#fratt x reader

[madschiavelique]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 — 𝟏

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

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

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

⟢﹒ word count : 7,2k

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

⟢ next part : here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's nothing, really." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank chuckled, preparing the needle properly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your lip's cut," he remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You immediately frowned, your lips parting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Scout's honour," you sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Red?" called Frank from the bedroom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning," he offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?" asked Matt.

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

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

You stopped in your tracks, turning back to them.

"You what ?" you questioned.

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

"You-"

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

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

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

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

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

⟢ next part : here

#mads ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #fratt #fratt x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #the punisher #my writing

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

taking what's not yours - f. castle & m. murdock

a/n: ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY DONE uhhh sorry this has no smut i was just goofing and wanted to write something cute with our two favorites and you guys seemed to really want this one so! i have no regrets actually! im gonna go take a nap now warnings: polyamorous relationships, frank has nightmares, reader is autistic, reader has an oral fixation/biting problem, nosebleeds/blood, crying, cursing, lots of cute nicknames, talks of death, some sexual comments, lots of kissing and fluff word count: 3.2k comments and feedback are always appreciated <3 summary: a week in the life of a relationship with frank castle and matt murdock, your two favorite vigilantes. pairing: frank castle x autistic!gn!reader x matt murdock now playing: taking what's not yours - tv girl "you know where to find me/and i know where to look"

Soft country music from before country music as a genre went modern and became what it is today plays from the radio Frank insists on keeping on while he cooks dinner. His flannel is tight around his chest and the sleeves are rolled up as he brings a spoon to his mouth, tasting the sauce he’s been preparing for the past few hours. He adds more pepper.

The door opens from across the apartment, and all he hears is, “Frank! Tell Matt to stop being mean to me!” You and Matt make your way through the apartment after taking off your shoes and coats, Matt loosening his tie as he follows you into the kitchen. Frank turns when you step into the kitchen, immediately moving over to him and finding your place in the crook of his arm.

“Red bein’ mean to you, honey?” Frank asks as he kisses the top of your head, grinning at Matt as he huffs, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s handsome if he’s so mean, does it?” You ask.

“No, it doesn’t,” He grins, and you stick your tongue out to Matt playfully, and he mimics you before going over to Frank and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hi.” The lawyer hums, happy to be back home with his two favorite people.

“Hi.” Frank grins, unsure of how serious you are about Matt being mean to him. “What’s going on, why are you being mean?” Matt raises an eyebrow at you, unhappy with your running to Frank.

“Can’t just run to daddy to fix your problems, pup.” He accuses, and you scoff. His words are playful, but your face is red at the call out.

“You know what, Murdock—”

“Hey! Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frank cuts in, and Matt tilts his head in your direction, and you quietly plead for Matt not to tell on you, and--

“They bit me.” Frank sighs at his words.

“I was being affectionate!” You immediately go into defense mode, ducking out of Frank’s arm, trying to casually walk off from the pair towards the fridge, only for Matt to grab your arm, pulling you between the two men, your back against Frank’s chest, face to face with Matt.

“You cannot bite people, pup.” Matt says, and you frown.

“I like biting people—”

“That’s a problem!” Frank’s words attempt to be serious, but they’re coated by a soft laugh as his hands, rough from a long day of working blue collar, rub up and down your arms.

“See? You’re getting Frank to agree with me, do you know how hard that is to do?” Matt hums, and you tilt your head.

“What? You love Frank, it’s actually kind of gross—”

“It is gross isn’t it?” Matt asks teasingly, leaning up to kiss Frank again. You roll your eyes at the fact that you’re being reprimanded by your boyfriends, sandwiched between them, forced to deal with the consequences of your actions. “But I’m being serious, okay?”

“Matty,” Your head leans back against Frank’s chest, “I don’t bite anyone who isn’t you or Frank..”

Alright, let’s level with each other—Frank and Matt are well aware of the fact that you’re neurodivergent. You get overstimulated with loud, crowded situations very easily, you struggle to understand jokes a lot, and you once told them that in middle school, you became so hyper fixated on waffles to the point where you ate them for breakfast and lunch most days, practically begging your mom to let you have it for dinner most nights (She let you have them once a month) and then, after fourteenth months, you stopped. You have not been able to eat a waffle since.

The point is the two men you’re sandwiched between are no strangers to your neurodivergence. They know it’s stimulating in the best way to chew or suck on something, your oral fixation coming back with a vengeance after you tried to repress it for so long. You chew on everything. You chew on the strands of your hoodies, you chew on your sleeves, you chew on ice, gum, you chew on your boyfriends, and you chew on your cheeks to the point where you draw blood, which always gets Matt to scold you, because he can smell the coppery blood from his place across the room, and immediately tells Frank.

Matt Murdock is a little tattletale.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Frank hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ll get you something to chew on—”

“What, like a chew toy? That’s embarrassing,” you groan, and Matt just laughs a bit, leaning in to oppress a kiss to the shoulder that Frank is not leaning on.

“Then stop biting, pup.”

You pause, contemplating the options you have. Fix your biting issue or have Matt and Frank fix it for you. Honestly, you don’t think you have the neurotypical willpower to fix this problem, so you go,

“Okay, fine. You guys have my permission to do what you want to fix it.” You huff. Frank presses a kiss to your cheek while Matt presses a kiss to the other. You feel the smirks against your skin, and you realize what’s happening before you can run, “Wait, no, I swear to god—” Matt picks up your legs with ease as Frank secures his arms around your torso, the pair beginning to carry you to the couch. You groan as they throw you onto the leather couch, landing with a huff. “You’re both awful.”

Matt leans down and bites your shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Jokes on you, Daredevil, I’m into that—” You feel Frank sink his teeth into your arm.

“Wrong answer.” Matt responds for him.

//

Later that night, after dinner, you’re laying against Matt, your legs resting in Frank’s lap. You’re listening to music, and the environment is very relaxed, none of you are particularly on edge. Matt’s fingers are resting in your mouth. You relax like this a lot, just sucking his fingers gently. You’re absentmindedly just sucking on his fingers when you bite down on them—It’s not an accident, and Matt would call you out on it if you lied.

So when you bite down, not entirely consciously, he huffs, “With the biting, baby, come on,” he softly condemns, and remembering your deal, Frank gets up with a sigh, patting your leg before he got up and headed to the kitchen. You’re confused for a second before Matt’s nose twitches with recognition, so he grabs your shoulder and pulls you close, his hand finding your cheeks and squeezing your mouth so that it’s in an ‘o’ shape.

Frank approaches you with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter, and your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and the rest of your features are squished by Matt’s hands. Frank scoops a big wad of peanut butter onto the spoon before sticking it in your mouth. You’re confused, as Matt’s hand leaves your face, as you begin munching on the peanut butter.

You take a while to eat the peanut butter, quietly enjoying the taste while enjoying how long you’re keeping yourself busy, since it’s taking a long time to work down the peanut butter due to how sticky it is in the roof of your mouth. When you’re done licking and enjoying the taste of the peanut butter, you look to Frank.

“What was that for?”

“Well, it kept you busy from biting, didn’t it?” He grinned. Your face is flushed as you hand him the spoon.

“Can I have some more?”

Frank chuckles and kisses you quick.

“Sure, honey.”

//

A few nights later, Frank sits on the couch of the apartment, the windows open wide as he listens to the howling wind outside. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know. His skin is still hot, trying to relax after waking up from a nightmare. It’s always the same. Maria and his children, always dying in his arms. Always sitting at the kitchen table, always with you and Matt, always dead.

The chill that comes in from the window is enough to make him feel alive through as he quietly waits for Matt to get back. He’s in an old tee shirt and sweatpants, flicking his lighter on and off in the quiet as he tries to focus on something that isn’t the idea of the pair of you dead, dead like his wife, dead like his kids, dead dead dead—

“Frank? What are you doing up?” Matt’s soft voice echoes through the apartment, and his head tilts softly. He goes over to the couch, still in his full Daredevil suit. Frank stands up and goes over to him by the window, pulling off his cowl just to look at his face. His hand lands gently on Matt’s face, his thumb rubbing gently on the scars that surround Matt’s eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Matt catches the lie and does not call him out.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Frank’s jaw hardens, and even though Matt cannot see, he avoids his gaze. And in a moment of pure vulnerability, he wraps his arms around Matt, holding him close. Matt’s hand gently runs up and down his spine, trying to comfort him. After a few moments of quiet, he asks, “Do you want me to wake them up?” You were always better at making people feel better than Matt was—Especially Frank.

“Nah.. No point..” He says quietly. After a few more minutes of quiet, he feels another pair of arms wrap around him from behind, your chest against his back. You press soft kisses onto the back of his shoulders.

“Too late.” Matt hums. You’re wearing an old tee shirt of Frank’s, a pair of boxers you bought for yourself and a pair of Matt’s fuzzy socks. You stay there for a little while, sleepily hugging Frank, comforting him. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, you fall asleep against him, just for a moment. Then, Frank picks you up, and you wake up again, tired.

“What? What’s going on?” You ask him, and he just smiles down to you.

“We’re gonna go to bed while Red showers, and he’ll be right back.” He tells you, gently placing you on the bed. You yawn as Frank crawls into bed, and you find yourself on top of him, your legs tangled with his. You listen to Matt shower and fall asleep waiting for him to come join you. 

