#matt murdock x female reader x frank castle

[chvoswxtch]

jealousy

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle

summary: matt gets jealous that you're home taking care of frank while he's at work.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: I just wanted to see matty jealous of frankie and live my fantasy of them both being my boyfriends. that's all.

word count: 1.8k

[part two: forgiveness][part three: revenge]

Jealousy was not an emotion Matt Murdock felt very often. He knew the law like the back of his hand, and had a talent for winning over juries with his smooth voice and irrefutable logic. His heightened senses and years of training gave him the upper hand when it came to taking down criminals. And since his “relationships” typically never lasted longer than a month or two, there wasn’t ever a sense of competition there.

Until you.

Because right now, he was in his office up to his elbows in casework while you were at home taking care of Frank, and jealousy practically seeped out of his pores.

He knew it wasn’t fair of him to feel jealous. Matt pretty much had you all to himself whenever Frank was away. And when Frank did come home, he usually joined Matt at night for patrols, and they’d return home to you together. 

Although usually the first one or two nights Frank came home, he was too tired to join Matt, and eventually Matt stopped bothering going out those first two nights anyway.

Because he couldn’t focus on anything hearing what Frank was doing to you in your shared bed. 

It was only fair that Frank got to spend some alone time with you too. He didn’t get it as much as Matt did. But that logic did nothing to dull the envy that turned his blind rage a deep shade of green. 

Even though you all three had an agreement about your relationship, Matt always struggled with possessiveness. It wasn’t even just towards you, but with Frank too. He got jealous when Frank did jobs with other people, even though he knew there were no feelings there and that Frank was coming home to him. He was selfish when it came to the two of you. After a lifetime of losing everyone he ever cared about due to death or abandonment, he held on tightly to the two people he loved most in this world, and refused to ever loosen his grip.

Frank needed your care. He needed you to put him back together, to be gentle with him and help him relax. He needed you to chase the darkness away in his head and the storm in his chest. He needed your candied words in his ear and your gentle touch on his skin. Matt knew that, because he knew how much he needed it when he came home sometimes. You created a safe haven for them both in your body, and there wasn’t anything your words or touch couldn’t fix.

Your touch.

Matt clenched his jaw thinking about you and Frank right now. He wondered if you were on your knees for Frank, using your talented mouth to make the big, bad Punisher beg for a God he didn’t believe in. He shuddered thinking about how you had woken him up last Friday morning with your warm mouth, taking your time bringing him to the brink of pleasure before climbing onto his lap to fuck him slowly into the mattress. You held his hands firmly above his head, intertwining your fingers tightly together and moaned soft praises into his ear while kissing him breathless. You always treated him so well.

Maybe Frank was on his knees. Maybe Frank had you spread out over the dining table with his head nestled between your thighs. God your taste was something else. If there was one thing he and Frank agreed on, it was that neither one of them could get enough of having their face buried in your pussy. And if there was one thing they fought over the most, it was who got to eat you out first.

Matt could feel his cock starting to harden as the phantom scent of your arousal hit his nose purely from memory. Were you riding Frank on the couch? He could practically hear the whine you would let out as Frank’s thick cock stretched you out. It didn’t matter how many times either of them fucked you. You were always so tight. Were you bent over the dining room table? Frank only liked to take you from behind when he really needed you and couldn’t wait. Like last month when he pulled the both of you into the bathroom at Josie’s because you wore that sundress that drove them both fucking insane, and he’d fucked you roughly from behind while you took Matt’s cock down your throat.

A low moan reverberated in his chest as he lightly palmed himself through his slacks, hissing slightly at the contact. He knew Frank. It had been two weeks since he’d seen you. Matt knew he most likely had you under him in your shared bed, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, lightly grasping onto your throat as he fucked you gently, making you come over and over and over until neither one of you could physically take it anymore. He could hear your breathless pleas and Frank’s low grunts echoing in his ears. 

A slight shiver caused goosebumps to erupt all over his skin at the thought. Matt enjoyed fucking you both, there was no denying that. But he loved making love to you both more. He preferred when the three of you could take your time together, when he could feel how much you all wanted each other; how much you all loved each other. He had been so touch starved until he met you, and now he felt like he couldn’t go more than a few hours without affection. Frank was more selective with his sentiments, but Matt craved them all the same. He reveled in the lingering touches, the soft kisses, the rough calloused hands massing over his aching muscles, blunt nails scratching at his scalp. 

A pang suddenly pierced through Matt’s heart at the thought of you and Frank alone together. He would never admit it out loud, but it made him feel left out. A piece of him always secretly feared that you might favor one of them over the other. He worried that in Frank’s absence, he asked too much of you, or smothered you with his need for attention. He constantly feared that you felt relieved when Frank came home, because it meant you got a break from him.

Before he could stop himself, Matt was commanding his phone to dial your number, and the longer it rang, the faster his heart raced with anticipation. 

“Hi Matty.”

A shaky breath released from Matt’s chest he hadn’t realized he was holding when he heard your voice. Warmth bloomed beneath his ribcage hearing the evident smile on your face through your tone.

“Hi sweetheart.”

“How’s work going?”

“Fine, fine.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no everythings fine. Just…missing you is all.”

Matt felt his cock twitch in his briefs as your melodic giggle filled his ear through the speaker.

“Matty, baby, you’ve been gone for three hours.”

A deep shade of red flushed onto his cheeks as he cleared his throat, gripping onto his own thigh tightly to steady himself as embarrassment pooled in his veins.

“I know.”

“That Red?”

Matt’s ears perked up hearing Frank’s voice in the background, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lips as he listened intently.

“Yeah, he said he misses you Frankie.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what he’s missin’ right now. Gimme the phone.”

“Frankie-”

A furrow formed between Matt’s brows hearing a shuffle on the other end of the line before Frank’s gruff voice came through.

“You’re a selfish little shit, you know that?”

“I didn’t do anything-”

“You get her to yourself all the goddamn time, and you can’t let me have one fuckin’ day-”

“Frank, I was just calling to-”

“To see if I fucked her without you.”

Matt’s breath hitched in his throat as his mouth clamped shut. The only person that knew him better than you was Frank. Grinding his teeth together slightly, he let his head hang between his shoulders as a soft sigh escaped his mouth.

“Did you?”

“All mornin’. Woke her up nice and good. She came twice in my mouth before you even made it to your office.”

Matt groaned lowly as he squeezed his eyes shut, digging his nails into his thigh through the material of his pants.

“Told me she woke you up real good the other mornin’ too, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah she did.”

“She’s a real peach, ain’t she?”

Matt chuckled breathlessly, letting his head fall back as a steady exhale left his mouth.

“She’s a fucking angel.”

“You got that right. Can’t figure out what the fuck she’s doin’ with us, but I ain’t gonna question a good thing. Tell me somethin’, Red. How hard are ya right now?”

Matt whimpered lowly at the sultry tone of Frank’s teasing voice, his hand sneaking over to grasp at the bulge in his slacks of its own accord.

“Very.”

“Hands off.”

“Frank-”

“I said hands off, Red.”

Matt let out a frustrated groan as he removed his hand, listening to Frank’s chuckle ring in his ears.

“Good boy. Now get your ass home. You got fifteen minutes before I start without ya.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly at Frank’s command, and there was another shuffle on the other end of the line before he heard your voice come through.

“Matty?”

Another shiver descended down his spine hearing the lust that dripped from your voice.

“Yes my love?”

“Are you coming home?”

Your breath hitched slightly towards the end, and Matt groaned lowly again knowing exactly what was happening on the other end of the line.

“Yes, honey. I’m leaving right now. Is Frank touching you?”

“Y-Yes, Matty. He said-oh…he wanted…wanted to make sure you-shit…came home to us.”

“I’m coming, sweetheart.”

“Not yet, but you will be, Red. Hurry your ass up. Clock’s tickin’.”

“Matty.”

Matt trapped his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he suddenly stood, gathering all of his things in a haste.

“Don’t come until I get there.”

“But Matty-”

“What did I say?”

A low growl ripped through his chest, and he gripped onto his cane until his knuckles turned white hearing a soft whimper followed by a giggle.

“Frankie said I could.”

“Frankie’s not always around to protect you, angel. Remember that. I’ll be home soon. Be a good girl for me, honey.”

Matt wasn’t sure if he even gave Karen or Foggy an excuse as to why he rushed out so suddenly, clutching his briefcase over the front of his pants to hide the tent that had formed. He hadn’t even bothered to unfold his cane, and practically ran until his lungs burned until he reached his building. He didn’t care if people saw him and questioned how a blind man moved so quickly without a guide. He probably should have, but he couldn’t find it in himself to.

Because he was home, and so were you and Frank, and you two were the only things he really cared about anymore.

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @day-dreaming-goddess. @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[joybabyjune]

Jealousy

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (Matt Murdock has a tiny role too)

Summery: You’ve been casually sleeping with Frank for a while now, but you decide you need something more stable and go on a date with Matt (who you don’t know is Daredevil). Frank shows up on your date to show you who you belong to (maybe in a public bathroom 🙊) and to show Matt to back off 😈.

Warnings: Explicit (minors dni!!!), semi public, unprotected piv, oral (m receiving), little bit of praise kink (good girl, attagirl), little bit of degradation kink (slut, whore), dirty talk, tiny bit of exhibition kink, sort of cuckolding Matt. Think that’s it, feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s note: This idea was stuck in my head for so long and I finally finished it! I hope you guys like it. I would love to hear what you guys think, so reading notes will make me happy! And if you really like it, please reblog so others can enjoy as well. You’ll make my day and it’s completely freeee.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language ✌🏼

Masterlist

You’re sipping on your second beer while you chat and laugh with Matt. After working together for over a year now, he finally asked you out.

Matt is a good guy. He’s everything you should want in a man. Reliable, kind, not a murderer on the run for law enforcement that most people think is dead... You mentally kick yourself for thinking about Frank while on a date with Matt. There’s no future with Frank. You shouldn’t want him. You need someone more stable in your life, someone like Matt.

“You okey?” Matt asks sensing your mind is elsewhere.

“Eh.. Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. You were saying?” You ask, shaking your head as if you’re shaking the thoughts of Frank from your brain.

“That this new client is really gonna make a difference for Nelson and Murdock..” He continues talking, but your mind drifts again while you look around the cozy, dark bar at all the people who decided to get drinks tonight. There’s a few couples, a group of co workers who look like came straight from their office jobs, a few middle aged men at the bar that you feel safe to assume are regulars and then your heart stops for a second as you see him.

Frank Castle is sitting at a table by the window, sipping on a beer. Your eyes widen when you make eye contact and he nods at you as a way of saying hello. You wave back almost nervously. How is he out here in public?

“Want another beer?” Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“Eh, y-yeah, thanks.” You say. You’re so glad that your date is blind and didn’t see your interaction with the criminal he told you to watch out for.

What you don’t know is that Matt has already sensed Frank from the moment he entered the bar. He has been noticing his smell on you for the past months as well and it doesn’t sit right with him. It’s part of the reason he asked you out tonight, to get your attention away from the other man.

You grab your phone while Matt orders your drinks and hold it up to Frank to show that you’re gonna text him.

You: What are you doing here? What if anyone recognizes you?

Frank: Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart.

Frank: Saw you go in here with that lawyer guy..

You frown at your phone. Is he.. Jealous? It’s the first time you’re on a date since you started seeing him, but you didn’t think he would mind. It’s all been pretty casual between the two of you.

Frank: Looks like a date..

You look at him and he raises his eyebrows to urge you to answer him.

You: It is.. Matt is a good guy. He would be good for me. Reliable, available..

You look at him and see him scoff as he reads your text. You know it was a low blow. The only reason Frank is away most of the time, is to make the city a saver place.

Frank: Yeah? That what you want? A good Christian boy?

You: Yes.

You lie and Frank knows it. You should want a guy like Matt. Matt you could bring to Thanksgiving dinner with your parents and your mom would, for once, not be disappointed in you.. But you and Frank both know you like the danger and excitement of your little arrangement way too much. For months now, Frank comes to your apartment on a regular basis. You have amazingly intense and kinky sex and have the best conversations while eating takeout afterwards. Sometimes he stays the night and sometimes he leaves while you fall asleep, but either way you’re left alone until the next time he has a night to spare.

Frank: So full of shit.

Matt comes back with your drinks before you can write a reply, but you scowl at Frank.

“Thanks.” You say taking the drink from him and smiling extra brightly, to convince Frank you’re having fun.

“Sorry it took so long, was very busy at the bar.” He says, holding his glass up to toast with you.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” You say as you touch his glass with yours before you glance at your phone.

Frank: Did you let him fuck you?

You: Not yet..

You look over at him and he scoffs again as he reads your message

Frank: Think he can fuck you like I can?

You gasp when you read it and you see Matt frown. “Something wrong?” He asks.

“N-no.. Just need to go to the bathroom for a second.” You say. “Excuse me.”

You don’t go to the bathroom. You walk straight to Frank and sit down next to him. “What the hell, Frank.” You hiss.

He just looks at you. “Tell me.” He finally urges. “Think he’ll fuck you like I can? Cause I don’t think he can.”

“Oh please.” You scoff. “Think very highly of yourself, Castle. I think Matt will manage just fine.”

He laughs dryly. “Just fine, huh.” He says. “Think I do just fine? Well I remember that differently, sweetheart. I remember you begging, crying out my name, barely being able to walk..”

“Stop that, Frank.” You hiss through your teeth. “I’m trying to give this thing with Matt a chance. I need something more serious in my life than just some good dick every once in a while, okey.”

“Oh now I’m just some good dick, hm.” He chuckles through his nose and looks to the side before looking at you again and licking his lips. He places his hand on your bare thigh, right at the edge of your dress. “You look good. Got all dressed up for your little date, huh.”

Your breath hitches at his touch. And your stupid body reacts instantly to his. “Y-yes..” You say.

“Got something pretty underneath it too?” He asks, fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

You swallow thickly. “No..” You say honestly.

“No?” He asks in disbelieve, knowing what you have in your collection.

“No, I’m not wearing anything.” You say smiling teasingly. “Felt like doing something risky for my date.” You like to make him jealous. It feels good to know that he wants you and doesn’t want another man to touch you.

He growls a little. “You gonna let him get under this dress tonight?” He asks.

“I might..” You say.

He grips your thigh tightly and leans in so his mouth is at your ear. “Let me remind you first..” He says. “Of what you’ll be missing if you do that.” His lips connect to your neck and he slides the tip of his tongue over your pulse.

“Frank..” You whimper, you brain clouding over. Why does he have to have this effect on you?

“Bathroom.” He rasps. “Now.”

Your eyes widen and you look at Matt. He looks unfazed as he drinks his beer, his back towards you. You know this bathroom. It’s beat down, broken lights and mirrors, graffiti everywhere and it has multiple stalls, so there’s no way you can get away with this without anyone noticing. “I can’t, Frank..” You sigh.

“I said. Now.” He says. You almost moan at his demand and get up. “Attagirl..” He says as you walk toward the bathroom, your feet moving on their own accord.

You can sense him following you closely. He pushes you into the bathroom and slams you with your back against the door to barricade it before crashing his lips on yours.

He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him. Your dress hitches up to your hips and you moan in his mouth as he rolls his hips into your, basically bare, core. “Hmhmm.” He hums and he breaks the kiss. “That’s what you need, huh?”

“Frankie..” You whine a little, but you know he’s right. “But-“

“Shh shh shh.. No buts.” He says and lifts your dress up more so it bundles at your waist. You feel your naked folds against the rough material of his jeans and you moan loudly. He snakes one hand between your bodies and slides his fingers through your soaking slit. “Fuck..” He mutters to himself. “That for me or for lawyer guy out there?”

“Y-you, Frank.. You..” You say, your voice breathy, as he starts rubbing circles on your clit.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He grunts. “Pretending to be a good girl, but you’re just a little slut for me..”

“Frankie..” You moan, sounding desperate, but you know he’s right. “Please..”

