summary_ Jinu once had an affair with one of the king’s concubines, he accidentally sent her to be executed and spent 400 years begging to have her back, only that his wishes became true in the least expected way.
warnings_ angst, slight toxic relationship, misogyny, gender roles and historically inaccurate ancient stuf , fluff, sex heavily implied, jealousy, soulmates.
notes_ THIS WAS BASED ON @everandforeveryours ‘s WONDERFUL PLOT, I WAS ALLOWED TO REINTERPRET SO THANK YOU <3.
♫ ♪ Saja Boys playlist
✰ Index (+ fics here)
୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ
Free was the woman who passed as dead and left the kingdom behind.
Having a family who barely passed middle class in the given ancient period made you a candidate to be a concubine of the king.
Being a young woman, a virgin, and educated, increased the chances of actually becoming one.
And when the summer started, you became a lower-rank concubine.
There wasn’t much to do. And certainly you avoided spending the nights with the king. Thankfully, he liked to play board games and hear you sing. But other than that, he was patient and showed zero to no interest in you.
One of your few escapades consisted of having long walks across the pond and gardens of the palace.
It was your only time alone without servants or guards or ladies in waiting. It was quiet, the blossom trees made the pond look somber and yet magical.
It was during one of your walks that you grew curious to grab a water lily when you almost fell, but a man held you in place, preventing you from falling into the water.
You took a long breath before turning to face your hero.
“Thank you” you said exhaling.
He was gorgeous. He looked your age, was tall, seemed neat and his face was edging towards perfection. You knew him.
“Hey, you’re the new musician of the king” he looked hesitant to answer, but soon nodded and finally took a moment to analyze and admire your face.
To him, you were also edging towards perfection.
“You’re very talented. And I really like your music…” your smile and tinted lips sold him away. He knew you were positioned somewhere higher than him. But aside from the people who suddenly praised him, your kindness seemed genuine. Certainly, you were not part of his deal with Gwi-Ma.
“Oh. Sorry to bother you. Excuse me…” you spoke again after not receiving a response from him. It disappointed you a little, but just when you were about to leave him behind, he grabbed your wrist.
“You’re not bothering me…” his hands were freezing despite being in summer. But you didn’t shiver, you savored his embrace. “I- I just don’t know if it’s correct to speak to you…”
“I spoke to you first. It doesn’t matter anymore” it was your sweet smile that made his rotting heart beat alive again. For once he didn’t feel the shame of leaving his family behind. So he smiled back at you.
“Are you a concubine?” He nervously asked.
“Lower rank concubine. It gets pretty boring” you admitted nodding. “It doesn’t help that the emperor isn’t my favorite person. But do not tell that to anyone”
“I swear I won’t” you offered him another smile as you twirled the white water lily in your hands.
“Tell me your name” you told him and for some reason, he blushed at the way you commanded him.
“Jinu… that’s- that my name”
“Well, Jinu… You’re going to come with me” the way you said it made him feel as if he was being burned alive. You took his hand and dragged him towards your chambers.
And the next time he heard his name slipping from your lips, it was because he had you naked on top of him.
…
Free was the woman who had no shoes, no gold ring to survive but true love by her side. Within weeks, you were utterly in love with him. Jinu visited you most nights, he sang you songs, loved seeing you dance and both enjoyed painting together. You loved his weight on top of you as he made love to you. Quickly he understood what made you spread your legs wider. What made him cover your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. And most importantly, he understood how to make you happy.
To the point where you constantly went spiraling, thinking about escaping with him. To somewhere farther and secluded. Where silk hadn’t arrived yet and wax was still hard to obtain.
But during a celebration, you had to hide your smile from him. In front of you was a row of higher concubines. And in front of them, the queen with the king.
Food was served, soldiers were laughing and celebrating, but you could only focus on Jinu playing his old bipa.
Singing a song about admiring the sunset with a lover, watching her blowing dandelions, and being proud of being in a nation that had won a war. It was about a man and the things he loved. And you knew, the woman in the song, his lover; was you.
His melodies were intriguing. Since the moment you saw him in the streets, all disheveled and without a chance to survive the week. You had nothing yet, but you gave him a silk cloth.
He probably didn’t remember, and you wouldn’t remind him. You just praised him truthfully.
So when you locked eyes with him and he sent you a smile in disguise, you had to lower your head to giggle.
You had never experienced such a similar kind of love. Where you felt safe and happy no matter how little or insignificant the interactions were.
But your emotions were too loud despite being careful. And someone else had already noticed.
When the celebration was almost over, you sneaked away, to the kitchens. The place was empty and dark, not a single candle on and it could potentially feel eerie.
But you patiently waited for your man, sitting on top of the long wooden table where food for the king was daily prepared.
Within some minutes, he entered the room. As tall and dorky as he was, he smiled at the sight of you and all your intrinsic headpieces and fresh flowers tangled in your hair.
“Why did you pick this place to meet?” Jinu questioned as he stepped between your legs. With a little giggle, you tilted your head towards the window.
“Because there’s not much light. It’s dark and… nobody will hear or see us” You held his free hand and placed it on the ribbons of your robe. When you touched his cheek, he was burning. The gesture made you smile widely.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me…” he whispered, starting to kiss your chin and neck. “But I’m getting addicted to you”
“You are the one who made me feel that way first, Jinu”
He untied your robe, letting it slip off your body. Instinctively, you leaned backwards, offering him a better but still darkened view of your naked body. Jinu could smell the jasmine oils and soap all over your skin. His fingers traced figures up and down and he enjoyed hearing your moans in the dark.
And the celebration was over, you made him follow you to your sheets again.
…
Many nights later, in the peak of the summer, when a fan seemed to be a useless tool and cold water wasn’t enough, Jinu and you spent the night in your bed.
He was playing his bipa and humming some song as you listened to him.
“Sing with me…” he said after a pause, turning to look at you and waiting for an answer.
“What? No- I don’t sing, Jinu” he rolled his eyes at your shyness and took your hand to make you sit beside him at the feet of your bed.
“Please, sing with me…” with his insistent voice, you ended up nodding.
“Alright…”
The melody of a beautiful song started to fill the room. Jinu was an expert, and you often wondered why it took so long for the king to notice him.
You knew the song. It was the lover one. You started singing with him and noticed Jinu couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He seemed to be utterly obsessed and attracted to your voice.
You didn’t like others to hear you singing. It was a private thing for you and unfortunately for the king as well. But for Jinu? You could leave aside your shame and allow him to hear you.
There was a big smile on his face. And when he finished playing the song, he placed aside his bipa and went straight to kiss you.
His big hands perfectly fit across your face. Whatever he did or said was a matter of love for you.
You melted into his lips and allowed your tongue to slip in. The gesture took him aback and he offered to kiss you with more passion and dedication.
It didn’t help that you were naked already. His hands wandered across your hips and ended up tracing your breasts. If you didn’t stop him, you knew he would take you again. And you wanted, you wanted to try all the things you heard from the girls like sitting on your lover’s face. But first, you had to tell him.
“Ji-Jinu. Wait-…” he abruptly stopped.
“I’m sorry, I thought-“
“No. It’s okay, I want to… but-“ your smile grew and he chuckled, confused.
“Jinu… What do you think about… going away?” You questioned. “Imagine escaping the palace and going away…”
Jinu remained quiet. He glanced at you once and then looked at his hands.
“I know it’s sudden. But… I- I can’t be a concubine for the rest of my life” and Jinu couldn’t be a musician for his whole life. He didn’t know how far he would be able to go before he completely turned into a demon.
He came back to earth when he felt your hands taking off his clothes. And before he could cover himself. You had already seen all.
“Is that a tattoo?” He panicked at your question. When he looked down, he was able to see a glimpse of patterns across his arms and chest. “Jinu, it’s beautiful”
How could you consider demon patterns beautiful? He almost burst into tears.
Jinu wished he hadn’t made a deal with Gwi-Ma. He wished he could’ve waited a little longer. To beg for some mercy until he was accepted into the palace without a deal in between. He wished he could’ve presented yourself to his mother and sister.
And still, he wanted to believe that it could actually be possible for him.
“Let’s do it. Just wait for me, until I receive a pay at the end of the week” he promised, taking your hands. “It’ll be very few credits to survive. But let’s do it…”
You didn’t even let him finish, you just jumped onto his lap and kissed him.
“I love you” you said and his heart stopped.
His eyes opened widely and let out a breath, just to be sure you actually meant it.
“I love you too” he answered back.
…
The following morning, Jinu was gone.
It didn’t matter, he would be back later. And in the meantime, you started to gather important belongings that could be traded for credits or other useful stuff.
You didn’t even call the ladies in waiting to help you dress. You were blinded by love.
You hummed the song you both sang and you wondered if that could be your future. Just you and him in an isolated place. You were about to serve yourself some tea and cakes when you heard a servant calling you.
“Your highness, the Queen Mother is here” the young and frail woman told you. You quickly stood up and frowned.
“What does she want?” You hated the king’s mother. She was a vile widow who personally picked the concubines for his son.
“She needs to speak to you” without any other choice, you sighed and nodded.
“Help me get dressed first…”
“It’s urgent” she said.
With bare feet and wearing a thin robe, you followed the servant.
You remembered the day you were chosen to go to the palace. New concubines were solicited. You didn’t want to leave your family, that was your biggest fear.
The Queen Mother said straight to your face you weren’t pretty enough. But when she discovered you actually didn’t want to be a concubine, she changed her mind and picked you. Only to make you suffer.
When you made it to the common room, she was looking through a window. Her greying hair was perfectly accommodated in headpieces made of gold and when she turned to face you, she had a fake smile in her face.
“Tell me, dear. Do you enjoy music?” You frowned at the question but you stood straight.
“As most people, I do, your highness” she smirked.
“I told you to follow the rules when you arrived here” your eyes snapped open.
“That boy was spared because he confessed” she said and your throat felt dry.
“But you, you’ll die like any woman committing adultery and treason does”
‘No…” you whispered.
Jinu would’ve never betrayed you like that.
“You’re lying. He wouldn’t do that…” the woman chuckled.
“And that naive attitude is what’ll send you to your death” two guards entered the room, one punched you in your stomach and the other yanked your hair. You sobbed in pain and before you could do have done or said anything, they started pushing you out.
“JINU!” You screamed between the tears. He probably wasn’t even close to you, but you had hopes that he would come and save you. That something magical could happen. Instead, one of your ankles twisted, you heard a crack and the soldiers started to drag you across the pavilion.
Some maids and people started gathering, whispering to each other. Many women who always prayed for your downfall smiled with devilish grins.
And despite all, you couldn’t feel shame. In your heart, there was no place for humiliation. But only pain. An unbearable ache mocking you and rubbing in your face that you wouldn’t get a happy ending.
And it was all your fault.
As the soldiers placed a tight rope around your neck, you ignored the looks, the laughter, the whispering.
How could something so pure as love could be the reason for your death?
