#matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvoswxtch · 10 months

Text

forgiveness

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle

summary: matt decides frank needs an attitude adjustment and uses you as a demonstration.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: this came directly from my other head, if ya know what I mean (all puns intended).

word count: 2k

[part one: jealousy][part three: revenge]

Matt could hear what Frank was doing to you from three blocks away. He had one of your thighs draped over his as you both sat on the couch, your hands bound behind your back with his favorite leather belt while his thick fingers strummed lazily through your folds like he was playing his favorite song.

Not even the blaring siren from the fire truck racing down the street to his right could combat the sound of your breathless and desperate whines of Frank’s name for mercy. Jealousy still singed along Matt’s nerves, but irritation and frustration polluted his bloodstream as Frank’s previous taunt echoed between his ears.

Hurry your ass up. Clock’s tickin’.

Frank appeared to have gotten too complacent over the past few months, taking advantage of Matt’s thinly veiled patience and sanctioned forgiveness. He had also gotten too comfortable, thinking because he laid with the Devil that meant he was safe from the hellfire.

Frank was due for a fucking attitude adjustment.

As Matt burst through the front door, both yours and Frank’s heads whipped around in that direction, surprised by his sudden and bold entry. The dark look on Matt’s face made you shudder, and Frank’s fingers paused momentarily, hovering over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Well, ‘bout time you showed up, Red. Thought I said-”

In a flash, Matt had crossed the threshold in record time, and he was suddenly towering over Frank, his hand darting out to grab him by his throat. Matt’s fingers coiled tightly around Frank’s neck, squeezing hard enough that Frank’s eyes flew open in shock and he swiftly retracted his hand from between your thighs completely to grip onto Matt’s wrist. Matt tossed his glasses carelessly onto the coffee table behind him so that Frank could see the feral look in his hazel eyes that were a storm of lust and anger. He leaned in so that their noses were only a millimeter apart, the corner of his lip curled up into a menacing snarl as he bared his dazzling teeth.

“I don’t give a fuck what you said. You seem to have forgotten how to not be such an asshole, Castle. She stays home to take care of you, and you’re being a fucking tease. I call to check in, and you start playing with her pussy, knowing I can hear it over the phone. You seem to have come home with a fucking attitude, and we’re gonna fix that right now.”

Matt’s words caused an involuntary moan to slip past your lips, and if that hadn’t caught his attention, the fresh flow of arousal that seeped into the couch cushion beneath you certainly did. Matt let out a low growl in his chest that had your cunt fluttering and Frank’s hands clenching into tight fists.

Frank’s arrogant mistake was thinking that Matt only let the Devil out behind the guise of his horns on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. But it took one night of relentless teasing for him to learn that the Devil and the man were one in the same. After experiencing just how unmerciful and vengeful Matt could truly be, Frank hadn’t made that error again.

Until now.

Matt roughly let go of Frank’s throat, his burning blank stare still fixated directly on his face.

“Don’t move. Don’t touch yourself. Don’t speak.”

Frank’s lips instantly parted to protest, a deep furrow nestling between his thick brows, but another hardened glare from Matt coupled by his head tilting to the side in challenge had him grunting in response. Satisfied with Frank’s obedience, Matt turned his attention to you, his gaze softer as he knelt down in front of you, reaching behind you to free your hands from the confinements of Frank’s belt.

“Are you gonna behave for me, sweetheart?”

Matt’s breath was warm against your neck, and the feeling of his coarse facial hair brushing against your sensitive skin made you shiver.

“Yes, Matty.”

You could feel his devilish grin stretching across his lips as he pressed them against the juncture above your collarbone, delicately sinking his teeth into your skin as he inhaled your scent deeply and hummed lowly in his throat.

“That’s my girl. Let me take care of you, angel.”

Matt wasted no time burying his head between your thighs. He brought your legs up and over his broad shoulders, his hands gripping onto your hips to pull your cunt closer to his greedy lips, and he moved his tongue against your clit in a way that had you writhing uncontrollably. He didn’t bother holding your hips down and let you tangle your fingers in his hair to guide him wherever you wanted. In complete contrast to how he had treated Frank just mere minutes ago, Matt let you use him how you pleased, getting as much pleasure from it as he was giving you.

He could feel Frank’s eyes locked on his movements, hardly even blinking so that he didn’t miss a single second of Matt devouring your pussy like a man starved. He could almost taste the saliva building up in Frank’s mouth, knowing it was watering at the thought of your taste. The sound of Frank’s calloused fingertips brushing along the rough denim of his jeans towards the mountain that had formed in his lap caught Matt’s attention quickly. Matt quickly reached for Frank’s belt and snapped the leather harshly against the back of Frank’s hand to halt his movements, and a low growl laced with warning tear tore through his chest. The vibration of it directly against your clit nearly made you combust right then and there.

Before you could reach your peak, Matt removed his lips from your swollen clit, shushing you gently with his index finger against your lips as you immediately began to whine in protest. He rose up slowly from his knees and took a seat on the couch right next to Frank. He made a show of languidly unbuckling his belt, carefully tugging down his zipper, and lazily pulled out his aching cock while you and Frank watched with bated breath.

Matt held his open palm out in front of Frank’s face and tilted his head in his direction slightly.

“Spit.”

The low and commanding tone of his voice went straight to your core, and it must have had the same effect on Frank, because he didn’t hesitate to do exactly what Matt asked. Matt collected the arousal leaking from his slit and used that in combination with Frank’s saliva to lubricate his cock as he wrapped his hand around his base and gave himself a few gentle strokes.

His lips parted into a cocky grin hearing the way you and Frank both groaned in unison at the sight.

Matt patted his thick thigh as he motioned towards you with his chin.

“Come here, baby. Come sit.”

He didn’t wait for your frazzled brain to catch up with his command. He grabbed you by your hips and pulled you onto his lap, spreading your legs wide open with your thighs draped over his own so that your knees were on the outsides of his. Matt wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“On your knees, Castle.”

“Red-”

“On. Your. Knees.”

The low growl that accompanied his words had your cunt clenching around nothing, and Frank let out a disgruntled noise before he stood up from the couch, only to lower himself onto his knees in front of you and Matt. You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest for Frank, seeing the look of absolute agony in his deep brown eyes. As you reached out towards him, Matt quickly gripped onto your wrist, his deep voice dripping into your ear laced with warning.

“No. This is his punishment.”

“C’mon, Red. Was only messin’ earlier. Wasn’t actually bein’ mean to her, or you.”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak, Castle. Give me your hands.”

Frank clenched his jaw tightly as he stared over your shoulder at Matt, his face a twisted up concoction of frustration and distress. Wordlessly, he offered his hands up and watched as Matt bound his wrists together tightly with his own belt that he had used to bind you.

Desperation was not something you could usually detect in Frank Castle’s voice, but it was pouring from his words, and you could see the despair glimmering in his big brown eyes. Matt seemed to ignore his defense, reaching between your thighs to grab his cock and slip it through your soaked folds, letting out a quiet hiss in your ear as your welcoming heat enveloped him. Your head fell back against his chest at the delectable intrusion, and Matt’s voice was hoarse by the time his cock was fully nestled inside you.

“You know the rules, Castle. Teasing sluts don’t get rewarded for their bad behavior. Only good boys get rewarded. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You get treated nice when you’re a good girl, don’t you?”

Matt had you completely at his mercy, his hands firmly gripped onto your hips, lazily moving his hips upwards as he fucked you slowly and purposefully. He had his chin resting on your shoulder, his nose nuzzled against your neck, pressing warm, open-mouthed kiss to your sensitive skin. The way his cock was dragging against your walls had already caused your brain to short circuit, and you couldn’t hardly focus on his words.

“Yes, Matty…”

Matt could feel Frank’s eyes watching the way his thick cock split you open, disappearing inside you over and over and over. He could hear the thunder booming in his ribcage, feel the heat that layered over his skin, and the way his index and middle finger twitched on his right hand, as if he were pulling an invisible trigger. Matt could also feel the way his massive cock strained against the front of his jeans, and he was almost shocked it hadn’t busted through the zipper at this point. He let out a low groan as the taste of Frank’s arousal weeping from his aching tip nestled in the air.

Matt’s teeth grazed along your neck, lightly nipping at your heated skin while digging his blunt nails into the flesh of your hips, his voice lowering to a dangerous octave in your ear.

“Tell him how it feels, baby.”

“Feels so good, Matty..”

The low whimper coated with anguish Matt’s ears caught from Frank cracked his stubborn resolve. Matt enjoyed teasing Frank, but he never wanted to torture him. He just wanted to get his message across.

Matt could never stay mad at Frank.

“Think we should let him earn his forgiveness, hm? Think he deserves that, angel?”

“Yes…he’ll be good…be so good, Matty.”