“Hm? What’s that?” He rasps against your throat. As he presses on your clit harder.

“Oh fuck..” You pant. “Frank, p-please.. Need more..”

“Oh yeah? That slutty hole needs to be filled?” He asks. “Why don’t I get Murdock to do that for you, huh? ‘M sure he can help you out.”

“N-no!” You gasp and grab onto his shoulders desperately.. “Need you, Frank.. Need your cock.. P-please!”

He growls and mutters something under his breath while unbuttoning his pants. You can barely hear it but it sounds like. “Hear that, Red.” You frown but get pulled out of your thoughts by Frank slamming his cock inside you without warning.

“Oh my.. Fuck!!” You cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders. You keep forgetting how big he is.

He growls loudly. “That’s it, take it..” He says as he starts thrusting right away, not giving you any time to get used to the intrusion. “Tight fucking pussy.. So wet for me.”

There’s a knock on the bathroom door that you can barely register. “Taken!” Frank rasps loudly, giving you a particularly hard thrust that makes you cry out loudly.

“Y-you’re so bad..” You whine. “T-they can hear us.” You add in a whisper.

“Let them..” He says. “Let them hear what a whore you are for this cock. That you let me steal you away from your date and fuck you in a public bathroom.. ‘S because you belong to me, hmm?”

“Frankie..” You whine.

“Right?” He growls through gritted teeth.

He’s never been this harsh, but you’ve also never been this aroused and you can feel your orgasm building up fast. When you don’t answer him, he pulls out. “Nooo, don’t stop!”

“Say it..” He growls and rubs the head of his cock against your clit.

“Ohhh.. I-I’m yours, Frankie! P-please!” You moan.

“That’s right. Mine.” He growls as he sinks back inside you.

Your eyes roll back in your head and he starts fucking you with deep, hard strokes. “I-I’m gonna cum..” You pant into his shoulder. “Please don’t stop..”

“Good girl, cum on my fucking cock.” He rasps, never losing his rhythm.

You cry out when you explode around him and immediately know that no man can ever top this. You’re addicted to Frank Castle, even with all the hassle that comes with him. “Fuckkkk!”

“That’s it, attagirl.. Can feel you squeezing me..” Frank talks you through it.

“Oh my god..” You pant as you come down from your high.

“Think I’ll send you back to your date with me dripping down your legs, hm, how ‘bout that?”

“Noo! Please don’t!” You chuckle.

“No?” He asks shaking his head with a smirk on his face. “Better get on your knees then.” He adds and he pulls out.

He lets you down and you quickly get on your knees. You don’t care about how dirty the floor is, you need this right now.

His cock, wet from your juices, glistens in the dimmed lighting as he holds it in front of your face. He’s rock hard, the veins are pulsing and his balls look heavy. He’s definitely close.

You ‘open up’ when he tells you to and he slides in as deep as he can until you gag. “That’s it.. Attagirl..” He mutters and he slowly starts thrusting into your welcoming mouth, one of his hands resting comfortably on the back of your head, the other pushing the door closed above you. “Look at me..” He orders and your eyes shoot up to his. “Gonna make sure that if that fucker tries to kiss you, that he knows you belong to another man. Cause this fucking mouth’s mine too, hear me?” He growls, speeding up his thrusts and making you gag again.

You make some sounds to agree with him, not being able to talk. “Fuck.. Gonna give you my cum.. Fill up that pretty mouth..” He groans loudly and his hips stutter while you feel his load land on the back of your tongue.

You gently suck his softening cock to get every last drop before letting him slip out and swallowing the proof.

“Fuck you..” You sigh as you rest your head back against the door.

He chuckles silently. “That good, hm?”

“Shut up..” You smile lazily.

“Still think he can give it to you like that?” He asks as he tucks himself back into his pants.

“No.. Don’t think anyone can, Frank..” You say honestly. “And I hate you for it. You ruined me..”

“Should have warned you for that.” He says smiling down at you smugly. “Gonna get up?”

“‘F you give me a hand.” You say and he helps you get up on your shaking legs.

“Fucking Frank.” You curse as you look in the mirror. Your hair is messy, your makeup messed up and your dress is all wrinkled.

He chuckles. “Go end this date, I’ll be waiting in your room for round two.” He says slapping your ass and leaving you in the bathroom to freshen up.

“Thank you for your patience.” You hear him say to someone on the other side of the door.

Your eyes widen and you pull your dress down just quick enough for two women around your age to walk in.

“‘M s-sorry..” You mutter without looking at them. They don’t say anything, just disappear into the stalls.

You quickly try to salvage what you can and hurry back to your table.

“I-I’m sorry, Matt.” You say sitting down.

“You okey? You were gone for a while.” He asks.

“Ehm.. N-no, I don’t feel so well. Think it’s best if I go home.” You say as you put on your jacket and grab your purse.

“You sure?” He asks, frowning a little, and you get the feeling the question is about more than just you going home.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Shall I walk with you?”

“No, that’s okey. I’ll eh, I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”

“Alright.” He says looking a little disappointed.

“Bye.” You say, hugging him and hurrying home.

To Frank, once again.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Can I get a Lily for Matt and Frank, how would they react to finding reader crying?

Matt

He’d probably (absolutely) sprint home if he heard you crying

Chuck his cane and everything

Darting up to the apartment, arms outstretched, asking you what was wrong as you burrowed into him

Cradling the back of your head, he’d carry you to the couch and set you in his lap, shushing you softly until you were a bit calmer

He’d be pretty insistent that you tell him what happened, wanting to talk things through with you before coming to a conclusion

Frank 

Frank on the other hand becomes sort of “act first think later” when you’re hurt or upset

Panic sets in whenever he finds you crying. He hides it well but every alarm in his body is screaming for him to FUCKING FIX IT. he hates seeing you cry. 

If he could sell his soul to keep you happy, he would. 

Like Matt, he’d use physical contact to ground you, help calm you down, as well as remind himself that you’re still alive—even if you aren’t happy. 

He’d pretty much demand to know what happened. And as soon as you were tucked into bed that night, he’d search far and wide for whoever wronged you, ready to ensure they didn’t do that ever again

[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x vigilante!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : you’d met them, became their teammate, and the one night you got severely wounded, they took you to their place to patch you up.

⟢﹒ content warnings : i am not a doctor nor do i have any knowledge on how to take care of wounds like that properly so very inaccurate patching up session, mentions of blood, wounds, mentions of needle (to saw reader’s wound), afab!reader, stubborn reader, but stubborn frank, no use of y/n, not proofread

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

⟢﹒ note : this is the first part of a 2shot where the second part will be a smut with hunter/prey dynamic ! have a good read <;33

⟢ next part : here

The clouds were brown tonight, covering the inky blackness of the sky like a mass of cotton gathering up the streetlights of Hell's Kitchen. Everything seemed to be reflecting off a lake, the puddles of rain from earlier in the day having settled on every rooftop in the city in a myriad of mirrors.

It was quiet, abnormally quiet even. Hell's Kitchen wasn't exactly your typical idyllic holiday destination; on the contrary, it was the place to flee if you had the chance. Crime had its patch on every street corner, and not a single day or night went by without something happening.

But now, nothing. No problems. No calls for help. Just the calm of an evening. 

Sitting on the edge of a roof, your legs dangling boredly in the air, you listened to your little radio set beside your thigh, hoping that one of the police stations would report a problem. But everything was peaceful.

It had already been a few months since you had taken on the attire of the night, taken on the role of vigilante in Hell's Kitchen, and every evening you found yourself chasing crime out of town like a broom sweeping dust out of the way.

It wasn't necessarily an easy rhythm. After an already long day at work, you usually tried to get some sleep before starting your patrol. You'd realised that although there was no particular time for crime, most of them started after midnight.

But it was already one o'clock in the morning and there was nothing to report. You wondered whether perhaps you were doing your job as a vigilante too well. If you did, this kind of evening was set to happen, because if you did eradicate every crime all at once, there wouldn't be any left for later. The bitter reassurance that, unfortunately, crime, born since the dawn of time, would only die with men, gripped your heart.

The pace of it all was sometimes exhausting, but the advantage of all this was that you weren't really working alone any more. At first, the idea of joining forces with anyone to bring justice to the world of night seemed complicated, for several reasons. 

Firstly, coordination: having team-mates implied having a certain connection so that even without words being spoken, everything ran smoothly. 

And secondly, attachment. An environment like this where every night can be your last if you don't keep a minimum of vigilance can prove destructive. It would be too painful to lose an ally, and even more so if it was your turn to leave and they found themselves grieving.

But colleagues - no, partners? Friends? Whatever, the allies you found on certain nights were probably the most resilient human beings you'd ever met, to the point where the very thought of them dying was impossible. After all, when you're working with two people who have both withstood a bullet to the head and who are sure of themselves, you can't help but feel safe - or very small and miserable in their presence.

You had met them on patrol when the sounds of banging and groans of pain could be heard in an alleyway. Immediately, you had split the sphere of your personally modified Bolas and had helped in the fight after observing the side you had to take. Recognising criminals had become like a sixth sense, but above all you had recognised Daredevil's outfit in the semi-darkness and the silhouette that appeared to be that of Frank Castle.

You were familiar with the work of both of them, had seen enough of their appearances in the newspapers and heard their actions on the radio enough to know that the two men fighting the dozen or so others below were none other than these two.

You had helped them, immobilising a man here, strangling a man of the thread of your bolas there, while the two acolytes were both taking part in the fight. It was only at the end of the latter that the barrage of questions began.

"Who are you?" was of course the first question Matt asked.

"Who do you work for?" was the first question Frank raised, naturally.

It didn't take too long for you to explain that crime was swarming around the city like cockroaches in a dirty carpet and that you wanted to clean up just like them.

Frank was suspicious, Matt was calm, and you were sweating buckets, dreading their every reaction. They weren't exactly idols to you, but you had great respect for them.

It was when Matt agreed that you were sincere and that there was nothing to fear about you that Frank relaxed a bit, without letting go of his grouchy and suspicious attitude. You'd assumed at first that Frank wouldn't appreciate such a radical change of routine that included bringing a new member into the evening vigilante group, but Matt had assured him that having one more person would allow them to be more effective.

And soon, you'd be meeting up from time to time in the evening if you were lucky enough to bump into each other. 

First, you didn't reveal your identity immediately. There was a kind of silent agreement between the three of you on the subject. Of course, Frank's identity was no longer a mystery, but Matt's remained particularly anonymous for a long time.

Once enough trust had been established for Frank not to grumble at you at every given occasion, you were officially introduced.

You learned that Matthew Murdock was a blind lawyer with very heightened senses, and that Frank Castle lived with him, taking on a series of remote jobs under a different identity since his name was not really known in a very positive way. 

You didn't see each other outside of work, often too busy with your own lives to find time to see each other, even if you didn't discuss your free time... at first anyway.

You had exchanged phone numbers, in case an emergency arose and you suddenly needed help. Your exchanges were very cordial, sending addresses or locations when help was needed or to investigate something suspicious.

The first much less professional encounter was on a more turbulent night than the others, when you were cut badly on the leg, flank and arm, with an additional cut to your lip from a punch. 

According to Matt, your costume was similar to the one he wore when he first started as Daredevil. Dark clothes, something to hide your face and combat boots, needless to say that with just these to cover you up, you were extremely vulnerable.

When the fighting stopped, you didn't even have time to wince in pain that Matt was already beside you with a glove off and removing his helmet as Frank observed the situation.

"How bad is it?" Frank had asked, tilting his head to the side as the fabric covering your body darkened with blood.

"As bad as it looks to you and feels to me," Matt sighed as his fingertips brushed the skin of your side.

"It's all right," you assured them, moving slightly away from Matt and his touch, "really, it's fine."

"Are you sure? You look like you can barely walk properly." Matt had asked, obviously knowing that no, everything wasn't all right.

Probably because he'd used that speech over and over again himself, that and the simple fact that your body looked like a cute little pinocchio with a nose extended to its ears.

"Yeah yeah, no big deal - argh!" you started before Frank put his hand on the gaping wound in your arm. “Hey!”

"No big deal, eh? If it was no big deal ya wouldn't be reacting like this."

"It's nothing, really." 

You had no idea if you sounded convincing… well, from the look on both their faces, you weren’t. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, looking you up and down as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You felt tiny under his gaze like that, barely lifting your eyes to look into his. There was a dark insistence in his stare, and you could tell he was frustrated, only whether it was about you or the situation in itself you weren't sure.

"What d’you say Red ?" he said after seconds that felt like minutes.

You turned to Matt, his gaze fixed as usual on a point in the void. But that didn't stop his eyes from being expressive, and the rest of his face reinforced them. You watched in the half-light the way his jaw muscles twitched in the lamplight and your heart fell in your stomach.

"Our flat is closer to here than hers," was what he ended up saying.

Your heart went right back up your chest as you blinked fast, frowning at the sentence he had so casually said.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, "how do you know I'm-" but you didn't finish your own sentence before starting the next, "you followed me all the way to my place?"

Matt put both hands on his hips with a sigh, biting his lower lip before finally answering.

"We had a bit of a scare the other night when you were cut on the shoulder. We just wanted to make sure... that you got home okay."

Your lips parted in surprise, shifting then from Matt to Frank, who was looking at his feet as if the ground was far more interesting than anything he had to say at the moment. You weren't sure how to feel about that.

In a way, you found it strange that they'd followed you home without telling you anything about it, but Matt with his keen senses would probably have known where you were sooner or later. Besides, it was well-intentioned, and the sudden thought that they cared about you - no, about your state - was surprisingly heart-warming.

"In any case," Matt continued, clearing his throat, "ours is a lot closer than yours, and in your current state, you could do with some treatment when you get there."

"I'm not planning to stay the night, am I?" you laughed nervously.

"Why not?" said Frank, raising his eyebrows and his shoulders in one gesture.

From now on, victory would go to the one with the most convincing argument.

"Well, I've got work tomorrow," you began, already thinking about the pain you'd have to endure in the morning when you woke up. 

You could still feel your warm blood clinging to your clothes, and the sensation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

"Say you're unwell, isn't far off the mark," Frank replied, pointing with a lazy wave of his hand at your body.

"But I don't have any clothes to spend the night in." You retorted, although the argument was easily contradicted by Matt's remark.

"We'll lend you some, it's no big deal," he assured you.

"I don't have a toothbrush," you retorted, as if that couldn't possibly be of any importance in this setting.

"We're not Cro-Magnons, we have backup ones," Matt laughed softly.

It was becoming a little more complicated to come up with relevant arguments. The blood loss was making you dizzy, weak, and preventing you from standing properly without grimacing every second while focusing all your attention on each cut and the intense burning sensation it gave you.

It wasn't so much that you didn't want to go, because on the contrary you found yourself enjoying their company more and more. It was simply the fact that...

"I'm afraid of imposing myself on you and bothering you." You said, looking away.

You were colleagues up to now, people who shared a common interest in justice, and you didn't mind their company. Only, you'd added to the mix completely unexpectedly. They'd already been working together before, even living together. You didn't know a great deal about their private lives and here you were, the millstone, getting hurt in the middle of a patrol and not being able to make a move without everything hurting.

You turned towards them again. The look on Frank's face was like the typical reaction of a human being who has just witnessed the greatest absurdity of all, while Matt's mouth was half-open in surprise. It almost seemed to you that saying that simple sentence had been a mistake.

"That's it, you're coming with us," Matt confirmed.

"Definitely," Frank affirmed as he approached you and placed one of his hands behind your back.

"Hey wait-" you had no say in the matter, though, as Frank's second hand came up behind your knees and lifted you off the ground.

Your hands barely grasped the back of his neck, wincing as you writhed in pain. You wouldn't have minded being carried. The fatigue of the evening weighed on each of your limbs as if they were full of lead. 

You knew how to walk, one step in front of the other like most, and the suddenness of being lifted so easily into the air felt funny. You couldn't help fidgeting, caressing the hope of finding a position more comfortable than one that made you feel every inch of your skin open to the night air.

