••• Even Still •••
Frank Castle x AFAB reader
Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way
once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx
“Don’t.”
He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.
The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.
It felt as though it was right in your ears.
Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.
It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.
You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.
But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.
You didn’t think about the possible consequences.
You didn’t care.
All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.
So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.
The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.
While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.
So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.
You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”
It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.
You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.
He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.
“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the kitchen sink.
“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”
He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.
You weren’t sure what to make of it.
“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.
You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.
“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”
As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.
“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.
“I did what was necessary.”
“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.
“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”
“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”
He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.
You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t seek his permission.
He was inquiring why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?
But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.
Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.
You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.
Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”
Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”
“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.
All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”
“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”
You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.
Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.
Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.
You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.
The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.
“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”
“Frank.” you sighed.
“No I wanna know.”
He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.
“Was it worth it?”
You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.
“I don’t feel anything right now.”
Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.
But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.
“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”
You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.
“Enough, Frank.”
He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?
“What about your mom, huh?”
That made you pause.
“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”
Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.
“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.
“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”
“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”
You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.
“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”
“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”
You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?
“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”
“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”
Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.
You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.
It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.
But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.
Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.
“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”
Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.
“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.
“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.
He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.
“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.
You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.
“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”
“No, but that’s my girl.”
He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.
“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”
It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.
It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.
After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.
So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.
You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.
“Frank?” you asked quietly.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”
“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”
You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.
“But what if-”
“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”
You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.
But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.
Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.
Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.
As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.
You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,
“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”
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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.
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