Matt reached his hand out in front of him, and Frank immediately sought out his touch, nestling his face into Matt’s palm.

“What do you think, Frank?”

“Lemme make it up to ya, Red. To both of ya.”

Matt couldn’t help but grin devilishly hearing the lust melting from Frank’s pleading voice. His craving was palpable, and it made Matt feel a surge of power. No one knew how to bring the Punisher to his knees like him except for you.

He dragged the pad of his thumb along Frank’s plump bottom lip gently before roughly gripping onto the back of his neck to drag his face towards your cunt.

“Well go on, then. Earn your forgiveness.”

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

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madschiavelique · 4 months

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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

370 notes · View notes

to-thelakes · 1 month

Text

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.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #matt murdock #daredevil

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ellephlox · 3 months

Text

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.”

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words.

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people?

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense.

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in? Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.”

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave.

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks.

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy.

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case.

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom.

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home.

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows.

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you.

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot.

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short.

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no.

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier.

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing.

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up.

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows.

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger.

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground.

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second.

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed.

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists.

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight.

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood.

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second.

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered.

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered.

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away.

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came.

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall.

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly.

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl.

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive.

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body.

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse.

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry.

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well.

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath.

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.”

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading!

-Elle

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #marvel #daredevil x reader #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months

Text

Not in this Alone (part 1)

pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x fem!reader (Fratt x fem!reader)

summary: After a week of stressful, lonely days, your boyfriends take the time to comfort you.

warnings: swearing, brief descriptions of stressful events (items breaking, period symptoms, sickness, etc)

a/n: This is the first half of a comfort fic that I wrote for my love @madschiavelique when she was having a terrible week a bit ago. I hope that you all find comfort in its softness!

w/c: 2.6k

Dropping your bag on the floor, you yanked your shoes off and plodded directly to your bed, planting face down into the mattress with a groan. A floorboard creaked behind you, signaling another presence, but your fatigue outweighed the anxiety you felt.

“If you’re here to kill me, can you do it in the bathtub? This is a new mattress.” Your words were muffled by the layers of fabric over your face.

The intruder chuckled deeply, “Not here to kill ya, sweetheart.”

“Frankie?” You turned your face towards his gravelly voice, keeping the rest of your body pinned to the bed. It had been over a week since you’d seen him—and you weren’t expecting him to be home this soon—but there he was, in all his broad-shouldered glory. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, that was definitely not his given the way it stretched over his sculpted abdomen. He looked cozy and soft—clearly having been home for a few hours.

“Hiya, doll. Your day was that good, huh?” He nodded down to your horizontal position, making you groan and turn your face back into the mattress. Huffing a laugh, he sat down beside you, stroking a large hand over your back. “Today’s your long day, ain’t that right?”

Nodding tiredly, you hummed in appreciation as he rubbed circles into your tense shoulders. Frank pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before poking you in the side gently. “Get up for a sec, sweet girl. Let’s get ya into some comfier clothes.”

Gluing your arms around your sides protectively, you whined, not lifting your torso from the bed. Undeterred, Frank pinched your hip before sliding his hand around your smaller figure and flipping you upright into his lap. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he smirked at your exaggerated pout, “There’s my girl.”

Shuffling out from underneath you, Frank planted another kiss on your cheek before standing to grab you a sweatshirt rather than the more presentable clothes you had on. Collapsing backward against the pillows, you stared blankly at the ceiling as you waited for Frank to return. After a grueling 11 hour day of traveling to and from your various art classes, you didn’t have the energy to do much else. On top of the sheer amount of time you’d been in public today, you’d been balancing a slew of intense bad luck–from your computer breaking to coming down with a cold. It had not been your week, and you’d been on your own to deal with most of it.

You knew that it wasn’t either of your partners’ faults, just incredibly terrible timing, but Matt had been sleeping at his own apartment all week after late nights at the office, and Frank had been out of town. The past few days had pushed you almost to your breaking point, but nothing actually terrible had happened, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking either of them to come to your aid. You’d been living a cycle of dosing up on medicine, going to class, coming home, and passing out–which was what you planned on doing before Frank interrupted you.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, he padded back over with two garments in hand. He held up one of his own sweaters and Matt’s favorite Columbia crewneck. “Ok, doll, I wasn’t sure which you’d want, but…hey, what’s wrong?”

A drop of moisture trailed down your cheek and you hastily wiped it away. Overly preoccupied with your own thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. “Nothing, Frank, just tired.” You sniffled, giving him an unconvincingly tiny smile.

Narrowing his eyes, Frank set the clothes aside, drawing you closer to him as if you weighed nothing. Draping you over his lap and holding you close, he studied you for a moment before cradling your cheek in one of his massive, calloused hands. “You sure?”

You shrugged, nuzzling into the cool touch. “It's just been a rough week, nothing to worry you or Matt about.” A part of you felt relieved that it was Frank in front of you rather than Matt, who would have surely called you out for lying. Though your treacherous emotions might have given you away regardless, given that salty tears continued to roll down your cheeks as Frank gently stroked the droplets off of your face.

“I know I ain't a genius, but I can tell when you're hurtin’, doll. Talk to me?” His voice was as gravelly as ever, but his deep brown eyes pleaded with you, encouraging you to be honest about your woes.

With another half-hearted shrug, you averted your gaze, focusing on your lap rather than your concerned boyfriend. “I dunno, it's been a long week, Frankie. I started my classes again, which is fine, but my PC broke when I was trying to finish up my assignments so I had to frantically email my professors to make arrangements. And then I started my period, and then I got sick, and then all these little things started piling up like the printer not working or my backpack breaking or my train being delayed and I just—” Your voice cut out as Frank pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses against your hairline as more tears formed along your waterline.

“Sweetheart, you shoulda called me. Or Red. You been dealin' with all this on your own?” His lips brushed over your forehead as he spoke. At your lack of response, he sighed. “Honey, we've talked about this.”

“I know, I know, but I didn't want to bother either of you with something so small.” You murmured against him, shivering as he rubbed your lower back.

“You're not a bother, doll. Not now, not ever.” Frank tenderly rested his forehead against yours, touching your lips to his as he cradled the back of your head. “Here, why don't you put on my sweater?”

Pulling back from the embrace, Frank tapped your arms, waiting patiently for you to lift your arms so he could remove your top and bra. After placing a soft kiss to your chest, he slipped the soft fleece over your head and arms, nodding in satisfaction at his handiwork.

“Better?” He held your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, lips quirked up in his signature barely-there smile.

With a nod, you snuggled back into his embrace, sighing appreciatively when his fingers carded through your hair.

“Glad to hear it, sweet girl. Let’s get you bundled up and we can order somethin’ to eat, yah?”

Nodding again, you let him peel back the duvet before crawling off his lap and underneath the covers with trembling limbs. Sinking into the pillowy mattress, you sighed in relief—the exhaustion and stress of the past week sparking a deep ache in your bones.

“Where do ya want me, babygirl?” Frank’s voice broke through your sleepy haze and you smiled despite your foul mood. Flopping onto your back, you made a grabby gesture at him.

Chuckling quietly, Frank raised an eyebrow. “On top of ya? You’ll suffocate.”

Pouting, you repeated the hand motions. Your throat was aflame after crying because of the stupid virus you’d picked up, leaving you hesitant to open your mouth again—but you wanted a Frank-shaped weighted blanket immediately to soothe your aches and pains.

“Ok, doll, I won’t argue with ya after the shit week you’ve had. But promise me you’ll tap out if ya can’t breathe.” He waited for your eager nod before clambering on top of you and clumsily settling down.

His body was tense as he held himself a few millimeters above your body, clearly still worried about crushing you. That simply wouldn’t do. Bringing your hands around his waist, you began kneading his back and shoulders in the way you knew he loved.

Frank was fairly easy to please. A few well-placed touches to his upper back and he was putty in your hands. Running a single nail up his spine beneath his shirt, your lips broke into a grin at his deep, satisfied rumble. “Thought I was s’posed to be takin’ care of you.” He murmured, mashing his face against your neck.

“You are. Just wanted you to relax.” You murmured, sleep tugging at your consciousness after the immense amount of energy you’d spent during your day of classes. Your voice must have revealed how desperately you needed a nap because Frank’s body shuddered with a laugh.

“Sleep, sweetheart. I gotcha now.”

Sandwiched between the mattress and the warm weight of your boyfriend, you let sleep drag you under.

A thundering rumble sounded in your stomach, the vibrations breaking you out of a peaceful slumber. Groaning, you clenched your arms around your waist, hoping the pressure would cause the intense hunger pangs to fade. During your impromptu nap, your delightfully warm, boyfriend-shaped weighted blanket had been replaced by the duvet. Eyes still closed, you reached across the bed, groping the sheets in an attempt to find your partner and drag him closer to you, but you were unsuccessful. Whining miserably, you opened one eye, wincing at the bright rays of the setting sun temporarily blinded you.