"Stop movin’ like a chicken ‘bouta have its throat cut," Frank grumbled as the two of them started walking.

"Put it on the ground and the chicken will calm down," you breathed through clenched teeth of discomfort.

"It's not a very long walk, I promise." Matt reassured you.

You huffed, clutching the collar of Frank's jacket to prevent yourself from squeezing the back of his neck too hard and getting another remark. You were torn between the uneasiness of the stir he made with every step, which you felt in every wound, and the new comfort you found in the embrace of his arms.

You felt so... safe that way. And not just with Frank, because you felt the same sense of tranquillity with Matt. They were both involved in your life in such an unusual way and they still managed to make you feel comfortable.

You'd never been so close to him, snuggled up against him and held in his strong arms. As close as you were to his body, you could smell him. A mix of cool and warm. 

He carried the smoky but crisp scent of the night, the fresh but dark air, like the smell of a just-cut apple leaving its cool scent on the blade of the knife that has just sliced it. And all of this was strangely relieving. 

Your eyes drifted to his neck, which was inevitable considering how close you were to it. Your gaze focused on his Adam's apple, ready to be covered by his perpetual stubble, letting your eyes slide up to his marked, strong jawline. You weren't in the habit of observing someone so closely, especially when that someone was handsome. 

The journey across his face continued, passing from his full lips, to his nose bumped by the many blows he must have received in the face, to conclude this pleasant silent voyage with his eyes. Beneath a pair of stern eyebrows were two onyxes, shyly illuminated by the few street lamps on the deserted streets you were travelling through. You had seen them turn black like those of a shark that had smelled blood. 

If you didn't know that look would never be meant for you, you'd be afraid of them.

You'd spent enough time with them in combat situations to know that their rage alone could bring a man down with a look. You hoped you'd never have to pay the price of it.

But this close, you didn't feel in danger, although the very idea that such dark eyes of vengeance and bitterness and death might pass over yours made you shudder.

“You’re staring, little one,” Frank remarked, his gaze never wavering from the path in front of him.

Too embarrassed by your own behaviour, you nestled your head on his shoulder, resting your forehead on it as your neck and cheeks heated up. You felt a little foolish as you felt your heart beating frantically between your ribs, and the very idea that Matt could undoubtedly hear it made you want to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and disappear.

When were you going to get to that bloody flat where you would - hopefully - never again have to be so close to one of them without your thoughts getting carried away ?

Your wishes were granted, as you soon found yourselves standing in front of a door that Matt habitually opened, letting Frank go first as he pressed you closer to him to get through the doorway. With a single breath, his scent invaded you more and more until, for a few moments, your thoughts were focused on nothing but him.

The sudden closeness of him made you feel your cheek brush against the nape of his neck, cool in the night air, but enough for your own skin to heat up slightly.

Internally, you were slapping yourself in the face. Now was not the time to let yourself be bewitched by your colleagues, although the fact that you would be spending the night with them would intensify those thoughts.

Your reflections kept you prisoner enough that you didn't realise until you'd climbed the stairs that you were about to enter Matt's flat. No... their flat.

This reality dropped into your stomach like a heavy stone. They're together, so don't try or think anything that might disappoint you. Tonight... It's just business. It's just help they're giving you, that's all it is.

Perhaps it was a cruel lack of affection that made you repeat all this to yourself, but whatever the case, your inner monologue gradually died down as your attention was drawn to the inside of the place.

It was big, really big for a flat, and for a moment the idea of Matt and Frank being rich occurred to you. It wasn't until Frank moved further into the living room that your eyes fell almost painfully on the neon lighting that illuminated the whole room.

And the more you looked, the more the charm of the place intensified. Of course, the neon had to be a problem. And yes, the walls had faded wallpaper and cracked paint. And maybe the windows could have done with a bit of a wipe down.

But the cosy atmosphere the flat had was delightful. The warmth that greeted you as you entered was gentle and reassuring. You noticed that there was little smell in the flat, nothing too strong at least so far. 

"On the sofa, she's already lost enough blood for the evening," Matt pointed out as he left for his kitchen.

Ah, right, Matt's senses, you almost forgot. The reason for the absence of perfume or overpowering scents in their flat was surely that it could prove abrasive on his olfactory sensitivity and generally on his senses.

Frank didn't hesitate for a moment, gently lowering you onto the leather sofa, which you felt sink under your back. The sudden change of position made you wince and whimper, the pain of your wounds hitherto camouflaged by your comfort in Frank's arms resurfacing to inflame your skin.

Frank watched you for a moment, frowning as he observed with serious eyes the dark stains that soaked through the various fabrics of your outfit. Without a word, he walked away, and a few seconds later Matt appeared in your field of vision, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"We're going to need you to take off your top and trousers, do you think you can do that?"

The heat rose to your cheek, making you realise that with those wounds on your body, it was inevitable that you would end up naked if they wanted to do anything to help fix you.

You pressed your teeth into your lower lip, keeping it prisoner for a moment and grunting as the gesture made you reopen your little wound. 

"I'll try," you croaked, trying to unclench the hand that had been glued to your side until now. 

The bleeding seemed to have eased, the blood slightly caking to your hand as you pulled it free with an exhaled whimper. The sudden contact of air on your skin felt like an icy slap, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm yourself.

Your head tumbling back on the comfortable leather, you tried to get your hands to the sides of your T-shirt, pulling at the fabric. The material rubbed against your gaping wound, and you gritted your teeth as you breathed heavily.

Matt swallowed, clenching his jaw before kneeling in front of you.

"I can help you, if you don't mind," he offered, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he began to remove your shoes.

Your reflex would usually have been to say no, your determination to achieve everything on your own without help from others blocking such opportunities. But the more you thought about it, the more the taste of resignation grew in your mouth.

At the rate you were going, getting undressed would take a considerable amount of time, time that Matt and Frank could probably have spent doing something more interesting than helping someone like you. So you gave in.

The blood from your split lip spilled back into your mouth, your tongue running over the cut and burning you. Wrinkling your nose in pain and breathing through your teeth, you nodded vigorously as you readjusted yourself on the sofa.

Matt sat up straight on his knees and faced you, his hands first feeling the leather of the sofa to find your thigh. He gently skimmed along the fabric, his hand brushing the wound on your thigh and making you grunt slightly.

"Sorry," he murmured softly. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," his confirmation letting his hand travel up to your waist. 

His second joined in, avoiding the path of his twin again, and finding the sides of your top.

"Can you put your arms up for me?" he asked softly.

You swallowed, chewing the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath. Then you did the seemingly impossible by lifting your arms. Your shoulders felt like they were made of lead, and your whole body seemed to be made of nothing but aches and pains.

When the fabric and movement rubbed against the wound on your arm, which you had barely raised, your hand instinctively came to press against it, letting a small, contorted whimper escape from your lips.

Matt let out a sigh, but he didn't seem exasperated or annoyed, more concerned or sharing your pain. Just then Frank came back into the living room, a first aid kit in hand as he came up beside you.

"We're going to have to cut your shirt off," Matt warned.

You sighed, feeling deeply incapable. When did taking off a shirt become so complicated? Every cut on your body was starting to burn severely, and you felt like throwing yourself into a lake of ice water to soothe the pain.

Frank pulled the scissors out of the kit, sitting down next to you and letting the sofa sink beneath him.

"We'll get you a new one," he promised as the cold kiss of the scissor blades touched your skin for a moment near the wound on your arm, bringing a short-lived respite.

Frank tugged at the fabric to pull it away from your skin, then after a few scissor strokes tore the material of your t-shirt as if it were paper with a sharp tear.

The cold skin of his fingers, still covered in the cool of the outside air, came to rest on your skin, and it was as if night met day, as the moon touched the sun with its fingertips, illuminating each of its craters and cuts.

Meanwhile, Matt unbuckled your belt gently, unbuttoning your trouser button at the same time and pulling on the fly until his fingers brushed the birth of...

"Sorry about the whisky but we didn't have anything else," he said apologetically as he took hold of the edges of your trousers.

"Aren't you guys sponsored by first aid kits at this point?" you asked through clenched teeth.

Waiting for Frank to move the scissors away from your skin, you raised your pelvis so that Matt could slide your trousers down more easily. 

"There hasn't been any disinfectant in any of them since last night," he explained with a small smile.

The scene was strangely intimate, Frank's hot breath spreading across the back of your neck as he cut off your shirt, and Matt's hands sliding your trousers down your thighs.

You couldn't help but let out a grunt as the fabric of your pant leg brushed against the wound on your thigh, though Matt was doing his best not to cause you any discomfort, whispering small apologies as he did so.

You then realised the context of all this, and the heat rose to your cheeks when Frank threw the last shred of your old T-shirt somewhere in the background: you were in your underwear in front of them.

For a moment, their fingers on your body felt much less professional. The passage of their digits over your skin left behind a trail of sparkling powder underneath.

Placing a towel under your thigh, Matt indicated to Frank the bottle of alcohol which he uncorked.

"This might sting a bit," Matt advised just before Frank started pouring the cool liquid over the wound on your arm.

You stifled a muffled gasp, your thighs trembling slightly from the heat of your wounds. Matt's face scrunched up, his hands resting on your thighs in the hope of easing your pain or distracting you from the excruciating sensation you were going through. As for Frank, he didn't seem to give a damn, his face filled with his constant annoyed neutrality.

You had wondered several times whether Frank hated you, or whether it was difficult for him to stand you. Whatever the case, he didn't seem to have you in his heart. Maybe it was mistrust, but whatever the reason, he seemed irascible towards you.

He continued to pour the contents of the bottle quite generously onto your side, your eyelids closing so tightly that you felt you were seeing stars. You gritted your teeth so hard that for a moment they cut off your hearing, then released the tension.

"It's almost done," Matt murmured in the hope of encouraging you.

Frank ended up cleaning your trembling thigh. You brought your hand, closed into a fist, up to your mouth, biting the skin of one of your fingers to channel the pain.

Your head jerked back, breathing heavily as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. The worst had undoubtedly just passed.

You heard them rummaging around in the kit, and as you straightened your head, you saw them pulling out needle and thread.

"No pain killers," you managed to say as your mouth felt almost pasty.

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

"Gotta get this done first, no painkillers for your princess ass now."

You let out a half-sigh, half-laugh.

"Silly me to assume you'd care." you mumbled, already feeling the discomfort from the alcohol on your gaping skin soften.

"It' all be over soon," Matt asserted, his thumb running over the skin of your thigh.

"And I who was looking forward to living in agony for the rest of my life,' you breathed.

Frank brought one of the armchairs closer to the sofa, needle in hand.

"Gon try and be gentle, softy." he added, the little nickname making you scoff.

"No, Frank, being gentle isn't your area of excellence. You shine mainly in murder and mutilation."

He raised his eyes to yours, still red and wet from your previous pain and reflecting the famous 'gentleness' he had shown in his actions. He frowned, but this gesture was unexpectedly accompanied by a smile mixing surprise and amusement, stretching his face in a way you'd never seen from him before.

He brought the needle up to your thigh, grasping the skin with his large hand as firmly as gently. He pierced it, making you wince at the sensation. 

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he finally said, his concentration seemingly unwavering.

But the simple idea of saying this when this same man was stitching you up at the moment only enchanted you for a short moment. He had a needle in his hand that he could very well stick anywhere but in the wound that needed to be closed. And although it was an immensely small needle, you were well aware that anything can become a deadly weapon if you have the will to use it. 

So you said nothing, letting that little irritation fade away as you let yourself be stitched up. The pain was bearable in the end, nothing too horrible. It was better than going home and cauterising the whole thing with your straightening iron.

Now that the pain was more bearable, your attention eventually drifted to something other than that feeling, and more to the rest. The feel of their fingers on your body brought a whole new sensory experience, causing a warm cloud to settle in your belly.

Matt straightened up, your thigh already missing the presence of his hand on it. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing your arm without injury.

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

"It's not the worst thing on the menu," you laughed nervously, immediately regretting your gesture as your smile stretched your lip and reopened it again.

He fumbled for the kit, taking a cotton ball and grabbing the bottle to soak it in.

"Here," he said, his hand coming to take your chin tenderly and turning it towards him.

He pressed the wet cotton to your wound, and you hissed as your nose wrinkled in pain.

"It might sting a bit when you drink," he murmured.

The proximity gripped your heart, Matt's face close enough to yours that you felt his breath hit your skin gently and evenly. You tried to calm your racing heart in your chest, swallowing as you let him finish disinfecting your lip.

You took the opportunity to watch him more closely, to see the way his stubble ran gracefully across his jaw, the way his brown eyes watching the empty space were full of softness, the way his lips, which you were used to seeing outside the mask, were full and pink.

He seemed incredibly gentle, and if you didn't spend some nights a week in his company fighting crime, you'd never have bet he was fighting like the devil himself: unleashed, full of rage, the taste of revenge and the desire for a better balance blinding him beyond measure.

"You'll take our bed," Matt said, Frank just finishing stitching up your thigh.

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

"Since I'm on the couch I might just stay on it," you laughed nervously as Frank moved to the wound on your waist.

His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you to the edge of the sofa, looking up at you: 

"Sit straight and still," he says in a tone calm but firm enough to convince you that he wouldn't repeat that command twice.

You straighten up slightly, letting him come and stitch up the wound in your side.

"Of the three of us, you're clearly the one who needs comfort and rest the most, not us," Matt continued, placing the now useless cotton wool on the table.

"I can assure you that I've rarely been on a sofa as comfortable as this one," you added.

You'd invite yourself into their home unannounced, they'd take care of you, and on top of that they'd make you sleep in their bed while they slept elsewhere?

"Do we really have to drag you there?" asked Frank, tugging at the thread.

"And let me squirm and ruin all your previous efforts on my wounds?" you huffed as you looked into his eyes, a muscle near your eye twitching as Frank continued his work. "I'd ruin your sheets, that's really not necessary."

"Listen-" Matt started, but you stopped him.

"No," you assured him, turning to him, "and anyway I can already feel sleep stalking me."

Frank breathed in as he opened his lips to speak and contradict you again, but you stopped him.

"Really," you assured him, "I'll take the sofa."

Frank bit his cheek in irritation, obviously not so happy to know that someone in this town shared being so stubborn. He turned to Matt, who also didn't seem to be enjoying the situation any more than that.

"Alright, but there's no way I'm going to hear you complain as soon as you wake up, is that clear?" finished Frank as he tied the thread over the cut in your abdomen.

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

As Frank started your last cut, Matt got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass. He filled it with water, while you and Frank seemed to be engaged in a stare-down between two obstinate, stubborn people.

"Thanks Matty," you thanked sincerely, taking the two delicious items in your hand.

He seemed surprised by the nickname, a nervous chuckle forming a smile on his lips.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he replied as he left for their shared room and began the process of changing his costume.

You placed the tablet on your tongue, then brought the glass to your lips. As promised, it stung. A cloud of red diluted on the contact with your lips, and as you observed it you wondered how you would justify it to your boss.

You sighed, reminding yourself that you should email them first thing in the morning to let them know you were absent. All you had to do the next day was explain that you'd been attacked in the street for stealing your bag, but you'd managed to get away, and that in a state of shock you didn't feel like coming to work the next day. This would probably do.

Frank finished stitching you up fairly quickly, and when he cut the last thread he still looked at you with that annoyed look he never seemed to shake off.

"Thank you, Frankie" you thanked, using the nickname in a more playful tone than you had with Matt.

He let out a single sharp breath from his lungs before getting up and leaving in his turn for the bedroom, from which Matt emerged in much more... normal clothes.

It was the first time you'd seen him in civilian attire, in a simple hoodie and jogging bottoms. Your eyes went wide, your mouth half-open for a moment, and you had to blink several times to pull yourself together.

