Karen’s lips twist wryly. “Sounds like Homeland wants a friend at the Bulletin.”

“I would like a friend at the Bulletin. Someone I know I can trust, who I know will fight as hard as I will for the truth. Think of it as a sort of informal partnership. I help you, you help me - everyone wins.”

Not for the first time, Karen is taken in by Dinah’s presence, the unfaltering conviction behind each word that falls from her lips. She certainly knows what she wants and Karen feels a sharp stab of resentment, eclipsed only by frustration with her own indecisiveness.

“I’m not sure what to say,” she admits.

Dinah digs through her bag and retrieves a business card, which she offers to Karen. “I completely understand. All I’m asking is for you to think about it.”

“Yeah,” Karen replies, “yeah, absolutely, I will.” A thin silence falls between the two of them as Dinah stands, shoulders her bag and turns towards the door -

“I never thanked you,” Karen says, the words breezing past her lips in a rush before she can stop them. “Everything you did for...for Pete, for his case...I know it might not mean much but it’s good to know there are people like you who care about doing the right thing. Thank you, Dinah.”

Dinah ducks her head, fingers curling around the door handle. “I know what it’s like to be lied to by people I trust,” she says softly. “I’ve never felt so powerless, so alone. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Karen feels each word like a gut-punch, all the shame and loneliness she’s kept so carefully buried suddenly wrenched out and laid in front of her on display. The vacant space within her swells, and as she looks at Dinah she sees the same pain and heartache mirrored on her face.

“Hey,” she says, tilting her head to catch Dinah’s gaze, “I know we don’t really know each other but if you ever want to talk, even if it’s not work-related -” she breaths a laugh. “You know where to find me.”

Dinah’s smile is soft and sad. “I’d like that.” She hesitates, looks like she might want to say more but instead shakes her head and pulls the door open. “Thank you again for your time, Karen.”

Ellison pokes his head in a few moments after she leaves. “So?” he says. “What did she want?”

Karen moves Dinah’s business card between her thumb and index finger, presses hard against the sharp corners.

“I’ll let you know,” she says.

-----

Her father had liked routines, doing the same thing at the same time every day. Karen could time it down to the minute when he’d be out the door in the morning, and as soon as he was gone everything felt lighter, like the whole house had been holding its breath waiting for him to leave. She grew up appreciating the meaning of time, learning how much of it was hers to hoard.

Her deadline comes and goes, then the weekend, then half of the next week, and as she’s packing up from her latest long night at the office she starts thinking about routines, routines and the time that’s eaten up by them. She can almost hear her father’s voice in her ear, cold and calculating, looks like I taught you something after all -

She’s on edge the rest of the evening, unable to quiet her thoughts or her feet as she restlessly prowls her apartment. Frank’s horticulture book catches her eye every time she circles back through her bedroom and she finally grabs it, sinks onto the couch and flips to a random page -

Rose bailing, she reads, is a condition in which the outer petals of the flower die and become stiff. The inner petals are thus prevented from emerging to produce a normal bloom -

(She doesn’t remember falling asleep. All she knows is that she’s downstairs, curled up in the dark against the far corner of the closet and waiting. Even with her hands pressed over her ears she can still hear the shouting, like muted thunder from a storm in the distance. Their arguments are getting worse.

You’re far away, she thinks fiercely, you’re somewhere far, far away -

There’s a rumble of approaching footsteps and then someone is yanking the closet door open. Karen flinches, squints against the sudden brightness, and she’s -

- overlooking the water, sitting on a bench beneath a wide canvas of sky. She hears him come up behind her but keeps her eyes elsewhere, skims the horizon and imagines wings sprouting between her shoulder blades, lifting her up and away into the endless blue. Up and away, gone so easily.

“Why are you here?” she asks, still not looking at him.

Frank is quiet a moment before answering, softly, “Don’t you know?”

She wakes with a sigh.)

-----

Karen’s never really believed in things like fate, but when she runs into Frank the next day she has to wonder if the universe is laughing at her.