The room was, upsettingly, empty. No grumpy-yet-adorable man to be found. Coughing pitifully, you whimpered, hands clenching around the blankets, as if they would bring you comfort like Frank had. Had your interaction this afternoon been a dream? Were you alone all along?

A drop of saline rolled down your face and splashed onto the pillow, the moisture cool against your warm skin. Sniffling feebly, you shut your eyes again, praying that sleep would take you before you could wallow in your loneliness for too long.

“Sweetheart?” Wiping your eyes, you glanced to the doorway to find the source of the voice, spirits lifting when you saw two beautiful men staring back at you, brows puckered in concern.

They were by your side in an instant; Matt sat at the edge of the bed next to your pillows and Frank crawled into bed beside you, kissing your forehead when you immediately latched onto him. Matt frowned, running a hand over your arm before sliding into a horizontal position at your back.

Their warmth was divine. Four burly arms wrapped around you, tangling you between your two partners. Matt’s nose brushed your nape as Frank hooked his chin over your head, guiding your face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Your entire body sagged in relief, so grateful to be surrounded by the two men who loved you more than you could comprehend, so happy that you weren’t alone in your anguish any longer.

“You ok, my love?” Matt’s gentle, unexpected question pushed your delicate constitution into emotional turmoil.

A choked cry ran through your body with a tremor. Barrier broken, your body was suddenly wracked with vicious sobs, interspersed with weak coughs and sniffles.

The muscular walls around you compressed as your partners pressed impossibly closer, cooing in sympathy as you bawled.

“Hey, you’re ok, doll. You’re ok.” Frank’s dulcet rumble shook his chest beneath your ear.

“That’s it, darling. We’re here now.” Matt spoke quietly, kissing the shell of your ear when he finished. His large hand splayed over your stomach, rubbing gentle circles as you trembled. Frank’s hand mirrored the motion along your back.

The pair of them continued caressing you tenderly as your cries gradually halted. Drawing in a deep, hiccuping breath, you wiped your eyes, a rush of embarrassment flooding your body.

“‘M sorry.” You whispered, blinking back a new wave of ashamed tears.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, babygirl.” Frank promised.

“After the week you had, I don’t blame you.” Matt sighed, placing a line of kisses down your neck. “Next time you’re this miserable, pretty girl, give me a call, ok? I’ll come check up on you at the very least. I don’t want you at home alone when you’re this upset.”

“I didn’t know if I could ask you to come over.” You explained shakily.

“Oh, love,” Matt sounded almost mournful, hugging you tightly from behind. “Always. I’ll always come for you.”

You nodded, a few lingering tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re a bit feverish, darling. Are you feeling ok?” Matt’s voice was tight with worry.

Shrugging timidly, you sighed, burrowing further into the cocoon of limbs you were wrapped in. “‘M ok. Better now.”

Frank huffed out a laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “Forgot to mention, she’s got a cold.”

“On top of everything else? You poor thing.” Matt crooned, running a knuckle over your cheek comfortingly.

“It’s nothing.” You assured them, because it really was the least of your worries right now, with all of your impending assignments and broken equipment.

Your loves seemed unconvinced, but they didn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, Frank switched gears. “I’m sorry I left ya, doll. I ran to pick up dinner and got stuck talking to this one,” He gave Matt’s arm a shove, “In the living room.”

“You started talking to me!” Matt argued with a bright chuckle.

“You wish, Red. I was tryin’ to get back to my girl and you were blabberin’ on about court.”

”YOU asked ME how my day was!“

”Out of politeness, and you went way beyond the one word answer I was hoping for.“

”Well, excuse ME for thinking my partner wanted to hear about my day.“

The two continued bickering, their dramatic inhales expanding their chests, pushing you around like the bellows of an accordion. It could have been annoying, being jostled by their argument, but each swell of muscle reminded you of their presence, soothing your nerves.

You let your limbs go slack, your body bouncing between the two sturdy frames surrounding you as if you were a ping pong ball. Smiling happily, you let their rising voices wash over you as you began to nod off again.

”You alright, sweetheart?“ Frank's question startled you awake and you were unsure of how much time had passed. ”Ya got quiet on us.“

”'M fine. Sleepy.“ You responded, basking in the soft touches that you were once again bombarded with.

Matt chuckled against your neck. “That makes sense, my darling girl. You can rest here with me while Frank gets the pizza.”

You could practically hear Frank's resounding eye roll at Matt's demanding tone, but you were more interested in the promise of food. “Pizza?” You asked, hopefully.

“Yah, doll. Pizza. From your favorite place. Thought you deserved somethin' tasty after everythin' you had to deal with this week.” Frank kissed the tip of your nose, sliding out of your embrace and off the bed. “I'll be right back with it, ok?”

“Mmmkay.” You yawned, making both men smile. Matt carefully maneuvered your body so that you were propped against his chest, sitting up ever so slightly.

“There we go, pretty girl. How's that?” His lips tickled your forehead as he spoke and you giggled.

“Tickling me, Matty.” You whispered, tilting into his grasp with a sigh.

“Thought you were s'posed to be helpin' her rest.” Frank remarked from the doorway, pizza box balanced precariously as he wolfed down a slice.

Matt scoffed, “And I thought that pizza was for her.”

Shrugging, Frank smirked at his boyfriend. ”It's my tip. For the delivery.“

Matt snorted in response, taking the box from Frank so he could sit behind you.

”Let's get some food into ya, doll. Then you can sleep as much as ya want, ok?“

The rest of the night was spent laying on a firm chest as the boys fed you slices of your favorite pizza, eventually falling asleep blanketed by their embrace.

Admiring your beautiful face, your expression lax with sleep, Frank spoke as lowly as possible to avoid waking you.

”We have some work to do, Red. You ok handlin' things here if I go out tomorrow?“

”Absolutely,“ Matt confirmed. ”It shouldn't take us long.“

”Nah, but it'll make her day.“

”And that's what's important.“ Matt smiled, kissing Frank's arm that was draped across the 3 of you.

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. 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, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). 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 AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff

After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.

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luhvsage · 1 year

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| luhvsage’s may fic recs |

☆ - series ✦ - 18+ content

joel miller

✦ say it with your hands @swiftispunk

girls night out @cxrsed-angel

peter parker - mcu

take a hint @waitimcomingtoo

☆ she- devil @maevesheart

bringing sexy back @waitimcomingtoo

matt murdock

gotham vs hell’s kitchen @darling-i-read-it

running red @titan-sl8yer

without you @foli-vora

like real people do @amhrosina

strawberry rhubarb @ellephlox

care packages @chvoswxtch

sirius black

still pretty @upsidedownwithsteve

☆ stain @queerpumpkinnn

peter parker - tasm

twister @valdezlvr

☆ glad your home @withahappyrefrain

remus lupin

not so secret admirer @kquil

✦ no title @ddejavvu

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v1rus-l0v3s-c0d · 11 months

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I need headcanons for frank castle with an autistic s/o

Me and my friend need these headcanons please

Maybe also ones with Matt Murdock x autistic!reader

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misspeachesmcgee · 2 years

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Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Warning: Dark Themes Ahead! self harm, cutting, angst, depression

They’re only a block from home when Red freezes, tilting his head and sniffing the air like a damn beagle. They’d been working together on this drug ring for a few weeks, and while Frank still doesn’t get the full extent of the Devil’s abilities, he’s been around the man enough to know when shits about to hit the fan.

“What now?” Frank gruffs. It was a shit night but he managed to end it with only a few shallow cuts and he’s plenty happy to keep it that way.

“Shut up for a second,” Matt whispers, straining his senses. “There’s blood. I think it’s coming from your apartment.”

It’s enough to light a fire under Frank’s ass and send both men running across the rooftops.

———

You don’t know what broke the dam.

It’s been weeks, but you also feel like it’s been your whole damn life. Hasn’t it, though? There’s always been something wrong with you, something broken. It’s always been there, as much a part of you as the broken skin and split muscle beneath. It’s just you. You’re what’s wrong, the voice in your head whispers.

Another pull of the razor across your arm and you hear the gentle tip tap of blood droplets in the sink.

It turns out it was easier than you thought to hide it from Frank. He’d been too busy with his work to notice, sleeping during the day and not returning home until the early hours of the morning.

You thought you’d feel lonely. But really you just felt relieved. It left you more than enough time to clean up the evidence, and it gave you a break from the constant worry that he’d find out. A break from the shame.

Another cut. Not too shallow, it scolds. Not too deep.

You fucking hate that word. Shame. You’d spent years of your life suffocating under it. So fucking what if you needed an outlet, if this is how you chose to cope? Who the fuck had the right to judge you?

Another.