"Here," he said, placing the pile of clothes next to you on the sofa. "Do you think you can stand this time?" 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, and everything else didn't burn as much as if hell itself had invited itself under your skin, you tried to stand up. You wanted to avoid any sudden movements, but eventually, with a bit of effort, you managed to straighten up and start pushing on your legs to get up.

Your knees trembled slightly from the stress and everything else that had gone with it during the night, and just as you thought you'd be sprawled out on the floor in the next few seconds, tasting the parquet floor, Matt grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him.

"Hey, take it easy little fawn, we don't need you damaging your nose on top of everything else," he laughed as he steadied you, letting your legs wobble a little more before you felt comfortable enough to stand.

Your whole body hurt like hell. And no wonder: in addition to your various cuts from the evening, your body was dotted with clouds of bruises that would make all the blueberries jealous of their colour.

"Let me help you," he finally smiled gently as he picked up the T-shirt from the pile.

He helped you into the top, taking care not to let the fabric come into contact with your freshly stitched skin.

"I'll need to borrow one of your shirts tomorrow when I leave," you said with a small smile, "mine's had a bit of a problem."

Matt laughed softly as he poked his head into your top. " May it rest in pieces."

You laughed softly at his little joke, slipping the rest on and feeling his hands roam over your covered skin, the size of the t-shirt far too big for you and reaching the top of your thighs.

Matt lowered himself to his knees in front of you, and you looked down at him as he rolled up the sweatpants so he could slip them around your ankle, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you could find some support.

The vision was heady, taking hold of your heart like an intoxicating scent you want to chase down so you can bury your whole face in it and never leave. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, to let them get lost in its meanders, to let your nails graze his skull before tugging lightly on it... 

But you pulled yourself together, the thought once again creating a warm cloud in your lower belly as he straightened up and pulled the fabric up your legs, his fingers brushing your skin as if you were a statue forbidden to be touched.

"You're gonna have to see that with Frank though," he said as he tied the two laces around your waist, "it's his shirt."

That's how the same smell you'd first smelled when you were in his arms came back to mind, but you remained stoic, preventing yourself from grabbing the collar of the shirt and bringing it up to your nose.

"Challenge of the year," you sighed, smiling though, "thank you. For all of this."

"That's normal, it would be a shame if our partner found herself unable to exercise," he reassured you.

The word sent a shiver up your spine and into your cheeks.

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

"Coming," he answered over his shoulder before turning away from you.

You sat back down on the sofa, tiredness beginning to weigh heavily on your eyelids. You lay down, the multiple events of the evening knocking you out more easily than any sleeping pill. 

You had no trouble falling asleep, even with the neon lights on, even without a blanket, and even when the two of them came back into the room.

When you woke up, your back felt like it was sinking into a cloud. The surface you were lying on was soft, and when you turned on your side, your hand came to rest on a material that was not at all like the leather of the sofa: silk.

You propped yourself up gently on one elbow, observing the place you were in, and that's when you realised: they'd moved you into their bed while you were asleep.

"Bastards," you muttered, and bit your cheek to stop the little smile forming on your lips from breaking out.

A funny feeling sprang up in your heart, making it light and rosy. But that feeling quickly faded as you sat up straighter and your whole body ached. You felt like you'd just come out of a washing machine, all tossed and turned.

You stood up, trying to stretch but stopping immediately when the pain from your stitched-up cuts threatened to reopen. You didn't want to mess up their clothes, you'd probably never forgive yourself if that happened.

You came out of the bedroom and found Frank and Matt talking in the kitchen. Matt turned to you, sending you a smile.

"Good morning," he offered.

You were limping lightly, and bent slightly, walking slowly towards them through fatigue and pain.

"At last the groundhog graces us with her presence," Frank grumbled, turning to you.

"Am I rather not a sleeping beauty ?" you returned with a smile, "I wonder if sleeping beaty had a breakfast date when she woke up. I mean, look at me this is such a tempting offer," you said as your posture could easily have been a cross between an old lady and a pregnant woman, leaning on your hip, alternating between the curve of your back and the arch of it, making your whole body crack into a grimace of relief.

But surprisingly, they both smiled at your joke, and the awkward silence you might have expected or the abrupt change of subject to move on never came. But that didn't stop you from apologising on the spot.

"I'm sorry, I don't want my words to sound inappropriate, but I know that you two... well, you're..." together was the word you were looking for, but your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Try again, you thought. You'll end up rowing champion if you keep paddling like that. But Matt immediately reassured you.

"There's nothing to worry about, and besides, on my side you have to be forgiving when you don't have the 'pause' button."

Right, you thought, even though the heat was rising to your cheeks and neck enough for your cool hand to come and rest on it, massaging it nervously.

"I find you singularly witty, Red," Frank said, arms folded across his chest.

Of course, there was nothing new under the sun about Frank. His sharp tone brought you back to solid ground in no time.

"How are the wounds?" he asked as he turned to you, his eyes lingering for a moment on the fact that you were wearing his shirt.

"Very well," you assured him as you lifted the sides of your shirt to show the one on your side and the one on your arm, turning back to him, "I think the blue really brings out my eyes, don't you?"

He smirked, and you couldn't quite work out whether it was genuine annoyance or amusement. It all seemed a bit too perfect, and that's when it hit you.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, looking for where they'd put your trousers where your phone was.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"My boss," you said, searching the hallway and finding your trousers there, "I didn't tell him-"

"We called him this morning," pointed out Frank.

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

"We called him," Matt informed, "we told him that we were close to you and that after you were mugged last night in the street you decided to stay home for the day out of shock."

"You-"

"It's all sorted, you don't need to worry," Frank grunted, taking his drink in hand, surely in search for you to shut up and let him enjoy his morning cup of coffee.

You stood there like a houseplant in the middle of the living room, and Matt invited you to take a seat for breakfast. Bemused, you took a seat and the three of you ate and chatted for a while.

Matt mentioned taking you to see a guy he knew so that he could cover you up with something other than such a simplistic and obviously flimsy outfit that could put you in danger again.

And after breakfast, you left at the same time as Matt, who was leaving for work. You said your final goodbyes and went your separate ways.

Little did you know the proximity of last night would change many things.

⟢ next part : here

[azraelh22]

If you are complaining about male reader x (male character) fics as a fem aligned person, you need to suck it up, 75 if not 85% of the fics posted on tumblr are for fem reader x male characters, and you’re complaining over the one male reader fic?!?!? Get over yourself.

So stop crying and go do something useful like re-blogging or commenting nice things on mlm fic blogs.

Also stop tagging male reader if your fic is clearly not for male reader, you look like a moron.

[farfromstrange]

Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness. 

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally. 

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by. 

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth. 

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.  

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you. 

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him. 

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave. 

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you. 

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again. 

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself. 

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive. 

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to. 

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure. 

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.  

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you. 

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you. 

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands. 

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts. 

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you. 

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop. 

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper. 

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth. 

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you. 

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart. 

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again. 

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all. 

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start? 

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say. 

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him. 

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.” 

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same. 

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back. 

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Angel of Small Death

Part 1 of my Halloween mini series!

Dark! Frank Castle, Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest! Matt Murdock

Warnings: Horror, Blasphemy, Blood play.

A/N: Special shout out to @ittybxttykxttytxtty who heard my idea and just... made it soooo much worse 😂😂😂

When your lamp flickers halfway between the dormitory and the groundskeeper’s cottage, you freeze in fright.

The night is cold, damp, and uncharacteristically dark. The moon, in her waning gibbous glory, is hidden behind the clouds of a departing thunderstorm.

All you have, to see the rocky pathway, is the oil lamp in your hand, that you’d been forced to top up with a touch of holy oil so that you’d make it to your destination and back.

If Mother Superior could see you now, she’d no doubt be rolling in her grave.

When you’re sure the lamp won’t go out, and the wick’s adjusted just right, you continue on, your eyes locked onto the little stone cottage, the low light of a fire flickering through the small window.

He could still be awake, you really hope so, you didn’t want to handle the mortification of having to wake him, and then have to ask him for help in the dead of night.

You shiver, trying not to look around, your mind threatening to spin tall tales of creatures lurking in the dark, watching you, waiting to strike. You count the stones you pass, ignoring the feeling of being observed that washes down your spine.

At his door, you climb the few steps, fingers wrapping around the icy knocker, and tapping it three times.

You wait, and you wait, and you turn around, contemplating giving up, and trying to fix the problem yourself. You can’t see far in front of you, the moonlight was usually your source of light in these dark hours.

You face the door again, trying another three knocks, before softly calling out.

“Hello?” You call, “It’s me, I-I’m the new Reverend Mother- I need your help.”

There’s a loud clicking as the latch is undone, and then you swallow, stomach twisting as the door cracks open.

By the mercy of God, you think, blinking up at him as you meet his eyes.

He’s- more attractive than the sisters had described.

“Mister Castle?” You ask softly.

“I am,” He answers. You feel your toes curl at the sound of his voice.

You shiver, and he blinks, widening the door and stepping to the side.

“Please, come in, it’s freezing outside.”

You let out an exhale of gratitude.

“Thank you.” You say softly, stepping in, sighing in relief as the heat of his cabin envelops you.

He strikes a match, lights a few candles at his kitchen table. You study him as the room gets a little brighter.

Such a defined jawline, a gorgeous mouth, his eyes, deep and dark and with an aura of sinister wrapped around him.

“Did I wake you?” You ask, voice light as you inch toward the fire, aching to settle into the cozy chair he had right near the fireplace. 

“Only a little. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please.” You say, turning to watch him pick up an iron kettle, and pour some steaming liquid into a ceramic mug.

“What is it?” You ask when he extends it out for you. You accept it gratefully, bringing it up to your face to let the steam warm the tip of your nose.

“Ginseng.” He answers, and as you take a tentative sip, you try your best not to frown at the strong herbal taste.

You drink it gratefully because the tea is warm and makes your insides a little less cold. It brings comfort, soothing your nerves to being alone with this strange man.

You study his place, the little cot in the corner of the room, the kitchen to your right as you step through the door. A single seat near the fireplace where you think would be the best sleep of your life in this frigid cold.

“I’m sorry for waking you, and I’m sorry I have to ask, but during the storm there was a creaking noise and water started dripping from several places. I would have waited till morning to get you, but I’m worried the water reaches the library.” You finish, thinking about the delicate scripture stored there by monks long ago.

He listens, nods, sips from the cup of tea he’s poured for himself.

“Something might have shifted out of place on the roof, I'll go up into the attic to see what I can do from below.”  His gruff voice sounds, and you try not to feel affected by it.

This was simply a biological response, one you could do your best to ignore.

“I'll accompany you.” You say, feeling determined.

In the low light, you can't read the expression on his face well.

“Are you sure? The attic can be off putting in the dark.”

You give him a small smile.

“What kind of Reverend Mother would I be to make you go alone?” You say smoothly.

He grins, his teeth glint in the flickering light. He reaches, grabbing a jacket before opening the door and allowing you to step out before him.

You place the unfinished cup of tea on his kitchen table before you go.

Even inside the church is cold, the stillness of it is a big contrast to way it usually is on mornings, with the sunlight streaming in, catching on the occasional stained window.

Now, there's no light, no hearth, the pews are empty and the altar is dark.

You follow behind Mister Castle, trying not to shiver, his large shoulders and strong hands tell of a forbidden type of heat.

He turns his head on the stairway, looking at you in his peripherals, holding his own lamp in front of him. 

“Where were you when you heard this creaking sound?”

You angle your head.

“I was in the pews, praying.”

“All by yourself?” Mister Castle asks.

“Yes? It helps calms me before bed. And… also… it's hard to sleep during the storms anyway, so I best make myself useful.”

He hums in contemplation of your words.

“Your knees must ache from kneeling for so long.”

“I'm used to it.” You say lightly.

His shoulders shake and you tilt your head in confusion, wondering what about that was amusing.

The church was the largest building in the monastery, and though the ceiling was parabolic in shape, and looked to be a part of the roof, it really wasn't.

There was a space between the ceiling of the church and the true roof, where the support beams resided and could be maintained easily without causing interference to the church below.

You watch Mister Castle use a wooden stick with a metal hook at the end to tug on a piece of rope. He makes a low grunt as he pulls, and the wooden stairway descends.

You'd never been up here, and you were a little curious to see how it looked.

“Be careful,” he says, turning back to look at you, his eyes holding a mirthful light, “There's a few nails sticking out of the steps, watch where you put your feet.”

You nod, and watch as he climbs the wooden steps remembering what he does so that you can follow.

You have to tug your skirt up, from its normal length around your calves, all the way up to your knees so that it's easier. You leave your lamp behind, placing it on a table nearby and dimming it in favour of holding your skirt up for the climb.

If you thought the church was cold, the attic is worse, he extends his hand for you to take when you're near the top and you accept gratefully, having the answer to a question you didn't know you'd been asking.

His hand is warm, rough, you take a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of unwanted thoughts, you try to simply experience his touch, rather than feel it.

You give him a nod of thanks, before looking around the room.

There are objects shrouded in cloths all around, you can't tell much more than that, and you follow behind Mister Castle as he searches for any evidence of water leaks.

You wrap your arms around yourself, thankful at least that you weren't alone, that there was some comfort of having another person with you in such a quiet, dark place. You hope you brought him some comfort as well.

“Here.” He says, placing the lamp down on a nearby surface, and tugging his jacket off.

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already extending it to you and you really are cold.

“Thank you.” You say simply, accepting the heavy garment.

It's warm from his residual heat, you press your thighs together to ignore whatever was going on within you.

When he turns away, you bring the collar up, pressing it to your nose.

It had been years since you last breathed in the scent of a man like this, and Mister Castle certainly had a scent worth memorizing. A hint of smoke and sage, a touch of his unique musk, you feel your head swim at his smell.

Your body tingles as you watch him, examining the area, his arms are large, you suspect you would have difficulty in touching your fingers together if you tried to hold his arm with both hands.

You don't take your thoughts further than that, reciting a small prayer in your head, one that would give you strength to resist temptation.

“Here,” he murmurs, glancing back at you. You step up, looking around him to see that he's pointing up at a beam, that appears to have shifted, a stream of water coming down, even though the rains had stopped for at least an hour now.

He presses both hands against it and pushes, and when that only shifts it a fraction, he draws back and delivers a harsh kick to the beam. 

Your eyes widen at the sound it makes, moving back into place, the noise reverberating through the room.

“That should do it for now, in case it rains again. I'll have to come back in the morning to secure it, but this should be okay.”

You blink, nodding, reaching for one of the shrouds covering a random object and you tug, using the dusty cloth to soak up as much water as possible.

When you tug on another shroud, you pause in surprise to find a bed, where the last object had been a pile of boxes.

“I didn't know there were beds up here.” You murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the groundskeeper, watching as he studies the bed, his eyes then sliding over to you.

You gulp, tensing up for a moment, trying to avoid thinking about the dull ache inside of you.

“I suppose,” He says, taking a step toward you, “Maybe this was a makeshift living quarters for when there were more people than the dormitories could hold.”

You swallow, nodding, fighting with every atom of you not to think about the implications of you, Mister Castle, and a bed.

You smile politely, moving in the dark to retrace your steps. Since the beam is fixed, you want to leave, no longer willing to be in his presence.

You weave through the dark, until you find the steps, watching him struggle to keep up with you, ignoring his words to be careful.

You've had enough temptation for tonight, angry at yourself for feeling the way you do, your uncontrollable desires had been the very reason you'd joined the community, seeking salvation from your earthly desires, and here was one rugged man, stirring trouble.

You were better than this, you were holy and you were pure and no one would take that from you.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don't realise you've missed one of the steps until you slip, your shin of your right leg banging on the last two rungs of the ladder while your skirt catches on a nail, the fabric tearing and the nail digging into the skin of your inner left thigh.

You gasp in pain, your legs stinging as you grip the edge of the ladder to stay upright.