He’s two people in front of her in line at the coffee joint and she doesn’t notice until he turns his profile, looking at something out the window. She freezes, staring at him and he must feel her eyes locked on his face because he turns just a fraction further to meet her gaze, brows cinching together with surprise when he’s sees it’s her.

She stifles the urge to laugh. What was it Mahoney had said? Funny how the two of you keep bumping up together.

He lingers by the door while she pays for her drink and the two of them leave together, falling into step like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like walking shoulder to shoulder down the street in broad daylight is something they’ve done many times before.

“You’re not following me, are you?” Karen asks, taking a drink of coffee to hide her smirk.

“Nah,” he says and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Not my style.”

She darts a glance his direction. “Right. You’re an old-fashioned kind of guy.”

He chuckles low in his throat, lips slanting up at the corner and Karen swigs down another gulp of coffee to give herself something to do besides stare at him as they continue walking. She’s keenly aware of how close he is, elbows knocking lightly together as she adjusts her purse, but she makes no move to widen the distance between them.

(He doesn’t either, she notices, something bright thrumming in her chest.)

It’s warm for late December, but Karen still dips her nose into her scarf as a thin breeze kicks up. The cold here reminds her of Vermont, humid and biting, the kind that settles deep in your bones. She really should be more used to it than she is, she thinks, tugging her coat more tightly around her.

“You cold?” Frank asks, with only a hint of judgment.

She shoots him her best mock-glare. “You’re not?”

“I’m warm-blooded. Takes more than this to make my teeth chatter.”

“Yeah, my brother was the same,” she replies automatically, the words tumbling out before she can process them. “Kevin, he practically lived outside in the winter, no problem, shoveled snow in jeans and a t-shirt like it wasn’t below freezing outside. He -” she swallows, hard, heat rising in her throat and cheeks as she forces the next words out. “He’s gone, now. Passed away a few years ago.”

They slow to a stop at the next corner. Karen realizes, with stinging clarity, that this is the first time she’s said it out loud since moving to the city, the first time she’s admitted to someone else that her brother is gone.

“Hey,” Frank is saying, leaning in. “Karen, hey, I’m...I’m sorry -”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know why I told you that. I just...” she laughs harshly, tugs a hand through her hair. “I just forget, sometimes, you know? I forget exactly how long it’s been. I’ll go days or weeks without thinking about him and then something or somebody will remind me...”

His eyes never leave her face so she sees the shift when it happens, a subtle flash of pain that bursts across his face one moment and vanishes the next as he attempts to cover. Karen knows what heartache feels like, how it drags and scrapes against the ribs, the weight of it, and that’s how Frank’s eyes look now, heavy with complete and absolute understanding. He knows what it’s like to hurt. He knows it like she does, in the most personal way.

“Shit,” she hisses, “Frank, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, “don’t, Karen, don’t do that.” He steps closer and before she can register what he’s doing he’s reaching up, brushing his thumb along the hollow of her cheek. His eyes search her face, fire-bright. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, you got that?”

Karen nods slowly. Her skin burns where he’s touching her and it’s all she can do in this moment to remember how to breathe. She recognizes the look in his eyes, fractured and pleading and soft in a way he might have been when he was just Frank Castle, nothing more. It's hope and fear tangled up like wires, like if he tries hard enough he can tether them both to this moment.

(Danger, her heart kicks in her chest, danger danger -)

“So,” she breathes, “what now?”

The sound of her voice seems to break the spell. Frank blinks, lets his hand fall and rocks away from her. She can see his jaw working, fingers fluttering at his sides. “You tell me,” he says as he tilts a glance up at her.

“I should be getting back to work,” she says, inclining her head in the direction of the Bulletin. “That’s -” she presses her lips together, wills her pounding heart to settle. “That’s about as far into the future I can see right now.”

The look on his face isn’t quite disappointment but it still makes something twist in her gut. “Yeah,” he says, backing away, “alright, yeah.” His eyes find hers. “See you around, Karen.”