A simple glance in the mirror and you saw the pathetic truth in your own eyes. That all that shame you fucking hated wasn’t coming from everyone else, no. Wouldn’t it be easier that way? Fuck them all.

Another.

No, you knew the truth. That the shame is coming from you. Warmth is dripping down your wrists and you watch the way it tangles through your fingers before merging into a trickle as it sinks down the drain.

It’s not enough. Deeper.

God, what would Frank think of you? It’s easy, you scoff. He’d hate you.

He’d hate you.

You start slicing recklessly, harder and deeper than before. It doesn’t matter, it’s not enough. Not ever enough, you think as the blade slips through your slippery fingers and you sink down to the floor. Your head is pounding, its slamming, that hateful voice screaming as you sink to the floor in exhaustion.

The tile is nice and cold on your cheek, and it’s a small and soothing comfort from the bleeding warmth from your arm.

Rest, you think. God, just for a moment, please. Let me rest.

———

Frank screams your name as he throws his shoulder into the door again, the old wood finally splintering under his weight. Through the cracks he can see a bit of blood, a flash of your hair. Another shove and the door flies open.

He freezes at the sight of your open wrist. Freezes. He’ll never forgive himself for that. But the sight of you laying in a pool of your own blood has Frank rooted to the spot, his worst nightmare flashing in front of his eyes over and over. Maria. Frankie. Lisa.

You.

“Frank!” Red shouts from the other room, breaking the spell that has Frank just standing there watching you bleed out on the linoleum. “Bring her in here!”

Franks moving, wrapping you in his arms, your wrist dripping a trail of blood from the bathroom. Red’s got his kit open on the coffee table, needle in his hand as Frank lays you down on the sofa.

“Red,” Frank pleads, though he’s not sure for what.

“Shut up and let me work, Frank!” Red snaps. “Hold her.” Frank doesn’t need to be told twice, the marine in him ever grateful for an order to follow. He can’t think, can’t breathe. All he feels is your blood on his hands and the pounding of fear in his chest. He kneels by your head, burying his face in your neck as Red starts on the stitches. He can’t watch.

“Cmon baby, c’mon” Frank whispers, lips pressed into your forehead as his hands stroke your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Hang in there for me, please.”

———

Frank sits by your bedside, trying to memorize the way the soft skin of your hand moves under his thumb.

He doesn’t feel anything. Not a goddamn thing. He just sits, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next order. Good soldier.

Red left a few hours ago. giving you what little privacy he could, though Frank suspects he hasn’t gone far. How could he? You lit up his life almost as much as you did Franks, as much as everyone you touched. To know you was to love you.

And in return, this is what you got. He’d let you end up here.

How the hell had he not seen it? He knew you’d struggled in the past, he wasn’t an idiot. He saw the scars that freckled your arms, your thighs. But who the hell was he to judge? His skin was covered with them, a testament to his own right to cope however he damn well pleased. And you’d never shied from it, not once. He shared it all with you. Every nightmare, every bruise. He lost track of how many nights you’d stitched his skin shut and put his soul back together with nothing but gauze and tape. How many times you’d pressed soft kisses to the rough skin of his hands, soaked in so much blood and death.

You’d even shared some of yourself in return, about the pain you carried from the room you grew up in. But not– Christ, not this.

You stir in your sleep, and for a moment, Frank thinks this is it. His chest aches with the breath he’s holding. But in the end, you just murmur his name and shift a little to the side, falling back into whatever shade was keeping you from him.

He decided then and there that he was going to fix this. Whatever it took, whoever he needed to be for you.

You were gonna be okay. He’d make sure of it.

Please feel free to lmk what you think! xoxo Peach

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chvoswxtch · 9 months

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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

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madschiavelique · 4 months

Text

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

tag list : @blackhawkfanatic

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to-thelakes · 1 month

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tear in my heart (2)

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

series summary; when you start on anti-depressants, you didn’t expect to be forced on a roadtrip with the punisher but life never really went how you wanted it to.

series warnings; slow-burn, discussion of depression and reader being on medication, angst, fluff, strangers to reluctant friends to friends to lovers, reader sleeps a lot, reader is emotionally all over the place, frank is his usual self

warnings for this part; description of blood/injuries, reader and frank bickering, reader is tired, mentions of trafficking, drug trading and general criminal activity

notes; so this is my new little series for frank (i posted part one and two on the same day so dropped the note here instead), i'm not sure how long it's gonna be but i've got at least like 10+ more scenes to write and that isn't even gonna cover the half of it, the slowburn is gonna slowburn with this one and also apologies (in advance) for frank being a little ooc at the end of this chapter, i struggled with his dialogue so much that i am just letting it slide at this point :(

masterlist

previous chapter

You were curled up on Matt’s sofa, half-asleep when you heard the fire escape door open and then the sound of crashing. The apartment was somewhat dim since you hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on when you had arrived considering the obnoxious ass billboards. But you had drawn the curtains which dimmed the light.

Despite that, you could make out two shapes awkwardly climbing down the stairs in the light that the billboard gave. One was a hulking mass that you quickly recognised as Frank Castle and he seemed to be holding Matt up.

“What happened?” You asked, startling the two men. Frank snatched his gun from the waistband of his jeans in two seconds flat, pointing it at you through the gloom.

“Don’t move or I shoot,” He snapped. Matt’s hand limply reached out to try and shove the gun in Frank’s hand down but it didn’t do a thing. Frank kept it steady as you climbed up off the sofa, hands in the air. You gave your name, not sure if he remembered you. He had saved you a couple of times when you got caught in the crossfire of Matt’s vigilante life but you never really had a conversation longer than a few minutes.

“I told her to be here,” Matt managed. He sounded so weak and even through the gloom you could see that he was bleeding. He looked pretty beat up. The combination of Matt’s words and your confirmation of who you were meant that Frank’s shoulders relaxed.

He dropped the gun back to his side and you rushed over to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to help Matt. That was the most important thing especially since he was the only protection you had against whoever was after you.

Frank dropped Matt onto the leather couch before he stepped back, watching you with a curious gaze. He knew of you and he remembered saving you when Red needed help but he had never really taken the time to really look at you. You were prettier than he remembered.

You could feel Frank’s gaze burning into your back but you didn’t let it deter your mission. Once you had the first aid kit, you returned to Matt’s side and pulled the helmet off of his head. His eyes were half-closed and he looked completely exhausted. His nose was bloody and his face was a little bruised but otherwise, he seemed okay there.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, glancing up at Frank. He shook his head.

“Fine, sweetheart,” He retorted, a sarcastic edge to his tone. You nodded and then turned back to Matt. You could see that he seemed to have some sort of wound on his side. The suit was doing a good job at pressuring it but it needed stitches before Matt could meditate and heal it. You sighed and glanced back at Frank.

“Are you just gonna stand there or be useful?” You snapped, annoyance coating your tone as you zipped open the First Aid kit in search of the stitching kit.

“I can’t do shit if you’re in the way,” He retorted, matching your annoyed tone. You heard Matt let out a grunt of annoyance at the bickering and you glared at him. He mumbled something but neither of you caught the words. A sigh escaped your lips and you stood up.

“You stitch him up, I’ll get some warm water to get rid of the blood,” You bit back. Frank narrowed his eyes at you before he gave in. When you walked away, he took your place at Matt’s side and got him undressed enough to stitch the gash on his side. Meanwhile, you were running the tap in the kitchen until the water was warm enough that it wouldn’t be too harsh on Matt’s skin. It only took you a minute and then you grabbed a spare bowl from the cupboard. While it filled up, you grabbed a tea-towel before returning to Matt with the water and towel.

“How deep is it?” You asked, glancing at Frank who was now methodically stitching the wound together. Matt was grunting in pain but otherwise, seemed too out of it to really object to anything that was happening.

“S’fine,” He dismissed. You sighed but didn’t bother to engage any further. The few times you had spoken to Frank, he had been a man of few words. He always seemed frustrated or annoyed at you or just everyone. So, you had expected his snippiness. The fact that he was stitching up Matt probably made it worse.

But instead of dwelling, you grabbed the towel and dipped it in the water before kneeling next to Matt. You took a gentle hold of his face and turned him to look at you. His eyes slowly opened and he seemed to be looking at you but it was always hard to tell with his unfocused eyes.

“Just wiping the blood off your face,” You informed, not wanting to startle him too much. His senses were probably already working overtime so you didn’t want to make anything worse with another unexpected sensation. He hummed out and you gently began to wipe the towel across his face. Each swipe of the damp cloth was gentle but precise.

Frank had just about finished stitching up the wound and he glanced over at you, finding himself slightly dazed by your attentiveness. He hadn’t seen softness like that in so long.