He glides down in seconds, placing his lit lamp besides your extinguished one before dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Let me see,” he says softly, pushing your skirt up, hissing in empathy when he sees the scratch. You can feel blood beading on the edges of the wound, starting at your knee and coming up to mid thigh.

“It's not too bad,” he says, examining it in the low light, “It feels worse than it is, there's only a little blood.”

You can only whine in pain.

He glances up at you from between your thighs and you feel something stir inside of you.

“I have a good remedy- May I?”

You nod, desperate to try anything to stop the stinging pain.

You definitely should have clarified what the remedy was before you agreed.

When his hot tongue meets your thigh, you choke on your breath.

He drags his tongue up, up over the length of the scratch, a weak sound leaves your lips.

“Frank.” You breathe his name shakily. 

He makes a low noise, before retracing the path, his saliva cooling on your skin.

When he draws back, looking up at you once more, his lips are wet.

“Is that better?”

You can't speak, but by some miracle the pain does ease, when he turns his head, you catch sight of your own blood smeared onto his lips.

His eyes are- too sinister to describe, you watch his tongue dart out to- you glance away before you can see him lick your blood away.

He drops his head again, and once more, his tongue makes a path over your now tingling wound.

You jerk, pushing him back, watching him rise to a stand, towering over you.

You pant, eyes locked onto his, trying to look for an explanation for the way he makes you feel beyond the obvious.

“You're okay.” He soothes, bringing a hand up, tracing his thumb gently over your bottom lip for just a second, your lips tingling at the contact.

You suck in a deep breath, sliding out from between his large body and the step, you keep your eyes on him as you back away, the lamp flickering in his eyes as he studies you.

At the door, you turn, scrambling down the nearby stairs in the dark and heading back to your dormitory as fast as your shaky legs and limited vision can take you, the shadows chasing you all the way there.

You make it into your room quietly, panting, you pull off his jacket, dropping it onto your bed. You shed your outer layer of clothing, dropping to your knees beside your bed in your panties and chemise to begin praying.

You fall asleep like that, on your knees beside your bed, your rosary wrapped around your fingers. When you wake, it's with damp thighs, aching knees, and dangerous dreams of being bent over and filled in an unfamiliar way, by a man that smells distinctly of sage.

The scratch on your thigh is nothing more than a fading red line. You study it, amazed at the advanced state of healing, wondering how such an unconventional remedy actually worked.

.

.

.

[to-thelakes]

exhausted

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)

summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest

warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares

notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep

masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.

With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.

Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.

It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.

You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.

Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.

They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.

“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.

“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.

“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.

It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.

“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.

“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.

“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.

“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.

-

The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.

Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.

“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.

“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.

“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.

“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.

Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.

And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that. 

He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.” 

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life. 

“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.

“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.

“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.

“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.

“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.

“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.

“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.

“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.

“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.

“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.

“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.

“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.

Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.

“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.

“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.

And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.

“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.

“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.

“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.

A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.

“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.

<3

[audreyclimbs]

foreseen in shadows- prologue

chapter summary: Matt Murdock meets a strange woman... and punches her in the face.

word count: 2.5k

to access the entire story: foreseen in shadows masterlist + masterlist

The rain pelting against Matt's face had grown nearly unbearable.  The raindrops themselves weren't so bad, though the way they soaked into his black mask had grown to be something of a nuisance.  Rather, it was the whipping, harsh October air against his skin that made the weather so intolerable.  He seriously needed to get something nicer than this poor excuse for a suit. 

This evening had been fairly monotonous.  A few burglaries, a mugging.  There were a few drunk college idiots who tried to corner a woman on her way from work- a restaurant from what Matt could smell on her- who ended up on the receiving end of Matt's growing aggravation with the weather.  As he remembered the encounter, he briefly wondered if he had needed to beat them that hard.  Remains to be seen.  The deafening sound of the woman's trembling had been the only thing that pulled him out of his adrenaline-induced stupor.

Oh right, I'm supposed to be helping them, not terrifying them even more.  Matt had thought to himself, hands clenching and unclenching in fists.

"How far away is your home?" He huffed out, shoulders slowly dropping as the pounding of his heart subsided.

She had stuttered a few times before choking out, "Just a couple of blocks.  Thank you for... that."

Matt nodded silently before stepping back ever so slightly.  Without another word, the woman practically raced in the direction of what he assumed was her apartment.  He listened to the pounding of her heart as she made her way home.  Listened to her checking on her one— no, two— kids as they slept peacefully in their beds.  Then she slipped into bed herself.  He heard her greet a man, her husband based on the ring that he had heard her twirling anxiously on her finger when she stood in front of him just a little while ago.  Once assured that she had returned safely, Matt continued on his way.

To orient himself to his current position, Matt ascended to the rooftop of an apartment building.  He let himself open up to the bustling, raucous noises of Hell's Kitchen's nightlife.  For a little while, it was oddly peaceful.  A voice in the back of his mind laughed at the irony of Matt feeling uneasy about a brief moment of peace.  He wondered what time it was.  As if on cue, the chiming of a grandfather clock sounded in one of the apartments below him.  

2:45 A.M.

Exhaustion whispered into his bones, but he tried to brush it off.  Part of him contemplated sneaking back into his apartment for some coffee, but he knew deep down that once he stepped through the threshold of his rooftop door, he wouldn't bring himself to come back out.  Hell's Kitchen needed its masked protector more than Matt Murdock needed sleep, after all.  Only a couple more hours, then he would go to sleep for a bit before joining Foggy in their daytime hunt for clients.  God, he hoped they would catch a break soon.  He wasn't sure how much more his bank account could take.

In the distance, he tuned into the rapid beating of a woman's heart.  She seemed young, maybe a bit younger than Matt.  She was sprinting through the alleys below him, winding left and right through the web of dark lanes.  Finally, she rounded the corner of an alley that was one building to his left and barreled out into the sidewalk of the busy street.  Her shoes slipped on the rain-slick sidewalk as she tried to counteract her momentum.

"Hoooly fuck, oh my God," Her voice came out breathless.  She just... ran into someone?

"Watch where you're going, you little bitch," a gruff male voice snapped back at her, shoving her hands off when she tried to help him up.

Her cheeks, already flushed from her running, burned even hotter at his words.  "I- I am sorry, sir, believe me," her voice had a distinct lilt to it.  Matt realized with an internal eye-roll that she was not a Hell's Kitchen native.  Probably some tourist who got lost on her way back to... wherever she came from.  But why was she running so fast?  Her heart was beating faster than would justify a simple run.  He could practically smell the anxiety rolling off of her.

The older man stalked off without another word, muttering some unsavory words under his breath as he went.

Matt found himself walking closer to where the young woman was now standing.  He could hear her breathing start to level out, her feet shuffling.  Why was she so damn nervous?  

"Where the hell..." she trailed off and back-stepped into the shadows of the alley she had practically fallen out of mere moments ago.  A few beats of silence, and then he heard a humorless chuckle slip past her lips.  "Didn't see that one coming," she muttered.  Her head whipped around, presumably trying to take in her surroundings, and he heard raindrops whip themselves off of the bridge of her nose and the point of her chin.

Matt's brow furrowed in confusion.  What was that supposed to mean?  She definitely wasn't blind, though her grotesquely delayed reaction time to the street ahead of her would suggest it.  Call it momentary boredom or curiosity, but the young woman's new movements spark his interest once more.  Where was she going?

And why do I even care?  Matt thought to himself.  He considered abandoning her entirely and turning in early for the night.  Just a couple more hours, he reminded himself.

The woman began jogging through the alleys, keeping to corridors that were a small way away from the central streets.  She eventually scaled up the side of an apartment building using a rusty fire escape that creaked and groaned beneath her weight.  He heard her cringe at the unsafe method of ascent, but she carried on before finally reaching the rooftop.  The curiosity that had been simmering since the moment he picked up on her heartbeat finally boiled over, and Matt crossed the rooftops between them to reach her.

Her head whipped around to face the sound of his boots crunching across gravel.  Her heartbeat, which had slowed minutely since she left the older man, skyrocketed once more.  The sweat that had begun to cool on her brow perspired anew. 

She's nervous.  Matt noted internally.  A moment later,  No shit, you're a masked man dressed in all black, stalking silently up behind her at almost 3 o'clock in the morning.  

"Are you okay?" Matt asked across the rooftop.  You sound like a stalker, Murdock.  They were on opposite corners of the building, but he could tell it didn't feel far enough to her.  

"What are you doing, sneaking up on me at 3 o'clock in the morning?"  Touché, Matt thought.  Her voice was loud and snappy.  To anyone else, she would have sounded entirely fearless.  But Matt could make out the slight tremors of her hands. 

"Come closer, you're all shadows and it's freaking me the fuck out that I can't see you."  Her heart skipped a beat as she said it.  A lie for which Matt could not conjure a logical explanation.  Any other sane person would want this random stranger as far away as possible.

Nonetheless, Matt obliged and began slowly closing the distance between them.  As he approached, Matt tuned in his senses to her appearance.  Athletic build, strong legs, tense shoulders.  Her clothes, which Matt could tell fit snugly over her limbs, clung even tighter with sweat and rain.  The woman trailed slightly closer, pausing between steps once Matt reached about halfway.  Then, her heart skyrocketed once again.  She stood, frozen for some unknown reason.  Her boots crunched back and forth on the gravel as she seemed to snap out of a stupor.  Then, she broke into a sprint to her right.

It happened so quickly that Matt scolded himself for getting distracted with what she "looked like."  She catapulted herself to the next rooftop and landed in a roll, then kept pushing forward.  The woman's legs were pumping so fast that Matt wondered for a moment if she had some form of enhanced abilities.  The pace of her feet mixed with her skittering pulse into a cacophony of thundering adrenaline.  A part of Matt was tempted to shout at her to stop running if only to ease the burning of his lungs.

Matt Murdock was by no means out of shape.  So how was this lady, who was arguably around his age, so fucking fast? 

Do I need to do more cardio?  Is kickboxing and chasing criminals every night not enough?

Finally, Matt's opportunity to gain the upper hand appeared in the darkness.  A loose stone on the next rooftop.  Small enough for her to not see it shrouded in the darkness of Hell's Kitchen's moonless night.  Matt prayed that she didn't see it.

The resounding smack of her body colliding with the gravel as her foot caught on the rock's jagged edge was his answer.  Matt finally reached the rooftop, but by the time he'd gotten there, she was up again.  In a flash, Matt launched himself at the young woman with a well-aimed fist.  He hit his mark on her jaw and almost felt bad for the speed with which she hit the ground mere moments after picking herself up from it.  The shriek that slipped past her lips echoed through the city's noise, and Matt prayed once more that none of the residents of this building stirred at the noise.  

The young woman scrambled to her feet and arranged her body into a fighting stance at a commendable pace.  Especially considering the throbbing pain Matt could hear in her jaw.  That would definitely be a bruise in a few hours if the thrumming of her blood pooling in the area was any indication.  Should he apologize?  His fight-or-flight instincts stopped roaring in his ears for a moment and allowed the lawyer to realize he had just struck this woman technically unprompted.  Shit.  So much for a peaceful approach.

"What the fuck was that for?"  She barked at him, fists hovering in front of her chest.

"Why did you run?" was Matt's only answer.

"I-" her fists wavered for just a moment.  He heard her heart uptick ever so slightly, and he cocked his head to the side for a split second as she stalled.

Impatience and a sliver of fear seized Matt once more, and he lunged for her.  They hit the floor, Matt's arms coming to press her own by her head.  At this proximity, he could smell the sweat that had dried on her before the rain started.  How long has she been out tonight?  How long has she been running?  What has she been doing?  Was she with Fisk?  Question after question raced through Matt's head, but he didn't know why his instincts told him to not let her go.  

"Would you stop fucking attacking me?  Maybe that's why I ran, you asshole."  The distinctive twist of her words made Matt realize that she was Southern.  Based on the heat rising in her neck and cheeks paired with the feeling of her eyes on him, Matt could guess that she was currently leveling him with a lethal glare.  She thrashed under him, but he held fast onto his position over her.

For the record, Matt thought to himself, I didn't attack you until after you ran.

"Answer the question," Matt snapped back, perhaps a touch harsher than was necessary, but he had no idea who this woman was or why his gut was telling him that she was important.

She sputtered for a moment before replying, "What question?"

"Why did you run?" Matt repeated, voice cold.

He felt her go still for a moment and sensed the intensity of her gaze on him.  Then, her heart picked up once more.  He really should have seen it coming, but before he could begin to react, the woman beneath him had launched her left leg up and over him, using the momentum of his weight to roll on top of him, arms slipping out from beneath his grasp to shove away at his chest so hard that the air escaped his lungs.  Matt's back hit the gravel and he drew in a harsh gasp before reaching up to deflect a blow from her.  The woman practically catapulted herself off of his body and backed up several paces.  Matt sprang up in kind and tuned in to every signal her body could give him for what her next move would be.  Her heartbeat was fast but steady.  The rain still pouring onto both of them dripped down her arms and face, and he could tell she was shivering.  Whether it was more from adrenaline or the temperature, he couldn't be sure.  As he continued to listen, Matt felt his head tilt to the side slightly, arms remaining tense at his sides.  

There it was again.  Matt felt her eyes practically burning a hole in his head with a laser focus that surpassed a normal observation of one's opponent.  If he weren't trying to figure out if this woman wanted to murder him, he'd be worried that there was something stuck in his teeth.  She stared and stared, and Matt could sense every part of her body focusing on whatever she saw in him.  A small hitch of her breath reached his ears. 

Then, she advanced in a flurry of blows that Matt could hardly sense before they made contact.  She seemed to be using whatever reserve of energy she had left.  He began to deflect and attempt to drive back, but she met every strike a split second before it could hit its mark.  She was undeniably on defense now, but she was doing it flawlessly.  Frustration grew in Matt's chest when he continued to miss with what should have been sound blows and jabs.  As he back-stepped repeatedly, he realized that she was closing in on him quickly despite never lashing out with a punch of her own.  Then, in a strike so quick he didn't even sense its approach, she slammed her open palm over Matt's ear so hard that it knocked him to the side. 

Suddenly, the world was screaming and shrieking.  Matt drew in a gasp, hand shooting up to his ear as his knees hit the ground.  

"I'm sorry," she whispered so softly that Matt almost didn't hear it over the roaring and ringing in his ear.  Then, her knee made contact with his other ear, and Matt fell forward onto his forearms, jaw working back and forth futilely to relieve the sharp ringing that was overwhelming every one of his senses.

For a terrifying moment, Matt Murdock was in a dark world with no sound but shrill ringing, and he could feel nothing but the gravel digging into his arms and knees and the rain pelting against his back like shards of glass.  Is this what eternal damnation is like?  It could have been minutes or hours, he wasn't sure, but eventually, the ringing in his ears subsided, and he oriented himself to where he lay on this damned rooftop.  He hesitated to move just yet, but Matt listened around and realized that the woman was gone.

In the distance, a grandfather clock chimed four times.

[bellaxgiornata]

Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Sam Winchester Series & One Shots

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Sam Winchester. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals and Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!

I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and my AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

**I do not currently accept story requests because I have too many ongoing projects at the moment!**

Bella's Tuna-Tober Masterlist [Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, and Michael Kinsella]

Collection of Short Blurbs [Baby related one shots & blurbs featuring Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, and Michael Kinsella]

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Sam Winchester Fics

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry (Eat Locals) x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

[missmarveledsblog]

Angel night ( frank castle x reader )

Summary : Frank comes home to thinking his angel is in danger only to realise that she has had a nightmare . he makes sure to comfort his girl . this like part of what i will be calling the angel verse  of our beloved bad ass punisher and his equally bad ass sarcastic ball of sunshine that is y/n " angel" murdock . 

warnings : angsty fluffy fun , frank being a teddy bear ( i love making big bad ass men teddy bears) . i have a smutty version post soon . 

A year to the night of when he first met angel probably would of been laughable if someone told him he would fall head over heels in love with a murdock but yet now here he was coming home to their shared apartment.