Maybe Jinu had always been a demon, sent to seduce you, to make you sin, to forget about yourself and give in to him. Through sweet nothings and the lust of sex he put you under a spell.
And once you had been given everything to him, he would dispose of you to take the next victim.
As you felt life giving you farewell, a sudden guilt and regret settled in your guts. You cursed the day you met Jinu, you cursed him and you prayed to be given a second chance. To live again and make the right decisions. To face him again and take him prisoner for something called karma.
But free was the woman who could rebirth and keep it zen.
…
If hunters are gone, I can leave behind my shame and bring her back to life.
That was all that mattered to Jinu as he played along while being recorded for national TV entertainment.
When Huntr/x appeared and tried to face them, Jinu pulled out a smart move and made them join them on stage.
But they had to go… and of course they followed them.
The door shut open with a loud bang. Everyone turned to look and there was another woman. Similarly dressed in black leather attire and wearing a mask like a bank robber does. Looking unbothered, arrogant, and too damn lousy for Jinu’s prejudice.
He didn’t know yet, but that woman was you.
And he first noticed a birthmark between your eyebrows.
“Can we get outta here? I hate vapor and sweating” you said while looking at your metallic nails. “And a fan bit me on the shoulder. This mask is killing me!”
“Uh- y/n…” Zoey called you and when you looked up, you saw your friends pointing at the five demons with their weapons.
And that’s when Jinu saw you. He quietly gasped, almost unable to breathe.
“Oh. I see…” you let out a little chuckle. From your wrist, a bracelet untangled by itself until it came down as a long whip, matching the same colors and bright lights as the rest of the girl’s weapons.
That was definitely your voice. But…
No, no, no… She can’t be a demon hunter; Jinu started panicking in his head.
“A knife chain? You’re naughty…” Abby told you, which made you smirk.
“Sure I am. We can put it into practice if you want…” the muscular man smirked at you and sure it made you a little wet. But he was a demon after all. And then, you noticed their leader, staring directly at you. probably trying to see your face under the mask.
“Get her” the man pointed at you.
“What? Why me?” You asked in shock, already stepping backwards.
The four men started chasing after you and for the first time, you didn’t feel very confident.
You rushed to open a door and climb the stairs as fast as you could.
“They’re going after y/n!” Mira yelled and Zoey tried to get Rumi to go help you but she was also gone.
No matter how many doors you opened and how many stairs you used to go up and down, demons were all over the place. You could see the Honmoon weakening, making you feel fear for the first time. As well as a deep hateful feeling, making you fight more violently, and a little against Celine’s advice.
Your chain knife skillfully vanished tons of demons. But the Saja Boys were definitely higher-ranking demons. They could disguise themselves as humans and were somewhat in control of their actions, instead of regular demons who simply tried to dodge you and tear apart your skin.
The ones called Mystery and Baby appeared in your sight and you prepared to attack them.
“It’s usually all the other way around” you told yourself out loud.
They were strong, calculated in their attacks and definitely soul-starving.
Baby grabbed you by the shoulders and Mystery tried to use his claws on you, but none of their attacks succeeded. Their black haired leader appeared and as you tried to flinch away, he was able to take your mask, uncovering your face. You had definitely bitten your tongue while fighting with him, and the taste of blood filled your mouth.
“Get away from me, assholes” you yelled.
Jinu was able to grab your arms and surprisingly, he simply stared. He didn’t do anything to hurt you.
Under a thick and exaggerated black makeup, he could see your face. The same face he fell in love 400 years ago.
Noticing he was distracted, you pulled out your weapon, and with a big push that took all of your strength, you were able to get him out of your hair.
“I said: Do not touch me!” You yelled, finally slicing some of his skin.
He backed away, looked surprised at you and after touching the wounded skin, it healed in a second.
You huffed and spat some blood before looking back at the man. He looked at you shocked, like an idiot actually. He transmitted to you an uneasy feeling. With a worried sigh, you held your wounded arm on your chest and turned around to run back to the girls. And thankfully, the demon didn’t follow you.
But he discovered it was actually you. His lover…
…
The first time they met, Rumi thought he could’ve killed the leader of the Saja Boys. The second time, she grew alarmed as he stated the meeting had to do with one of the members of Huntr/x.
What could possibly want a 400-year-old demon possibly want to do with one of her friends? Rumi had no idea. But she was curious and worried
“Straight to the point” Rumi threatened with her sword pointing at Jinu again when he appeared by her side.
“Tell me more about the fourth Huntr/x member …” Rumi frowned and defensively stood straight. Almost as if you were actually there and she wanted to protect you.
“About y/n? What’s your business with her, huh?” Jinu sighed at Rumi pointing her sword at him. “She’s the one to compose and produce our songs. Comes up with the melodies and is our visual member”
“I know her” he revealed.
“What?”
“She was a concubine in the palace. Lower rank but a concubine with privileges…”
“My y/n? 400 years ago she was a royal concubine?” Jinu nodded at her, and Rumi still looked shocked.
“Same body, same hair, same eyes. And.. same voice” by the tone Jinu used, Rumi began to believe him. It was too honest and there was no actual reason for him to be lying. Plus, she needed to know how to protect you.
“So she reincarnated? Because she doesn’t seem to remember you” she didn’t mean to be hurtful, but mentioning the fact that you had no idea who Jinu was, hurt him.
“I guess so…”
“And she was your…”
“She was my lover” Jinu admitted shamelessly.
It made Rumi immediately lower her sword. She was truly shocked.
“I didn’t mean to, but I believe Gwi-Ma forced me to confess about our affair. He must’ve known y/n had hunter blood. And- I sent her to her death”
“I wanted to run away with her. To leave the palace and take my mom and sister as well. They would’ve loved seeing me with y/n. And I wanted to marry her. We talked about it the night before she died” he closed his eyes, showing visible pain at the memory. Rumi genuinely felt bad for him. And certainly some mixed feelings for you. “I confessed in the morning and before sunset, she was already dead”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea…” Rumi offered to say, but Jinu shrugged.
“Of course you wouldn’t know”
They stared in silence for some minutes, only the purring of Derpy could be heard as Jinu patted him in the head.
“Gwi-Ma likes to play in my mind the memory of her cries and sobs as they took her to be executed. She screamed my name, begging for me to save her… And I stood there like a coward”
Rumi sighed and after debating it for a couple of seconds, he patted Jinu’s shoulder.
“And that’s why you’re helping him now? To leave the shame behind and get her back?” The man nodded.
“I could help. But I won’t lose my friend…” Jinu turned to the braided woman and noticed she was threatening him as well as advising him.
“Just help me to make her remember” he pleaded.
Rumi wasn’t convinced but nodded.
…
It wasn’t easy. You hated demons as much as Mira did. You and her were almost done with the choreography of “Takedown” and Zoey said your violent ideas for the lyrics were on fire.
They were singing “How It’s Done” and since you were on break after a little accident, you weren’t part of that song. But soon you’d make your re-appearance with Huntr/x after six months.
You pass by the Saja Boys, and a few steps before making it to the stage, you feel a hand around your wrist.
With a big frown of confusion, you turned to see Jinu.
He was always staring at you and trying to get close to you. And that had never happened to you with a demon.
Your friends finished singing and met you backstage. There was an intermission of 40 seconds before it was your turn. So they look at the scene, shocked to see Jinu approaching so intimately in public.
“Do not touch me again, demon scum” you spat out, yanking away from his touch. And ignoring the electric feeling rushing through your chest.
Mira smiles and raises her brows in surprise at your sudden defiance. After her, you were the toughest, a pure ambivert. But even as you tried to keep a straight face, you couldn’t help but stare at the young man looking at you as his band mates gathered beside him.
Just like Rumi, Mira, and Zoey did with you.
“Easy there, teeny tiny” Romance said smirking at you.
“Just tell your useless leader to stay away from me” you replied firmly, barely eyeing Jinu when you turned around, leaving to wait until you were up to enter the stage.
“Fuck…” you whispered to yourself, feeling stressed out, needing to rip off your choker and gloves.
Rumi came hurriedly to gently stop you, making you frown in confusion.
“Tell me something…” she told you.
“Huh?” Your friend looked worried and she spoke in a rush.
“Are you sure you don’t remember his name? Jinu? Or his face?” Rumi asked with tons of seriousness that made you frown.
“Rumi, what is wrong with you? He’s a demon for heaven’s sake!” You huffed in disbelief, giving her a harsh glance before grabbing your microphone and starting to sing, Mira and Zoey going right after you.
And all the time you were on stage, you wondered why you felt so weird around that demon. You despised his face for some reason, but he never made you feel under attack. The thought of already knowing him popped right after the presentation. You gave him a glance as he and the Saja Boys prepared to sing “Soda Pop”. His eyes met yours and for the first time, curiosity invaded over you.
summary: frank castle has a lot of pride - maybe too much to admit just how in love with you he is
(fem! reader - i am so sorry for using specific pronouns in this, it's just the way i ended up writing it but pls know all my other fics are g.n if u would like to check them out!)
warnings: so much language, mentions of injury, frank being frank, blood, usual canon typical violence
- jazz xx
Matt Murdock liked to tell his friends that you'd met at work.
Work being that you were both vigilantes who tended to accidentally rip the shit out of Hell's Kitchen.
Things then hadn't panned out the way you'd expected. And even what you'd thought was impossible had happened, it only continued. Life kept getting weirder and weirder, barely staying the same for weeks at a time.
This time two years ago, you see, Matt Murdock had been your everything. He was a complicated man; a contradictory one too. There wasn't anything specific in the Bible about putting on a devil suit and going out at night to beat the shit out of criminals, but he didn't like to think about that. Vigilantes probably hadn't existed in Biblical times, right? So there wasn't anything technically wrong them. That's what you had joked to him the first time you'd met on a roof-top exactly twenty six months ago. It had only taken a few more sarcastic jabs at his job, faith, and personality in general before he'd fallen head over heels for you.
Like him, your relationship was also deeply complex. You fit perfectly into the Daredevil side of him; you always vehemently denied being a side-kick, but you helped in every way you knew how. Most notably in imprisoning Wilson Fisk, but you also supported every single one of his ventures. That was what Matt had needed, really. Someone who showed up. Someone who helped in a fight and cleaned him up after. He had never realised quite how lonely his life had become until you showed up with your sarcastic commentary and out-spoken nature.
It was Matt's daily life that you struggled to navigate. There was no easy way to introduce you to Karen or Foggy -- how could he? How could he ever explain that one? Because sure, you had a life and a day job but there was no good explanation for how someone like you and someone like him could ever cross paths. Moreover, how you could ever end up together.
None of the mattered when you were running across rooftops together, or ducking behind chimneys in tears of laughter as criminals ran by you. Nothing compared to the soft moments of stitching each other up, or secretly repairing Matt's suit whenever he went out to court in the day. Truth be told, you could have spent your life-time in that little bubble. Just you and him against the world; Daredevil and the person who helped him fight crime and was slightly less of a main character but definitely not his sidekick. The outside world was hard to ignore, though. Reality had to come creeping in eventually, seeping in through the cracks of your foundations like an unwelcome visitor to your safe-house.