Once you were done with the towel, you turned to Frank and held it out to him. He reluctantly took it from you and you slipped the bowl between the pair of you. You sat on the back of your legs as you rubbed your tired eyes. Your meds were making you even more tired than you usually would be and the adrenaline from the two suddenly entering had worn off now. You just wanted to get into bed, cry and sleep.

“Is it safe enough to move him?” You asked, shuffling back and standing up now that Frank had finished cleaning the stitches. You picked up the bowl from the floor and headed back over to the kitchen where you disposed of the bloody water and left the towel on the side. Frank grunted in what you could only assume was approval but before you could walk over, Matt was attempting to sit up and disapproving.

“No, you take the bed. I’ll be fine by the morning,” Matt dismissed as he looked over at you sleepily. He had been surprisingly quiet the entire time the pair of you had been looking after his wounds. Though he seemed worn out and exhausted so you couldn’t really blame him.

“Matt, I’m not gonna take the bed from the blind, injured man,” You scoffed, shaking your head in disapproval. Matt sighed and he turned to look towards you. You stood by the kitchen counters, baffled by even the thought of taking Matt’s bed away from him.

“I’m a perfectly capable blind and injured man who can take a night on the sofa,” Matt retorted. A sigh escaped your lips and you rubbed the heel of your hand into your eyes, already feeling aggravated from this conversation alone. So, you left out a rough noise and your shoulders went slack, giving in.

“I’m gonna head to bed then. If you’re too uncomfortable, just come and wake me up,” You muttered as you began to cross the apartment. Frank was now a looming figure near the sofas and he gave you a curious look as you passed him. You did your best to feign a smile before you stepped into Matt’s room, collecting your bag on the way in. You slid the door closed behind you before changing into pajamas.

His bed did look inviting and the second you were in your pajamas, you got in and conked out within a few minutes. The conversation between the two men just past the bedroom doors completely lost to you and the deal that Frank and Matt had made left to surprise you come the morning.

The sun leaked through Matt’s thin curtains as you rolled over in bed. Your eyes blinked open sleepily and all you could think about was closing your eyes and snuggling right back up. But you knew you couldn’t and you assumed that Matt was probably still at home. You had to thank him for keeping you safe before he went to work and you left later on to attend your own job. He needed to know how thankful you were.

So, with a heavy sigh, you kicked the covers back and crawled out of bed. The sun was high in the sky and it was warming your back up as you changed into the jeans and hoodie you had brought with you to the apartment. When you slipped your phone out of your bag and checked the time, however, you quickly realized that it was nearly midday.

Your face dropped in horror. Why had Matt let you sleep in for that long? Silently, you cursed the man as you pushed the sliding door open. Part of you hoped that he was still there but he wasn’t.

Instead, Frank Castle stood in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee with his back to the bedroom door. Your eyebrows furrowed and you wrapped your arms around yourself self-consciously as you stepped into the room cautiously.

“Where’s Matt?” You asked, not even startling the other man. He turned around to face you and he looked somewhat friendlier in the morning light. He didn’t look so tired and the seemingly permanent frown lines had smoothed out to a neutral expression. There were bruises and small cuts littering his face that you hadn’t noticed the previous night but it was nothing compared to how Matt had been. He took a sip of his coffee before putting it down on the island.

“At work. Left me here to get you outta New York,” Frank explained. You froze in your step and just stared at him, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“I’m not leaving New York,” You stated. Frank chuckled humorlessly and took a sip of coffee again before placing it back down. Some of the bruises were yellowing and healing up and the way he laughed made him look so endearing but that didn’t change a damn thing.

“That is exactly what we’re doing, sweetheart. Ya gotta lot shit being sent your way so we’re leavin’.” There was almost no way to argue with his words and yet you still found yourself wanting to. You had nowhere to go. You had no money, no clothes, you had work. The fact that he just wanted to take you away from everything you had known for the past five years was insane. Plus, you hardly even knew Frank. You still thought that he was a fucking psycho most of the time and Matt was putting your life in his hands?

“Like hell I’m leaving. I have work and this is my only change of clothes. Plus, I haven’t had breakfast,” You snapped. Frank stared at you, unimpressed as he took another sip of coffee.

“Well, if you would stop being so goddamn mouthy, we could get you breakfast and some clothes,” He said. You rolled your eyes and walked across to the living room, snatching up your pill box from the table. You’d have to wait until you had eaten to take your meds for the day.

“What shit is being sent my way?” You asked, looking for any reasonable explanation for why the Punisher was demanding you left town with him under Matt’s orders. Matt and Frank got along, reluctantly. It didn’t make sense why Frank would do it without an ulterior motive.

“I was already headin’ outta town and since ya got half the city ready to tear you in two, thought I’d take you off Red’s hands.” It seemed that’s all the explaining he was going to do because he quickly drained the rest of his coffee before dumping the mug on the draining board. He then pulled his jacket over his shoulder before putting his car keys in the pocket.

“I want to speak to Matt,” You said just as Frank headed towards you. He chuckled and shook his head, almost amused by your antics.

“You ain’t doin’ shit. You’re gonna come with me to the car and we’ll drive to your place and then we’re leaving, hm?” You stared at him and the look on his face alone made you pause. Maybe you didn’t want to argue with the Punisher especially when he already seemed to be losing his patience with you.

“You’re getting me breakfast as well then,” You mumbled, giving in. There was no point fighting the inevitable so you grabbed your bag and headed with him to the car. The drive to your apartment was quick and Frank kept his gun close at hand at all times. You were in the apartment for five minutes total and you grabbed everything else you would need for an extended trip away before you were back in the car and Frank was driving out of New York.

And to put it simply, Frank wasn’t great company. He was quiet, he was methodical and he liked to listen to very specific music when he drove. No amount of asking questions would get him to open up and he told you that it was better to just sit back and chill out and shut up. You had texted Matt while you were in the car at some point but he was at the court so he hadn’t replied or even seen the message. You were losing your mind in the car with Frank.

And so, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone, hoping to ease your addled mind. You decided to check your photos since you hadn’t checked them since before you had gone out and ran into the criminals that now seemed to want you dead. Usually, your drunken self loves to take pictures and videos of the funny events of the night. In the morning, you mostly deleted them because they were either horrible selfies or just embarrassing videos.

But as you scrolled through the pictures, you realized you had taken a video when you were sitting with the men. You were taking a sip of your cocktail as the men had been talking around you. You then leant over and rested your head against whoever had been sat next to you. The video was a hazy blur in the dim lit bar but when you lifted the phone to your ear, you could hear talking.

‘You really think that’s a good idea?’

‘Do you see any other way out of it?’

‘We could just kill her. She’s getting in our way’

‘And what would the boss think?’

‘Does it look like I fucking care?’

‘Ryan is our best supplier and you wanna put a hit out on her, are you insane?’

It seemed like the whole table quickly devolved into an argument and then the video cut off. Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked down at it. Could this be why they wanted to speak to you? Did this mean something? You rubbed your eyes with your finger, your phone dropped on your lap and you glanced over at Frank.

His gaze was facing forward. It didn’t seem like he’d move his eyes off the road since you had looked away from him last time. The traffic was bad and the cars were honking around you. You hated New York City traffic and it seemed Frank did too but he was just trying to push through the annoyance that lingered on the surface.

“Do you know why people are after me?” You asked after a beat of silence. Frank glanced at you, meeting you stare before he focused back on the road. The traffic was moving now.

“It wouldn’t make you feel any better, sweetheart,” He responded. You scoffed and sat up straighter in your seat. Now, that was bullshit. It would make you feel a whole lot better if you knew why they were after you so then you could fix it. Get back home and just live a good fucking life. You didn’t want to deal with any of this shit. This wasn’t your life, it was Matt and Frank’s.

“Well, I think it would. So then I can go back home,” You snapped. Frank’s jaw ticked at your assertion and he glanced at you. His stare was hard. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being annoyed but you didn’t want to leave New York.

“They think you know something and with that attitude, you obviously don’t know shit. They’re not gonna stop until you’re in a bodybag. So, shut your mouth and don’t make this any harder, yeah?” He snapped back at you. You scoffed and in a childish temper tantrum, you kicked the glove box, turning your head away from him. Frank looked at you and then back to the road before he looked back at you, completely baffled, “You think throwing a tantrum is gonna make this better, huh?” He sounded annoyed, a little baffled but mostly incredulous.

“No,” You snapped back before you crossed your arms over your chest. You were so tired. You didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be at home, “I just wish you would tell me the truth. I deserve to know,” You bit back. He scoffed and shook his head.

“You really wanna know?” He asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll tell ya what’s goin’ on. Matt is trackin’ a drug ring that likes to kill suppliers when they’re no longer useful. But the boss wants more money, they’ve been talkin’ about trafficking wome. They think ya know somethin’ about their new plans so ya are either gonna be in a bodybag or trafficked across the world for some rich dirtbag to buy. Is that somethin’ ya think ya can fix?” He snapped, his annoyance boiling over as he kept glancing at you from his side of the car. He was practically glaring at you.