Coming back to the place he once deemed just that the place he slept and lived in , was now a home . each part has some sort of reminder of the woman that brought sunshine and light into the dark hole he felt his life become. He never thought he could love again , find a second chance to be the happiest he's ever been and yet here he was smile on his face looking around his home  even if he was bloody and bruised after spending few days with said woman's annoying older brother . that smile soon faded , like he could clock something was wrong . his angel didn't come to greet him like she always did no matter what time of the night or day he got back  . a familiar chill ran down his back as he inspected the place nothing seemed to be touched it should of calmed his fears knowing if she was under some sort of threat she would leave evidence of such an event . yet when her screams hit his ear sent him into action mode straight through to the bedroom expecting to see the worst .

Gun drawn he looked around for the threat like it was second nature then he saw her face. That told him everything he needed to know , the pain on her face as she moved in the bed , the sweat on her forehead. She was having a nightmare and a bad one at that.

" angel" he called soft and gentle hoping the tone could change the course of her dreams which sometimes works or wake her from the hell she was trapped in . he went to move forward only for her to shoot up gasping and panting for air tired confused eyes trying to make sense of the environment before locking on him.

" fr-frank you're ok? Please say you're ok" she pleaded voice filled with heartbreak and fear . asking him instead of confirming it was just a nightmare. It broke his heart seeing her so sorrowful like she was still trying to distinguish reality and dream . He didn't speak partially because he was relieved she wasn't under some threat or worse . wordlessly he took off the tactical gear he was wearing before lifting her in his arms letting her heartbroken sobs soak into the shirt he was wearing . sitting her on their sofa and kiss to her head he went to the kitchen. Chuckling at the burnt pot soaking into the sink . He began making the hot chocolate one she enjoyed most during a bad times ,which this deemed to be one of those . Making his more irish , he carried the cups into the living room deal with the clean up in the morning right now it really wasn't important. Handing her the cup and placing his own on the coffee table noticing the shivers down her body , instantly sitting on the sofa and pulling her into his lap wrappin the comforter around her body .

" you're ok" she repeated like it was all she could say .

" i'm ok , i got you sweet girl" he kissed her head holding her a little tighter . Not a word spoken nor was he going to ask , he knew when she was ready she would. Taken her from the room to ground herself and let her just bare her senses . let her ground herself after the trauma her unconscious inflicted. It was bad he knew as much her nightmare never spilled out physically or made her scream that loud. Soft touches and kisses reminding her he was there keeping her safe from the unseen monsters. Waiting til she was ready if she ever was ready to talk about it either way he was there for her.

An hour of silence , an hour of just feeling him under her touch knowing he was actually there. At first it felt like a trick of her mind , the dream was so vivid that real life seemed as it was the dreamland . finally finding her voice she lifted her head eyes looking into his , scanning his face like it was another thing she need to do to definitely be sure .

" they got me , i don't know how but when my eyes opened i was in the dingey room , i could actually smell the damp and mould , it was so real i could feel the binds around my wrist" she said lip trembling as she rubbed the skin of her wrists only for him to take each hand and placing a kiss on the skin .

" they wanted me to work for them , comply to their evil requests and do their dirty work. I kept saying no i wasn't a monster like them , i tried using my powers and they wouldn't come all i kept thinking was you and matt as i pulled on the binds, then like they could read my mind " she paused willing herself not to break as he rubbed her hand letting her know she wasn't alone nor did she need to continue if it was too much one things she loved about him . frank never pressured her into anything, never control any aspect of her life something she never had before .

" they pulled .. they pulled you into the room , hog tied and gagged , bruised and bloody i begged them to let you go and they laughed" she sniffled . " they kept asking me to do it and i said no you said no and each time they hit you and each time it was hard, it was so real i could hear their fist hit your skin , your pained grunts and groans . i screamed for them to let you go when your eyes started getting heavy i agree i did whatever i could to make sure they would stop hurting you , i would do anything to keep you from harm" she cried only for his hand to come up and wipe the tears off her cheeks.

" they shot you and laughed when i screamed , crying begging you to wake up and then he turned and went to grab me by the throat i couldn't breathe . I woke up" she looked up into his eyes .

all he wanted to do was take that pain , all those fears from her. take all those negative feelings and make them positive . seeing the one he loves the most so scared ,  so pained never was something he wanted nor would he wish for.  all he wanted to see on her face was smiles although seeing her mad was a hot one though he made sure it never last so long . she was usually the one making everyone so happy and laughing and now it was her turn to be taking care of . 

He held her face in his hand kissing her cheeks , her forehead , nose before kissing her lips letting her know he was there and not planning on leaving at anytime soon .

"angel , my sweet girl i promise you with every fibre in my being those sick fucks will never get you , nor will they hurt you in any shape , we both know you are a powerhouse all on your own powers or not , but in saying that i will kill them all , i would burn this world to make sure it meant you were safe , you my sweet girl gave me a second chance at something i never knew could exist , one that has me looking forward to coming home , waking up in the morning i will let nothing get in the way of that" he kissed her lips again .

" what if you get killed running around with my brother" she sniffled.

" i alway will come home to you no matter what that brother of yours pulls me into i'll keep him safe too , i'm here , i'm breathing , see my heart its beating , it's beating stronger ever since your sassy little ass came into my life " he said softly holding her hand to his chest . " every part of me will make sure i come home to you because you are my everything and more , you gave me something i never thought i would have , something i thought i gave up on so long ago , something so forbidden it was impossible for me to even think of , you gave me a future , you repair a man so broken that others would of just cast away and deemed so unfixable . you gave me a second chance of living i love you so much angel i hope you know you saved me " he pulled her into his arms . " well unless you cook for me well then sorry that's out of my hands " he chuckled only to hear her giggles muffled in his t-shirt and her hand bat his chest.

" hey i'm not that bad but  i love you too " she looked up now smile on her face.

" say that too the pot in there , there she is , there's  my girl now how about we get some sleep and i make us some breakfast in the morning and we have a lazy ass day  watching movies and eating junk food , can even prank call your brother and stark i know you love winding those two up  " he kissed her lips before lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the room . both physically and emotional tired as her head on his chest hand over his heart . feeling the rise and fall of his chest , feeling his heartbeat and his hands in her scalp soothing her . she felt her eyes getting heavy and drifting off to sweeter dreams one where she lived a future with the man she never thought she would find herself falling in love with giving their first encounter .

While he watched her fall into a soothing sleep , wondering when it was the best time to use that ring he hid snugly in his drawer unbeknownst to him of making her dreams a reality . He meant it when he said it , he would burn the world burn just for her to be safe and he was going to do everything to keep her safe . but for now he all he could do was hold his angel , his favourite murdock and lets his own dreams take over one's now filled with promises of a better and bright future. Because a future with angel ,was a future worth living for .  

[chvoswxtch]

revenge

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle

summary: matt may have won the battle, but frank wins the war.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: there's not enough brat taming frank, especially in terms of frank brat taming matt, and I took that personally. this is the last installment in this accidental little mini series, and it's pure filth. enjoy, xoxo.

word count: 1.7k

[part one: jealousy] [part two: forgiveness]

The second that Matt pulled Frank in by the back of his neck, Frank’s plump lips wrapped around your clit and he began to suck fervently. The sudden sensation had you nearly jumping off Matt’s lap, and if it weren’t for his strong hands holding you forcefully in place with his blunt nails digging into your hips, you wouldn’t have even been able to sit up right any longer.

The feeling of Frank’s wide, warm tongue flicking over your clit back and forth repeatedly like a metronome while Matt stretched out your pussy with his thick cock at a legato tempo was almost too much to handle. Frank aided in keeping your legs spread wide open with his broad shoulders nestled between your thighs, preventing them from closing even an inch. Matt groaned lowly into your ear every time Frank’s greedy tongue swiped over his sensitive cock while he devoured your pussy. His large nose rubbed against your clit deliciously as his tongue teased Matt’s sensitive balls, paying repentance to you both simultaneously on his knees for his previous teasing actions. 

You had been blissfully, but painfully edged by them both, and you weren’t going to last another minute. From Frank’s skilled fingers to Matt’s sinful mouth, and now the combination of Frank’s ravenous tongue and Matt’s unrelenting cock…you weren’t seconds from combusting. Matt had been ready to come in his office earlier just from hearing the way Frank had touched you over the phone, and you knew he was just as close as you were. Matt was moaning a string of curses and prayers into your ear, leaving marks on your waist with his iron grip, and the sloppy rhythm of his hips pistoning upwards into your own chaotically indicated his own fuse was about to detonate.

Frank’s teeth gently grazing over your overstimulated clit started the chain reaction of fireworks that abruptly exploded within you and Matt both. Your fingers tugged roughly at Frank’s unruly ebony waves as you bucked your hips against his face, a cacophony of moans leaving your lips that were directed at the Heavens as your head fell back against Matt’s shoulder. While you rode out your high against Frank’s face, Matt buried his face into your neck and bit down on your flesh sharply while gripping onto your throat, a feral grunt echoing in your ears as he emptied his pent up arousal deep within you with irregular spasmodic thrusts.

The apartment was silent apart from the sound of you and Matt panting heavily, and while the two of you were basking in the afterglow of gratification, Frank had risen to his feet with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Because if there was one thing that fueled Frank Castle more than anything in this world, it was revenge.

The sharp sound of leather snapping pulled you and Matt out of your euphoric trance, and your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and awe seeing that Frank had ripped his own belt apart to free his hands. Frank swiftly reached out to grab you by your waist to remove you from Matt’s lap, and you winced slightly at the sudden motion and loss of contact when he pulled you off Matt’s softened cock.

“Sorry darlin’, ‘scuse me a minute.”

His voice was gruff while he gently set you down on the opposite side of the couch, laced with a dangerously low timbre that indicated there was no room for an argument. He had never used that particular tone with you, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of recognition on Matt’s face, and he instantly tensed up. His half-lidded hazel eyes that had been glossed over with rapture were now wide open and shining clear with apprehension.

“Frank-”

Matt’s desperate plea was quickly caught off by Frank’s large hand darting out to grab Matt by his throat. Frank had Matt at a complete disadvantage, and he knew it. While Matt was still coming down from his high and depleted of the energy he had used in fucking you to prove a point, Frank was running off pure adrenaline and ready to prove one of his own.

“If I had a fuckin’ attitude comin’ home it’s cause you’re an impatient and selfish fucker, Red. You get her to yourself all the goddamn time, and I can’t get twelve hours alone with her without you showin’ your fuckin’ ass.”

While Frank moved his hand up to yank Matt’s head back forcefully by gripping onto his hair, Matt let out a soft grunt that was layered with arousal and a twinge of displeasure. You watched with an almost unhinged jaw as Frank freed his fully erect cock from his jeans and guided himself past Matt’s welcoming lips. The three of you seemed to moan in unison; Frank from finally getting some relief, Matt from the taste of Frank and the thrill of being used, and you from the delectable sight in front of you.

“Maybe everytime I come home, I need to make sure you got a taste of my cock in that fuckin’ bratty mouth of yours so you’ll remember who the fuck you’re s’posed to be sharin’ with, yeah?”

Matt only moaned around Frank’s thick cock in response. Frank didn’t give Matt any time at all to protest or adjust to having Frank’s cock practically shoved down his throat, and quickly began to fuck Matt’s face at a brutal pace. The sounds coming from both of them were downright pornographic, and it made you wet all over again. Frank’s full brows were knit slightly in concentration as he continued to harshly grip onto Matt’s hair, and his plump lips were parted in pleasure while he watched intently as Matt sucked his cock with a sense of urgency.

“Ain’t runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth now, are ya? ‘Bout time you put it to good use.”

Your hand snaked its way between your thighs of its own accord, and you began to slowly tease your clit as you watched Frank dominate Matt. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, God it was a sight to behold. Matt was usually the more dominant of the two, especially when it came to you. There were rare times Frank let himself lose control, but for the most part, he was mostly gentle. Still, it always excited you when you got to witness even a tiny fragment of why they called him the Punisher. Right now he was fucking Matt’s face with a vegeance, and you were steadily approaching your second orgasm of the night as you touched yourself to the incredible show in happening right before your eyes.

When Matt’s hand eagerly fisted around his cock, which was now fully erect again, Frank smacked his wrist away with a grunt, and he gripped at Matt’s throat with his free hand.

“What’d I say earlier, huh? No touchin’. Pull that shit again, and I’ll tie your ass up and make sure you can’t sit down for a fuckin’ week, altar boy.”

The sound of Matt whimpering around Frank’s cock made you moan in response, and Frank’s eyes suddenly snapped in your direction. His features that were hardened with retribution instantly softened into pure lust at the view of you with your legs spread and fingers toying with your soaked pussy. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his plump lips, and he released his grip on Matt’s throat to reach for you. 

“C’mere, baby. Bring that pretty pussy over here and lemme finish what I started ‘fore this asshole interrupted earlier.”

In a flash you were scrambling onto your knees, moaning at the taste of yourself lingering on Frank’s lips when he leaned in to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. While his large hand found its home between your legs and two of his thick fingers slipped easily into your cunt, his thumb rubbed purposeful circles over your clit, and his tongue slipped past your lips like he wanted to ravage you whole. Frank kept his rough grip on Matt’s hair, but he steadied his hips in favor of letting Matt suck him off at his own pace while Frank focused on fingering your needy cunt. 

Your head was spinning from the way Frank kissed you, like he was stealing the very essence of life right from your lungs. It was messy and frantic the way your tongues and teeth collided, and you grabbed onto the back of his neck and gripped onto his broad shoulder for support, moaning into his mouth as his hand worked expertly between your legs. 

Frank had said Matt couldn’t touch himself, but he never said that you couldn’t touch Matt, and he didn’t make a move to stop you as you blindly reached for Matt’s impatient cock. Matt instinctively grabbed onto your wrist and guided your hand towards his hardened cock, and the muffled moan of gratitude he let out from the contact made Frank shudder against you both. The three of you worked in tandem to bring the other to the peak of pleasure, and it didn’t take much longer for you all to collectively erupt into unmitigated elation.

Pulling his spent cock from Matt’s mouth, Frank fell back onto the couch between you two, putting his arms around both of your shoulders to pull you and Matt in towards his large body as you all attempted to catch your breath. When Frank pressed a soft kiss to the top of yours and Matt’s heads, your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet amused laugh at the sight of both your boyfriends sitting on the couch together with their pants around their ankles. 

After a few moments of silence, Frank cleared his throat and relaxed back further into the cushions, letting his head fall back against the back of the couch.

“So, what’s for lunch?”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[zomtart]

zomtart’s Fic Masterlist🎀

hiiii! I made a masterlist :) if you want to be put on a taglist just comment on any fic or this post!requests are 100% open give me all your thoughts

Frank Castle x Reader/OC

One Shots

Day Off

The Anatomy of a Stranger

An Unreliable GPS

A Second Pillow

Morphine and Lavender

Karen Page x Reader/OC

One Shots

At Least Out Loud

Matt Murdock x Reader/OC

One Shots

Unknown

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week! 

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you. 

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger. 

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.” 

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.” 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion. 

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.” 

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly. 

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled. 

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.” 

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped. 

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily. 

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.” 

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him. 

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress. 

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom. 

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟐

⟢ summary : getting closer to them unleashed a desire within you that cannot be tamed…

⟢ content warnings : NSFW, reader kinda being a perv (she’s obsessed and touch starved), masturbation (reader), reader listens to matt and frank while they’re at it later in the chapter (and she gets off on it), afab!reader, no use of y/n

⟢ word count : 6.7k

⟢ note : remember when i said this was going to be a 2 shot ? well, this is going to be a 3 shot in the end :D (i promise next chap you’ll get that hunter/prey dynamic sweeties)

⟢ previous part : here | next part : here

You'd come back to your flat and taken the opportunity to get some rest. When you're in a small 3 cubic metre room with just enough space for a bed, a mini kitchen and a tiny shower with a lousy toilet, it doesn't take long before you're crashing on your mattress.