He comes back out with his hair wet, in just his sweatpants. He tucks himself into bed, his arms around Frank, as you sprawl out on top of them, desperately needing to be close to both. Frank is nowhere near tired. Matt knows that, and just gently kisses his hair and the back of his neck.

“You need sleep.”

“You ain’t the boss of me, red.” He grumbles, and you hush them harshly, causing them to both laugh a little bit. Matt slowly falls asleep, trying to stay awake to comfort Frank, but he’s spent his entire night beating the shit out of goons and criminals, so he’s absolutely spent. Frank tilts his head and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go to bed, I’ll be okay.” Matt wants to protest but he just buries his face in the crook of his neck.

Frank’s hands gently trail your torso a bit. His hands are rough and sort of cold, but they just explore your back as he attempts to find sleep. It’s a fruitless venture, but he doesn’t mind. He’s okay with just listening to the pair of you breathing. 

//

“Are you two wearing my flannels?” Frank has about seven flannels, and he has four in the wash and one that has a tear waiting to be fixed, so he’s looking for his spare two when he finds you painting Matt’s nails on the floor of the apartment. You’re painting Matt’s nails a nice shade of dark red, with little hearts in a lighter pink.

That had taken a lot of convincing, really, but once you had agreed not to bite him all day, he reluctantly agrees to let you paint his nails, desperately wanting to be good at something and be focused on one thing for more than twenty minutes.

Periodically, Matt’s foot will tap against your back, reminding you to adjust your posture as you work on your masterpiece. He just got done with a big court case, so he tells you he’ll maintain your artwork for at least a few days. But yeah, you two are most definitely wearing Frank’s last two flannels.

“They’re comfy,” You defend, focusing on your work. Matt’s foot taps against your tailbone to remind you to straighten your back.

Really, Frank doesn’t mind. But he enjoys fucking with the two of you, so he just smirks and sits behind the pair of you. ‘

“But they’re my clothes—”  

“Well, you should have thought about that before you left them out, Frank.” Matt smirks, knowing exactly what he’s up to.

“Besides, look how good Matt looks in your clothes!” You hum, leaning over to nudge him gently, a grin on your face. You finish up Matt’s nails, capping up the nail polish as Matt begins gently blowing in his nails to get them to dry faster. Then, you wipe your nose, thinking it’s running, and when you pull away, you see a swipe of blood on Frank’s warm flannel. Oh, fuck.

With his slightly wet nails, Matt’s movements are not nearly as quick as he would have liked as he smells the blood before the gushing really starts, ripping off a paper towel and quickly holding it under your nose, and you take it from him to hold it there as he stands up, going to get something softer like a tissue or toilet paper to pack your nose—

You hold the paper towel to your nose, and guilt already starts to eat at you, as hot tears fill your eyes and then you feel silly because you think Frank might think you’re overreacting, but you just find his hands on your shoulders as he says,

“Hey, hey, why are we crying?” And you feel even sillier.

“I ruined your flannel.”

Frank had been covered in blood more times than he could count, as has Matt—their bodies are riddled with scars, head to toe, bullet and stab wounds echoing over the rough skin of both men, mostly faded now, but Frank is no stranger to blood—It doesn’t even bother him anymore, and Matt can’t see anyways, so what does he care about the sight of blood?

But you, who cannot kill the bugs that find their ways into your apartment, who gasps and covers their mouth when you accidentally curse in church (Matt always laughs, the dick), who orders the same lunch every day and has been unable to drink anything that wasn’t ice water, are horrified at a swipe of blood on a stolen flannel.

“Oh, no, honey, you didn’t ruin anything,” He shakes his head, and gently tugs at the flannel that hangs on your arms, “Come on, let me get this off,” The Punisher’s voice is gentle, a type of gentle reserved just for you, one that the countless skeletons in his closet, all with a bullet in their skulls, do not know and could not possibly perceive. You allow him to slip the flannel off, as Matt comes back with a rolled-up tissue, before sitting in front of you, kneeling as if he’s at mass—

“Lean your head forward for me,” he asks, his hand on the side of your head, and you do, taking the paper towel away, just for Matt to gently push that bundled up piece of tissue into your nose, to get it to stop bleeding.

Your boys, they are experts at getting things to stop bleeding.

At least Matt’s nails look really nice.

Frank throws the flannel in the wash, along with the rest of your laundry, and you find yourself sandwiched between them, the perfect amount of squeezing happening on either side of you, the same affect a weighted blanket would have on you. Your hot tears roll still, quietly betraying you, as the pads of Frank’s rough fingers come up to wipe them away, and Matt’s thumb finds it’s place sitting between your lips.

You sit like this for a while—Frank pressed up against you, Matt in his flannel and you, gushing blood from your nose, packed tight with tissues, and Matt’s thumb as your favorite stim toy.

//

A few days later, you’re just decompressing from work—Your bones ache, and you’re waiting for Matt to get home, wanting to satisfy that oral fixation, as if it’s the worst craving you’ve ever had. Sensing your restlessness, Frank puts a small package in front of you. You raise your eyebrow, and look at him, skeptical.

“Is it a bomb?” He scoffs and chuckles a bit.

“Open the damn package.” His voice is laced with the smirk that sits on his face, not mad, not upset, not at all judging. Your fingers peel back the packaging, and when you’re done unwrapping, you’re left with a soft necklace, and a blue, rubber moon. You look to him curiously. “It’s uh,” he leans down so his forearms are keeping him up against the counter. “You chew on it. You’re not gonna stop bitin’ or sucking on stuff, so, you might as well bite something that isn’t human.” He tells you.

In truth, Frank had spent all damn day scrolling on your laptop, looking for the perfect fix to your problem, and grew frustrated when he realized that all the stim toys were marketed towards young boys who had the privilege of getting a diagnosis young (living with and loving two people with disabilities, as well as having horrible PTSD, has radicalized Frank Castle).

You grin when you hear his explanation, getting up and going to him, resting your hands on his shoulders before leaning up and kissing him softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Honey.”

From across the apartment, you hear the door open, and a voice calls out,

“Are you guys cheating on me? You know I can hear you across the apartment, right?” Matt’s voice calls out, and you laugh, as Frank just smiles.

“Yes, I can, Red,” He says back, before leaning in to kiss you again.

//

Your eyes are heavy with sleep as you spot Matt, laying across the couch, looking like a god damn renaissance painting. He’s so hot. You find yourself walking over to him, dropping your new necklace on the coffee table, as you climb on top of him,  finding yourself literally acting like a blanket, burying your face in his neck as his hand comes up to, like usual, let you gently suck on his fingers.

Frank rolls his eyes when he sees the pair of you cuddling, and just shakes his head when he sees the stim toy abandoned on the table. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of the pair of you, Matt just in his briefs, and you in your entire pajama ensemble.

The apartment is full of a gentle silence, as Frank watches the pair of you sleep, quietly thankful that he kept living.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fic #fratt #mattfrank #the punisher #fratt x reader #polyamory #poly fic #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #matt murdock x reader x frank castle

[sunflowersandsapphires]

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. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #charlie cox #my writing #marvel #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #the punisher #fratt #fratt x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #marvel daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #daredevil netflix #daredevil mcu #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Matt: What are you writing?

Frank: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Y/N, looking over Frank’s shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.

#daredevil x reader #incorrect marvel quotes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #punisher x reader #incorrect daredevil quotes #source: incorrect quotes generator #frank castle x reader #frank castle x y/n #fratt x reader #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #punisher x reader x daredevil

[bettercallwillow]

blurb for frank n matt bc ive kept you waiting long enough, a full fic for them should be up soon but uni just started and im in the process of moving so pls be patient 🙏🙏

warnings: threesome (m!m!f), rough sex, double penetration, anal (f!receiving), degrading

You had never felt so full in your life, and gods you loved it.

Currently, you were sat on Frank's lap, his cock nestled deep in your ass. He had a tight grip on your hips, keeping you in place while he rutted into you like there was no tomorrow.

However, Frank wasn't the only one pounding into you. Stood right in front of you, between your spread legs, was Matt Murdock; his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as his own cock rammed into your tight cunt.

"Fucking slut, so fucking wet," Matt grunted, snaking a hand down to rub at your throbbing clit, "You like this, huh? You like being treated like a sex toy by two men?"

"Of course she does, y'don't even need to ask," Frank chuckled, moving your hair out of the way so he could mark up your neck, "Isn't that right, princess? You're nothing but a needy fucking whore,"

You whined, the pleasure way too much for you to even form a response. You were so fucking close to cumming, but you couldn't even ask, the only sounds you were able to produce were nothing more than moans and whimpers.

"She's close, I can feel her cunt squeezing me," Matt panted, a smirk playing on his lips as he sped up the pace of his hips, "You wanna cum, baby?"

You nodded eagerly, looking up at Matt with half-lidded eyes, "Y-yeah," you managed to moan, throwing your head back so it was resting on Frank's shoulder.

"You can cum, princess, but we're gonna keep going," the man under you chuckled, "You've got a long night ahead of you,"

#frank castle smut #matt murdock smut #poly!fratt #fratt smut #fratt x reader #matt murdock x frank castle #frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #marvel smut #marvel

[mattmurdocksscars]

Friends?!