-----

(For watering seeds and cuttings, she reads later that night, a fine rose turned upwards is recommended in order to minimize any disturbance by droplets -)

-----

The roses finally start to wilt the week leading up to Christmas. She cuts the stems and lets them dry, hangs them in the hallway so they’re the first thing she sees when she comes home.

The day after that, she buys herself a fresh pot.

Halfway through the week she ducks out of the office early to meet Dinah for drinks at the dive bar down the block from her apartment. It’s not Josie’s but it has its own personality, and besides, she tells herself, she’s starting fresh. Moving forward.

Dinah is surprisingly easy to talk to, once the initial awkwardness has settled and they’ve both made it through their first beer. She tells Karen about her family and growing up in the city, and Karen laughs as she fires back with a stories about rural, small-town Vermont. She tiptoes around the questions Dinah asks her about her family, sharing just enough to satisfy before dancing to a new subject.

(Frank’s face swims behind her eyes for a moment, just a moment.)

“I don’t know, Karen,” Dinah is saying, “Fagan Corners sounds very appealing to me. Quiet, charming, no national conspiracies or organized crime.” She shoots Karen an all-knowing glance. “No vigilantes.”

Karen smiles and tips her beer back. “I’ll drink to that.”

Dinah follows suit, finishing hers and gesturing to the bartender for another. “God, so much has changed. I used to love this city, you know? It was never just a place to live.”

Karen tilts her head. “And now?”

“Now -” Dinah sighs, pushes back in her seat. “Now I just see its shadows.”

(I don’t see the city anymore. All I see are its dark corners -)

“If it makes you feel better,” Karen says, “I feel the same.”

Dinah looks at her, long and hard. “How do you live with it?”

“I don’t know,” Karen replies, a confession. “Most days I’m just making it up as I go, trying to stay afloat.” She holds her beer up. “This definitely helps.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dinah smiles in that soft-sad way and Karen feels the vacant space within her begin to shrink, change. It might never be whole again, not the way it once was and for the first time in as long as she can remember, the thought doesn’t scare her.

Change is good, Frank’s voice echoes in her ears and she carries his words home with her that night, something bright and buoyant stirring its restless wings against her ribs. Her hand brushes up against her phone, once, twice, and then she’s fishing it from her pocket, fingers shaking as she punches in Frank’s number.

To making it up as I go, she thinks, and hits dial.

-----

With no holiday plans and Christmas Eve a day away, Karen throws caution to the wind and invites him over. He tells her not to worry about food so she spends the day cleaning her apartment, working out all her nervous energy. Halfway through her second round of vacuuming she briefly considers calling to cancel, every nerve in her body screaming to run, get away from this thing before it spirals into something she can’t control, and it’s this barrage of thoughts that keeps her from reaching from the phone. They're on the precipice of something here and even though she's terrified, she's tired of running from it.

Use two hands and don’t let go, he’d told her a lifetime ago, and she has to laugh. It only took her a year and a half to listen.

Frank shows up a few hours later with a bag of takeout in one hand and flowers in the other. The small bouquet is an assorted arrangement and Karen dips her face towards the petals as he hands it to her, breaths in the powdery-sweet aroma.

“They’re not much to look at,” he grunts under his breath. “Best I could do this close to the holiday.”

Karen glances up. He’s shifting his weight between both feet, eyes firmly on the ground and he looks so uncomfortable that it would almost be funny if it were anyone else but him standing in her doorway. This is uncharted territory but she refuses to spend the evening like this, both of them tiptoeing around the other and unable to relax, so before she can change her mind she steps forward and kisses him softly on the cheek.

The stunned look on his face when she backs away is enough to pull a laugh from her lungs. “What?” she says as coyly as she can, “you’re the only one who gets to do that?”

His answering laugh is rough, a low scrape of sound against his throat. “Sorry, Karen, I just - you scare the hell out of me, you know that? Christ, I feel like a goddamn teenager again.”

