━━╋━ 𝗿𝘂𝗻, 𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝘂𝗻 💭 .
[...]⠀⠀┄ ⠀ you know it wasn't easy escaping him. but you tried anyway. was it adrenaline? was it stupidity? probably both.
❝ including ⠀! ⠀matt murdock, benjamin poindexter & frank castle. ◟ warnings ⠀! ⠀headcanons, yandere characters, toxic behaviors, masterlist, english is not my first language 𖹭⠀⠀❞⠀
Matt Murdock
You almost make it out.
That’s the worst part.
Your shoes are already in your hand because you learned the floorboards creak near the kitchen. Your bag is light. Just essentials. Phone charger. Cash. A shirt stolen from the back of the closet.
You even wait until the city noise gets loud enough outside to hide the sound of the lock.
Click.
Silence.
Then—
“Where are you going?”
Soft.
So soft it almost scares you more.
Matt’s voice comes from the darkness behind you. Calm. Awake. Completely awake.
You turn and can barely see him sitting on the edge of the couch. Gray sweatpants. Henley half buttoned. Head tilted slightly like he’s listening to something far away.
Listening to you.
Your pulse spikes.
He hears it instantly.
“You packed three days ago,” he says quietly. “Kept the bag under the bed first. Moved it under the sink yesterday.”
You say nothing.
“You were waiting for me to patrol tonight.”
His jaw tightens just a little. Barely there. But with Matt, anger isn’t loud. It folds inward. Sharp. Controlled. Bleeding quietly.
“You lied to me.”
“You don’t let me leave.”
“That’s because every time you leave,” he says, standing now, “you end up hurt.”
You laugh once. Shaky. “You mean away from you.”
His expression changes at that.
Not guilt.
Pain.
Like you reached into his ribs and twisted.
He walks toward you slowly, careful even now, like approaching a wounded animal.
“You think I want this?” he asks. “You think I wanted to become someone you’re afraid of?”
“You lock the doors, Matt.”
“And you keep trying to disappear.”
His hand finds the wall beside your head before you can move. Not trapping exactly. Just there. Solid. Warm. Impossible to push past without making it a fight.
And Matt hates fighting you.
That’s the tragedy of it.
Because he loves you with every ruined piece of himself. In the obsessive, self destructive way men like him love anything.
Like punishment.
Like prayer.
“You don’t understand what it sounds like,” he says hoarsely. “Every time you cry in another room. Every time your heartbeat changes because you’re scared of me.”
His forehead lowers near yours.
“You think I can just let you walk into this city alone after that?”
His fingers brush your wrist.
Gentle.
“You’re staying,” he says quietly. “Even if you hate me for it.”
And somewhere outside, Hell’s Kitchen keeps screaming into the night while he stands there holding himself together by threads.
Benjamin Poindexter
Dex knows you’re leaving.
That’s the thing about him.
He notices patterns the way other people notice weather.
Your breathing changed two weeks ago.
You stopped touching him first.
You started hiding your phone screen.
Tiny things.
Tiny, tiny things.
And Benjamin builds entire worlds out of tiny things.
So when you climb out the apartment window onto the fire escape at 2 AM, you only get halfway down before a knife lands beside your hand.
Thunk.
Perfect throw.
Not close enough to hurt you.
Just enough to tell you he could have.
Slowly, you look up.
Dex is leaning out the window above you in a plain gray t shirt, staring down with those wide, unsettling eyes.
“You should go back inside,” he says.
Your stomach drops.
“No.”
His face twitches slightly at the answer.
Not anger first.
Confusion.
Like a dog hearing a command it doesn’t understand.
“No?” he repeats.
“I’m leaving.”
“You can’t.”
You climb faster.
Another object whistles past your ear.
This time it’s your own keys.
They strike the metal railing hard enough to spark before falling into the alley below.
Dex disappears from the window.
You barely get two steps before the fire escape door below slams open and he’s suddenly there.
Too fast.
Always too fast.
“You’re making this difficult,” he says, breathing heavily.
“You scare me.”
That hits him harder than screaming would have.
His expression crumples for one awful second.
Because in his head, he loves you correctly.
That’s the horror of Dex. He genuinely believes the obsession is devotion. Believes protecting you means owning every piece of your life before somebody else ruins it.
“You’re safe with me,” he insists.
“You broke my friend’s hand.”
“She was turning you against me.”
His voice gets sharper now. Panicked around the edges.
“You were happy before,” he says quickly. “You smiled. We watched movies. You laughed at me.”
You try stepping around him.
His hand catches your arm instantly.
Too tight.
Immediately too tight.
And he notices because Dex notices everything.
He lets go like he touched a stove.
“I’m trying,” he says quietly. Desperately. “I’m trying so hard to be good for you.”
Rain starts misting across the fire escape.
The city below buzzes in blurry neon.
And Dex looks at you with the same expression he probably wore staring at those baseballs as a kid.
Obsessive.
Loneliness.
Violence balanced on a razor’s edge.
“If you leave,” he says softly, “I don’t know what I’ll become.”
That’s not a threat.
Which somehow makes it worse.
Frank Castle
Frank doesn’t stop you at first.
You get all the way to the front door.
Hand on the knob.
Apartment dead silent behind you.
Then:
“You got five seconds to tell me where you think you’re goin’.”
His voice sounds rough with sleep and cigarettes.
You close your eyes.
Of course he’s awake.
You turn slowly.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, elbows on his knees, watching you. Old black shirt. Bare feet. Bruises fading yellow across his knuckles.
You don’t answer.
Frank nods once like he expected that.
“Alright.”
He stands.
Big man. Heavy steps. The kind that make the room feel smaller.
“You wanna leave?” he asks. “Fine. Tell me where you’re gonna go.”
“Away from here.”
“That ain’t an answer.”
“You don’t own me, Frank.”
Something flashes across his face then.
Mean.
Not theatrical anger. Not screaming.
Just that dangerous stillness he gets right before somebody dies.
But it disappears almost immediately because it’s you.
Always different with you.
“You think this is about ownin’ you?” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”
He rubs a hand over his face hard enough to drag his skin.
“I seen what people do,” he says quietly. “What this city does. What men do.”
“And now I’m trapped in an apartment.”
“Alive, though.”
The words crack out instantly.
Alive.
Like that alone justifies everything.
Possession disguised as protection. Protection disguised as necessity.
He steps closer.
“You think I don’t know you hate me sometimes?” he asks.
His voice is lower now. Exhausted.
“I know.”
There’s no self pity in it either. That’s what hurts.
Frank already sentenced himself years ago.
“You should’ve let me go.”
“No.”
Immediate.
Certain.
Not even hesitation.
His hand lands beside the door behind you, blocking it without touching you.
“You walk out that door, I’m gonna follow you.”
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“Yes I can.”
Quiet.
Dead serious.
And there it is.
Not manipulation. Not bargaining.
Just brutal honesty.
Frank looks at you like a starving man clutching the last living thing he has left in the world.
“You don’t gotta forgive me,” he says. “But you ain’t leavin’ alone.”
© ꪗunyuu 2026 — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.