Hey all! This is the first snippet of my Fratt x Fem!Reader series. As I mentioned in my other post, this isn’t going to be a cohesive fic, it’s going to be different snapshots into their lives. We’ll see various types of scenes so, as usual, this series is 18+. I hope you all enjoy this first part!

Warnings (For this part): Mentions of wounds and tending to them, cursing, three idiots arguing.

Both Matt and Frank were panting, the extent of their wounds finally catching up to them, as various criminals lay unconscious around them. Frank was sat on the ground, leaning up against the wall, while Matt limped over to him.

“Please tell me you know someone who can help, Red.” Frank muttered. The both of them needed medical care but wouldn’t be able to tend to their own wounds let alone the others. Matt tilted his head back and sighed, clouds of steam billowing from his mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know someone. She’s not gonna be happy though.” Matt grunted as he helped pull Frank to his feet. Matt pulled the other man’s arm over his shoulder and the two of them began to hobble towards an exit.

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say she knows about you. Oh, and she only knows me as Daredevil, so please don’t ruin that for me.” Frank chuckled but nodded and then they were on their way.

~

The rhythmic thudding of your fists hitting the punching bag in front of you was almost drowned out by the music you were listening to. You’d been at it for some time now and sweat made your clothes cling to you. You were working through another round of punches when you heard your door close. There would only be one person coming to your house this late at night.

“D, that you?” You called out, working on unwrapping your hands. You also paused your music and realized that you were hearing two sets of feet in your house. You furrowed your brows.

“Yeah, it’s me and a, uh… friend.” That definitely didn’t seem right, so you tossed aside your wraps and walked to the bedroom door.

And promptly froze in the doorway.

There, standing in your living room was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and leaning against him?

Frank fucking Castle.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, D!” You began swearing a blue streak at the Devil who at least managed to look a little sheepish. The man beside him was equal parts amused and confused.

“Honestly? Honestly. You brought the fucking Punisher into my house. Him?! Of all people! And a friend? A friend?! You always pick the worst friends, D!”

“I do not, I-“

“He shot you! In the head!” You’re furious and Frank tries to ease the situation.

“To be fair-“

“Shut up!”

“I could always-“

“SHUT UP!” Frank damn near laughs as the both of you cut him off before going back to arguing with each other. He doesn’t miss the way you haven’t moved to kick him out yet though and finds himself trying not to smile. Instead, you move towards what must be a bathroom as you come back holding towels and a med kit. You and Matt are still bickering all the while, and Frank almost feels like he’s intruding on something more intimate than a simple argument. The two of you come to a break and you point angrily at your couch where you’ve set down some towels.

“Sit. Both of you.” Your tone brokers no arguments and so the two men shuffle over and sit down side by side.

“Which one of you is worse off?”

“Red.”

“Frank is.”

They both speak at the same time and you turn your head upwards as if beseeching a higher power. Frank has to try again not to laugh but then Matt speaks again.

“It really is Frank. His wounds are worse.” Frank shoots Matt a dirty look, one you ignore as you kneel in front of Frank. You look him over and assess the damage before getting to work. It’s oddly quiet as you work, neither men wanting to upset you. You work quickly, tending to Frank’s wounds with a efficiency that speaks to many nights of doing this before. Once you’re done with Frank, you move over to Matt.

“You know the drill, D. Off, except for your helmet.” Matt moves to unclasp his armor but when he goes to pull the piece over his head, he hisses in pain. Carefully, you reach forward and help him tug the chest piece up and off while being sure not to dislodge his helmet. Once that’s out of the way, you look him over and tut in disapproval.

“The two of you are a mess. You’re bad enough on your own, D. How’d this happen anyways?” You ask, working on taking care of Matt’s wounds. Frank is silent, unsure what Matt wants you to know, but Matt tells you everything. You listen closely as you work, nodding along to his explanations. Once you finish the last of Matt’s bandages, you lean back and wipe your forehead with your wrist. You take your gloves off next and drop them in the pile of dirty gauze that sits beside you.

“There. You both should be good for tonight. D knows the rules but since you’ve never been here before Castle, I’ll explain them. I patch you up, you stay and rest for a couple of hours. Just long enough for me to make sure you aren’t gonna die on me.” Frank opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off with a dark glare. “No. No arguing. You came to me for help, you follow my rules. You can leave a couple hours before sunrise.”

You stand and stretch, ignoring the discontent on Frank’s face, then start gathering up the used supplies.

“D, you can take the bed and Frank you can take the couch.” You tell them absentmindedly while you carry everything towards the trash. Immediately, both men start to argue.

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“This is unnecessary. Let Red take the couch and I’ll just leave.”

“Hey! No arguing.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” Matt has his hands on his hips in what you call his mom pose. He hates when you call it that but that’s exactly what it looks like.

“I’ve got a sleeping bag. I’ll sleep in my spare room, that way neither of you will bother me when you leave and you can sleep without your mask on without worrying about me seeing you.” Matt doesn’t appreciate that your logic is solid by the look on his face. Frank also looks displeased.

“I’ll take the sleeping bag, Red can take the couch, and you can take your bed. There’s no reason the two of us should get more comfort than you.”

“Except for the fact that you’re both injured and I’m not.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.” Frank grumbled, holding a hand out. “Give me the sleeping bag.”

You narrowed your eyes dangerously and stepped up to him. It didn’t matter that you had to tilt your head back to look at him, you were still a menacing sight.

“D takes the bed. You take the couch. I take the sleeping bag. No. Arguing.” Frank and you stared each other down for several moments before you both heard Matt sigh.

“She’s not going to back down. We may as well do as she says.” Even though you could only see the bottom half of Matt’s face, you could still see the exhaustion in him. You wondered when the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep was but brushed the thought off. He had made it clear that there was nothing between you two. If there was, he would have told you who he was by now. With that thought, you squared your shoulders and stepped away from Frank.

“Go to sleep you two. I’d say see you in the morning but you both better be gone.” Those were the last words you said before you disappeared back into the spare room you’d originally come out of. Frank turned and looked at Matt with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothin’ Red. Nothin’.”

As predicted, the next morning both men were gone. What was unusual was that you had been carried and placed back in your bed. In a moment of weakness, you buried your head into your pillow and breathed deeply, taking in Matt’s scent.

Maybe one day he would tell you who he was.

Maybe one day he would finally address the tension between the two of you.

But today was not the day and you had bigger things to worry about. Like the Punisher now knowing where you lived and accepting help from you. You shrugged though and got out of bed to begin the day.

After all, what were the chances you’d even see Frank again?

#fratt x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader

[itwasthereaminuteago]

For the love letters...

How about Frank and Matt sending a letter from a safe house telling you how much they miss you.

And maybe they send some spicy Polaroids too 😏

Nice nice nice 😏

.

When you check your mail in the morning while sipping on your coffee, you're surprised to find a relatively plain envelope with your address written in a somehow familiar chicken scratch on the front. When you open it you catch a small stack of Polaroid photos as they fall out from between a sheet of lined note paper. A smile lights up your face as you see the photograph on top, a close shot of Frank kissing a flushed looking Matt on the cheek. You move to the couch, setting the rest of the pictures to your side and tucking your feet up underneath you as you unfurl the letter and read.

~

Hey sweets, it's your boys.

First thing is don't you worry, we're alright, safe. Thing we had to do is done. Can't say how long we'll be laying low here for, might even be back home in bed with you by the time you get this. Hope so.

Anyways I was sitting here thinking how no-one writes letters anymore and I know how excited you get and how much you love getting things in the mail, so here ya go baby.

Guess who's idea it was to get the camera? Yeah, not mine but I can't say it wasn't fun… something to tide you over for now?

~

You reach for the photos again and flip to the next one. A glimpse of a shirtless torso, Frank's you can tell just from the scars, with Matt's hand from his perspective reaching for the waistband of Frank's pants, fingers curled around it, tugging. You heat up a little imagining what they got up to in their downtime, there's nothing too graphic so far… the next snap shows a purplish bruise adorning Matt's neck, with Frank's fingers just visible resting at the base of his throat. Oh.

You can almost hear the whimpers he'd make getting that mark.

It's the third one that absolutely sets you on fire. It's carefully framed despite it being slightly out of focus, the camera obviously in Frank's hands (hand?). Only the lower part of Matt's face and his chest are visible. It's like a perfect mirror of the usual mask he wears on patrol except instead of being twisted in vengeance, his lips are parted in ecstasy.

It was what you couldn't see that was sinful. You had no idea what was going on below the waist, what Frank was doing to him, or what he might be doing to Frank for that matter…

You glance back to the letter as warmth blooms through you.

~

We're missing you real bad. Can't wait to show you just how much.

All our love,

F & M

~

#fratt x reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #fratt smut

[reblog-reblog666]

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

[why-do-i-breath]

matt: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it. Y/N: matt no. frank: Mistlefoe. Y/N: Please stop encouraging them.