“Hey,” Karen says, meeting his sparking gaze head-on. “I’m scared, too. But it’s me, Frank. You know I don’t bite. Usually.” She cocks her head in the direction of the living room. “Let’s just start with dinner, see where things go from there. Deal?”

His smile is crooked, all teeth, the one she’s starting to think is just for her. “Yeah,” he says. “Deal.”

-----

They eat on her couch, takeout boxes scattered across the coffee table and Christmas music crooning from the radio in the corner of the room. Frank knows his way around a pair of chopsticks, something that shouldn’t surprise her but does anyways. He’s always doing that, catching her off guard with glimpses of the person he used to be.

Their conversation is sparse but the silences in between aren’t uncomfortable. Karen appreciates that Frank doesn’t talk simply to talk - she feels more herself sitting quietly with him than she does anywhere else, she thinks, watching him reach for the fried rice. He’s perched a safe distance away, both feet planted firmly on the floor but Karen has opted for a more comfortable position, tucked against the corner of the couch with both legs bent at the knees in front of her. She’s not sure if it’s intentional or not, but he shifts closer to her as they eat, close enough that she could reach out with her foot and nudge his thigh if she wanted to.

(She wants to, she really does -)

“You, uh -” he glances over at her and she curls her toes up quickly against the impulse. “You want the last eggroll?”

“I’ll split it with you.”

He makes an appreciative sound in his throat. “Miss Page, all heart.”

“Only because it’s Christmas Eve,” she fires back and when he laughs she’s momentarily lost in the flash of his teeth, the crinkle of skin into laugh lines beneath his eyes, the way his face changes and melts into something that’s less Punisher and more human. She aches with the feeling that this is who he could be, this is who they could be, two people filled to the brim with more happiness than either of them know how to hold.

‘Christmas Eve will find me where the lovelight gleams…’ the radio sighs -

“Frank,” she says, almost a whisper but his eyes still snap to hers, laughter dissolving on his tongue. Pulse roaring like thunder in her ears, she reaches out and grazes her fingers against his wrist. His eyes are blazing, fire and starlight and her breath catches in her throat as he softly turns his hand, draws his fingertips against hers.

“What do we do here?” he rasps, voice hitching against the words. “Please, Karen, just - just tell me what to do.”

She can feel every point of contact between them, every nerve sparking and singing as the pads of his fingers skim along hers. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know what this is or where we go from here -”

She trails off, suddenly aware of just how close they are. His eyes drift to her mouth and she’s not sure who leans in first, only that she can feel the warmth of his breath and his lips are brushing against hers and there’s nothing, nothing beyond the two of them and this moment.

“Okay,” he breathes, reverent and hopeful.

Karen smiles. “Okay,” she echoes, and closes the space between them.

#kastle #kastlechristmas #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #itsybitsylemonsqueezy #frank x karen #my fic

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fireblaze5555 · 5 years ago

Text

A small fic prompted by a post here on Tumblr, full post is on my page with link to Ao3.

Frank taking care of Karen when she falls apart.

Break

It was late when Karen finally closed her laptop and stepped in the shower. She had been buried in her work all day, barely stopping to eat or drink anything besides coffee and that was only because Frank was just as stubborn as she was, not allowing her to proceed without food. He had laid down hours ago, the past few days had been especially rough on him, the men he had been tracking not going down without a fight.

Karen had fussed over the, overall, minimal injuries he received and gave him general hell for not taking better precautions. She had meticulously cleaned his wounds, made sure he ate and refused to let him start anything else for at least another day or so. That had been the day before, this morning he was in good shape and it only took her about fifteen minutes to check his wounds and re-bandage those that needed it. All things he could have done but she smacked his hands away and efficiently took over.

Once Karen had finished taking care of Frank though, her hands were idle again and that was not acceptable, especially not today. So, she launched into any and every case she could to keep her mind busy, only coming up for air when Frank relentlessly pulled her back to the surface.