You had a good few months - nearly a year - together before that fact become harder and harder to ignore. Even behind the soft morning together, and the stolen kisses during your night-time escapades, you could no longer ignore the obvious. Things were falling apart. Your relationship was steaming towards nothing but a dead-end and a bad-break up - but to give credit where it was due, it wasn't for lack of trying. You clutched at straws for weeks, trying to breath life into a dead horse; trying to revive what had once been. It just took a catalyst for things to things to really, properly end.
Income Frank Castle.
The man was a bastard, really. A killing machine with no remorse and zero concern for his consequences. Your first meeting with him had been on a rainy, dark night in the Hudson Yards. You'd both come for the same man - an ex-gang member - and you'd half expected Frank to kill you. And when the gang member did try to kill you, Frank hadn't left you for dead. He'd taken out your shared enemy and dragged you to the nearest hospital, leaving you outside in a bloody puddle for a medic to find you.
A lot of Frank Castle's enemies were your enemies too. Bad, bad people who you nor Matt ever found the courage to kill off; his being religious reasons, and yours being that you valued human life a little too much. Still, you found it easy to view Frank's crimes in a grey area. Maybe you even understood his reasons. You just never in a million years thought that that would be the straw that broke the camel's back. In fact, it felt like a lot more than just that. It felt like the bullet that wiped the camel dead to the floor.
So, you packed and moved out. Took your things across Hell's Kitchen to a shitty little apartment. It was nothing like Matt's place - no high ceilings or spacey living rooms. No bath tub or working elevator. Worst of all, there was no him. There was no Matt to come home to; no Matt to wake you up with coffee on your nightstand or to wrap his arms around you when things became a little too much.
Your new apartment, however, was on Frank Castle's new stomping ground.
Now that he was assumed dead, Frank had all the time in the world to carry out his revenge on some of the worst men in the city. At the same time, you carried out your own missions at night - mostly saving cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the road, but there was a little gang territory there too. Mostly in an attempt to avoid Matt, you kept yourself to yourself - but your shared interests meant that some of your work would over-lap with Frank's.
You weren't an idiot, and neither was he. He knew who Matt was. He knew who you were. He'd seen you lingering beside Matt at the trial - and he'd seen you both retire back to the same apartment at night. Frank also couldn't pretend not to notice that you'd stopped doing that now. That you and the Devil had completely parted your ways, right from working together down to where you slept at night.
Your work had never been influenced by Matt. It just so happened that you wanted to fight the same bad guys - at least that's what it had been up until you met the Punisher. After that, your perspective had changed a little.
And it was through that epiphany that you began to get a little...cockier. Started doing more dangerous things; chasing meaner criminals and using better weapons. It was fun at first, exploring the new found freedom you have. Maybe Matt had been more of a restraint than anything; with his strong beliefs and influence on, you'd always stuck to what you knew; mid-level crime fighting. Now, you were moving up in the world. One night it was gang-members, the next escaped prisoners. All bad people; all worst ones than before.
That was how you ended up almost bleeding out on a roof-top above one of Hell's Kitchens busiest bodega. During the dead of the night, you'd tripped and fallen in a fight - now you had a twisted ankle and your own knife lodged in your leg. That was not how you pictured yourself dying. Not that you'd even given it much thought, but some part of you figured Matt might have been by your side. It was just your luck that this was the one night he'd chosen to explore the other side of the Kitchen. Not the one you were dying on, sadly.
"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. You couldn't move; couldn't stand up or call for help. Not if you wanted to stay out of prison.
You jolted slightly when you heard the sound of foot-steps round the side of one of the water tanks on the roof.
"...Ma - Daredevil?" you quickly remembered not to use his name half-way through your cry. There was no answer. "I have a gun-"
"- no, you don't," a gruff voice cut you off. A moment later, Frank Castle appeared from the shadows. "If you had a gun, you wouldn't be bleeding out on the floor, would ya?"
Propping yourself up on your elbows, you let out a huff. Anyone else would have run away (or tried to, given your situation). Not you. You didn't feel the need to. Frank had saved your life before. You had the same enemies. What was the saying...the enemy of my enemy is not my friend because my ex hates his guts but I still trust him because we hate the same bastards? Yeah, something like that.
Frank knelt down beside you. "You shouldn't be going after the Kitchen Irish on your own. They're dangerous and that makes you stupid."
"Aren't you meant to be dead?" you asked. "I preferred it when you were dead."
"Okay, smart-ass, go easy," he huffed. "D'you want my help or not?"
"Fucking obviously," you muttered. "Please."
Frank shrugged off his jacket, placing it beside you for the minute. You ignored the fact he was covered head to do in what was presumably someone else's blood, choosing instead to watch as he tore off a shred of his shirt. He tied it tightly around your leg, creating some kind of make-shift tourniquet.
"So, no Red around to help you tonight, huh?" he asked.
"Not tonight," you murmured.
"Lover's quarrel-"
"- I don't wanna talk about it," you cut him off, "not when I'm about to bleed out on a roof-top."
"Each to their own," Frank grunted. "I'm gonna count to three, okay? And on three, you're gonna hop up and limp a few blocks with me, yeah? Just over that way towards Harlem."
"Yeah, okay," you nodded.
"Okay - one, two -"
Frank stopped, pulling you off the ground and up into his arms. You let out a yelp as you did, the shock of his sudden grip catching you off-guard. Your hands instinctively clung onto the fabric of his shirt - maybe it was support, maybe it was for comfort. You didn't know, but either way, you knew in your soul that he wouldn't drop you. Call it intuition if you will.
"That wasn't on three," you said through gritted teeth, barely able to talk through the pain.
"Right you are," Frank hoisted you up a little bit. He began the descent from the rooftop, both your weapons now tucked away in his back pocket. "But you wouldn't have got up on three."
"Yes, I would."
"Bullshit," his body shook beneath you as he chuckled. "I know humans. I know humans in pain. They don't do jack-shit at the best times, let alone with a knife in their goddamn leg."
"Look at you, Castle," you shot back. "Such an understanding man."
"Right," he rolled his eyes.
The two of you stayed silent for the rest of the walk back to...wherever the hell it was you were going. Did Frank even have an apartment? You'd always worked in the assumption that he slept in drains and rummaged for food from bins. Like a raccoon.
Still, it would have made sense for him to have a place to crash. He was clean shaven every time you saw him; his hygiene seemed pretty fucking impeccable too. Not like the rest of the crusty ass criminals lingering around the dark corners of New York. Their clothes were always thick with blood and caked in dirt. You figured, though, that if Frank was happy to commit vast amounts of homocide, he probably didn't draw the line at robbing an Old Navy mannequin of its clothes whenever he needed new ones.
Turns out that Frank did have a place - it was a few blocks south of Central Park, tucked away in the corner of a surprisingly nice building. It wasn't anything like you'd expected; neat, tidy, a little bare. That checked out though. He spent years in the military - a place that prided itself on routine and order. Everything was perfectly organised, from the boots by the door to the chipped mugs on the side. What you hadn't expected was for Frank to have a dog. The pit-bull was sat patiently in his little bed, completely unfazed by the sudden presence of two people drenched in red.
"Nice place," you broke the silence.
Frank placed you down on the sofa, giving a light shrug in response.
"Keeps me dry," he said. He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it aside, reaching for a bottle of vodka from the coffee table, then pressing it into your hand.
"No thanks," you shook your head. "Not much of a drinker."
"Sweetheart, I'm about to pull a knife out of your leg," Frank shot back. "I suggest you down that thing like it's the elixir of goddamn life, okay?"
"Right," you took the bottle in defeat.
Naturally, it tasted disgusting. Burnt the inside of your mouth and made you pull a face that elicited a snort from the Punisher himself. It was weird to see him like this - cracking jokes and sharing his alcohol with you. You'd spent the better part of two weeks watching his trial; watching as your then-boyfriend and his partner tried so hard to get him thrown in jail for the rest of his living days. That had been a stressful few weeks for Matthew. He'd been tired and cranky and...angrier than usual.
Sometimes you wondered if it had all been bad-timing. If everything bad had just come at once, and your relationship ending was merely collateral damage and there was no actual reason for it. Because if there was no reason for it, then maybe it could be fixed, right? Maybe you and Matt could reunite once more.
That wasn't the case, though. You remembered those few weeks; tired green eyes hidden behind red-rimmed glasses, fists bloody and cut up from how hard he'd hit the wall. Court documents scattered all over the kitchen table and tense conversations over dinner. The arguments, the tip-toeing around one another, the weight of the world on your fucking shoulders. Maybe your relationship wasn't toxic or mean but hell, it had brought you too much grief. Your lives were too hectic and chaotic to ever consider the idea of fully loving another person. At least each other.
"Mother fucker!"
Your voice cried out through the apartment - in his defence, Frank had given you a warning before he pulled the blade out your leg. If you hadn't been too busy thinking about your ex, you might have heard him.
"Ah, so you are here," Frank muttered. "You zoned out. I thought you'd died or something."
"No such luck," you groaned in pain.
"Deep in thought, huh?" he asked.
"Something like that."
"This next part is gonna hurt too," he said.
The next few minutes were tense; you never thought that you could have sterilised wounds with vodka, but the more you know. By that point, you'd experienced so much distress that you barely felt Frank stitching you up. He recounted some old story from the war in an attempt to distract you, but you couldn't have recalled a single detail of it.
"The good news is that you're not gonna die," Frank declared, wrapping a bandage around your leg. "The bad news is that you're gonna have an ugly scar."
"Makes a good story round the dinner table, though," you replied.
"Sure does," he agreed. "You ever been shanked through the leg before this?"
"A couple times, but not that deep," you replied. "I used to get stitched up by someone that...that Red knew."
"So your boy had his own medic?" he took a seat beside you, eyebrows raised.
"Not quite," you shook your head. "Just a nurse with a good heart."
"And your boy never stitched you up? Not once?" Frank asked.
"He did," you said. "He tried to keep me out the fight a lot, though. Never liked me getting involved all that much."
Frank snorted. "That's bullshit. You can hold your own better than him."
"You've saved my life like twice now," you reminded him. "I wouldn't call that holding my own."
"I know. You pretended to be a lawyer so you could break into the interview room and be all gracious on my ass, remember?" he said. "I mean shit like that. Shit that you do. You're naive as fuck but I have mad respect for you."
"Naive?!"
"You brought a knife to a gunfight with one of New York's filthiest gangs," Frank explained. "Fought Fisk for what...two years?"
"Two and a half," you corrected him.
"There you go, then - you might be naive, but you got heart," he said. "Never lose that."
You saw a lot more of Frank after that night. Maybe you wouldn't go as far as to say you were friends, but you'd definitely upgraded from man who saved my life once to man who saved my life twice and has a questionably decent sense of humour. Because despite him being rugged and rough around the edges and just a tiny, tiny bit vengeful, you felt safe with Frank - at least when you were on the right side. You figured he might have not given you such a warm welcome if you were still with Matt.