Matt and Frank had shown you how to take care of your wounds, giving you a few things to help you out. You'd done everything right, reflecting on that evening all day long.

You couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened, how you'd felt in Frank's arms, how Matt had comforted you and looked after your lip while Frank stitched you up. You thought about how the devil had stripped you and dressed you in their own clothes, how you'd spent part of your night in their beds.

You'd got rid of your trousers, which weren't very comfortable for lying in bed and resting. At this moment, with your back hard against the bed, it wasn't as comfortable as the silk of their sheets. Scanning your ceiling as if it were of some importance, your eyes looked at nothing in particular as your mind replayed those few major moments in your body, your heart and your thoughts during the evening. You were still wearing Frank's T-shirt, and the urge came over you.

You brought the collar of the T-shirt you were wearing up to your nose, the smell of Frank permeating the fabric but you dropped the collar. You shouldn't be doing this, it's inappropriate, it's unprofessional, it's... It's...

You let your nose discover the fabric again, pulling it close to your nostrils and inhaling the perfume left on it.

Your eyelids closed of their own accord as you exhaled softly, your shoulders drooping as the scent itself brought you the comfort of a night full of feelings. The same coolness of the night filled the black fabric as if the garment had been cut from the dark night sky, where you lost yourself.

You let the smell intoxicate you, searching for it everywhere, in every fibre, every seam, every patch, as if you were going to lose it at any moment. You were looking for him in the meanders of what he had left there, and soon enough, you were looking for them.

Had Matt's plump lips rested on the back of his neck, near the collar, where his warm breath would have sent a shower of shivers down Frank's skin? 

As one of your hands gripped the fabric and pressed it to your nose as if it held the only scent you could bear, the fabric's folds lifted the shirt enough to expose your panties and bare thighs. It was then that the sudden coolness caressing your thighs and their insides made you aware of the intense heat that had settled in your lower belly.

Almost feverish, carried away by the smell, your free hand went down your body to reach your inner thigh. Your hand slipped under the elastic of your underwear, moving down until a light touch on the sensitive bundle of nerves made you press your thighs together tighter. Taking a heavy breath as your head fell back on your pillow, you let Frank's scent fill your lungs like new oxygen.

Would a guttural growl have escaped as Matt ran his nimble fingers along the fabric of his ribs, reading every curve of his body? 

One of your fingers continued lower, slipping as it passed between your lips into the warm wetness of your desire. You pressed it lightly, coating it with your own juices with incredible ease before sliding it in and arching your back slightly at the sensation.

In the throes of euphoria, it wasn't long before you began slow back-and-forth strokes. You tugged at the collar anew, looking for more of the scent as your own warm breath muted the nuance of it.

Would his fingers have run up and down his back, up between his shoulder blades as one went down to his lower back?

The heat in your lower belly spread further, and as a single finger couldn't satisfy your desire, a second was added, curving and sinking into you in a way that made you curl your toes. The freshness of the scent fed the burning fire in your body, urging you to move faster.

Would he have grabbed the sides of that t-shirt, letting his fingers brush mischievously against Frank's skin as he slid it up his body?

You turned onto your side until you were on your stomach, your breath coming in short gasps as you nuzzled your nose close to your shoulder under the shirt and gripped your pillow, squeezing it tightly between your fingers as your back arched.

You eased your fingers away, returning to your aching clit. It almost hurt to touch it with such slow torment, and you began to make faster circular strokes around it.

Would he have taken it off gently, letting the fabric catch every little ounce of perfume on its way before he just pulled it off his arms and the back of his neck to throw it behind them...

The heat intensified, the knot in your lower belly tightening more and more as your movements accelerated awkwardly in your frenzy, losing a steady rhythm as tingles rose in your cheeks.

He would have run his fingers over his jaw, his thumb pressing against his bottom lip before releasing it so that his lips could caress Frank's…

Your teeth sank into your own lip, the latter still stinging as the fresh cut from the night before reigned over it. But the ecstasy in which you found yourself prevented you from giving a damn, letting small splinters of voice die out in your throat and never escape your lips.

What were you doing imagining this intimate scene, these delicate gestures full of unpronounceable words, the language of which only the skin knew. What were you doing as your eyes, hidden behind your eyelids, let you glimpse the projection of this secret duo? What were you doing, mentally observing them as if through a doorway, while Frank turned to you with an intrigued look.

You're staring little one.

The sentence in your mind made you open your eyes again with a jerk, as if the door behind which you were enjoying the spectacle had just slammed shut.

You yanked off the T-shirt and tossed it across the room, as if it had come too close to you, as if it had burnt so close to your skin that it carried with it a curse, or worse: something you wanted but couldn't afford.

Out of breath, feverish, you watched the almost ridiculous heap it formed on the ground, as if the weight of its lightness was not carrying the heaviness of desire. It was too entrancing, you couldn't allow yourself to give in to it.

That shirt was your shame, the extent of your desire, greater in the moment than your mind. You couldn't see it any more, you couldn't, the mere idea of approaching it now twisted your heart like a can.

Pull yourself together, you thought to yourself as your head spun, as you turned away to turn your back on it, moving back in your bed and lying down to look at your wall.

Your heart still pounding, the heat you'd felt growing inside you still present but gradually calming down, you felt the shame hanging over your cheeks and shoulders. 

This idyll that you considered, this fantasy that you wanted to make go away was not possible. A flash of the two of them smiling at you in the kitchen earlier in the day came back to the front of your eyes, and you shook your head, closing your eyelids firmly until you saw multicoloured shapes on the skin of them, as if the gesture was going to erase everything.

Your mobile vibrated, and the screen displayed a message from Frank. Of course, while you were chasing them away in your mind, they were tormenting you with messages. Biting the inside of your cheek, you grabbed your phone. They knew you didn't have much contact apart from them, so unless you'd had some sort of problem or were at work you'd be able to reply.

The idea of ignoring the message was to be ruled out, if by some chance they thought you'd had a problem and one of them arrived here in no time to see you in that state... you didn't want to imagine.

Trying to calm your body from its previous emotions, you took your mobile in hand to read his text message.

No patrol for you for the next 3 days, if any of us come across you on the rooftops between now and then, watch out. Frank.

You swallow, your way out to take your mind off things and potentially forget your urges had just flown out the window. There's not much to do in this shabby flat. There's not really much furniture or shelves to work on, or to read, or to do a hobby, or to do anything else, just your chest of drawers to keep your clothes in, the rest being laid out on the floor.

Going out to fight, to decompensate by exercising and spending yourself enough to simply collapse at night and not have to let the possibility of any thought pierce that rhythm, that was your escape.

But now you were stuck in your flat, tomorrow you'd have to go back to work, and you'd have to live with the shame that seemed to bore into your eyes as soon as they rested on the shirt.

The three days were a constant torment. Clients and colleagues looked at you either as an alien or as a porcelain vase ready to break at any moment, while when you looked in the mirror you seemed to be staring at a wreck.

The first evening was already an ordeal for you, not going out as soon as it got dark to roam the rooftops and streets of the city. Still tired from the pain of your wounds though, you finally found a way to fall asleep and get a long night's sleep.

The second, you were irritated, unable to think of anything other than them doing whatever it was you were itching to do. You ended up putting Frank's T-shirt in your dirty clothes and going down to the launderette to get rid of the torment once and for all. You weren't sure how far Matt could smell or hear anyone's every move, but you sincerely hoped that this short night out wouldn't lead them to you for a slap on the wrist.

On the third night, the urge to go out was itching like an addiction. You couldn't bear the idea of standing still and doing nothing when you were perfectly aware of everything that was going on outside. Having located yourself in an area that wasn't very quiet, you had the urge to grab another shirt and get outside as quickly as possible to follow the sirens that were sounding from a distance. You had to discipline yourself to stay in bed and wait for the night to end.

After a few days of sobbing monotony, the routine resumed the next evening when you met them on the rooftops as usual. Questions were exchanged about your injuries, your new t-shirt for your costume - which they disapproved of once again - and then the night continued as if everything was normal.

However, as the nights multiplied, so did the delightfully unusual instances. A gentle tap of encouragement from Matt's hand on your shoulder that lasted a little longer than it should have, an honest smile from Frank that for once seemed less annoyed that you opened your mouth, a look or touch from one that lasted longer than it should have.

The 'patch-up' evenings began to increase in their turn, resulting in you often coming to their homes in the evening to help tend to them when they no longer had the strength to do anything other than lie down and grunt in pain. This time, you made it a point of honour to sleep on the sofa and not in their bed.

The next mornings for them were rewarded with good coffees that you prepared for them. If working in a café gave you any expertise at all, it was waking up a grouch and a sleepyhead in the morning in a pleasant atmosphere.

Soon, the evenings at their place became more recurrent than those you spent in your flat. So much so, in fact, that they installed an extra mattress near the stairs leading up to the roof for you. It wasn't much, but it was much nicer than the general atmosphere in your flat. Later, after this stage, they came to visit you at work.

The first time this happened, it was Matt who had turned up with his colleagues as if nothing was wrong at the café counter. Playing innocent at the time had been a strange experience.

"A mocha? Really" laughed Karen.

"What ?" retorted Foggy, "it's the most professional way I've found of not having a hot chocolate straight away, so consider yourself lucky for this exemplary behaviour.

"Oh yes, extremely professional."

"Come on," Foggy said indignantly before turning to you.

"Any cafe can look professional if you don't take a closer look at what's in it," you admitted, offering an inverted smile and raising your eyebrows.

"Finally a sane person here," Foggy said, raising his arms slightly in the air victoriously.

"So a mocha with extra chocolate?" you offered. "Extra's on the house."

"Careful with that, I might just become your next regular," pointed Foggy.

"I don't see what the warning would be," you laughed, noting down his order. "For you?"

"A latte, please," Karen replied.

"And I'm the one being unprofessional here."

As the two were zealously debating what a proper professional coffee is, and how the only thing that differentiates their two choices is the fact that Foggy's coffee had chocolate in it and Karen's didn't, Matt walked over to you. You were tempted for a moment to say "the usual?" but, not knowing what he'd told his colleagues about whether he'd come here often or not, you simply waited for him to tell you what he'd ordered.

You were aware of his habits and routines. In the morning, it varied from the fact that he simply needed something strong to wake him up, in which case he'd have a turkish coffee; or if he had more time and wanted to indulge himself, he'd have a latte with sugar, or tea. In the evening, he'd have tea or herbal tea, maybe even camomile tea, even though you knew full well that, tired as he was, camomile tea wouldn't even help him fall asleep.

"A red berries tea, please.

"Not even in the coffee family now, what is this meeting." Foggy grumbled.

You let them take their places in the café, at a table towards the back, preparing everything with care. You were already doing your job well on a daily basis, but the fact that Matt was there, accompanied by his colleagues, made you want to make a good impression.

Do they know? you wondered. Were his colleagues and friends aware that many of his nights were filled with doing his own justice when the Court couldn't do it? You brought them the tray, much to Foggy's delight.

"The mocha for you-" you said, placing Foggy's cup in front of him.

You nearly shook your tray as a sudden sensation spread through you from a gesture invisible to Foggy and Karen, who were too focused on the arrival of their drinks: Matt's fingers had come to rest on the back of your leg, gently tracing them up and down.

You were used to a few touches from him. Since he'd taken care of your lip and dressed you again, his gestures towards you had become more frequent. Of course, there were the taps on the shoulder to congratulate you, but there were all the points of honour he seemed to give himself for your fingers to brush against each other when you gave him his cup of coffee.

You'd already twice simply put his cup on the counter, notifying him of the fact that you'd finished making it, but he seemed to be making up excuses to get you to bring it to him. 

"I think this ankle's a bit sore this morning, could you bring it here for me please" or "I think one of the hits I got last night messed me up a bit, I'm going to need some time to recover" and other excuses to get you to take the cup from your hands.

So, soon enough you realised that there was no alternative but to give it to him yourself. You wondered if he was doing this because he could hear your heart beating slightly faster as soon as your skins touched. Matt wasn't the lazy type, so it didn't take you long to realise that he was taking a malicious pleasure in his meagre contact with you.

The confirmation was amplified by the fact that whenever the two of you had the opportunity to share a moment, even just sitting next to each other led to situations where his fingers brushed your thigh. You could feel it sometimes, when he was the one examining your wounds, that his fingers stayed against your skin longer than they should have.

And the sudden feeling of his fingers on the back of your leg sent a shiver up your spine. Did he even have the slightest idea of what this could do to you? 

Yes, it was hard to doubt, especially at that moment.

"The latte," you tried to pronounce as you managed to keep your composure, even though Matt's fingers were exerting delicious caresses just behind your knee, making you fear at any moment that you might bend and fall. "And the tea."

You placed his cup in front of him with the bag and the little teapot of hot water, his free hand obviously coming to grasp the cup while your fingers still encircled it. A shit eating grin spread across his lips as you straightened up and brought your tray back close to you.

"Oh, could you pour the water please?" he asked as his whole hand gently came to grip the back of your thigh. "I would, but I'm afraid if I do that the table will turn into a pool of boiling water."

You knew that wasn't true, that Matt could probably have poured the water into his tea a metre high between the cup and the teapot that not a single drop of water would have settled on the table.

Neither Foggy nor Karen seemed to notice of this hidden treatment he was giving you, Foggy humming against his mug in anticipation of drinking his coffee, while Karen rummaged in her bag for documents.

"Sure," you agreed as you picked up the teapot, placed the bag in the cup and began to pour.

Matt's hand gently pressed against your thigh, his thumb circling the fabric of your pants which could have very quickly become enough of a distraction to burn your hand as you poured the hot water.

"Hmm," Foggy hummed as he took a sip of his coffee, "Matt why are you only suggesting this place now?"

His hand moved slightly up your thigh, though not into the field of vision of his two colleagues, bringing the heat up into your lower belly gently like embers being blown on to rekindle a fire.

"I suppose I like to keep my little gems to myself." Matt said, turning to Foggy with a satisfied smile, the phrase making your heart drop into your stomach as you calmly finished pouring the water into his cup.

"Matt gatekeeps, I've seen it all," Foggy huffed.

"All done," you confirmed to Matt as you straightened up.

"Thank you," he grinned at you before letting go of your thigh for a moment, which you seized to leave the table and walk in what you hoped was a normal attitude to the back of the shop.

Closing the door behind you, you let your back press against it. Your heart was beating in your chest like you had just run a marathon. You pressed the back of your hands to your cheeks, warmed by the previous gestures you could still feel lingering on your clothed skin. 

You didn't know what you were supposed to feel any more. Was this attraction that you thought impossible to feel for each other, and that you forbade yourself to feel, even possible?

You had to take a few minutes to pull yourself together and get out of the storage room, hoping you wouldn't have to come and serve them any more than you wanted to.

The nights of fighting together resumed as always, Matt seeming excited to see you each time, and Frank gradually seeming less grumpy in your presence - to say that he too was 'excited' by your company would have been a suspicion you thought unlikely.

The next time, however, it was Frank who came to visit you at work.

You were in charge of closing that evening, and Frank had unexpectedly turned up shortly before closure, when no-one was there but you. It was downpouring that evening and you'd been cursing yourself for not having an umbrella.

He seemed as surprised as you were to see you, as if his own presence here in front of you astonished him. There was always a twinkle in those dark eyes, a curious glint that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was a little light waltzing hesitantly across his look, which as soon as he got into a fight vanished to make way for two pools of ink, obsidian pearls reflecting nothing but anger, shark eyes mingling with the storm bombarding down his throat.

He was standing in front of you, towering over you as you looked up at him from behind the counter. His eyes were staring at you, shining with a message you couldn't read. You felt tiny like this, under his eyes, under his mass, under the mountain he was facing you.

"Hey," you finally said, clearing your throat.