#Matt Murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil incorrect quotes #fratt x reader #frank castle x reader

[izbelross]

Chapter 1 of Por la vida que soy libre

A/N: SO!! Here it is, the first Chapter, it will set us on the plot, be careful with the little chats between our protagonists 'cause they might make you believe something will happen but... are you sure it will happen how you expect it? 😏🥰 Btw I am in love with Sam and Bucky being in a relationship and no one can take me out of that fucking ship, thank you 😘 There are gonna be mentions of more characters in the future and appearances, beware. Tell me what you think my unknown friends of the deep fandom internet hole I'll love to read you as well.... and I tried doing reader gender neutral, forgive me if I failed that task.

My first taglist!! ASDFGHJKLÑ

Taglist: @scoliobean 😌🥰

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Black Widow!Reader x Frank Castle Soulmate au!

Warnings: angst ( i think all of my works have angst fuck) / fluff and fluff / enemies to friends to lovers (kinda) / violence, torture ( not that graphic) / character death / happy ending / drama / Very harsh language

Word count: 6,4K

Summary: everyone is born with a soulmate (a/n: wouldn't that be mental?) Soulmates can hear their thoughts since childhood, some others up until they're older. This connection only becomes stable when soulmates meet, but as it can be nourished to bloom into something solid it can also be stopped. Soulmates come with a free choice, you don't die without them, you can learn to live with the one of your choice, free will no matter what. Although those who chose their destined ones can coincide in one thing: "You could never regret it". But when you are raised like a puppet of violence, your free will in every aspect of your life seems to have never existed. Along with your chance of meeting the ones destined for you.

Prologue

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

"What is it they say about destiny? Do you remember? No matter the path, it always ends at the beginning."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·

The deafening sound of the London streets was a common occurrence at this hour of day. You were pretty sure that even if half the population left, the sound will still be as irritating, just as in every other city with busy capitals actually.

Vendors were trying to lull you to their little shops and a few street singers and dancers were giving life to the dull weather. Some of them wore capes, others barely any clothes to cover them up as how the play required it of them and thankfully for you, this was playing at your favour.

Dressed like one of the actress, you stood --as once did the lover of Shakespeare-- knee length boots, black trousers, white chemise and a long red cape that when you turned it over it became yellow. It was a decent outfit, meanwhile you stood aside the play, watching as a replacement of one of the actors and scanning the crowd in search of your next target.

Was a sad day when one of your lasts contacts betrayed you, selling your name and letting you down in the mud, meanwhile they took what you earned with your own sweat and time, your plan and your ammo.

Second chances were never given from you and nothing else could be say out of it. So, even if they had begged for your understanding, payed you the exact amount and more of what the contract said, you weren't near to trust them again nor let them free of punishment.

They could call you revengeful or a piece of shit that had no compassion. But you had learned by bad experience that not everything could be rose gold and shining and forgivable.

So here now you stood, watching as the crowd stared at the actors, laughing, tearing up with them.

You counted the seconds away from the Restoration of Trust plan. And at exact 3 o'clock, the piercing scream coming from one of the bystanders rippled through everyones ears.

You watched amused as a very drunk man was thrown out of a car by two men that started screaming at him, followed by a beautiful woman -- who you had payed earlier-- that looked beaten and traumatised. They three, started the new spectacle once the taller man spotted your red cloak between the greys and blacks of the crowd. Suddenly, the play wasn't as important to everyone as the poor girl that was crying so loud even some of the workers from the surrounding buildings took a peak outside.

The culprit still trying to come back to his senses, looked from here to there, not understanding what had happened, but as soon as the people around got the point of it the morality kicked in.

It would be a miracle if the man didn't die from all the pushes, kicks and punches from the enraged crowd. Honestly, it was amusing to watch, but you didn't have the time.

Waving a hand at the woman that was now being protected by... well, everyone, you took your leave at her slight nodding.

~~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~~~

Being alone in what was left of this world, after Thanos, after Stark passing away, Rogers choice and- well, Natalia's' dead, meant that the family you made along the way, the family you found after being ripped from your biological one, would never get over the loss of such important members. And it was there, at the eyes of the entire fucking world, that the Avengers were no longer a group to reach, they became more a group to remember.

You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt, that it didn't pain you.

Even more at knowing that for five years your existence had been reduced to nothing and that when you returned, everything had changed, the people had grown, the time had passed and you still were wearing the combat suit in which you dusted away.

"Attention passengers, we'll be arriving soon, please take a seat and fasten your seatbelts"

Upon arriving to the States, the entire point of your travel lost meaning for a moment while you basked in the expanse of the difference between cities, the white of falling snow welcoming you. America would always be an exciting place to visit and wander, from South to Centre and North.

The memories you made plagued your mind. The people still alive that you cared for was still in the surroundings, trying to do good. Helping others that still needed them and guarding each others back. Yelena, Bucky, Sam, Sharon, Wanda, Strange. These were names that warmed your heart with only imagining what they could be up to, if they remember you as well as you did them.

Indeed, America was your home, even if you had been born in any other place, it became your home because your family was still here, waiting for you to come back.

Giving a long, long sigh you waited until getting out of the plane to call your sister.

~~~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~~~~

"Hey красивая" you greeted Yelena just as she answered the call. "I'm on my way home, call the Captain and the Sergeant and tell them not to-"

Suddenly the sound of rustling and 'what the fuck dude!' Followed by more struggling cut you out of words. You rolled your eyes, already knowing who it was making the mess at the other side of the line.

"Hello sweetheart! How's been the most annoying being on the planet?" The purring voice of a man reached your ears and the chuckle hidden on his words made your smile widen.

"Hello to you too Barnes and well, you probably have been sucking Wilson's cock, right?" A snort of amusement and a hearty laugh rumbled all the way to your side of the line, a faint 'Oh yes, he has' made you laugh as well.

Bucky screamed at the voices and then he was back to you "And you shut up too, you leave for ages and the first words you tell me are those? Rude. Here, you deal with them..."

"Wait! Bucky! C'mon, don't be like that! I was joking!" You screamed between your wheezing but he ignored you and Sam's own laughs were your only answer.

"Now I have missed you (y/n)."

"Big Sam! Mi hermano! I have missed you so fucking much too, you all. How's Yelena? She wants to punch you in the face already? Or she waiting for you to give back the phone?"

"Bucky is trying to hold her back with those Mexican candies you sent." You smiled a little at that.

After being away for almost two years with little to non communication, you made sure to at least send two times a year enough presents for them that you bought along your journey, from space --which was a little hard considering you had to leave early given your poor stomach not adjusting to the extraterrestrial food-- and the comings and goings in your sweet, sweet Planet Earth. One of the presents were a lot of different Mexican treats and candies and pastries. Accompanied with carefully detailed instructions in how to cook Mexican food without getting poisoned in the process.

The shipping had been expensive, but you made sure that all the goodies would last them for the entire year or year and a half that you were away. And it had to be enough for the two soldiers, your sister and Sharon, that were the only ones who still had more contact between each other.

"I'll be there soon, I'm actually like two blocks away from home so-" Sam's screamed pierced your ears and you heard a thud before Yelena's voice greeted you with more enthusiasm than normal. She had knock out Sam without doubt.

"(Y/n)! You better get here right now or I fucking swear I'll shoot them- No, Bucky! Those are mine, you metallic slut!" You covered your mouth with a hand so your struggle to not laugh couldn't be heard. "Please (y/n), I can't deal with these monkeys alone and- Oh my god! What the fuck- Just hurry up!" Then she hung up and finally, finally you let out a long string of laughs that made your stomach and cheeks hurt.

The cab turned around and you were relieved to finally see your little home four houses away in the long, long street.

Even if Bucky was tangled with the fairy lights and a big wired deer, both hanging from each side of the chimney that had black smoke coming out in big exhales.

Sam was filming the tries of Sharon at disentangling him without letting him drop or the deer.

And Yelena at the side of the sidewalk and about to cut the string that made weight with the big ass looking deer.

"You sure is here?" Asked you the driver and the feeling of warmth ran through your entire being at answering that yes, those are my idiots.

~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~

"Castle, are you there?" The gentle thud of snow making contact with his large window accompanied Matt tonight. Not many thoughts were in his head but a headache. A constant reminder that last night patrol wasn't entirely healed.

"What'ya need Red?" Answered the man to his head, voice a strong baritone, sign that he wasn't even close to sleepy.

Matt stayed silent for a few seconds, there were a lot of things he needed. Starting for a black coffee that could erase the taste of blood in his mouth or the feel of silk behind his fingers after having to put his hands through broken concrete in search of a girl that was almost buried alive.

But in the meantime, "Tell me 'bout your day."

Frank let out a knowing sound, "It wasn't so different from the others." Murmured, a tinge of shame and tiredness on his voice.

"Didn't expect otherwise."

And so with a long sigh, Frank told Matt the entirety of his todays adventures. From the trail all the way to Canada he had to follow right to the empty radio station on the woods where a man was waiting for him and offered him a hint into one of the helpers for his family's murdered.

"You sure about trusting him?" Said Matt, a frown etched on his injured face. "Doesn't sound like a reliable source if you ask me."

"He knew about Cerberus and The Hand. 'Bout Russo and... and 'bout you, like Daredevil."

The stillness that overcame him was enough to make him forget his injured ribs. "How did-"

"'S'a mutant."

Matt knew what this meant. Frank was going to hunt down these people, whoever they were. And once he found them, then death would be the last thing in Franks mind.

For what seemed like hours neither of them spoke, but on his mind, Matt could hear the soft music coming from Castle's. It was their way of communicating.

Neither of them were good with words, being romantic or sensibles was something that got lost with time. So do the encouraging gestures or speeches they used to say to one another back to when Matt was a student and Frank wasn't a marine. Back when the world seemed to have value or a well drawn line into what they wanted.

But now this was what they could rely on. The soft sound of a ballad or the rhythm in a rock and roll song. The only kind of understatement that they could listen to all day long, while doing their jobs, while going out at night at vigilantes activities. Before going to bed or when the time to visit the cemetery was up to date.

Matt had never spent an entire day with Frank in another way but fighting against bad people. Villains and monsters that lurked the dark. Both of them having become the protectors of those that were in danger. And in those moments, with their soul-bond sighing in relief at their closeness, they never spoke about sensible topics or made a move to touch in a comforting manner the skin of the other.

It was an unspoken rule between them and something they were comfortable at following.

A few seconds of silence passed before Frank spoke again.

"I felt it again," Frank's voice startled him, but before he could ask what, Castle continued. "The pull."

There wasn't needed an explanation for that. The memory was still fresh on their minds, like it was yesterday, when they felt their souls being ripped apart, not from each other but from a third one, a third connection that was calling them with such desperation that they almost got mad with worry and rage and fear.

They couldn't do anything but try to reach that little, tiny cord that was almost broken but persisted, buried deep inside their minds and whoever their third part belonged to.

"I felt it too." Matt cleared his voice, suddenly a dry throat and a heaviness on his mind that mirrored Frank's. "I was at the courthouse when- I felt it more vividly this time, like it almost wanted me to notice."

"Ya think they're closer? Perhaps they feel us too. Pulling to get them."

"I hope so, Frank."

It wasn't of them to talk about their feelings or share opinions about each others lives. But there was a common ground were they two step at the same time, where both Matt and Frank wouldn't venture without the other. They could spent entire nights and days plotting about it, trying to get to a point of understanding and researching non stop until their heads gave up. And it was about their third soulmate.

Back in that day, when the pain radiated out of you and seeped into their minds, they lost all sense of control over their already fallen lives. They had no way of reaching to you, your mind wasn't open, your soul wasn't ready to be with theirs, and from that day on they doubted that it will ever be.

They couldn't search for someone they had never known or talked to or seen. They didn't know the sound of your voice, the world you lived in, your name was a mystery up until today!

"You think they're fine?" Matt's question was one that Frank wanted to say yes to, he wanted to believe with all his heart that whoever their soulmate was and whatever they were doing, they were better than the other times he felt the bond nip at him in a painful way.

But Frank Castle knew better than to wish upon dreams. Frank Castle knew that pain could come in more than physical ways. And not ever once had The Pull being without pain or sadness.

"I don't know, Red." Answered The Punisher, worry lacing his tone, a new heaviness settling in him.

"I'll go with you. To see this man and help you find with the target he gives you."

Castle scoffed "And then what, boy? Ya gonna stop me from getting to them? Think 'bout how it go last time, Murdock."

"I said I'll help you find them, whoever they are. What you do to them is really not my problem, Castle. I've learn that there's no power in this world to stop you from doing your will."

Frank almost laughs at that, there was a very strong power that could stop him from killing those mother fuckers and Matt not knowing it was him, the fucking Daredevil, that had many times unconsciously convinced him to do better was very, very amusing.

"Then better get'ya ass ready, Red. We're leaving in a week."