You pulled your feet up to rest on the edge of your seat, face falling as you curled up into yourself. The tears welled up in your eyes despite yourself, “So, I don’t give a shit if you don’t wanna leave New York, we’re leavin’ and ya can fight it and end up dead or I can help.” You turned your head down. You knew that you shouldn’t have pushed it but you wanted to know. You were regretting that now.

The silence was awkward, stifling but neither of you had anything to say. As the time stretched out, you put your feet back down and used a hoodie from your bag as a pillow to rest against the window. You were tired and you didn’t want to think about the conversation anymore. You just wanted to sleep. That was it.

next chapter (coming soon)

#frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle fic #reader-insert #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #frank castle x female reader #reader insert #the punisher

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reblog-reblog666 · 3 months

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Guys it happened again. I saw a fic yesterday and for some reason I didn’t think to save it for later and I lost it. Please help me I wanna read it so bad. I remember the description said something about reader and Matt having an already established relationship and for some reason have a threesome with Frank. I was trying not to spoil it for myself but it involved DP and they mentioned it was like 7k words because it included all of their fantasies for Fratt+Reader and I just need to read it please 🙏

#reblog #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfic #Frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle oneshot #fratt x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months

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The last pair

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader x Matt Murdock

summary: Frank is a simple man who cares more about convenience than appearance. And you and Matt refuse to let him hear the end of it.

warnings: none? language, i guess?

a/n: I wrote this for my bestie @madschiavelique because they inspired me and I wanted to share it. Hope you all enjoy!

w/c: ~600

Frank was beginning to regret his aversion to doing the laundry. It wasn’t that he didn’t do it ever, it was just that he tended to push that off until absolutely necessary��and there had been one pair of pants left in the dresser this morning, so he hadn’t been forced to wash his jeans.

You see, Frank was a simple man. He exerted the effort necessary, when it was necessary. His appearance was at the bottom of his list of priorities most days, a symptom of his military training and constantly having bigger fish to fry after the subsequent tragedy. It didn’t matter what he wore or if his hair was brushed, or if his face was clean shaven—more than likely he’d be covered in blood by the end of the day.

But that was before. Before Red, before you. Before he took a step back from his other identity and tried his hand at a civilian life again. Something he hadn’t had for decades. And it was almost peaceful…

But your ceaseless giggles were threatening to shatter that delicate peace.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” You panted, breathlessly. Looking up at him with tears of humor sparkling in your eyes, you took in his glaring eyes and comically grumpy frown and began cackling again. He grunted, shoving past you gently as he stalked to the bedroom.

“Frank, wait! Come back!” You called after him, guilty yet gleeful.

“What on earth are you laughing at?” Of fucking course he would come home right now. Why not let everyone in his life share in his humiliation?

Matt hurried inside, shedding his coat, already grinning at whatever had set you off. He strode over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing you hello before rephrasing his question. “What’s so funny, angel?”

“Frank’s outfit.” You barely made it through the two words before the force of another round of bright giggles bent you in half.

Matt turned his head towards the older man, cocking it slightly. “Oh?”

“Don’t encourage her, Red. She’s seein’ things.” Frank spoke gruffly, avoiding Matt’s blank gaze as a deep crimson blush crept up his cheeks.

“Aw, Castle,” Matt pouted in fake sympathy. “She teasing you, baby?” Letting go of your waist, Matt sauntered over to Frank.

“Shut up, Red.” Frank hissed, standing rigidly as Matt tenderly rubbed his shoulders. Kissing Frank’s cheek, Matt began to apply a bit more pressure, kneading the tense muscles in Frank’s upper back. Groaning in satisfaction, Frank tipped his head forward, letting Matt massage his neck with one hand.

“That feel good?” Matt murmured, smirking at Frank’s relaxed expression.

“Mmhmm.” Frank hummed, resting his forehead against Matt’s shoulder.

With the larger man sufficiently distracted, Matt allowed his free hand to drift down Frank’s torso to his…velour track pants?

“Frank, honey,” Matt began, trying to keep his tone even.

“Yah?” Still limp against the lawyer, Frank’s voice was muffled by Matt’s neck.

“Why are you wearing women’s pants?”

Behind the pair, you shrieked with laughter. Frank straightened, breaking free of Matt’s grasp.

“They were the only clean pants, ok!” He groused, marching into the bedroom to change. “If it’s so damn ridiculous, I’ll take ‘em off.”

“Matty, you don’t even know the best part.” You laughed, sidling up to Matt in the bedroom doorway. “Those pants are hot pink, and they say ‘juicy’ on the butt in rhinestones.”

That had you and Matt both in stitches, practically collapsing to the floor with wheezing laughter.

“Ya know what? I’m dumpin’ both of ya.” Frank called from the bedroom, stifling a smile of his own.

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americancowgirl19 · 2 years

Text

She's King Masterlist

Summary: You take your father’s place as King despite being a woman. In order to make peace and end the war you agree to meet the prince - who ends up being your fated mate. You can only hope your fated mate gets along with the mate had chosen before you met him.

Series Warnings: Angst, sexual implications (no full sex), fluff, politics, grief, character death(s), war, violence, a/b/o universe, royal au

Reader: Alpha Female Reader

Pairings: Beta Frank Castle x Alpha Reader x Omega Matt Murdock

Main Masterlist

Act One

Part One - She's King

Part Two - Negotiations

Part Three - Siege

Part Four - Trepidatious

Part Five - Plots

Part Six - He's Queen

Part Seven - Whistles

Part Eight - Revenge

Part Nine - All is Well

Act Two

Part One - Scent Change

Part Two - News to Share

Part Three - In the works

#She's King #x fem!reader #x female reader #x reader #x female!reader #female!reader #fanfiction #fanfic #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x matt murdock #daredevil x reader #punisher x daredevil #frank castle x reader #frank castle #alpha!reader #alpha!female #beta!frank #omega!matt murdock

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confused-pyramid · 2 years

Text

Sweet Escape

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank has been coming to you when he needs to let off steam, but after you are put in danger because of him, everything between you two changes.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (f!receiving), angst, canon!typical violence, implications to anxiety, kidnapping, drinking

a/n: smut starts right below the cut :)

"Fuck, yes," you cry out, your voice muffled by the pillow beneath you as Frank pounds into you, his hands a vice grip on your waist.

He's only been going for a little bit, but you can already feel your climax approaching, fast. His thrusts continue in a ceaseless rhythm and when he presses himself forward, the change in angle has you gasping with pleasure.

"Frank," you moan, lifting your head slightly to get his attention, "I'm so close."

He grunts in response, his thrusts never faltering, before he orders you to, "Touch yourself."

A swell of pleasure is already tingling up your spine, but when your fingers join the mix, you practically see fireworks. It only takes a few quick circles on your clit before you find your release, and Frank works you through it, slowing down his movements as you start to get sensitive. He gives you a moment to rest before he thrusts a few more times, finding his own release.

You're completely exhausted as your arms buckle beneath you, your face hitting the pillow with an undignified oomph. "That was incredible."

Frank flops down next to you, his muscular body glistening with a sheen of sweat. You don't even have to look at him to see the slanted smirk on his face as he reaches around you to grab a bottle of water from your nightstand. You don't expect him to stay much longer, and at one point that would've hurt you, but you've long since learned to push down any feelings you have for Frank Castle.

"I should get to bed," you blurt out, wanting tonight to end on your terms for once. "Early day tomorrow and all."

"Ah yes," Frank grins, his voice rough from the exertion of tonight, "big shot lawyer over here."

You shoot him a "get outta here" look, but it quickly devolves into a cheeky smile when you see the smirk that seems to be permanently glued to his face. You had no idea how the same man who was grinning at you from across the bed could be the city's infamous "Punisher", but somehow he managed to be both. You relished in the fact that you were one of the few people to see this side of him, but sometimes you wished that he would show the world the truth about who he was. That he wasn't really a monster at all.

He takes his time getting dressed again, but you don't hurry him any more than you already have. As much as you claim the opposite, you truly do enjoy his company, especially after a long day at work.

But you would never admit that to him.

After what feels like no time at all, Frank grabs his things and heads towards the front door of your New York apartment. "I don't know when I'll see you next, but you have the burner."