He seemed to come out of something himself, as if your voice were a gentle hand reaching out to gently touch the bubble surrounding him. He blinked a few times, his gaze drifting over the many different objects on the café counter.

"Um," he began, obviously searching for what he wanted to say to you as he frowned and swallowed. "Could I get a coffee?"

Your eyes widened slightly, the simplicity of the question making your parted lips stretch into a smile, a single laugh swelling your chest for a moment.

"What's so funny," he then asks, confused by your small smile.

"Nothing," you laugh as you pull yourself together, moistening your lips with a flick of your tongue before looking up at him again, a teasing frown knitting your brows together. "Keeping an eye on me?" 

He tilted his head back to the side, his eyes looking down at you as he chewed on a bit of his cheek.

"Making sure you don't end up burning the place down," he said with a vague gesture, pointing at you with his chin as he raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm that incompetent?" you ask playfully, placing both hands on the counter and leaning forward slightly.

"Clumsy and risk-averse sound better," a pout coming from his mouth as he shrugs.

"Risk-averse?"

"You're the one who wears clothes a little too thin for a fight where all hits and weapons are allowed," he says, placing a hand on the counter as he leans towards you, "am I wrong?"

You bite your lip, he had a point, that was for sure.

"Are you here to make sure I don't cut myself on the label of those bloodthirsty tea bags?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

" You'd be capable of it," he admits, straightening up, "But I'm here for one coffee, no actually, for two coffees."

"Two?" you ask as you pick up a mug, followed by a second which you place on the counter as you start to prepare everything. "Did you invite Matt?"

"Not really," his eyes follow your movements carefully before returning to your own.

At the time, you attribute this request to thirst. He's a big man, with a big stomach, and enough grump in him that several coffees in one day is only enough to soften his irascibility. So his pragmatism had led him to have two coffees in one go, you thought.

"What do you want?"

"Just a normal coffee."

"What about the second one?"

"I don't care, just pick one."

You took your usual choice, starting to prepare it under Frank's observant gaze. You began the process with a skilled hand, accustomed to all measurements and other gestures.

"You do this to a lot of people?" you ask over your shoulder as you get everything ready, "to come in just before a place closes."

"Only for my little trouble," he admits.

The nickname sends a shiver down your spine until your cheeks heat up.

"To make more trouble?" you ask playfully.

" Everyone's got their own caviar," he huffs as he watches you at work.

You continued all your preparation, your back to him. He wasn't that far away, and you could feel his stare pressing into your back, covering the entirety of your covered skin like a blanket.

You were trying your best to keep your mind on the right track, to make sure your thoughts didn't wander back to the T-shirt.

You hadn't had a chance to give it back yet, not taking it out on patrol for fear it would end up a rag laced with bullet holes and knife cuts.

"I didn't know I was so much fun to mess with," you admit as you pour the first coffee into a mug.

"Yeah, 'guess surprises can never be taken for granted."

You pour the second coffee into the second cup, placing both in front of him, satisfied.

"Two coffees for you, sir," you smiled, wiping your hands on a cloth.

The nickname 'sir' seemed to leave an impression on him that was at odds with the mood of the conversation so far. His jaw clenched, the muscle at the corner of it tensing, but he pulled himself together and took the two cups in hand. Looking at how tiny they seemed between his fingers, you were surprised when he called out to you: 

"Don't stand there rooted to the spot, get over here."

It was then that you realised that the second coffee wasn't for him, but for you. 

Frank was inviting you in for a coffee.

The realisation almost took you by surprise, and your heart made its presence felt in your chest all at once. You put the cloth down on the counter, moving to the other side of it to follow Frank.

The lights in the café were almost all switched off, except for those in the reception area, which gave the atmosphere a very intimate, secluded quality.

The rain was pouring down, beating down from drop to drop, crashing against the window near where Frank sat on the seat. You took your place, coffee cup on your side opposite him.

Your fingers wrapped around the warmth of your cup, letting them slip through the handle. Frank was already starting to drink his own coffee, his fingers crossing the handle in a way that made you immediately look down at the contents of your cup before squinting on his phalanx.

Fuck, even the way he's holding a goddamn cup makes you feel all gooey.

"So you're inviting me in for a coffee?" you ask, bringing the hot drink up to your lips to blow on it.

He puts the mug down in front of him, his finger hooking over the cup to catch a single drop of coffee dripping onto its immaculate white surface.

"Take it as you wish," he said, bringing his finger to his lips to retrieve the brown pearl.

You took a sip of your coffee, setting the cup down on the table and letting your hand rest beside it. You raised your eyes to his, watching you as if you were the missing piece of a puzzle he had been trying to solve for some time.

A small smile spread across your lips, and he frowned, waiting for an answer from you on this reaction. You shook your head, looking at the contents of your cup as if it were about to turn into tea and you could read the leaves to find out where this conversation was going.

"'To think that you hated me in the first place, and now we're both together over coffee."

"Hated you?" he repeated as if the word felt peculiar on his tongue, as if it tasted wrong. "No, I was suspicious."

"It didn't take long to realise that you'd be suspicious of a hen if she looked at you for just a little too long," you remark as you grab your coffee again, sinking a little deeper into the leather of the bench seat.

"There's a reason to be suspicious of chickens," he counters, "these horrors are descendants of the freaking dinosaurs."

"Of course, these days they're a huge risk," you shrug.

"Make fun of me." he grinned, a wolfish laugh rising from his lungs as the mere sight of him smiling made your cheeks heat up.

He took his cup in hand, bringing it close to his lips without drinking just yet. He pressed his tongue against his teeth, his lips parted, and the sound was like lighting a cigarette lighter. He stared into space, mentally weighing up the pros and cons of what he had to say.

"You're growing on me better than I'd like to admit," he muttered before taking a sip.

Your heart suddenly felt soft, like a marshmallow on the fire getting all melty and warm. The heat spread to your shoulders and throat in a delicious way.

"Really?" you asked.

"Yeah," he admitted, staring into your eyes.

You tried to hold his gaze, intense as it was. Playing with the shape of the handle of your cup, you tilted your head to one side.

"Like a pretty flower, I hope," you smiled.

"More like a weed," sighed Frank, his lips stretching into a sneer nonetheless.

"The addictive ones?" you brought your mug close to your lips again, the still-warm vapour containing it mixing with the heat of your cheeks.

"No, like the ones you want to get rid of," he replied.

The tone wavered between joke and reality, and you didn't know exactly where you stood, but you waltzed along with the conversation as best you could.

"Too bad for you," you said, shrugging your shoulders and sighing, "they're the most resilient."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Frank glanced at you, his eyes surprisingly soft.

Then you felt your chest tighten, closing in on itself as you'd let your little heart uncover itself and welcome the warmth of a brief moment of delight just to snatch it all away at once.

"Because I'm the human version of a migraine to you?" you asked, your tone suddenly more irritated and cold than the playful attitude you'd adopted since the start of the conversation.

"Because you've entered me and Red's lives so easily, in a way that makes me doubt you'll ever come out of it."

Nothing in his eyes or voice conveyed any discomfort at the idea. Was it really what they were both thinking?

You wondered for a second if he hadn't finished his sentence, if a furtive "but" was going to slip in just after those words and shatter whatever little seeds of hope had been planted in your mind and were gradually sprouting on your heart.

He still had time to trample all that underfoot, to make sure that under his big combat boots he could crush what remained of your wishes. But he did nothing, there was no trace of searching for words on his face, he just seemed to be waiting. Waiting for you.

With your cup in your hand, bringing it close to your lips, you exchanged a glance with him for a moment, and you felt that your next words had an undeniable importance in his eyes. The idea that everything about you was actually important to them gave you a special feeling that you wanted to grasp and snuggle up to, lest it slip away.

"I'm beginning to think you're right," you managed to say before taking a sip from your cup.

"Everything happens," Frank smiled at you, joining in the gesture.

You had finished your coffee, and the rain had calmed down enough outside until not a single drop had fallen against the café window, and Frank decided it was time for him to go back to the flat.

"'Never hated you by the way,' he said once outside the café. "Alright little one?"

You smiled at him, nodding as he turned to go home.

Things began to get really complicated on one particular evening.

At first glance, it was nothing out of the ordinary. You'd had a fairly normal patrol for what you had to deal with on a daily basis, and you'd gone back to the guys' house to disinfect a few small scratches here and there, nothing too serious.

You had eaten a little, chatted as usual, and gone to bed. It was already late at night, and the desire to drink a glass of cool water woke you from your sleep. 

Walking slowly on tiptoe, you ventured into the kitchen and silently filled yourself a cup of water. Once you'd quenched your thirst, you made your way back to your mattress, but when you reached the exact spot between your sleeping area and their bedroom, you heard a low voice.

Wondering if they were awake, you stood still for a moment, simply taking a single step towards the wall of their room. 

"Hm," you managed to hear through the tiny crack in their sliding door.

You smiled softly, the idea of one of them talking in his sleep making you laugh inaudibly. You were just about to make your way back to your bed, when this time you managed to distinctly hear in the silence of the flat:

"Oh fuck."

Your hand had never reached your mouth as quickly as at that moment, trying as best it could to reduce to zero decibels the sound of your breathing and your heart having travelled up to your ears and obliterating all sound there.

Had you heard correctly? 

You moved closer to the wall, your hand pressed so hard against your lips that you had to loosen it very gently to give yourself a chance to breathe. None of them were talking in their sleep as you might have thought, unless the dream in question included so much movement in their sheets and so many interspersed breaths.

With your back against the wall just outside the bedroom, you calmed your breathing, the feeling that your heart could be heard in the whole flat forcing you to find a rhythm that wasn't delirious. Gently, you let yourself slide down the cold wall, sitting with your knees close to you as you listened.

You shouldn't, you kept telling yourself as the memories of the sensations you'd experienced what seemed like the closest eternity ago on that day in your flat with Frank's T-shirt pressed against your skin.

It was when an additional murmur mixed with a groan came from the slight gap in the sliding door that your doubts were certified.

You should have left, should have taken refuge under your sheets and lay down on the mattress, pulling your blanket over your ears to muffle what you could hear...

"Don't stop..." 

Inhaling as quietly as you could through your fingers, your thighs squeezed themselves, the search for any friction kicking off deep inside you. 

You could feel your lower belly heating up, a persistent warmth settling in the hollow of your thighs and preventing you from thinking about anything other than whatever sound was coming from their rooms.

You could hear the lustful sounds of sucking, of a slight jerk of the body that you could guess was hips bucking into something, a hoarse rumble rising from the very depths of the other's chest.

Your free hand moved down your belly, past the elastic of your sweatpants and your underwear at the same time. You stayed like that for just a moment, hesitating about your next move.

It was wrong, it was revelling in their intimacy like that. But you were now awake, and so painfully aware of your own needs that you couldn't go back.

Your head tilted back and your eyelids closed on their own at the cool touch of your fingers on your damp skin from their hold on your glass of water. The contrast was intense, your digits heating little by little between your lips as they coated your fingers over their entire length with your essence.

You stifled your own moan as you let one, then two fingers sink into you, your shoulders pushing forward, caging your chest as your legs spread a little wider to ease the movement.

Turning your head to the side, pressing your warm cheek against the cool wall, you tried to hear more.

You could clearly hear one voice out of the two, one that was holding back, that seemed to be struggling to find a steady breath. His sighs were laced with muffled moans, his inhalations blocked with a fully open mouth before only letting his breath expel from between his lips.

Each moan spread a shower of embers under your skin, all heating up more and more inside you, a summer fog stretching in your lower belly with intensity. You were attentive to every sigh, every little quickening of breath mingled with the acceleration of rhythm that the other was making with sticky noises.

Your fingers reached the spot inside you, the little spongy part towards the top of your gummy walls that made you see sparks. You were close, your breath becoming less and less regular as you tried to make as little noise as possible.

"Shit Frank," Matt's voice stammered in a forced whisper, "I'm gonna-"

But he never finished his sentence, groans interrupting whatever words he was hoping to utter. Frank's response was not heard, you could only hear a muffled dark grumble followed by a muffled groan from Matt as he shook.

You heard the rhythm pick up, the movements on the sheets becoming more clumsy as Matt's breathing quickened. Your heart was pounding as your fingers continued to curve back and forth, your palm rubbing against your clit for friction. You were practically biting your cheek until it bled as the knot in your gut tightened and tightened and... 

"F- Frank..." stuttered Matt as his breathing became increasingly laboured, "Frank," he called as his voice rose in pitch, "Frank!"

And everything exploded within you, like lightning striking metal and spreading waves of electricity through you like a second heart. Your thighs trembled, pleasure surging through you from your toes to the back of your skull.

But you couldn't enjoy this climax for long. The movements on the other side of the wall seemed to subside, Matt's breathing coming steadily as a quiet descriptive pop sounded. 

The sheets moved again, and you realised your situation. Your breathing returned to normal as your cheeks felt as warm as the sun. Moistening your lips as you took your hand away from your lips, you watched a spot in the void in front of you.

You made the greatest effort to sit up in total silence, hoping that Matt's mind would be sufficiently scrambled not to have heard you as you returned to your mattress. With your heart still pounding, you slipped back under your blanket, the warmth of your body fading.

Hopefully none of them would find out.

⟢ previous part : here | next part : here

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[itwasthereaminuteago]

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“ with Matt Murdock ??

Little bit of voyeurism snuck in there, hope that's okay, haha!

Fuck, you mutter under your breath, your fingers blindly furrowing through Matt's hair as he buries his head between your thighs.

"ohh-" you softly whimper as the tip of his tongue snakes in a frustrating circle around your clit.

This time you felt him grinning against your pussy before he pulls away for a moment to tease you more.

"oh c'mon sweetheart, I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that."

You glare down at him, knowing he can sense the weight of your stare. "And I'm sure Frank, who may I remind you is asleep next door, would appreciate that?"

The pair of you had let him crash on the couch before he was due to head off across the country later that morning.

Matt chuckles, "he's awake" he tells you, before peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cocking his head as you sigh deeply in response. "and I think he's enjoying the show."

You freeze. "What-"

You're cut off as he dives back in, swiping a firm wide stripe up through your dripping folds and then flicking repeatedly over that bundle of nerves at the apex, sucking on it and making it swell.

You can't help but cry out, clamping your legs around his ears and bucking your hips against his mouth as he draws you rapidly up to your peak again. "oh god, ohh Maaaaatt!"

"Mm that's it baby, let him know how good I make you feel."

He encourages you to use him, his hands kneading against your ass and pulling you even closer, relentlessly chasing more of your desperate sounds in the midst of this sudden ridiculous peacocking competition. But you don't care, because he's right. He makes you feel like you're flying and like you'll explode all at once, and you definitely can't keep quiet about it.

"Yes, oh fuck yes! rightthererightthererightthereohmattohfuuuckkk-"

Matt hums against you as you cum screaming on his mouth, lapping up everything you have to give, letting you shudder and shake until you're completely spent before he's moving over you, pressing another loud moan from your throat as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you.

You whimper and moan at every deep thrust, your fingers tugging at the sheets and his hair, clawing his back, wherever you could reach.

"give me one more sweetie," he groans against your neck, already worked up and close to cumming from the pleasure he gets from eating you out. "I know you can give me another... and make it loud."

He fucks you hard with such a punishing pace and it's all you can do to hold on and take it. The friction of his pelvis grinding against you and the idea that someone, that Frank, was in the next room likely getting off on the two of you was enough to send you crashing over the edge again in no time.

You barely hear Matt praising you repeatedly over the high volume of your moans as he pulses and spills at the sensation of the clenching velvet walls of your cunt with a few final erratic thrusts.

His head drops to the crook of your neck and you smile against his cheek. "Loud enough for you, Mr Murdock?" you inquire, breathing heavily, the two of you still entangled in each other.

He tilts his head towards the door. "Enjoy the show, Frank?"

There's a low grunt from the other side of the door. "Fuck you both."

"maybe next time..." You call back in response, raising Matt's eyebrows to his hairline as you grin and kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"you started it."