~~~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~~

Christmas dinner was spend sharing stories of the past, that even if they still hurt, they were welcomed in the tiny living room, lit with candles and warm golden lights. The champagne Sharon brought and her own home made recipe of sweet potatoes and orange turkey was devoured by all of you.

She told you about the entire new team at her disposal and the also new vigilante that everyone called Spiderman and asked you many questions from London, your last stay, the vigilantes from there and if you ever met them in person or worked with them.

The only one that you had contact with was Strange and only in one occurrence. The rest you heard only gossiping; a white masked man or something like that.

Sam and Bucky had an entire drama to tell that lasted almost up until midnight, between Yelena cutting in once or twice to tell you about last year encounter with Clint and Kate, she spent Christmas and New Years there and she confided in you that having a family like that made her tear up a little. It was a home away from home, siblings that treated her like a sister, making fun of her without fearing her, complimenting her looks without wanting anything in return. It was refreshing. It was new and something she wanted you to experience as well. For the New Year you two would call Clint to go there for the upcoming celebration.

And you, you had not much to say that wasn't depressing.

You had been away because Erik needed you. You both wanted to make the world a better place for mutants, but first you needed to make sure the people that were still hunting your fellow sisters and brothers were taken care of, and so you two went on a killing spree all the way from Asia to Africa to Central Europe.

The betrayal wasn't planned but it was expected that, at some point, one of your teammates would fall to the lies of those in power. So you had taken care of each one of the liars and everyone involved.

At the end, Erik thanked you and got to his own way, back to Asia.

You didn't dare speak about all of this at such a happy reunion. They didn't need to know that and you weren't about to ruin the night by confessing that the travel, in search of mutants to aid, had become a hunting for bad people that wanted your entire mutant fellows dead.

That was the end of the night, with you all opening presents and basking in the special little moments of happiness.

~~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~

The morning was cold when you step in your porch, the sun hadn't come out and the lights on the large street were still on, barely giving light to a peaceful white, grey and black morning. The snow ha covered almost every exit at the garage of the houses including your own and you would have to make a new shopping trip in case of a snow in.

You relished on the quite stillness of no one around you, only the cold, cold weather and the occasional chirp of a bird far away.

It was in moments like this when you wondered what would Natalia be doing right now? You liked to imagine how life with her still here would be. Her soulmate was a brilliant person, a truly loyal friend that used to shine upon everyones minds and made the days lighter, even for people like the Avengers.

Natasha adored her soulmate to the point of marrying in secret and gaining the ire of the one and only extravagant Tony Stark. That was an act of love that not even you were sure back then to have accomplished without ending fearing the revenge of the billionaire. You still can remember how Tony didn't stop pestering them both even in their "secret" honeymoon, which he casually invited all of you at the same place where the newly wed couple was celebrating.

Her soulmate, you thought how are they?

Yesterday you didn't dare to ask anyone about them for fear of downing the mood and the fear that came of knowing you haven't cared that much for them since you came back. It wasn't because of a lack of empathy, it was because seeing them and coming back to their shared home where you had been many times hanging out... it pained you.

You still hadn't say your condolences to them or showed up to their doorstep or even asked about them and-

A sudden whisper from a gruff voice made your head rise from the white grass.

You waited in silence just to hear it again. It was a man's voice, you could almost swear you heard someone saying something but you didn't quite catch up the words!

Taking a few steps further, your eyes tried to accommodate to the darkness in front of you. No one was there.

The movement from a bush startled you, but you kept your ground, quickly grabbing the first thing that was at your reach. A pot with a gardenia on it. You kept your gaze steady, your stillness making your other senses come into action, you could almost see the figure of someone right there... between the darkness, the silhouette of long legs and broad shoulders that started to move towards you, a hand that-

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" You let out a scream while turning around and throwing Yelena the pot, which she dodge slapping it away and making a mess of dirt and broken mud all over the front door. "What the hell (Y/n)!"

"You scared the shit out of me Yelena! What the fuck!"

She only grumbled in response trying to clean herself from the dirt on her pyjamas and saying something that you completely ignored, instead turning around and trying to focus again on the spot where the shadow appeared.

There was nothing there.

"Are you even listening? Hell, (Y/n), let's get inside. Jeez."

She turned and entered the house, leaving you alone with her grumbling fading inside the place and your heart still hammering in your chest.

"The next step for us is Clint's home and from there we should be okay with the enormous amount of canned food you bought." Sharon picked one by one the said cans and started placing them inside the cabinets. "You should eat more organics, you could get cancer with this things you know?"

"Talking Bucky out of processed products is like trying to make a dog fly." Said Yelena entering the small kitchen. Bucky smirked, he was in an unusual good mood for being nine in the morning.

"Talk all you want, doll, but the serum would never allow something like that to happen. Besides, I don't like cooking."

"But Sam does like cooking." You said from the stool at the counter. "I can't imagine him eating all this crap, Buck."

"Well, he does have Barnes for snack every day." Sharon mumbled while trying to read the nutrimental values from the pack. Bucky went deep red on his cheeks.

"Okey, that's it. I'm going upstairs."

"No! Bucky! I just came back, don't leave me!" Getting up from your seat you almost begged for him to stay, it was a fun sight; a man so big and feared by many, blushing with the teasing like a teenager. But with him coming from a year where it was uncommon from women to speak like that and he still getting used to it and all, it was actually endearing and understandable.

The teasing came back and forth, Yelena trying to help him understand all your jokes meanwhile Sharon and you tried your hardest to make him blush, giving specifics in how to please men.

Sam entered a little while later, when breakfast was ready and the tone of red in Bucky's cheeks made him arch a brow, Buck only shrugged and send him a wink before continuing eating.

"Sit down, man, Sharon cooked some bacon and pancakes." The Captain looked at you first, trying to gain your attention but you were too lost in your food to notice.

"First there's something you need to see. All of you."