However, now the work was done and her eyes kept crossing every time she tried to read another word. Karen hoped her exhaustion would allow her to fall asleep quickly and dreamlessly, at least for a few hours. Then she could tell Frank she slept and she may be spared the sidelong glances he had been giving her all day today.

The warm water was doing nothing for her knotted muscles so Karen reached for the faucet to increase the temperature, turning the old metal handle quickly. The old handle protested the quick movement, letting out a high squeak and tortured grinding sound that filled her hearing until there was no other sound.

Karen was suddenly back, 12 years ago to the day, strapped upside down to the twisted hunk of metal that had once been the family car, Kevin motionless and bleeding beside her. The acrid smell of smoke and the stale taste of alcohol filled her remaining senses and Karen only just barely got a hand over her mouth before the choked sob escaped her. She wanted to scream, to punch at the tiles of her shower until the oppressive weight in her chest eased up a bit, to have one _fucking _year that she could get through this day without falling apart at the seams. Then again, she was alive to feel this, Kevin wasn’t, so maybe it was fitting that she got to relive this hell year after year.

She was choking and only vaguely aware that she was now curled over her knees on the shower floor, the water scalding hot against the back of her neck and shoulders. She thought she should turn the temperature down but couldn’t bring herself to move so she absorbed the pain, it was what she deserved anyway.

Frank came awake with a small start, his hand reaching out instinctively to the spot next to him that was cold and empty. He wasn’t surprised that Karen hadn’t come to bed yet, it wasn’t unusual for her to work until ungodly hours so he isn’t sure what it was that woke him up. The sound of the shower trickled into his awareness and he wondered if that was the culprit but then, so quiet he nearly missed it, a whimpering sob filtered through the air.

He was on his feet and to the bathroom door in record time, hesitating for only a second before he pushed it open. The steam that filled the small bathroom was so thick Frank felt like he had walked into a solid wall of humidity, it nearly stole his breath.

“Karen?” His voice was rough from sleep and concern creeped into his tone. Had he misheard something? She hadn’t seemed like herself the past couple of days but he had also been distracted so maybe he was just being paranoid.

However, a choked noise came from behind the curtain and before Frank had a chance to think about it he had ripped it back and his heart fell at what he saw. Karen was curled over herself, forehead pressed to her knees, shaking with the effort to hold in her sobs. Even more alarming was the deep red of her skin everywhere the water touched. Frank dropped down to a knee and reached out on instinct to put a soothing hand on Karen’s back.

“Fuckin’ Christ. ” The water was scorching and he jerked his hand out of the spray. A second later he was turning the handles to cut off the water and the hot water tap let out a scraping protest. Karen gave a pained whimper and covered her ears, a full sob finally escaping her as she curled impossibly more into herself.

“Hey, hey ‘s alright.” Frank climbed into the tub in just his boxer briefs, his legs bracketing Karen as he carefully leaned into her. She was curled so tightly into herself he couldn’t get his hands around her torso so rubbed his hands soothingly up and down her legs, from ankle to knee. “I’ve got you, Karen. C’mon sweetheart, breathe.”

She shuddered in a breath but it came out as another sob. Karen really wanted to pull herself together, she really hated falling apart in front of people but hated doing it in front of Frank more than any other. The man had been through so much, suffered more than any one person should and he shouldn’t have to shoulder her baggage as well. However, every time she tried to control her breathing and reassure him that she was fine, her chest constricted again and her demons ripped her thoughts to shreds.

Frank knew what devastation and grief looked like, he had experienced it enough in his life, so he knew that Karen, his beautiful, strong and resilient Karen, was in the throes of a panic attack. He just didn’t know what had set it off. Gently, he pulled her fingers from her hair where she had knotted them, speaking quiet encouragements and soothing words as he did. Next he wrapped a careful arm around her shoulders and sat back with her until they were both leaned against the back of the tub, Karen between his legs with her face pressed into the side of his neck, Frank with one arm wrapped around her torso while the other pushed the wet hair out of her face.