You're used to the procedure at this point and you simply nod, pushing down the slight ache in your chest at the sight of him leaving before morning once again. It was almost a routine at this point, with Frank coming by whenever he had a rough night and needed to let off some steam. You weren't complaining - I mean, the sex was amazing - but you knew that eventually the little time you shared would have to come to an end. He was a wanted man, after all.

~~~

You weren't lying when you said you had an early start the next morning, and when your alarm goes off at five AM, you silently curse yourself for letting last night get the best of you. Pulling on a button-up blouse and a pencil skirt, you shoot your friend and colleague, Marci, a quick text that you would pick up coffee on the way, and rush out of your apartment.

You didn't always love your job at Landman and Zack, but you couldn't deny that it had its moments. One of which was when you got to meet the very man who graced your doorstep every other night.

The brash New York winter was finally melting into spring when Matt Murdock called you months ago to ask for a legal consult for the case he was working on. You two had taken a few classes together in law school, but you were still surprised to hear from him, knowing his personal distaste for the law firm you worked at. You agreed to help him, partly out of a sense of responsibility to help the underdog, but mostly out of a strange sense of curiosity.

The first day of your consultation was while Frank was still in the hospital. You still remember the black and blue bruises mottling his skin, injecting a menacing look onto an already menacing man. But you weren't fooled. The first thing you noticed when you walked into the room was his eyes. His big, brown, puppy eyes.

"He doesn't look too scary," you whisper to Foggy as the three of you walk into Frank's room. "I'm willing to bet he has a real reason for all this."

"Well," Foggy sighs, peeking over at you with a queasy look on his face, "that makes one of us."

Frank would later tell you that the first thing that drew him to you was how unafraid you seemed in his room that day. For you, though, it was a few minutes later, when Foggy made a snarky comment about the state of the hospital food. Matt had been stoic as ever, but you had had to fake a cough to cover the laugh that was threatening to escape from your mouth. You had immediately looked down with embarrassment, but when you finally peered back up at Frank, you saw him looking back at you, amusement etched into his features.

Your connection seemed to be as simple as the two of you feeling comfortable around each other, but in your world, a feeling like that was few and far between. You stuck around for the rest of the trial, and you tried to hide whatever attachment had formed between you two, but eventually even you couldn't deny what was going on.

But then the trial went to shit and Frank went to jail.

You were so angry at him for a while that you managed to forget how devastated you were that he was out of your life forever. Being with Frank had given you a taste for danger and your cushy post at Landman and Zack did nothing to satisfy the desire for risk and uncertainty that had been building up inside of you. It was a few weeks later when everything changed again.

You had been out with Marci, at a dingy bar on the opposite side of town, when danger blew into your life again.

"God, y/n, this place is disgusting," Marci whispers to you as you both slip into the stools by the bar. "I get that you don't want to talk to the other suits tonight, but did we really have to come this far out of Hell's Kitchen?"

The bar you chose wasn't Josie's by any means, but it was nicer than Marci's comments seemed to let on. Although the floors weren't acing any health inspections, string lights taped to the ceiling provided the establishment with a warm glow that gave it a friendly atmosphere.

Shooting her a half-apologetic smile, you flag down the bartender and order the both of you a pair of dirty martinis. You didn't really get the appeal of a martini - the olive juice left an odd taste in your mouth - but Marci loved them, and you decided it was best to appease her tonight after you dragged her all the way out here.

Marci, to her delight, hadn't stayed very long. Half an hour into your pseudo-girl's night out, Foggy had called her for a consult, and she was more than happy to call it a night. She hadn't wanted to leave you there, but you had assured her you would be just fine. Looking back, you weren't sure if that had been true.

You are nursing your half drunk martini when a hooded figure sits down at the seat next to you. Without looking, you slide your drink away from him, your hand casually slipping up to form a makeshift cover over the top.

"Smart girl," the man mutters, his voice low yet unmistakable.

You whip around to see the man still facing forward; but the sliver of side profile you can make out from your angle is indisputable.

"Frank?" you ask, your voice coming out like a croak. "How are you here?"

He finally turns to face you, and the fresh bruises on his face steal the breath from your lungs. You open your mouth to say something, but he just smiles tightly. "Can't a man just get a beer?"

You know you should be asking a million more questions, but you're too stunned. You have the overwhelming urge to either smack him or hug him, but in the end you don't do either. You just sit there and look at him, trying to take in everything you've been missing for weeks.

"Who else knows?" you whisper, acutely aware of the other people inhabiting the back tables of the bar. What you really mean is 'am I the only person who knows you're not in lock-up right now?'

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but it's enough. Knowing he came to you first is enough to hold you over for now. For a long time, if you're being truly honest.

You're jolted from your thoughts when the bartender sets his beer down in front of him. Frank wraps his thick fingers around the cool glass, shifting the condensation with his warm touch. Your eyes follow the glass as he lifts it to his lips and suddenly you can't take your eyes off of him. Can't look away from the swell of his Adam's apple as he swallows the crisp liquid, the bobbing of his throat as he gulps it down like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

You don't realize you're staring until you meet his eyes and they look back at you with a hint of amusement. Amusement and...lust.

As much as you may have wanted to pretend otherwise, you were unequivocally attracted to Frank Castle, and in this moment, with the knowledge that he felt the same way, you couldn't control yourself. Your body tilts forward, almost by itself, and don't miss the look of relief in his eyes right before your lips meet his.

He's warm against your mouth and even though the bar is sticky with sweat and grime, you want nothing more than to wrap yourself in him and never let go. You both stay pressed together for a second, before Frank finally brings his hand up and tangles it in your hair, leaning your head back as he licks the seam of your lips with his tongue.

The wet heat of his tongue against yours pulls a moan from you that he swallows immediately, much to your relief. Pulling back slightly, you become keenly aware of the people around you. You slide off the bar stool and grab his hand, smiling, "Follow me."

~~~

You stop at the coffee stand outside your apartment on the way to work, grabbing two black coffees for Marci and yourself. You adjust your bag on your shoulder as you try to hold both coffees in one hand, to no avail. The walk to the Landman and Zack offices from your place is only about 15 minutes, and with the weather getting nicer, you decide to take a scenic route that cuts across Central Park.

The flowers are finally starting to bloom after the freezing winter, and you stop by a park bench to set your things down for a moment. The moment the coffees hit the bench, a hand comes into view and slams onto your mouth.

Your first instinct is to scream, but your lungs are constricting from the lack of oxygen and you can barely see, let alone yell. You stab your elbow back, trying to connect with the man's stomach, but before you can reach him, your vision fades to black.

~~~

You wake up in an abandoned warehouse, tied to a wooden chair with rope around your wrists and a cloth gag in your mouth. Your head is pounding from what was likely chloroform, and you can feel your skin being rubbed raw by the thick rope encircling your wrists.

A few people are milling about, moving large boxes that seem to be filled with some kind of supplies, but no one is paying you any attention. You spend a few minutes trying to pull your hands from the rope, but all you get is an angry red blister on your skin.

Before you can formulate a plan, a tall man with glasses and and a suit pulls a chair over and takes a seat across from you. He reaches forward and roughly yanks the gag from your mouth, letting it hang around your neck like a noose.

"Do you know why you're here?" the man asks, his voice at once diplomatic and harsh.

You glare at him, trying to put all the venom you can muster into one look, but he just cocks his head to the side and smirks. "I guess not."

"I don't know who you think I am," you grit out, your voice tight with anger and fear, "but you have the wrong person."

The man simply smiles at you, his mouth curved up in a way that you expect gets him whatever he wants from powerful people. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, y/n. And I think we have exactly the right person."

You don't know what to say to that, and your first thought is that this is about one of your cases. A loved one of someone you put away maybe?

But then he contradicts your suspicions. "I presume the name Frank Castle means something to you?"

Your mouth snaps shut and in that moment, you know you have given him everything he needs. Your mind is racing with possibilities of who this man could be working for, while also cursing yourself for not being more careful. You two had been in a limbo of comfort, operating under the assumption that you had been hiding your relationship well.

"Who do you work for?" you ask, wincing at how small your voice sounds.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that," he nods, standing up and pushing the chair aside. He inserts the gag back into your mouth before patting down his suit. "Just know that the reason you are here is because your boy Castle didn't keep up his end of the bargain."

~~~

Frank is still thinking about the look on your face last night when he left, as he walks down one of the side alleys in Hell's Kitchen where he stores some of his ammunition. It's a bit later in the morning than he wanted it to be - the sun is already up in the sky - but he manages to grab a few extra weapons and supplies before the owners of the diner he stashes his shit behind arrive for the day.

He is tucking his gun into his waistband and swallowing his regret, once again, for leaving you so abruptly, when the distinct buzzing of his burner phone gets his attention. Only a few people have this number, and he knows it's not you who is calling. You never call.

Stuffing some extra ammo into his jacket pocket, he flips open the phone and waits for someone to speak.

"Frank?" a man's voice calls out through the line, wavering with apprehension. "Is this you?"

"Who's asking," Frank grunts, his forehead scrunching in confusion.

"It's Foggy," the man answers, causing Frank to roll his eyes and tuck the phone between his ear and shoulder as he keeps grabbing supplies.