At that, you did locked eyes on his and suddenly it felt very much like when you were all part of the Avengers and a debriefing was given by him, you being told what was the mission and your part on it. That gaze of you probably won't like it but he don't have a choice was one you knew very well.

"What is it?" Sharon took a seat beside you, looking less stressed, just as Yelena. But Bucky knew this man even better than himself and so, he knew that this joyous morning had ended, probably the rest of them as well. You two glanced at each other for a second, returning naturally to Sam's commanding voice.

"Strange sent a message for you (Y/n)" Sam put the envelope on the table, right in front of you.

"For me?"

"It's about Erik Lensherr, he's come back to America."

The air between you and the soldiers turned ice cold in a minute. Even if you haven't told them what exactly you did this past two years, they did knew you were alongside Erik, and he wasn't known for his moralistic tactics.

"He told me he wasn't coming back, not until Charles called him." You took the envelope, opening it with the other, inside were pictures of Erik leaving the airport and going inside a black car, each one of them was taken with a span of few minutes between the ride he made from the airport to the train station, then there were no more photographies. "He said he was going back to Asia."

"Perhaps he changed his mind." Commented Yelena, taking one of the pictures while munching on a piece of well toasted bacon.

"That's not all. He was last seen with a lawyer and his secretary Karen Page, the three of them where seeing entering 'Nelson, Murdock and Page', a law firm at New York. They stayed there for three hours and then only Erik got out. The rest stayed until their normal hours of work."

Sam sent your mobile the information about the entire visit to New York that Erik had made. Apparently he not only didn't tell you about his abrupt appearance but he didn't even let Charles know. He was wearing the helmet all the time, under a very weird looking hat, but yeah, you would recognised that big ass head of his while wearing his helmet at any perspective.

"Strange told me that he went to see him as well and asked some pretty interesting questions about specific people."

"Who did he asked for?" Sharon beat you to ask.

"For (Y/n), although he didn't specify exactly what. Then for some 'The Punisher' and 'The Hand'."

"What kind of names are those?" Sam gave Bucky a pointed look. "What? Its always "The" and whatever it comes next."

"Dude, you were "The Winter Soldier"" Yelena joked.

"And it was embarrassing! Honestly I think HYDRA at least could have come up with something shorter, or at least not as fucking boring." Whined Bucky with energy, Sam was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You could have been called The Hand." Sharon added.

"More like The Arm, I think." You snickered.

"We are not discussing that!" Shouted a very annoyed Sam, and your entire group tried to sniffle your giggles. "You," he pointed at Bucky that stopped cackling and gave him a seducing grin. "Go to your room and get ready for a mission." Bucky stoped grinning at him.

"What? Excuse you but- I'm the victim here, between these two," He screamed pointing at you and Sharon.

"Barnes, I swear, if you don't move your ass I'll make you." That was a actually the wrong thing to say because the ex-assassin only smirked and was about to give Sam a witty comeback when he started speaking again. "And because if you do not, then you'll sleep on the couch for an entire season."

"YOU WOULDN'T!"

Sam only crossed his arms and the pinch on his brows grew deeper, seconds tick by with Yelena still eating and enjoying the spectacle. Sharon and you were containing with a lot of effort the giggles.

After a few more seconds Bucky finally broke."Fine! But don't expect me to forget your alliance with the little gremlings!"

Bucky left the kitchen and his steps could be heard all the way to the guests room he shared with the Captain.

"He's so wiped." Murmured Sharon and instantly Sam's attention was on her. The blonde went rigid.

"Now you and you," he pointed at Yelena as well "need to get information about the firm that Erik went to. Don't get caught." They shared smiles with raised brows, it was kind of insulting for Sharon and Yelena, but at the heaviness in the air when Sam's attention shifted towards them, they let it slip and abandoned the kitchen. Murmured "see yas" and "byes" left at their path.

Now with you two alone, the entire weight of the situation started to make you sweat. The implications this would have with them and your new re-gotten life.

"Why you didn't tell us? Or at least one of us?" Your gaze dropped to the kitchen counter, hands fidgeting on the cold marble. "Why is he going around asking about you?" A barely heard "i don't know" came out of your lips but even for your ears it was obvious it wasn't an entire truth.

"We're family, (Y/n). We are the only ones left and we have to trust in each other. We need to trust in each other. If not... then- if not then we're not better than before and we all know how that went."

Sam's voice never raised an octave or got lower to a threatening level. It was soft like always, with that tint of understanding even if it was hurting him knowing you hid your real motivation. That was the worst part of it, the trust that he put into his words, behind the thinking that you knew this and understood, it didn't matter that you didn't took it into practice, but the thought that he trusted in you with this ideal, that he believed in you as if you didn't just hide such an important part of your trip to them, that was what cut deep through your chest.

"Sam's right, doll." You took a quick glance at both men, Buck crunched down on the doorway, trying to strap correctly his boots, Sam taking a seat in front of you, sipping from the coffee Yelena surely didn't finish. "We made that mistake many times for us not to learn from it."

Bucky stood up and send you wink, not giving you a chance to say something. "Just think it through, it's hard letting yourself be aid by others, trust me, I would know 'bout it." You smirked at that. "But we all gotta learn somehow, right?"

"Yeah"

Sam looked at you with the hint of a smile, the conversation finally settling in with the calming presence of this two, only disturbed by the sound of your ringtone. Taking your mobile, you arched a brow at the unknown number shining from the screen.

"Who's that?" Asked Bucky.

"No idea" was your murmured response right before taking the call "Who's this?" On the other side of the line the sound of wind got your attention. The soft spoken voice of a woman was soon to greet you.

"(Y/n)?" You didn't dare to answer, her voice sounding alarms in your head, you recognised that voice, you had heard her somewhere, but... the memory just didn't come at you. "Am I talking to (Y/n/ln)?"

"That's me. Who's this?"

"My name is Karen page," your eyebrows rose and Bucky, blessed his enhanced hearing, looked at you in surprise and whispered rapidly at Sam, letting him know who exactly was calling you. "I'm a secretary at Nelson, Murdock and Page's firm, I'm calling for the recent change requested by Erik Lensherr who has come to acquire new documentation in which we will need your assistance for the fulfilment of the last procedure. Can you confirm your assistance for December 28? Or if you wish to reschedule, can you let me know of the date best suited for you?"

You stared off into the distance for almost two minutes, Sam, fearing you were having an attack, kicked your leg under the counter, making you yelp in pain. " (Y/n/L/n)?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here."

"I'll really appreciate if you could give me-"

"I'm sorry, Miss Page," you interrupted "but what exactly is the last procedure? The new- uh, new documentation?" The woman on the other side didn't hesitate when she answered.