That subject didn't come up for the first few weeks of your odd...partnership, was it? Whatever it was, it had started with Frank always just happening to be right where you were. Whenever you set your sights on your next target, he'd be there to help you. Even if it was the most minor thing in the world, like the guy who had held up your favourite bagel store last week, or the woman who scammed your neighbour. The most menial, harmless people who you just wanted to rough up a little bit. He'd be there.
You didn't question. You didn't want to question it, mainly because you feared for the answer. Who was Frank roughing up every night in order to get your location? Maybe he was just stalking you.
On the second or third week - of which almost every night had been filled with his alarming presence and increasingly deep chats - he finally brought Matthew up. You knew it was coming eventually. All your past ventures as a vigilante had involved him. There was a lot of history and it had to come out at some point.
You were perched on some scaffolding uptown, having extended your search for ones of the Dogs of Hell slightly past the Kitchen. It felt safer in a way, because you knew Matt wouldn't be around to hear anything. Maybe that's why Frank had waited til that specific moment to ask.
"So," he began. "You and Red - what's the deal there?"
"There isn't one," you replied. "Not anymore."
"What, he dump you or something?"
"It was a mutual dumping," you shot back. "Nothing in particular happened. I mean...shit happened, but that's exactly it. Life just got in the way. Kinda beyond our control."
Frank snorted. "C'mon. You don't just end a relationship because shit happened, that's not how love works-"
"- right, because you're the world's leading expert, aren't you?" you cut him off. "It was strangling the life out of us and it became more effort than it was worth."
Frank glanced over at you, uncharacteristically silent for a moment. He had a lot of grievances with Matt Murdock - a lot - but right then, his number one reason for beefing with him was that he hadn't tried just a little harder to keep you around. Because Frank hadn't known you long, but he did see something in you. Something of value; not to just to him, but to every human in the world. You'd fought and you'd maimed people just as much as he or Matt had, but you hadn't lost your spark. You were still outspoken and sarcastic even in the face of death; you never gave up a fight and you seemed to take every inconvenience in your stride. Not many people rolled with the punches like you did.
Frank couldn't deny that he didn't know you all that well. Not in the way Matt did. The only image he had of you was the one you had shown him. Still, it was more than enough for Frank to start wondering if Matt was just a little bit crazy for letting you slip through his fingers.
"He didn't fight for you?" Frank asked. "I know the man doesn't beg but hell, he didn't even push a little bit?"
"He was so tired at that point that he practically held the fucking door open," you quietly replied. "Him and I were never meant to happen, really. We were kidding ourselves for a long time."
"But you loved him?"
"Of course I did," you didn't mean to snap, but what kind of fucking question was that?
"And he loved you?"
You glanced over at him. "Yeah - and before you give me spiel on I would have fought my wife a thousand times over because I lost her just remember that there were times where I almost did lose Matt. Where he almost lost me. And we still couldn't make it work."
"Fuck," Frank muttered. "You predicting my lectures now?"
You shrugged. "Clearly, I'm spending too much time around you."
"Can I just ask you one more thing?"
"Well, there's no sign of the bastard we're looking for, so..."
"Did he protect you?"
You thinned your eyes at him. "Course he did."
"No, I mean did he really protect you?" Frank pushed.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the question. Deep down, you knew that Matt would have done anything for you - almost anything. If it came down to him having to end someone's life to save yours, you knew how it would have gone. That was a far fetched scenario for most but one that you almost found yourself in far too many times. Every time, you and Matt had both escaped alive. You'd made it out without him having to make that decision. That was just dumb lucky really.
"I know what you're getting at Frank," you murmured. "You're pointing to the fact that I would kill for him, but he wouldn't kill for me."
"You said it. Not me."
You let out a derivative snort, standing up. "Why the fuck do you care? Why are you asking so many questions?"
"I'm making conversation-"
"- so ask me about my day then! Or...my favourite shows!" you exclaimed.
"Okay, fine," Frank held his hands up in surrender. "How was your day?"
"Shitty," you snapped. "No thanks to you."
He didn't try to follow you when you up and left. You were glad about that.
You kept to yourself for a few days; stewing in annoyance at Frank and a little in heart-break. Even though it had been nearly four months since you and Matt had broken up, there was still hurt there. You didn't feel much for him anymore but you had, at some point, loved him. For the better part of two years, in fact. It just left an ache in your chest to know that it had been a little one-sided. You managed to fit him into every aspect of your existence, but Matt had only ever made room for you in one side of his life. You'd given him your all. He'd half-assed it.
Rather than going out at night, you stayed in your apartment. The city was safe in the hands of Frank and Matt - maybe not so much if they ever crossed paths, but you knew for a fact they actively avoided one another. It was a miracle that Matt had retired the idea of taking out Frank; instead, he just focused his energies else-where.
After three nights of staying in, you were woken one night by a tapping at your bedroom window. It was not long after midnight, and your first instinct was to reach for your newly acquired gun. You'd done so on The Punisher's advice.
Speaking of the Devil (not that one, though), Frank was relieved to be greeted by the sound of the safety clicking off. It meant you were taking what he'd said seriously. That knives did jack shit and that at least bullets went through walls.
"Attagirl."
"What the fuck, Frank?!" you demanded, kicking the sheets aside. "You can't break into my house-"
"- there was word on the street that you were dead," Frank cut you off. "I ain't seen you for days, either. How was I to know better than the fact you're just holing up in here watching Friends?!"
"Why would I be dead?" you asked.
"Just word on the street," he quietly said. "I was beating the shit outta one of the rats from the Cartel and they just...they said something of concern, that's all."
You let out a sigh, tossing the gun aside.
That was the first time you saw Frank getting...bothered. He had no reason to care about you; certainly not one enough to break into your goddamn house at some ungodly hour.
"Well, I'm alive!" you declared.
"Really? Here I was, thinking I was having a good ol' chat with your ghost ," he deadpanned. "It would just be nice if you gave me some of warning when you're gonna fuck off for days at a time like that, yeah?"
"How?" you pushed. "I don't have your number, Frank. Every time I've met you before this, you've just rocked up outta the blue."
"Okay, I'll give you that," he muttered.
You dropped back into your bed, reaching out towards your night-stand. There was a moment of fumbling - and one of tossing around random crap - before you produced an old flip phone.
"Take this," you tossed it at him. "It's a burner phone. I've got the number saved in my phone and mine is saved to that one too."
"Thank you," Frank replied. "D'you mind if I stay for a while? It's fucking freezing out there."
You pondered for a moment - Frank Castle in your home? What a weird fucking thought. Had he asked you a few weeks ago, you would have run in the opposite direction. He wasn't the same man anymore to you, though. He was no longer the Punisher. He was Frank Castle, who you now knew like an old friend. You knew that he was a terrible singer and that his favourite band was Guns N' Roses. You knew that he was partial to a good Taylor Swift song and that he could barely shoot with his left hand. You knew him.
"Sure," you shrugged.
Pulling aside the covers, you shuffled over so that Frank could join you. He kicked off his boots and jacket - you were pleasantly surprised to see that for once in his life, he wasn't drenched in blood. There was just a black t-shirt and sweats; ones that felt comfy against your bare legs as he slipped into the bed beside you.
You weren't sure what was happening, even less so why you were letting it happen. Nothing had made much sense since you and Matt had broken up, and you'd just stopped questioning the why's of things a long time ago. Frank was a steady presence and that was what you needed in that moment.
Neither of you said anything when you woke up the next morning, still in the same bed. You'd completely fallen asleep on Frank's side and he'd instinctively wrapped his arms around you. It felt natural - like you were supposed to be there with him, bundled up in blankets and saying nothing at all. It was like two pieces of a completely different puzzle that had fit together nicely. It also made a picture that made absolutely no fucking sense but...wasn't art subjective? Whatever picture it created, whatever confusing reality became of it, you liked it. Frank liked it. It was a weird, unreadable abstract piece but it brought comfort.
"We're gonna have to get up at some point," you murmured.
"I ain't got anywhere to be," Frank replied. "Do you?"
"Absolutely not," you said.
"Good," he muttered. "I gotta get some rest anyways if I'm gonna keep beating up bad guys for you."
"With me," you corrected him. "You might bring a certain amount of power but I have the brains."
"I'm not so sure you do, sunshine," he snorted.
"Complain all you want but I know you enjoy protecting me," you shot back. "You wouldn't keep showing up otherwise, would you?"
"I'm doing it outta the good of my heart," Frank insisted.
"I'm pretty sure you have a revolver where your heart should be, Frank Castle."
He knew then that he would do much more for you than Matt Murdock ever would. He wouldn't just stop at wiping out someone for you - he would do it to anyone who just hurt you. Whether it was one person or ten. Even a hundred. You'd accidentally become important to him and like hell was he gonna sit around and not protect you within every inch of his life.
It was a complicated situation to navigate, though. Frank wasn't good with feelings at the best of times, let alone when it came to the ex-partner of his sworn enemy. That territory was beyond complex. It was filled with land-mines and hidden traps and god knew what else. It was one that he couldn't even begin to deal with - but it was also one he couldn't run away from.
Things only continued on that up-hill trajectory after your morning together. Frank would stop by a few nights a week when he didn't see you, or you'd come stumbling back to his after a fight. You always said it was to see Max, your new favourite pit-bull, and Frank would always pretend to agree. It was nothing to do with the fact that you were the first person he'd loved in almost a decade, or the fact that you only ever felt safe with him.
There were some complications though.
Complications being that Frank knew some part of you would always love Matt.
In the same way you could never take away his love for Maria, Frank could never take away your love for Matt. Even if you stopped being in love with him, the man still had a piece of your heart. Whatever version of you had existed in the two years you spent together lived on in your memories. It lived on in the fact you saw Matt everywhere you looked in Hell's Kitchen; your favourite bar, the place you had your first kiss, the roof-top you'd first dropped the L-word.
Frank knew that. He knew even more that someone as bright and as sparky as you should end up with the guy with morals. A guy like Matt.
So, he just swallowed it down. It didn't mean that Frank stopped seeing or hanging out with you - in fact, things just stayed the same. That weirdly intimate limbo that you found yourself in just carried on. You continued to fall asleep with him and wake up beside him. The banter and flirty conversations persisted. Anything more than that was scary. Anything less was even worse.
Frank was good at hiding the fact he didn't like talking about Matt. It was just as well really, because neither did you. You just wanted to shut that history down and move on. Whether that meant with Frank, you weren't sure. All you knew was that Matthew Murdock belonged in the past. The future, however, was uncertain.
By three or so months into your little adventure with Frank, you had a routine. It differed from night to night but generally, you would always call or text him by 9PM. Sometimes, it was the location of where you wanted to meet. Other times, it was just a message to check in and let him know you were staying in that night. Either way, it brought comfort to him to always know that you were safe, even if the random emojis you sent never showed up on his shitty little flip-phone.