When he doesn't say anything, Foggy starts talking again. "Fisk has y/n, Frank. Marci called me this morning when she didn't show up for work, and when I got into the office, there was an automated message on our machine saying that you had 12 hours to find them!"

The bag he was grabbing falls from Frank's hand with a thud. They have her. And it's my fault.

Fisk had gotten him out of jail, and now he was collecting.

"I'll take care of it," he huffs over the phone, before snapping the burner shut and tossing it into the nearest trash can.

~~~

You've been staring at the empty doorway that the man from earlier walked through for what feels like hours. The last person here finished loading up the truck ages ago, and since then you've been sitting in silence, anticipating the next move.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you resorted to chewing through the gag in your mouth, and you can feel a jaw cramp coming on when the cloth finally snaps. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing, but the ability to speak grants you at least the semblance of control.

Deep inside your mind, you know that Frank is probably coming to get you, but your consciousness doesn't allow yourself these liberties. You're just a convenient lay, it snipes at you. You don't mean anything to him.

You close your eyes, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts. Your head is so cluttered that you almost miss the sound of a man yelling from across the warehouse.

Your eyes snap open and you start stomping your feet on the ground. "I'm in here!"

The sounds of grunting and screaming get closer and you know that can only be a good sign. Suddenly a figure darkens the doorway and your shoulders fall with relief. Frank is covered in blood, dark red splotches blooming across his shirt, but he doesn't appear to be too hurt.

He starts to make his way over to you, but before he can get close enough, his eyes widen and he comes to a stop. You don't understand why he would leave you here any longer than he needs to, but your question is answered when you feel the cold kiss of metal press against your throat. A gasp is pulled from your mouth as you realize what is happening.

"Step back, Frank," the familiar voice from before instructs from behind you. His hand is clammy on your shoulder and you resist the urge to curl out of his grasp.

Frank does as he says, very slowly, and the man's grip on the knife loosens a bit. Frank's eyes don't leave yours as you try to control the fear in your expression. You can see a question in his eyes that you answer with the slightest nod.

Before you can blink, Frank whips out the gun from his waistband and fires off a shot that hits the man square in the chest. The force of the bullet sends him falling back, and you throw your head to the side, narrowly missing the blade of his knife. The man falls to the ground behind you and Frank fires off two more shots before rushing to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice tight with something you don't recognize.

You nod quickly, your chest heaving with adrenaline. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

Frank immediately gets to work undoing the ropes tying you down, and you lean your head back, trying to get your heart rate under control. You're safe now. He's here. He's got you.

When the last rope falls to the ground, you stand up and shake your legs out, feeling surprisingly rejuvenated. Your senses feel a bit dulled, but overall, you're doing okay.

Frank doesn't take his eyes off of you as he leads you out of the building and to his car. On the way back to your apartment, he notices you fidgeting with the raw skin on your wrists and he has to look away before he says something he'll regret. He waits a few more minutes before he opens his mouth again, "I'm sorry about how that ended. I shouldn't have put you at risk like that. It won't happen again."

"It's okay," you whisper, surprised by the truth in your words as you say them. "I trust you."

Frank would be lying if he said that didn't take the breath out of his lungs, but he manages to school his features as he keeps driving. No matter what you say, it isn't okay. None of this is okay.

Half an hour later, you are walking into your apartment, Frank on your heels, because he insisted on making sure you got inside okay. You kick your heels off by the door and lock it behind you, before heading into the bathroom to take inventory of yourself. One look in the mirror and you see that it's really not as bad as it could have been. There's a thin red line on the side of your neck from where the knife nicked you, and red scratches on your wrists from the rope, but other than that, you don't look half bad.

You change into a large t-shirt and crawl into your bed, even though it's early in the evening. Frank is still scrutinizing you, but you roll your eyes and nod towards the door. "You can go, you know. I'm fine, I promise."

He pauses for a moment, looking back at you in a silence that you don't think you will ever get used to. "I'll stay for a bit."

You let out a deep sigh, showing him that you are exasperated, but a part of you that you don't want to acknowledge is grateful. I'm fine, the voice in your head keeps repeating, as if it knows what will happen when it stops.

Frank pulls off his boots and his leather jacket and climbs into the bed next to you, sitting on top of the covers. You lean into him, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him as he makes himself comfortable, one arm behind his head and the other around you.

You only get a few minutes of peace before he restarts his questioning. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Closing your eyes for a moment, you try and fail to control the irritation in your voice. "Yes, I'm fine. Stop asking me that."

His arm squeezes tighter around you. "It's okay if you're not okay."

Huffing loudly, you extricate yourself from his hold and sit up to face him. "People have been through worse, Frank. I can handle myself just fine."

"Y/n..."

"I can't think about it yet, okay!" you burst out suddenly, feeling just as surprised as he seems to be. You have no idea where that outburst came from, but suddenly the walls are closing in and you can feel tears pricking the back of your throat. The intrusive voices in your head are snarling at you and you press your palm to your forehead in an attempt to shut them up.

"Please, I need you," you whisper, your voice strained. "I need to stop thinking, please."

Concern colors his features, but you know he understands. You know he has felt this. This ache and this fear and this longing for everything to go back to normal.

Leaning forward slightly, Frank brings his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as he licks his lips with a dart of his tongue. Your breath comes out in a few short spurts before Frank directs your mouth towards his.

Your lips meet and a calm washes over you, quieting the chaos eating at your skull. Finally.

You deepen the kiss first, your tongue sweeping over his as you try to get yourself closer closer closer. You crawl out of the covers, lifting yourself up to straddle him, but he wraps his arms around your torso and lays you back down, his knees on either side of you. His body forms a protective shield over you as he presses wet kisses along your jaw, pulling breathy moans from you as the heat created by his proximity gets almost overwhelming.

"Frank, please," you gasp, reaching down to grip the hem of his shirt. You yank it off quickly, breaking apart for a moment as the cloth passes between you. He must see the desperate look in your eyes, because he slides your tee shirt off and moves down your body, kissing a trail towards your core.

He hooks two deft fingers in your panties and yanks them down before diving between your thighs. His tongue licks a confident stripe up your cunt that has you squirming under his arms, but he easily presses his palms flat against your abdomen to keep you down against the bed.

Frank works you up slowly but surely, dipping his tongue inside of you at uneven intervals as he alternates between sucking your clit and nudging it with his nose. His hands roam up your body as he flicks his tongue, never settling in one place. You can tell he's trying to help you relax, and you try to do just that, but something feels off. His ministrations between your legs feel like heaven but you can't focus without him looking at you. You lift your head in an effort to see him below you, but his head is down and without him here with you, the silence stops being so manageable.

"Frank, stop," you whisper, tugging his hair lightly. "Come up here, please."

He looks confused, but he follows your request all the same, coming up and pressing a wet kiss to your chest then your jaw then your lips. Frank splays his hands across your stomach, his fingers tickling the underside of your breasts, as he peppers kisses down your jaw.

"I need you up here with me," you gasp as you relish the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"You're sure?" he asks, coming up to face you again.

"Have me," you say, your eyes begging for him to understand what you need.

His eyes darken with lust and you feel him reach for a small package in your nightstand. He enters you slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust, but you wrap your legs around his lower back, pulling him further into you with each careful thrust. Frank takes the cue, and quickens his pace, a groan building in his throat at the sight of you sprawled out under him. He can already feel his balls tightening, but he grips the sheets on either side of your head, trying to hold off his release.

He's hitting the perfect spot inside of you and you swear you can see stars with each thrust. You run your hands up his abdomen, feeling the grooves of old and new scars under your fingertips. You can see someone else's blood matted in the crevices of his muscles, but you still grip his back, pressing his body to yours. His face is inches from yours as he continues his movements, every thrust getting you closer and closer to the edge.

Frank sees the signs of your impending release on your face and he reaches up to grip your jaw as he sucks blossoming marks into your neck. It only takes a few more pushes before you're flying over the edge, a cry on your lips as your body shakes beneath his. Your core clenches around his length and the sound of your release brings him to his soon after.

You take a few moments to come down, but when you do, everything comes rushing back. Frank rolls off of you, laying down by your side, and you can already feel the tears welling up in your chest.

"Y/n, are you -" he starts before a sob rips from your throat. The first one breaks the well and soon your eyes blur from the tears streaming down your face.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, pressing your face into his chest as he holds you to him. "I'm sorry, I was fine."

"Shh," he whispers, rubbing circles on your back. "It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright."

You don't know how long you stay like that, but eventually the natural light from outside is gone and you and Frank are cloaked in a comfortable darkness.

"I'm sorry," you say again after a while, your words punctuated by a hiccup. "I know you need to go."

He seems to ponder this for a moment, but he doesn't say anything in response. The low lighting and peaceful warmth lulls you down, and soon you fall asleep, head slumped on his shoulder.

~~~

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed, and something inside of you says he won't be coming back ever again.

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