"His will, (Y/L/N), you are to sign as the first beneficiary of Mr. Lensherr's will."

~~~~~~~o.o~~~~~~

"It's not funny, Barnes."

Bucky sitting beside you on the back of the car groaned in annoyance. "C'mon, doll, it's fucking hilarious! Now all we have to do is kill the bastard."

"Ugh."

You turned your head, ignoring all the different ideas for the "Getting granpa's will" operation that Sharon, out of the good of her heart provided you with. Sam was driving in the front, the copilot seat banned from everyone, including Bucky, after some pranks that almost got all yourselves into a massive crash on the free road.

Yelena went to the her secret dungeon, where she could easily find the right people and dig further into the lives of Nelson, Murdock and Page. Every little detail that could help in case of... well... it's not that you and the soldiers were paranoids or something, it's just that every thing needs to come with a plan B.

Now you were reaching the building of the firm, a little cornered place need the river, tiny and between more bigger buildings that surely stopped the sun to reach it, but you imagined, since it's kinda new for what little information you scraped, it's obvious that it wouldn't be as big as other firms.

Sam pulled up in front of the door and shutting off the car you all headed inside.

The first glance at the short stairs was like a living nightmare for Bucky and you, flashbacks of- of a very tortuous past coming back. Still you kept climbing until a door welcomed you with the names written on the glass. "This place needs maintenance." Said Bucky.

"All this neighbourhood, you mean." You raised your eyebrows at Sam who knocked on the door, apparently very amused with his little joke. "Shut up, children, and you better behave or else no going to the park later."

Bucky's shoulders slumped and he send you a look , "Are you pretending to talk to dogs or kids?" "Bucky, shut the fuck up, will ya?" The Captain snorted and you could swear you heard someone laughing inside as well.

There was some thrashing behind the door that now the three of you heard before the door swung open revealing a pretty blonde with a soft smile and there goes your heart running, you just couldn't function in front of beautiful people, and you thanked for the first time in your entire existence that your training as a widow helped you remain stoic and gentle. "Good afternoon, I'm Karen Page, we spoke on the phone."

She extended her hand looking at you "Miss Page, I'm (Y/n/l/n) and they are Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes." Karen obviously recognised the two man standing with you, if she was scared or amazed, she didn't show, instead made you come in inmeadiatly being greeted with no other than the man from the previous photographs. "Foggy Nelson," said the blond man, shaking your hand, he was really cute and seriously you should stop ogling people.

He gave you a professional smile and you walked aside to the second lawyer standing behind the table, with his hands on a cane and that told you everything you needed to know about his condition.

He as well extended his hand and you took it, giving a firm shake "I'm Matthew Murdock, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Like being dragged by a wave at the ocean you felt your brain being turned over and thrown to the rocks, with multiple ideas, so many memories trying to resurface, hidden behind your soft "Pleasure's mine" and calm movements while taking a seat. In front of you, Matt was fidgeting with his hands, minimal gestures that no one noticed, not even you that were about to have a mental breakdown for some unknown reason.

"So," Foggy clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention. "Let's get down to business."

The lawyer started talking about the papers in front of him, signalling some to which you nodded, without paying attention and noticing this he started talking to Sam.

You didn't know what was happening, what you were feeling. This pressure in your chest and a longing that dragged you into the ocean, more into the deep waters, it was just like that day, when you were screaming internally, without voice.

The room felt too small, the air coming from the windows not enough to breath.

"Matt?" Foggy's voice didn't even faced you, but still your eyes traveled to said lawyer, sitting still, hands under the table clenching and unclenching and his eyes hidden behind those red glasses, glazed over. Foggy's mood change, not giving a single fuck that you, their new clients, were sitting right in front of them. "Matt, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

His friend blinked once, twice and suddenly he got up on his feet looking at the three of you intently for a few seconds. When his eyes found yours the turmoil inside your chest wanted to combust you alive but you tried to will it to stop. "Matthew, what is it?" Asked him Page this time.

He didn't answer, just shook his head and stormed out of the room, not even daring to look back or apologise.

The five of you were silent for a long time, that continued into and awkward laugh of Karen "Uh, heh- He, uh, he does that sometimes. Don't worry." Chancing a quick look at her you she cleared her throat. "Foggy?"

"Yeah, right, uhm... we should continue."

Bucky turned to look at you, hearing a little the change in you breathing and letting Sam handle the situation at hand. "You okay?" Your gaze found his eyes and suddenly you were back with Natalia and Yelena, three teenagers locked up on the limits of the world, surrounded by chaos and not knowing what to do, how to react. "I don't know."

#frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfiction #frank castle x matt murdock #matt murdock x frank castle #soulmate au #fratt x reader #frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #Por la vida que soy libre #izzi works

[amhrosina]

when Frank is in charge of getting Matt's birthday cake

#HAHAHAHA #FRANK WOULD BE LAUGHING SO HARD #MATT WOULD BE CLUELESS #frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #matt murdock x frank castle #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #fratt #amhrosina

[madschiavelique]

˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

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

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was. 

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought. 

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating. 

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist. 

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible. 

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through. 

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help? 

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture. 

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest. 

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours. 

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table. 

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio. 

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this. 

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred. 

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences. 

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied: 

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment. 

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived. 

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show. 

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether. 

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents. 

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper. 

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off. 

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers. 

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them. 

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn. 

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained: 

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage." 

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands. 

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

#mads ☾⋆｡☁︎ ﾟ #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #fratt #fratt x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle imagine #frank castle oneshot #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fic #frank castle #the punisher #my writing #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader

[redz0nez9]

His frat boy era.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #follow me #matt sturniolo #like #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #fanfic #matt girl #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris smut #chris girl #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #smut smut fic #smut #frat bro #frat boy #fratt #frat guy #fraternity #frat boys #athletic #boardshorts

[fromirkwood]

#'​hOw DoEs MaTt EvEn UsE tWiTtEr' SCREEN READERS ARE A THING #disabled people use the internet you dumbo #and yes frank added alt text to the pic bc hes an inclusive king #{my posts #daredevil #the punisher #punisher #matt murdock #matthew murdock #frank castle #matt x frank #frankmatt #mattfrank #fratt #nmcu #marvel #mcu #incorrect quotes #daredevil incorrect quotes #punisher incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #mcu incorrect quotes #nmcu incorrect quotes #nmcu daredevil #charlie cox #jon bernthal #yes frank captured

[farfromstrange]

Helloooo, 💕💕💕💕

I had an idea for a fratt and reader fluff piece. They are stuck in the car on a road trip, Frank is driving (because is his truck), Matt is in the copilot seat and Reader is in the middle seat in the back.

She falls asleep and Matt asks Frank to stop the car. Frank asks him "Why?" and Matt says "Because I want to cuddle with her".

When Matt is in the back, Frank asks him "Ever wonder why she always falls asleep in the car?"

That's it, I leave the rest up to you 😘😘😘

Also I wanted to thank you again for doing my request about the teddy bear, it was the cutest like these two gentlemen 😍😍😍😍

I am so sorry for the wait, darling! I had a lot going on. I've honestly never written for Fratt or Frank before in my life, so this is my first. I tried my best, and I hope I did your request justice <3 I’m so happy the teddy bear request was to your liking, so I hope that it’s the same with this one. Sending you all the hugs and kisses, especially for these gifs!!

Ours | Matt Murdock x Frank Castle x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You fall asleep in the car and the boys wonder why that always happens.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: I have no idea if this is good enough or not, but...I tried? Let me know if you liked it and maybe I'll write more for Frank in the future. I don't know. Also, I have decided not to tag for this because I'm not sure how everyone on my tag list stands with Frank. Since this is a poly ship and not everyone is into that :) Just so you know that I didn’t forget you, I just know not everyone ships Fratt. This is the first fic in that direction I’ve ever written, and I’m a bit shy, but oh well…

The purr of the engine resonates through the cab of Frank's weathered truck as it speeds down the open highway, the asphalt stretching out before them like an endless ribbon. The moon stands high in the sky, the clock showing an even number of 4:00 am. The car is dark except for the light of the controls and the headlights reflecting off the puddles in the road.

At first, the radio had been playing a random 80s rock tune, but as soon as Matt slipped into the driver’s seat, he sneered at Frank, “Turn that off.”

In response, Frank turned up the volume even more. You told him before that it’s your favorite song, and you wanted to hear it.

“Fuck that!” he’d said. “Our girl wants to hear this. You wanna say no to our girl, Red?”

You smiled so innocently from the backseat, Matt could only sigh and cup his ears to try and keep the volume out. With his heightened senses, something as easy as that won’t even remotely work, but he tried.

Frank laughed out loud. “Told ya!” And then he sang along with you to whatever song came after that one, and Matt had to suffer through it.

The first ten minutes of this drive were torture, to say the least.

Matt accepted it for a while, but eventually decided he had enough and turned the radio off entirely, leaving the car in an eerie silence.

Now, you’re driving without music.

The gentle hum of the tires beneath you eventually lulls you into a peaceful daze. One second, you are lecturing Frank on why opening the car door and throwing Matt out of it while he was driving eighty miles per hour wasn’t such a good idea, the next you slowly start dozing off.

It doesn’t take long before the rhythmic vibrations of the car have you drifting off into a quiet slumber. The soft sounds of Matt and Frank's conversation turn into a distant murmur as your head nestles against the backrest. The gentle sway of the vehicle matches the cadence of your breaths, and soon you are lost in dreams.

Frank lifts his eyes off the road for a moment, looking at you through the rearview mirror. You don’t talk much, but every time the three of you come from a mission, the adrenaline runs high in your bloodstream and you become chatty. Ever since you went quiet, Frank has wondered whether or not you’ve fallen asleep, and he gets his proof when he looks at your sleeping form in the back.