Naturally, when Frank hadn't heard from you for a day or two, he became worried. He brushed off the fact you hadn't texted him for one night; maybe you were busy. Maybe you'd fallen asleep. There was a million reasonable explanations for one goddamn night.
But two? No. He couldn't believe you would go two whole nights without contacting him, or making an appearance at his door. It had become such a common occurrence that it felt out of character for you to be so absent. Something was up.
Your apartment was empty, but your phone was there. That in itself was a massive sign that things were wrong, because the device was like a fifth limb for you. There was untouched food on the stove and a half-eaten pot pie on the side. That was wrong too. You weren't messy. Your apartment was always spick-and-span. Cluttered, yes, but messy? No.
Frank might as well have gone out his fucking mind looking for you. There weren't many places you could be - at least not ones you could go without telling him. If your passport was still in your nightstand, and wallet still in your bag, you couldn't have gone far. At least he could limit your location down to the whole of North fucking America, right?
The last place he checked was the one he'd been dreading the most.
Matt Murdock's place.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the most realistic place for you to be, but Matt might have known something. Frank hated that he had to turn to him in order to protect you, but that was the main thing - he was protecting you. Or at least trying to.
"Red!" he yelled from outside the door. "I know you're in there! It's...it's important. It ain't nothing to do with me or you, it's about-"
Frank stopped talking when the door opened. He knew that Matt Murdock was going to be on the other side, but it felt startling to see him outside of the red suit. At least when the matter was to do with...vigilante business.
"You've got some nerve showing up at my door, Frank Castle-"
"- is she here?" he demanded. "Is (name) here?"
"What do you want with them?"
"I ain't seen my girl in days, Murdock," Frank pushed past Matt, entering the apartment. "I'm going out of my fucking mind!"
"Your girl?" The words rolled off of Matt's tongue with confusion.
"I...I can't go into it right now," he admitted. "I just need to know if she's safe."
"She is," Matt said. "She's in the bedroom."
"In the...are you fucking kidding me?"
Frank Castle wasn't a quiet person. His voice carried through walls - multiple walls. And when you heard it, you immediately came to find him.
It looked...questionable. You, exiting Matt's room. In his clothes, no less. What looked even worst was the bruise around your eye and your split lip. You'd been beaten up pretty badly and Frank's brain was working so goddamn quickly that he couldn't piece together a single explanation. At least not one that he liked.
"Frank?" you gently greeted him.
"H-hey," he stuttered. "You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"
Your eyes fell to the floor. "Not really."
"Of course," he snorted. "Why would you owe me an explanation, huh? Why would you owe me anything after..."
He trailed off, then stopped completely.
"After what?" Matt interjected.
"I've saved your girl's ass twice," Frank glanced between the two of you. "You wanna tell him about that, huh? How I rescued you when you two were still together? About how you stole his bar card to sneak through the court and see me?"
"Frank," you tried to reach out to him. "You're getting the wrong end of the stick."
"Yeah, no," he snorted. "I don't think I am."
"Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!" Matt demanded.
"You wanna know what's going on, Red, huh?" Frank turned to face him. "We've spent every day over the last three months together. You know what she's like, don't you? Clumsy as fuck and all brave heart. A certified dumb-ass, right? Yeah, well, I helped her fight. Helped her wipe out Kitchen Irish and the Cartel. Stitched her up and all. Looked out for her, lost sleep over her. And then she disappears off the face of the fucking Earth for two goddamn days and I go out my skull trying to find her, and...she's here. With you. All in cahoots, even though I know for a goddamn fact that you don't deserve her for a second."
"Frank!" you snapped. "If you would shut the hell up for just one second and let me explain yourself, you'll see that you've got the wrong idea!"
"You're in his bedroom, in his clothes," he dejectedly said. "Don't lie. Don't act like I'm a fool-"
"- I was kidnapped," you cut him off. "The Cartel kidnapped me, okay? And Matt rescued me. That's all it is."
Matt, who had completely given in on trying to understand what the fuck was going on, gave a shrug. So what if you were gallanting about town with Frank Castle? That wouldn't have even been the weirdest thing he'd seen this week. It didn't mean that the idea of you and Frank completely killed him inside, but he didn't have the energy to bring it up. Your relationship was dead to the world. Nothing he could say or do would bring you back, so why bother trying? He was just grateful he'd rescued you in time - and maybe a little ostentatious that Frank hadn't.
"She's telling the truth," Matt said. "I don't know what's going on between you two - and frankly, I don't want to know - but I can assure you that we're not in cahoots."
"See?" you urged. "Just...you just gotta listen to me, Frank. Okay?"
"You two clearly need to talk - and I need to go for a walk whilst I get my head around this whole thing," Matt announced. "Feel free to be gone when I get back."
A silence fell over the apartment as he picked up his jacket and left. Did you feel guilty? Absolutely.
Guilty that you'd worried them both; guilty that Matt had been dragged into the middle of the situation. Most of all, you felt guilty that you were realising your love for Frank Castle right in the middle of your ex's living room. Only about six feet away from the very place you'd both once laid your heads, amongst...other things.
"The Cartel got me the other night," you quietly began. "Dragged me off the street when I went out to grab some shopping. They were trying to get through me to get to you and...well, Matt got to me. Took a couple hours but he saved my ass, just because he'd been patrolling that area by chance."
"They wanted to get to me?" Frank's eyes flickered up from the floor.
"Yeah. They thought we were...in cahoots," you tried to fight back a smile at the phrase. "I told them they were wrong but hell, Frankie, now I ain't so sure."
He scrunched up his nose. "I was always worried about Red. Thought you were always gonna have feelings for him and all that."
"I'm always gonna care for him, but I don't love him anymore," you said. "That's the difference."
"The difference between what?"
"Between him and you - I don't love Matt."
"I know I said earlier that I ain't stupid but hell, are you even speaking English right now?"
"I love you!" you blurted. "Is that clear enough for you?"
"Clear as fucking day."
Frank reached out towards you, taking you by the waist. He crashed his lips on yours, a large hand resting on the back of your head. You know that feeling after you've been underwater for a long time and you come up for air? That's what it felt like. As though you were finally breathing after weeks and weeks of holding your breath; as though you needed his touch the same way you needed air in your lungs.
"You're gonna have to be patient with me, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Frank admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "What I do know is that I love you too. And I'm going to protect you with my life, okay? I ain't ever leaving your side from now on. I'm finding the men that hurt you and I'm going to maim them."
"How romantic."
"Heck, I'll get Red to help me-"
"- yeah, I don't think he will," you fought back a smile. "You know I'm gonna have to talk to him later, right? I owe him an explanation. Not that I can explain a single second of this."
Frank smiled. "Yeah, I know. For now, though, just....just-"
Why are all the 'x reader' fics I see mostly smuts? Don't get me wrong, they're great and all but I barely see any fluff or angst around here. I literally just want to feel things without the character lusting over the reader 😭
military!rafe marries a one-night stand, knocks her up, and obsesses over her polaroids overseas.
a/n: inspired by this anon
you were supposed to be a one-night stand. a quick fuck after too many shots, just another girl hanging around the base like a pretty little souvenir waiting to be claimed. you wore lip gloss and a crop top and called him “sir” just to tease. he fucked you in a twin-sized bed with a ripped sheet and a case of beer on the floor.
he meant to forget about you. really, he did.
but then you made him breakfast the next morning. and when you bent over in those tiny shorts, humming some pop song while his dog tags swung between your tits, he looked at you and said, “we should get married.”
you blinked, mascara smudged. “what?”
“deadass.” he leaned back in the cheap kitchen chair, beer in hand, bare chest on full display. “barracks suck. married marines get paid more. get better housing. you want benefits, right?”
you should’ve said no. should’ve laughed. but then he called you sweetheart and said he’d pay for your nails and suddenly, you were standing in front of a government official in a sundress and flip flops, signing your name next to his.
he knocked you up within a month. didn’t even mean to, but he didn’t pull out either.
“look at you,” he murmured, palm flat on your stomach, cock still buried inside you. “gonna get all swollen for me, huh?”
he deploys two weeks later. leaves behind a house full of laundry and the memory of his teeth on your neck. but he takes a shoebox with him—stuffed full of polaroids he won’t show anyone else. you in lace pink nightgowns with nothing underneath. you in the passenger seat of his truck with your thighs spread and a lollipop in your mouth. you in his bed, all flushed and fucked-out, grinning like the devil.
his squad knows when he’s thinking about you. knows when he disappears into the tent with headphones and a locked jaw. they make jokes, but nobody pushes it.
“you miss your little wife?” someone asks, smirking.
rafe just shrugs. “miss that mouth.”
and when he finally calls, scratchy and low from some godforsaken corner of the world, the first thing he asks is:
I got another idea which may be a little sad (but it is okay we can handle it)
Since we all know about Matt's super senses I was thinking of a scenario where he discovers that reader has a heart problem
Hope you consider and like the idea!
❤
Unsteady Rhythm
Summery: The request (maybe more fluffy than anticipated)
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: heart condition, grammar mistakes.
A/N: Thank you for requesting and once again I'm sorry it took so long for me to write, hope you enjoy regardless xx
Matt didn’t mean to notice it. Not at first.
You were curled up on his couch, legs tucked beneath you, and talking about your long day at work. Telling him about the various events of your day. He was listening to your every word until his attention drifted to something else.
The rhythm of the noise made his brow tighten.
Your heart was… off.
He didn’t say anything at first. Maybe it was just the way you were sitting, maybe you'd had too much coffee again.. Your heartbeat often changed rhythm —when you were excited, tired, anxious or even just when you were in his presence. He knew every variation.
But this? This wasn’t one of those situations.
There was a flutter. A soft pause that didn’t sound like it belonged. Then a jolt—like your heart realized it missed a step and tried to catch up.
Once. Then again. And again.
“…Matt?” Your voice brought him back.
You were watching him now, head tilted. He hadn’t answered the question you’d asked.
He wet his lips, sitting up straighter. "Say something again."
Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Uh… okay. What should I say?”
“Anything,” he said.
“Are you okay Matt? Did my day at work sound that atrocious?” You paused, then smiled nervously with a small giggle.
But he wasn’t smiling.
He leaned in slightly, tilting his head as if trying to catch a sound beyond the wall. But the sound was right here— in you.
He heard the beat again. Your heart was beating too slow. and then in a second it was beating too fast. It made his stomach twist.
“…Have you been feeling okay?” he asked, voice lower now.
“Yeah. I mean—tired, I guess. Nothing too bad you know? Just life.” You blinked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently took your wrist, fingers brushing your pulse point.
“What is it?” you asked again, your smile slipping. “Matt?”
“Your heart,” he said quietly. “It’s not right.”
You pulled your hand back like you’d been burned.
“I—what? Matt, come on.”
“I can hear it,” he said, sharper now. “The beat’s irregular. It’s been skipping since you came in.”
You stood up, folding your arms across your chest.
“You’re being dramatic,” you muttered. “It’s just stress. I’ve been dealing with some palpitations. It’s not—it's not serious.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
Silence.