“Shh, I got you, I got you.” He kept repeating softly as she hiccoughed and shook with the full force of her grief. Frank was beside himself with worry, it was tearing him apart to see her so upset but all he could do was hold her while she rode it out. The hand that had been combing through her hair now rubbed soothingly at her arm while he waited, the contact soothing him as much as it was her.

Eventually Karen’s breathing started to even out and her shaking subsided to small tremors. Frank craned his neck up to locate the oversized towel he knew would be on the rack and stretched his arm out to pull it down and drape it over her, the shivers weren’t from the cold but it would help her feel less exposed and would hopefully prevent her from getting chilled.

Karen felt like someone had used her as a piñata, strung up and beaten until there was nothing left. She felt Frank settle the towel over her and wanted to smile but she couldn’t muster up the energy. His heartbeat was strong in her ear where her head rested against his neck and relaxed her like the hot water couldn’t. They lay like that for a while, neither breaking the silence, and she didn’t think she could love the man more when his hand settled to massage gently at the back of her neck.

After several minutes, Frank turned his head to where his lips pressed gently to her forehead and carefully asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Karen leaned into the caress but dreaded answering. It was a complicated answer, part of her wanted to get it all out there to see if it would ease the ever present tightness in her chest but the other part wasn’t ready for him to see the ugliness of her soul.

“I’m fine.” She managed to croak out after a moment, closing her eyes on her own cowardice.

She felt more than heard him hum disbelievingly, it rumbled deeply through his chest in a way that was so Frank it made her ache. He wouldn’t press her anymore but she felt like he deserved some sort of answer since she was pretty sure he was at least partially clothed and wet in the tub with her.

Karen opened her mouth to give an explanation but her throat seemed to close up, stealing her words. It took a few more minutes before she cleared her throat and tried again, “It’s the anniversary of Kevin’s death today. It’s been twelve years since I killed my brother.” She hadn’t meant to say that much, her exhaustion allowing the words to tumble out unbidden. Oh well, at least now Frank knew what kind of person she actually was and could decide for himself if she was worth being with, if he could be around someone who killed their own family.

Frank felt Karen tense after she finished speaking. It had been hard for her to say and it was almost as if she expected a physical blow from him. Tightening his hold imperceptibly he placed another small kiss to her forehead.

“Tell me about him?”

Karen’s eyes popped open and she felt tears starting to form in her eyes again. She had expected a demand for explanation, disbelief and disgust, not a gentle request in that calm baritone he reserved only for her.

She fought to get her emotions back under control, only a few tears escaping to slide down her cheek before they cascaded over Frank’s bare chest. When she felt like she could talk without sobbing, she answered with only the slightest tremor in her voice, “He was kind, gentle and terrible at sports. He constantly pestered me about every little annoying thing he could. He still cut the crust off of his sandwich even though he was nearly a senior in high school.” She chuckled a little when Frank huffed a little laugh across her face. Her small laugh turned into a sniffle before she continued, “He always pushed me to be better. Wouldn’t accept my excuses. Kevin never judged me, even when I hit rock bottom, doing and dealing drugs with the lowlife I called a boyfriend.”

Frank stilled for only a second before he continued to rub her arm, nodding slightly in encouragement for her to continue. He felt so solid behind her it kept Karen from feeling like she was in a total freefall like every other time she thought about that night.

“He found the camper we had been staying in and set it on fire, drugs and all. When we got back my boyfriend,” she spit the word out like it was venom on her tongue, “proceeded to beat him with a tire iron. I couldn’t get him to stop so I pulled the gun out of the glove compartment and shot him in the shoulder.” Her breath hitched before she took in another shaky one, “I threw Kevin in the car and drove away but I was still drunk and high. We didn’t get very far before I rolled the car. He didn’t make it.”

She was starting to shake in his arms again and Frank ached with the weight of her grief. He knew Karen had a rocky past but never pushed her on it. He never realized just how much she had been through. He brought his attention back when she started talking again, her voice small and quivering.