Matt notices him shifting and he tilts his head slightly in your direction. The gentle rhythm of your heartbeat resonates in his ear, your breathing even, and your shirt brushes against your chest ever so slightly whenever it lifts to let some more oxygen into your lungs.

“She’s asleep,” he states.

“Yeah,” says Frank. He reaches back and cups your knee. You don’t move. “Dead fucking asleep, I’d say.”

Matt only shoots him a glare, his unfocused eyes landing on the point closest to where his voice is coming from. “Would you mind keeping both your hands on the steering wheel?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank straightens up. He wants to say something smart, but Matt has said more annoying things in the past. And when he looks at him, he can’t be mad because he looks so soft in the moonlight. It hits his dark curls just right, meeting the brown of his eyes and turning them slightly green, maybe even a little golden.

Matt Murdock is golden, Frank does not doubt that. More golden than you? No, but he is golden nonetheless. A golden retriever, you once called him, and you were onto something then.

Frank doesn’t like a lot of people, and while Matt can annoy the shit out of him, there’s something too good about him that makes it impossible for him to hate the man that’s sitting next to him, his red suit hugging his curves just right, the gloves that usually hug his thick fingers placed in his lap as he fidgets.

He’s aware that the relationship between you three is unconventional, but he couldn’t care less.

Matt frowns. “What?” he asks him.

Frank blinks. “Nothing.”

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I fucking said, Red. Exactly that.”

Once again, Matt only rolls his eyes. He leans back in his seat, head tilting even further to listen to you sleep. You sound so peaceful, your body slack with relaxation. You always sit in the middle so you can talk better to them, or hold his hand in the passenger seat. Whenever you’re alone with Frank, you are the passenger princess, but that changes as soon as Matt is involved. They sit in the front to protect you, that much is true, but Matt also gets sick easily in the back, so he always sits in the front. That doesn’t mean you don’t want to hold his hand every once in a while, so you recline in the backseat, always.

Matt reaches behind himself to cup your other thigh. You shift slightly, bucking into his touch as if seeking his comfort. Your heart skips a beat. With the moonlight hitting your face the same way it does him, Matt is sure you must look ethereal.

“She does,” Frank murmurs beside him.

He shoots him a confused glance, but Frank chuckles and adds, “You tend to think out loud when you’re turning into a needy mess. Ain’t my fault.”

A blush forms on Matt’s cheeks, and he instantly turns his head away. He forgets that Frank sees him better than anyone, probably. Not just in the literal sense but in a very deep, emotional way as well. They are so alike yet so different, and you only seem to tighten the bond they already shared from the beginning. With you, life is easier.

Matt slips his hand from your thigh back into his lap, and a mischievous smile spreads across his face. He leans over to Frank, his voice a low murmur. "Hey, could you do me a favor and pull over?" he asks, his hand already fidgeting with the seatbelt.

Frank's brows come together in confusion, so close they almost touch, and the slightest hint of frustration flickers in his eyes. "Why?" he asks back, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Matt's smile remains. "Because I want to cuddle with her," he confesses.

Frank's lips twitch into a half-smile as he glances at Matt. “You're such a fucking softie, you know that? It’s disgusting.”

Matt shrugs. "Well, she's asleep, and I don't want her to wake up all stiff and uncomfortable."

With a huff, Frank slows down and finds a spot on the side of the road where he can pull over. “You’re lucky your tits make great pillows,” he says as he pulls into the small lot.

He opens his mouth to protest, but one look at his armor makes him shut up. Frank isn’t entirely wrong.

The truck rumbles to a stop on the shoulder of the road, and Matt swiftly unfastens his seatbelt and moves to the backseat. He methodically makes his way forward by using his bare hands to find the door handle and then climbs back into the familiar interior.

Frank watches him through the rearview mirror, admiring how gracefully he moves, all just so he won’t disturb you. “You good back there?” he asks.

Matt nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. You can drive.”

Carefully, he slides in next to you, grabbing the blanket from the seat next to you. You must have been so tired, you forgot to make yourself comfortable. He wraps it around your form, tucking you in. The truck starts moving again, but he won’t let Frank’s driving distract him from taking care of what’s his.

Matt wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side, and you snuggle against his chest. The steady beat of his heart creates a soothing melody that harmonizes with the gentle hum of the car's engine.

As Frank resumes driving, his eyes occasionally flickering to the rearview mirror, he can’t help but smile at the sight. He had seen many things in his life, but the simple tenderness of this moment was a reminder of the unexpected bond you have formed over the past few months, and it continues to fasten every single day. Whether it’s sharing a bed, sharing dinner, or taking down a bunch of gang members in an abandoned warehouse far away from your familiar Hell’s Kitchen, you always find a way to come out better together.

After a while, as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the road, Frank's curiosity gets the better of him. He glances over at Matt, who is running his fingers through the messy strands of your hair, and his voice is gruff but tinged with intrigue when he speaks. “Hey, Red,” Frank says, catching his attention. “Ever wonder why she always falls asleep in the car?”

Matt pouts. "I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Maybe it's the steady rhythm, the feeling of movement. Makes her feel safe like she's being taken care of."

Frank nods thoughtfully, his grip firm on the steering wheel. "Yeah, maybe."

“Or maybe it’s us. She has this thing…” Matt shifts you slightly, and you curl even closer to him in your sleep. He chuckles. “She has this thing where her heartbeat skips whenever one of us is near, and then it slows when one of us touches her.”

“Slow down?” Frank cuts him off, a smirk on his lips. “Man, you sure about that?”

Matt kicks him. “Oh, shut up, Frank!” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

“C’mon, you can’t blame me. I may not have your super senses, but I know her body inside-out. I know that her heartbeat doesn’t slow down when we touch her.”

“You don’t really know her heartbeat then,” his voice is barely above a whisper. He lowers his lips to your forehead. Your heart jumps again as if you know what he’s doing. “Whenever we’re being affectionate with her–not in a sexual way, mind you–she calms down. She’s always so on edge, but when we’re together like this, when we’re talking and driving and everything is a little less heavy, that’s when she sleeps best. I can’t describe it, but it’s…it shows me that she feels safe with us. With you.”

In an instant, Frank shuts his mouth. Matt’s words make sense, but they still hit him hard. He has a hard time believing that anyone would feel safe in his presence, that anyone would love him, but whenever he looks at you, he knows he’s often just overthinking because you do.

You love him, you love Matt, and you love what the three of you have. You feel safe. You come to him when you’re sad, and he can come to you when he feels the same. You open up to him and Matt, no one else. You let your guard down for him. He never thought he would feel this way again, and it’s often overwhelming to even exist with all the pain he’s carrying, but he’s not alone anymore.

“Can’t say I blame her,” Matt adds.

Damn him, Frank thinks. He doesn’t even have to say what he’s thinking; Matt always knows. He hears his heartbeat, he hears his breathing change, and he feels something switch in the atmosphere, and he instantly knows something isn’t right. Frank thinks too much, even though it doesn’t seem that way, and Matt is very susceptible to people thinking too much. And he’s attentive.

Frank huffs, his fists clenching around the steering wheel. “Fifteen minutes, Red,” he says. “I’ll drop you off at your place. Both of you. I think she’ll be more than happy to stay with your annoying ass tonight.”

“We’re all staying at my place,” he sounds so calm back there.

“Can’t. I’m busy.”

“Yes, you can, and no, you’re not. You don’t have a life outside of me and her, and your guns. We both know that.”

Yes, he can. And no, he’s not busy.

Frank shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything else. Matt continues to stroke your hair, his attention both on you and the man in the driver’s seat. A small smile plays on his lips. He’s home right here. With you, with Frank, even if it’s an open road–He’s home wherever you are because that’s where his heart is.

The journey continues through the night, the road unwinding beneath the truck's wheels. The moon remains their silent companion.

Even in your sleep, you seem to sense the harmony of the moment, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you nuzzle closer into Matt's chest.

Frank's eyes flicker to the rearview mirror once more, catching sight of your peaceful face. He can't deny that there is a certain comfort in seeing you this way, your guard down and your worries temporarily silenced by tranquility. It's a rare sight, one that fills him with a sense of contentment he didn't anticipate.

Matt's focus remains on you, his fingers lightly brushing against your hair. He marvels at the vulnerability you exhibit in your sleep.

He tilts his head slightly. "Does she look as peaceful as she sounds?" he asks softly.

Frank grunts in agreement. "Yeah, she does," he says.

Matt smiles. "Good." The miles slip away. The open road ahead holds a unique kind of therapy, and the world outside seems to fade into insignificance, leaving only the here and now.

Matt's fingers trace patterns on your arm as he speaks again, his voice low and steady. "You know, I think that when we're in the car, it's like a sanctuary for her," he says, adding to his previous answer. "The movement, the sounds, they offer a sense of security she rarely finds anywhere else. She said her life wasn't pretty before we came along, and we can argue that it still is far from pretty all we want, but she loves us. That counts for something, Frank."

Frank contemplates, his lips pursing. "Security?" he questions. Of course, he would pick the part he didn’t emphasize.

“Yeah.” Matt sighs, then he nods. “She feels safe with us. It's more than just the physical presence—it's the emotional support we provide. We're her safe haven,” he says.

Frank's eyes flicker to Matt's profile, his lips twitching into a shit-eating grin. “You've thought this through, huh?” He chuckles. “That’s a new one.”

Gone is the doubtful Frank, leaving behind the teasing asshole he likes to be. And Matt eats it up every single time.

He rolls his eyes, something he should get paid for at this point, but the hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips. "I've had a lot of time to think," says Matt. "I always think, especially about her. And you."

A small chuckle escapes Frank's throat, the sound almost incredulous. He's trying to play off the blush that is threatening to break out. Whenever Matt is being sweet, he does it with such precision, Frank wants to break out into hives. But in a good way.

“I'll be damned, Red,” he says, his voice edging on a mock. “Who knew you could be such a fucking philosopher and shit-eating romantic at the same time?”

Matt's lips turn into a full-fledged grin. "Well, we all have our talents," he says.

"Yeah, I guess we do," Frank agrees, his voice softer than usual, even bordering on a whisper.

As the road stretches ahead, the miles disappearing beneath the truck's wheels, Matt's fingers continue their gentle dance along your skin. His touch is a silent promise that he's always going to be there for you, no matter what, and the sense of safety makes you melt. His touch holds a magic power, and you're too weak to fight it.

Frank's eyes flicker to the road again. He's not one to openly express emotions, but he knows that this connection—the one forged between you, Matt, and himself—is something he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He finally has a reason to live again, and he'd be damned to let it go. To let you go.

"You think she knows?" His question hangs in the air. He doesn't even have to say what he means for Matt to understand.

Matt's expression softens as he takes in the sight of your peaceful form. "I think she feels it," he answers. "She knows she's cared for. She’s knows we’re here for her. That we love her. Both of us."

It's a simple truth that Frank has come to realize over time—that you've found a home within their unconventional dynamic, and that the sanctuary of the car is just one representation of the security they offer you. You spend most of your time there, anyway.

And so, the miles roll on. With the open road stretching before you, and the soft embrace of sleep enveloping you, you continue your trek, each moment etching your story deeper into the tapestry of your lives.

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