“Have you seen a doctor?” he repeated, more firmly this time.
“No,” you said, looking away.
“Why not?” Matt stood now too, towering beside you, his expression somewhere between fear and frustration.
“Because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“You think that doesn’t scare me?” His voice cracked at the end, jaw clenched. “You think I haven’t lost enough already?”
That stopped you..
“I hear a thousand heartbeats a day. And yours—yours—is the one I tune in to without even trying. So when it changes, I know. I can feel it. Like it’s warning me something is wrong.”
Your throat tightened.
“…Matt—”
“You can’t hide this from me,” he whispered.
He reached out again, slower this time, and you let him. His fingers laced with yours, his thumb brushing your pulse again. He was listening. He always was.
“I just didn’t want to be… a burden, I don't want to complain about small stuff like this when you go through so much more every day.” you whispered.
“You’re not.” His voice was firm now. “You’re never a burden. You’re mine. And if something’s wrong, I need to know. I need you to let me help you.”
You nodded slowly, a tear sliding down your cheek. He caught it with his thumb.
“Okay,” you breathed. “I’ll go to a doctor.”
…
It had taken less than twelve hours for Matt to make the appointment happen.
You weren’t sure if it was Catholic guilt or pure Murdock-level stubbornness that made him so relentless, but by morning he’d found a walk in specialist, cleared his schedule, and insisted on going with you to the clinic.
The air was sharp with antiseptic, cold and sterile in a way that made your nerves jangle. You hated waiting rooms. Hated the white noise hum. Hated your own heart most of all for being the reason you were here.
Matt hadn’t let go of your hand once.
His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles as you waited but his attention was elsewhere like he was still listening. Like he couldn’t stop.
“Please stop worrying so much,” you begged silently.
“Im sorry, sweetheart” He lifted your knuckles to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss.
When your name was finally called, you stood up too fast. The world tilted slightly. Matt’s arm was there in a flash, steadying you without a word.
He didn’t come into the exam room at first—respecting your privacy—but the minute the doctor stepped out, Matt slipped in like a shadow.
You were sitting on the edge of the exam table, paper crinkling beneath you, heart pounding in your chest like a warning drum.
The doctor returned soon after. She ran an electrocardiogram, took blood, scheduled an echo for the following week and gave you a portable heart monitor to wear for 48 hours.
“You’re not dying,” the doctor said gently as she handed you medical papers and you felt Matt's shoulder relax drastically. “But this isn’t something to ignore. Your rhythm is irregular enough that I’d like to rule out early signs of arrhythmia. But we’re catching it early so there is nothing to worry about.”
You nodded, absorbing it like a punch to the stomach.
…
That night, he didn’t go on patrol.
You didn’t ask him not to. He just didn’t.
You fell asleep around midnight, monitor leads still attached to your skin.
Matt sat in silence across the room at his desk, laptop open, glasses off, headphones in.
He wasn’t listening to case files.
He was researching deep into medical websites, looking up diagnoses, remedies and even interviews with people who had your condition. Mapping it all out like a case.
You stirred later in the night around 2 and saw the blue glow of the screen. Heard the soft sound of keyboard clicking. Watched him with his brow furrowed, hair a mess from running his hands through it over and over.
“Matt,” you murmured, voice hoarse, “come to bed.”
He didn’t look up. “I will. Just give me a few more minutes.”
“…You’re trying to solve me like I’m a case.” you sighed.
That made him stop.
He finally looked over, and for a moment, he felt guilty.
Then he crossed the room, sat beside you on the bed, and ran his hand gently through your hair.
“I’m sorry ” he whispered. “I should’ve heard it sooner. If it gets worse—if I miss something—”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You heard the doctor matty, i'm not dying” you pressed.
“But I can't help but think that if i don't do anything—”
“You catched it though, right? Isn't that enough?” your thumb brushes the small stubble on his cheek.
“I wish I could stop it entirely now. I wish I could have super powers to heal you.”
“But you do have super powers. That's why we're here right now talking about this.” You sat up straighter in bed. “You're my very own hero with crazy super hearing” you laughed and a small grin grew on his face.
“Please don't make me force you into bed” you said, voice getting lower “I miss you”
You leaned in and kissed him—slow and warm. He melted into it almost immediately, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer like he didn’t even realize he needed to.
When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm and uneven.
“Come to bed,” you whispered. “Please. Just… come to bed with me. Let me fall asleep with you. Let me be okay, just for tonight.”
He didn’t answer right away.
But then he pulled you into his arms fully, before falling on his back bringing you down with him comfortably on your bed. You felt the tension bleed out of him bit by bit as you snuggled closer, face almost digging into his chest.
After that he finally let himself believe that you were safe.
"in every dimension, Mark Grayson falls for you, but not this one."
Shit, you think. Between all the blood and smoke, you weren't sure if colors could be vibrant anymore. No matter how many people you got to safety or buildings you stopped from falling, there was always more.
More screams, more buildings falling, more dead bodies, more chaos.
"You know, all this blood and fire makes you look so much more pretty," a voice teases. You turn, and for a split second, relief floods you before it quickly replaces itself with apprehension. Mark floats there, but he's different; he's not Mark. His hair is parted into a mohawk, and there's something else. This Mark's eyes are rabid, obsessed, and watching you like you're some type of prize.
You try not to show your apprehension, but it's hard when Mark looks at you like that—like the way he looks at Eve. "Confused, huh?" Mark teases, and he softly lands on the ground, only a couple of feet away from you. "From what I've heard, you and I aren't together in this universe. Lameass me is with Eve. So stupid," Mark says, rolling his eyes at the end. "Can't be too surprised though! This world's me is so lame and weak."
Mark goes on and on about how your world's Mark is a sniveling, weak piece of shit, but you stopped listening. You and Mark are together in a different world.
A gust of wind makes you whip around as another Mark appears before you. But like the one with a mohawk, this one isn't your world's Mark. His suit is different, a mesh of white and gray, and no mask to be found. But like the other Mark, he's staring at you like that.
"Ugh! Couldn't give us a moment alone, could you, asshole!" Mohawk Mark complains, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips pulled into a sneer. The other Mark, the one in white and gray, doesn't acknowledge the complaints and insults thrown his way. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours, and you freeze up as he steps closer to you.
"You don't look any different," is all he says before his fingers hover over your cheek. It's wrong, it's so wrong, the way your heart beats a little faster, how your cheeks flush, and how desperately you want to lean into his warmth. Mark, this Mark in front of you, has killed countless people and caused so much damage that the aftercount might be in the hundreds of thousands.
You don't get a second to react before there's another gust of wind, and yet another Mark stands there. His suit colors are now yellow and black instead of black and dark blue. His yellow cape flows behind him, and a twisted grin pulls at his face.
"y/nnnnnn," Mark calls for you, and you hate how it sounds so right, so good. Mohawk Mark and the one right next to you turn to the other one, and a split silence passes before you're dragged up into the air.
Instinctively, you push away before arms are holding yours behind your back. "Let go!" you yell, your arms straining against Mark's.
"No wayyyy, babe," the Mark with a yellow cape says, coming closer to you, his fingers twirling a curl of your hair.
"Can we just get this over with?" Mohawk Mark says, and your heart drops to your stomach as fast as it's beating.
"We're not going to hurt you," the Mark holding you says, his voice deep and his hold tightening.
"Could have fooled me," you finally say, and the two Marks in front of you laugh. The one twirling your hair stops before squishing your cheeks together and laughing again as you struggle to pull your face out of his hold.
"Still a little firecracker like I remember," he says, and you freeze. Were you with this Mark in his universe as well? And the one behind? Was the universe so cruel that you and Mark were together in every other universe except this one? The one where you chickened out of telling you how you felt, and now he was with Eve.
"Don't worry, pretty. This world's Mark is stupid enough to not make you his, but we aren't."
This is inspired by this loud!reader by the wonderful and lovely : Nympheagaina
This is SMUT, 18+ only.
Synopsis: you’re quiet during sex, not because your boyfriend isn’t good, just wasn’t in your nature until now.
Words : 2,710!
Warning? : Soft!dom Mark x Sub! reader, sex toys, Mark does pin the readers hands, Reader has female body parts.
Uhmm proofread by my dyslexia ass plz don’t yell at me for typos! I always love readin’ yall comments and reposts!
Author note feel free to skippp :
Oh my god bro, I’m so rusty on writing and I was having such a hard time trying write mark “dom” - like because I just think he would show more thru actions then words .. also don’t think he’d ever be a “hard” Dom, always a soft Dom at that, coaching you thru it, or talking you thru it but also getting choked up as well? Yeah.. I love man whose crying while topping lol. Anyways enjoy.
Supple skin collided with his ears, your thighs flinched as his slippery tongue glided over your clit, one of your hands bury into his head, soft hair tickling between your fingers.
Strings of salvia still connect you and Mark as he pulls away from your cunt.
“H—hey?” Mark’s voice calls to you soft hums slip through your lips.
“H-hm?” your eyelashes are heavy as you stare at him, hazy.
“Am I good-?” He thumbs your clit, hiccuping a gasp from you, his brows tense as he watches your reaction.
“I-hm? Mark.. What do you mean?” Your spine crunches as you prop yourself up, head tilts to hold his gaze.
“Well- uh, you never y‘know moan when I go down on O-or even when I’m— fuckin’ you..” His fingers scratch his non-existent beard, his pouty pink lips make your fingers flex instinctively.
Your pupils shine in regret as you slide your hand under his chin, your thumb strokes his cheek.
“Aw Mark, baby no you—you’re wonderful, I’m just — quiet..” your lips chap as teeth bite into your flesh.
“Quiet?”
“Yeah— I just…” heat builds up in your cheeks, as your voice squeaks.
“We’ve been together for a year now— you can tell me if I’m not good! I can improve, I promise!“ Mark’s pleads reel in your heart.
“ Aw, Mark, no honey. ‘m sorry I’m so used to being quiet after years of living with roommates and stuff, and I was like— using a dildo or vibrator so.” your body shifts as you bite your lips once more.
“I— you’re the first person I’ve been with so, I’m still learning too. ‘m sorry again.”
“Nononoo— I’m glad you told me, I’m just happy to know my stroke game isn’t weak.” A grin peeked through his mouth as you giggled at his stupidity, you planted a soft kiss on his toothy grin. Mark’s grin turns inquisitive as he hovers at you.
“Hey, can— we try something?”
“Depends? What do you wanna try?” Your brows furrow.
“Where’s the toy chest?”
“I— Mark..?”
“Come on, Just— indulge me, hm?”
Your hands pat his arms before motioning your head down, “U—Under the bed.”
“Thank you” his body slinks off you, tentative hands slide the box from its hiding place. Eyes scanning your choice of toys, your body trembling as you watch him judge.
“Hey, why are you so nervous?” His hand caresses yours, snapping you out of your trace.
“It's just me, your lovable boyfriend.” He flashes another smile, disarming you, just a tad.