“He had come to tell me that he signed me back up for the college I dropped out of to help at the diner. He was there to help me get my life back on track and I killed him. I murdered the only person left in my family that had any faith left in me” The quivering turned into a full, racking sob that had Frank pulling her tighter to his chest.

“You were a kid Karen. You were put in a hard situation and you did the best you could.” She started shaking her head in between small whimpers but Frank put his hand on her cheek and made her look up at him. Her eyes were the palest blue he had ever seen them, almost as though her tears had washed away all the color and she looked so desolate and lost that it made his own eyes burn. He held her gaze, wiping absently at the tears that streamed over her temple with his thumb, “You made a mistake. That doesn’t make you a murderer, Karen. What happened to your brother is terrible and I’m so sorry that it happened but _you are not a murderer. _You are the best person I know and God knows where I would be without you at this point.”

Karen had quieted as he talked, her tears were silently leaving tracks on her face but those were slowing as well. He still saw doubt in her face, he knew better than anyone, that kind of guilt doesn’t go away so easily but it seemed that he had at least said the right thing this time around. He hoped he could be as much the rock for her as she was for him.

Leaning in, Frank gave her a sweet lingering kiss before resting his forehead against hers, a gesture that has given them both comfort over their time together. When he drew back, her eyes were clearer and she even managed to give him a watery smile.

She sniffled loudly and pushed off of him slightly, just enough to regard his position. Her voice was still thick with emotion but he could hear the hint of amusement lacing her tone, “How’s your back liking that position?”

He gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ll tell you later once it has caught up with me.” Frank watched her carefully for a moment, “Ready to get some rest?”

She nodded slowly and moved to sit up, Frank assisting her and then pushing off the back of the tub himself. He stood first, ignoring the ache in his knees and took Karen’s hands to help pull her to her feet, wrapping the towel tightly around her shoulders once they were both steady on their feet.

Karen watched Frank as he fussed over her, pulling her hair out from under the towel, smoothing it out of her face, rubbing her arms over the towel to keep her warm, all the while his deep brown eyes furrowed in concern, taking in every detail to ensure he was making her as comfortable as he could. Slowly, she felt part of her tattered soul repairing itself. It was amazing how someone as broken as Frank Castle could make her feel so whole. Someone who had lost so much, giving her everything he had left. Karen stepped further into his space, banding her arms around his waist and gave him a slow kiss that she hoped conveyed everything she didn’t have the strength to say at the moment.

He seemed to understand though, he usually did, and brought his own hands up to card through her hair, holding her so tenderly she could have cried if she had any tears left. Finally, he stepped out of the tub and held her hand while she did the same. Before she could protest, Frank scooped her up and carried her the short distance to the bedroom. Normally she would have fussed at him and told him she could walk on her own but she was so drained all she could do was be grateful and press her forehead into his neck.

Frank tucked her in on his side where the blankets were already pulled back before quickly shucking out of his wet underwear and throwing on a dry pair. He left the room, returning a minute later with a glass of water that he put on the nightstand closest to her and then climbed in behind her, tucking her against him with incredible care, laying little kisses on what skin presented itself to him in the process.

Karen had been there for Frank in some of the hardest moments of his life, she had been an ear when he needed someone to listen, a childhood anecdote or sarcastic comment when he needed a laugh, and harsh words of truth when he needed a push in the right direction. He hoped he could be all of those things for her. Be the rock that she needed when her foundations were crumbling, just as she had been for him. When he heard a quiet ‘I love you, Frank’ before her exhaustion took her over, he felt his heart swell and thought maybe he had done something right for once.

“I love you too, Karen.”

By the next evening Frank had replaced the old squeaky faucet with a brand new one that didn’t make a sound when turned, the old one in the dumpster outside of her apartment, never to be seen again.

#frank castle #frank castle x karen page #i love them #karen page #kastle #post tps2 #hurt/comfort

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