“Well, my lovable boyfriend won’t tell me what he's about to do plus- I— god. It’s embarrassing watching you fondle my toys!” Your butt wiggles against the bed as he giggles.
“Oh, you mean like this?”
Your hands slap over your eyes as his eyebrows wiggle, picking up a soft pink dildo, fingers sliding up and down its shaft.
“Yes! Like that!” Your back flew down to the bed, curling on your side away from your boyfriend.
“I’ve never seen you this shy before, this is new.” He straddles you, turning your hips flat.
Your hands pry off your pretty face as his breath ghosts against your ear, “I— I kinda like it.”
“Maaarkkk! Plea—hn” A soft lick placed upon the shell of your ear ruptures a shiver down your spine.
“That was a pretty noise.“ Mark plants a kiss on your cheek, nuzzling your nose as he plants another on your lips.
“Yeah. A small one.” Your arms cross and an unimpressive frown adorns your face.
“See, that’s what we’re gonna work on today, using your words— or uh, noises”
You giggle at his shifts of confidence, “Hm, okay Mister. Make me scream then.” Your grin sent a surge down Mark's nervous system.
“Oh, you just fucked up biiig time.” His hands find your waist.
“Really? Did I noOW-!” You yelp as his hand yanks your ankle as he pulls your legs up, cold air hits your pussy as he watches your legs crack wide open, hands grip the back of your thigh.
“Mark!”
His saliva glistens against your pussy as languishing licks start assaulting your clit.
“Mar-nnhn” your fingers grip your arms as your head tilts back. A whimper escapes as Mark plants more kisses upon your clit.
“Mark- please your—“A sharp moan threatens to bubble your mouth, and a pleased hum escapes Mark. Nimble fingers circle your hole before one eases into your aching hole.
“Maa-holy shit.”
“Think you can handle another one?” It wasn't really a question, just an attempt to get you to speak.
“Yesyesyeyyes please-“
Torture wasn’t a good enough word to describe what was happening to you, your mind clouded your skin was running hot, too much, and not enough stimulation. A delicate huff falls from your mouth as his second finger stretches your cunt out.
“Feel nice? Wan’ another?”
A high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you nod rapidly.
“You have to tell me what you want, I won’t know
If you don’t tell me..” He whispers your name at the end, earning another whine.
“mor—!”
“Good..good you’re doing good! Keep talkin’ just like that.”
“Pleaase!”
Your back arches off the bed as his third finger enters you, and your head throws back as your lips press into a thin line suppressing another moan.
“Oh go-“ you hiccup cut off with another whine.
“You’re so wet, baby..”
The heat and pressure bubbles from the depths of the soul as Mark’s fingers pump in and out, “m— hnm, Mark! I—I can’t!”
“Can’t what?” His thumb rubs harsher circles on your clit as you buck up.
“ ‘m cu— oh—! “ your hands leave a bruising grip, as the world fades white and your hearing turns fuzzy.
Mark’s fingers slowly pump as you come down from your high.
“You.. okay?” His digits pull from your body slowly as you whine from the loss.
“ ‘m great..that was— that was good.”
“Really?”
A happy sigh vacates you, as you lean to scratch his soft hair.
“Yes, really good baby, thank you.”
“I’m not done with you yet.”
Your hands slide to his cheek, as your brow furrows. “Mm, round two already?”
“Mm, yeah haven’t made you scream yet.”
Soft kisses elicit humming noises as hands roam against silky skin.
Mark’s velvety voice calls your name, “ Can I put it in?”
You giggle as you nod, “It fuckin’ kills me with how sweet you are.” you press more kisses on his nose as he trails kisses down your tummy.
His tip brushes against your clit, covering his cock with your arousal.
“Stoppp teasin’”
“Impatient.”
Frustration peaks from you, “Shut u—!”
Mark’s cock stretches your cunt as you watch your face twist in pleasure, mouth in a silent ‘o’.
“Cute..” His fingers rub circles on your hips, gripping them, pulling you flush against himself.
Your knitted eyebrows relax as he draws back before slamming back into your hole, your hands fly to your mouth muffling your sounds.
“You moaned.”
You heaved before letting your fingers tighten then release from your mouth.
“Uh- yeah, I’ve been moaning this entire time, Mark!”
Mark smirks, like a full-blown grin, “no no no noo! You full-blooded moan— no little whimpers or whines. You moaned.”
“Wha— yeah! That’s what happens when you feel good!”
“Mmm—, I wann’ hear more please?” he captures your lips before slamming back into you, your breath hitches as you try to move your hands back to your mouth.
Mark’s hands catch yours, his fingers intertwining before pinning them to the bed, his eyes hang low as he pulls back to look at his work.
“Nuh-uh..Not this time!” A touching kiss was placed on your tender skin as your body wiggled under his body.
“Mar—!” your eyes flutter as the sound starts to rise from your pit.
“Pleas—“Another slam of his hips into yours makes you choke out a sob.
“Co-come on, fuck—..hhn..”
“I- I can’t— “ Heavy pants fill the room as Mark pounds into you harder.
“You— fuck… you can do it, baby? Plea-please for me? Please? Hhn—“ his hands release yours, both softly gripping your face. His hands steady your face as his eyes burrow into yours.
Soft pink lips seeping soft breath against your breath as you stare back.
“Please— I—I’m gonna lose my min— ah!”
You see stars as your hands slide over his as your head tilts back.
A beautiful cry of intoxicating velvet silky sound caresses Mark’s ears, a falter into a stutter, his eyes widen before they turn low in a sultry stare, his hands slip from your face to your hips as he leans back on his knees to take in your body.
“Holy fuck..”
“Hu-? Mark why'd yo— HHN!” Your wrist shoved together held in place by one of Mark’s hands as his hips piston into you.
“Oh- fuckfuck—! You so-sound so so good..fuck please I wann’ — wann’ hear m— hhn” Mark’s teeth graze your neck as his pink lips latch on, your body shudders as he sucks a purple bruise onto your neck.
“Ma— ahhn! Plea— “ Your words seep in and our broken streams as you stir against the hold your boyfriend has on your wrist.
“You look, ah- so fucking beautiful right now, oh god.” Mark whimpers as his hips snap into you, causing another burst of moans.
“Yesyesyes— please..gimm’ mor—“ Mark’s whines cloud your ears as your eyes flicker as your mouth hangs open another moan rips through your throat.
“M— I’m —“
“Yes, yes— giveittome, please please—“ Mark’s buzz through your body as your head tilts back as your walls clench, “ohfuck—“
Your hands tighten into a fist as his seed spills into you.
He milks himself through your high as your moans die down to soft whimpers again.
“Another round?”
“M..Mark, god! I—.. Jesus just caught my breath!” Exasperated sighs hummed from your throat.
“Please?“ Mark's brows furrowed, his face was more akin to a puppy than a human, his hands clasped together in a prayer hand.
“Marrrkk…”
“Y-you just sounded so good, please, pretty please? I jus-just wann’ hear it again. Just one more round.”
“One more round.”
“One more r—“ your breath hitches as his dick swells in you again.
“Damn your stupid vil—“
Vision grows spotty as his cock thrusts into your g-spot, his fingers dig delicate delight bruises into your hips as your sobs echo throughout your apartment.
A loud knock freezes both of your movements. Mark’s eyes glance to yours, fingers pressed into an “Shh” as he pulled out of you, throwing on your pink robe that was hung on the door.
You gather all the covers to your chest as you try to peek through the door, hearing persons mutter then Mark’s trademark embarrassed laughter, then your door groaning shut.
His face comes back into your view, his face flustered as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“What was that about?”
“Uhh— haha, your neighbor.. was worried about you— I explained we were ..uhm in an.. intense— ‘workout’ asked for us to be.. lil quieter with our ‘workout’. Also, she asked for the workout plan, so you’ll have to send that to her.” his shoulders shrug off your robe, putting it back on your door rack before shuffling onto the bed again.
“Oh my god” your face buried into your covers, “I’ll never ever be able to look her in the eye.”
Marks lips grace the top of your head before, tackling you back down to the bed.
“I mean, she was worried! I think that’s sweet.” His nose bury into your neck, inhaling your scent, then soft kisses peppering your skin.
“Just means we’ll have to be a tiny bit quieter.”
“Wha- Mark!” A wonderful hum slips through your lips as his finger rubs circles against your pearl.
“You’re still soaked..”
“Mark, ahh-..” a whimper eggs him on as he watches your face twitch.
“Mark—“ your back arches as a sudden buzz assaults your clit, your hand searches for Mark’s wrist as he pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive parts.
“Oh— ! Markkk- ho-how’d Wher—?” Your hands slap his arm feebly.
“Mm, when I put your robe back, I saw your toy chest in the corner, I totally forgot I had wanted to use a toy on you. “
Another groan of frustration and desire slams out of you, “Please, show me more. I love hearing you like this.”
Your ears flicker between the buzzing between your thighs and his words as your body convulses in pleasure another shaking orgasm,
“Thatsss’ it, fall apart for me, please for me. baby?” Your hands clung to him like air, your sobs hiccuped through your throat as his vibrator still attacked your sweet spot.
A hazy waft over you as your body hums, breath swallows as you feel a familiar sensation of his cock.
“Ma..Ah!” Nothing prepares Mark for the blistering harmonious moans that danced from your mouth as his cock buries into you.
“Good baby..Fuuckkkk, you’re perfect.” His thumb finds your clit as your back lifts.
“I— can’t-!”
“You can— fuck.. you can take me—“
His thumb applies delicious pressure to your knob, tears brim at your eyes as another yelp releases. “God, baby— I’ll have— mm!” Mark’s breath halts, “You don’t want your neighbor to—mm— come back right?”
Your head shakes as you whimper, “Noo..nonono— fee— good”
“I know, I know. Can’t be — ahh.. Too loud, an-anymore”
“I.. I- can’t! S’its too much-“ Your legs wrap around his waist as you sob his name more and more.
“Mm, t—too much but you're wrappin’ your legs around me?” Mark’s chuckle sends another high-pitched wail from your mouth.
“If y-fuck..! If you keep bein’ so deliciously l—loud I’ll have to gag you,” baby.”
“Can’t— s’quiet- Ma—“ your legs shake as another plays on the horizon.
“S’loud- I’m—“
Mark’s fingers stuff themselves into your mouth, your tongue sluggishly engulfing his digits.
Mark’s eyes burn with ferocious appetite, his hips stammer to a stop as he ogles your lewd display.
“You really want to fuck the shit out of you, that’s the way to do it.”
“Pleas-uh— ‘arder” Your head lifts to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, gagging on them before pulling away, “Mo—mooruh—pleas—“
“God” a stroke of his cock makes your head throw back Again, tears fall against the creaking bed, “W-who am I to den— deny you that pleasure, hm?”
More choked sobs are muffled through fingers as Mark’s punishing pace ruins you further, his breath ghosts the shell of your ear, nipping it with his teeth,
“I hope you aren’t doin’ anything to—mmm—orrow, because I don’ think I’ll be able to s—stop tonight.”
Another plea of mercy from you ignites to Mark’s dick.
The sounds of your sloppy cunt drenches the room as your arousal pools on the bed sheets, your legs and Mark’s member sticky with endless sexual fluid.
“Just one mor— gimmie one mor—“
It’s filthy, only whines and pants as you come again. Your mind is gone, filled with Mark and his cock, how it feels as release inside you finally, your tears have run dry. You can’t remember how many times he came in you, or how many times you’ve come either.
“Maru—fuh”
Mark's fingers leave your mouth with a pop, “Shh, I got you.”
Open-mouth kisses decorate your face as you faintly as your chest rises and falls.
“I’m gonna run a bath, okay?“
You hum in response.
“ ‘m sleepy..”
“I know, I’m sorry”
“You… owe me a massage tomorrow— imm’ be so soooree”
“I promise one massage coming up”
——
A few weeks later.
“Hey, You!” Your neighbor bumps your shoulder gently as you head up the stairs.
“Oh! Hi Julie, long time no see!”
“I know! Listen, I need your workout plan! You’ve been lookin’ sooo good lately, like glowing’ and I, sooo need that in my life right now. Oh and do you need a partner for it? I know you and your boyfriend usually do it together. I always know when he comes over now since the walls are sooo thin haha!”
“I—“ your mind blanks, “Uh— I’ll send you the workout video!”
You scurry to your door as you give a quick wave goodbye.
I need a fanfic of reader comforting matt after the events of the first episode BADD
Win
Summery: the request
Words: 2k
Warnings: death, spoilers, grammar mistakes.
A/N: Thank you for requesting!
You, Matt, Foggy and Karen couldn't be happier on this nice evening. It was chilly but not cold enough to see your breath in the air, and the city around you was buzzing with energy. But that wasn't surprising considering this was New York, the city that never sleeps, after all.
The four of you walked down the sidewalk, passing street food vendors and dodging the usual tourists. Matt held onto your arm—not like he did with Foggy or Karen when they were guiding him, but in a different way. It felt more intentional, more like a quiet communication.
When you stepped into Josie’s, the air was just as you remembered—thick with the smell of cheap beer, and sweat. The place was packed, voices overlapping in a familiar kind of chaos. For you, it wasn’t just a bar. It was your bar. It felt like home.
As the night went on, you and Matt ended up at a corner table, tucked away from the crowd. Foggy was at the bar, downing shots with a woman. Meanwhile, Karen was near the pool tables, effortlessly winning every game.
"I love nights like this," you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.
Matt shifted closer, a silent acknowledgment that he was listening—really listening.
"Me too," he murmured, reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. The simple touch sent warmth through you, grounding you in the moment.
It had been a year since you and Matt made it official. After years of being caught in an endless cycle of friends-with-benefits, breakups, and make ups, you'd finally found your rhythm. And you couldn’t be happier. It felt right—like everything you had ever hoped for.
The warmth of him next to you, his touch, his presence, it made you giddy.
As the night stretched on, you and Matt only had more fun, talking, laughing, sneaking kisses, and, most importantly, being thoroughly entertained by Foggy’s bar adventures.
But then his phone rang.
You and Matt instinctively tuned out, giving him a moment of privacy.
“I can’t believe you’ve had these glasses for so long,” you murmured, reaching out to trace your fingers along Matt’s cheek, taking the chance to admire him.
“What’s wrong with these bad boys?” he teased, grinning as he gently caught your wrist, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin.
“Nothing! I just think it might be time for a little upgrade,” you snorted, laughing at his mock offense, until Matt’s entire demeanor shifted.
“what?” your brows furrowed searching Matt’s face for any kind of hint.
“Something’s wrong.”
You and Matt shot to your feet, a flicker of panic passing between you. Without hesitation, you turned to Karen, quickly motioning for her to follow from across the bar.
The moment Matt pushed open the bar door and stepped outside, his voice was firm, urgent.
“Foggy, what’s going on?”
“It’s- It’s Benny. After that thing in Red Hook he said he was getting threats so I stashed him”
“You stashed him?” Matt chuckled confused. “How exactly are you stashing people?”
“He’s at my apartment, It’s just down the street” Benny’s voice continued echoing from Foggy’s phone.
“It’s a secure building Benny. You're safe” He says before putting the phone down covering the microphone. “This guy paranoid, he’s probably high”
“He doesnt sound high. Why- why didn't you tell me about the threats?” Matt asked brows furrowing behind his red lenses.
“I just thought it was Benny being Benny” Foggy sighed before being interrupted by the sound of something crashing from his phone. You, Matt, Karen and Foggy all heard the calls of distress from the other side of the call.
“All right, stay here” Matt immediately started walking away.
“Matt wait-” You attempted to reach for his hand but only the tip of your fingers could brush him, as he slipped away.
“Just stay here, keep calling him” He ordered.
“Look, I'm sorry” Fog apologized. “Maybe I didn't want to give you an excuse.” Matt only sighed before truly walking away. You couldn't shake the bad feeling in your chest as you saw your lover leaving.
You, Karen, and Foggy were passing back and forth in front of the bar when Foggy’s phone rang. Benny’s name flashed on the screen. Without a second thought, he answered.
“Benny! What’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.
There was a brief pause, followed by muffled words. “Foggy... he wanted to know where you were. I’m sorry.”
Foggy’s brow furrowed. “What? Who?”
Before he could get another word out, the line went dead.
“What the hell is he talking about?” you asked, arms crossed, a knot forming in your stomach. Your body was suddenly trembling, a cold rush of dread flooding your veins.
“Call him back,” Karen suggested quickly, but Foggy didn’t need telling twice. He dialed again, his fingers frantic on the screen. But Benny never picked up.
“I don’t know what he meant. He said someone’s looking for—”
The sharp crack of a gunshot rang out.
You froze.
Foggy’s eyes went wide, and in that instant, everything seemed to slow down.
His body jerked, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as a dark stain started seeping across his shirt. His eyes grew with shock, confusion—then, he stumbled. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the cold concrete with a thud.
“Foggy!” Karen screamed, her eyes frantically scanning the streets, searching for the shooter.
The loud sound echoed, causing people inside the bar to panic. In the space of a breath, two more bodies hit the ground, their lifeless forms crashing to the pavement, blood pooling beneath them.
In a second a smoke bomb was thrown in the bar creating a choking cloud. The sharp hiss of the smoke and the frantic screams of patrons filled the air like a cacophony. People ran in every direction, confusion and terror blurring everything.
"Karen!"
You threw yourself in front of her just as the masked man raised his gun, pointing it directly at her. The shot rang out, and you felt a sudden, searing sting tear through your arm. The burn of the bullet flared across your skin.
Before you could even react Daredevil slammed the man through the bar window, sending shards of glass flying in every direction.
"Oh God, no," you sobbed, crawling toward Foggy’s crumpled form.
Karen was already beside him, her hands pressing down hard on his chest, desperate. He gasped, a weak, broken sound escaping his lips.
You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking violently, unable to press the right buttons. “Hold on, Foggy, just—just hold on!” you whispered through your tears. The world around you spun, your vision blurring.
“Pl-please, send help…” your voice kept breaking as you spoke into the phone. Your chest felt as though a thousand pounds were crushing it, your heart sinking with every breath.
"Keep your eyes open!" Karen cried as she pressed harder against his chest, each breath from Foggy growing weaker.
"Please, Foggy," you sobbed, reaching out, feeling his bloody hand weakly grasp yours.
"You have to stay awake," you begged.
“Please, Foggy… stay with us." Karen repeated the words over and over.
But then—Foggy’s hand went limp.
“No, no, no, no—" Tears streamed down your face.
His breathing stopped. And the world seemed to follow, the noise of the street, the chaos of the bar—everything falling silent as the weight of the moment crashed down on you.
And then, behind you, you heard a sickening thud. Another body had fallen from much higher. You couldn’t help the small breath of relief when you turned to see the person who had fallen wasn’t Matt.
But Your entire body continued shaking as the reality of the scene unfolded in front of you. You couldn’t breathe.
ONE YEAR LATER
Your reflection in the mirror makes your throat tighten. Your damp hair clings to your skin, and a plush white towel is wrapped around your body, droplets of water trailed down to pool at your feet. But you can’t look away from the scar on your upper arm.
A reminder of what happened. A reminder of what’s happening today.
Foggy’s murder trial.
You exhale, the sound soft but heavy, before pulling the towel away and reaching for your blazer.
As you move, your bare feet press against the cold hardwood floor, but the sound is lost in the sound of Matt’s record playing.
You glance toward the window. He’s standing there, coffee in hand, eyes closed, face turned toward the warmth, as if he can feel the sun sinking into his skin.
"Hey," you whisper as you step closer, careful not to disturb the quiet moment he’s in.
In an instant, it’s like he snaps back to reality.
"Hey," he murmurs, turning to face you. Instinctively, your hand reaches up, smoothing the deep crease between his brows.
"You almost ready?" His voice is soft, his fingers sliding through your damp hair, tucking it behind your shoulder. You can only nod.
His hand drifts lower, tracing the edge of your blazer where the top buttons remain undone. Slowly, his fingertips skim over your skin until they reach it—the scar from that night.
And when he touches it, it's as if the air shifts between you.
"Matt," you whisper, catching the slight glimmer in his eyes.. A deep frown settles on his face, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to hold himself together.
"I miss him," he says, voice breaking. And then, his face crumbles.
"I know, baby." You pull him into your arms, pressing him close, feeling the way his body trembles against yours.
Your fingers weave into his dark hair, holding him as tightly as you can. And when your own tears begin to fall, you don’t bother wiping them away.
"I'm scared we won’t win,that we won't get justice" he whispers against your neck, his voice barely holding together.
Immediately, you shake your head, refusing to let doubt take over. "We will. Do you hear me? We will win."
Gently, you cup his face, wiping away the tears that slip down his cheeks. He exhales a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours, seeking comfort in the closeness.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you," he murmurs, his voice raw. "You’re everything to me."
Your nose brushes against his, a soft, reassuring touch. "I love you, Matty," you whisper, your lips ghosting over his. "More than anything."
Matt clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His breath is warm, shaky and uneven, his hands gripping your waist as if afraid you’ll disappear, too.
For a long moment, neither of you speak. There’s only the quiet sound of breathing, the occasional sniffle, and the way his chest rises and falls against yours. Then, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his face inches from yours.
“I love you” he whispers, voice raw, thick with emotion.
“Let's go win this case,” you smile.
You close the space between you, kissing him softly.
His lips are warm and gentle against yours, hesitant at first, as if savoring the moment. Then, he exhales and his hands find your waist, fingers pressing lightly against your skin.
His fingertips graze up your spine, sending a shiver through you, while his other hand cups your jaw, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheekbone.
A soft sigh escapes you as he pulls you impossibly closer, the heat between you growing. His lips move against yours with more urgency now. When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“Let's go win” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with a hint of cockiness.
