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hollandorks · 1 year

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look a new series! Two things inspired this (besides my everlasting love for the Batman): @bellaxgiornata's angsty Daredevil fic All These Years, and @neutron-stars-collision's Waiting For the Night (which also features an investigative reporter reader, but is set during the film). If you're here because you loved motn, welcome back! If not, check out my other battinson fics here!

(side note: I know this is a reader insert and Dory is canonically white, but reader could be adopted. I never clarify that)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3k

“Both of them are–?” Y/n choked on the last word, unable to get it past the back of her throat. But she thought it anyway. Dead.

It was early, too early, her pajamas and hair still rumpled from sleep. Three hours until her alarm would go off. The faux hardwood floors were cold beneath her feet. The warmth of her bed was a thousand miles away. Her heart still pounded from being woken by a harsh knocking at her door. When she’d checked the time on her phone, she had four hours of missed calls from Alfred and two from an unknown number.

Alfred put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was the last of her family now, though he didn’t share her blood. “I’m so sorry, darling girl.”

Y/n’s grandmother, Dory, the woman who raised her, gone. Along with her daughter, y/n’s mother, the woman who abandoned her as a child. Both gone in one fell swoop. She can’t find it within herself to grieve too much for the woman who gave her life. She’d already abandoned her, over and over, the grief lessening each time.

But her grandmother–A strangled noise passed her lips and Alfred hurried to step in to embrace her.

“She had a great life,” he said gently. “She lived long and lived well.”

And somehow, it helped. Alfred had been in her grandmother’s life longer than she had, and therefore knew her better. She had lived well, her life long and full. She was eighty-five years old and had still been in relatively good shape, physically and mentally.

Alfred held her while she cried, the minutes stretching long yet sharp. They pierced her over and over, each one a moment in which her grandmother no longer existed. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that it was nearly impossible to stop.

“Bruce is covering all expenses, of course,” Alfred said as he released her.

The name raced through her like a bolt of electricity. Bruce. Of course she had to see Bruce. Dory had worked for his family for nearly fifty years, after all. Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Bruce, almost three years ago to the day. Hurt washed over her all over again. This one was different than the grief but just as sharp.

“That’s…too kind.” It’s the best she could do. Besides, her income as a journalist in Bludhaven wasn’t exactly enough to cover one funeral, let alone two. So she couldn’t tell Bruce to take his money and shove it. She knew it was a gesture of obligation not of goodwill.

“You know you and Dory are our family,” Alfred said, his familiar accent a balm to her nerves. He hadn’t missed the almost visceral reaction to Bruce’s name. He had always known, even though he hadn’t ever said a word.

She almost scoffed at the word family, but held it back at the last moment. Alfred was her family. Just as Bruce had been her family, once.

I don’t have time for you, he’d practically snarled the last time she saw him.

The words still ached.

“Do you want to drive back with me?” Alfred asked, his voice pulling her from thoughts of the past. “Or I can get a hotel for the night if you need time to pack.”

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to wait until the absolute last minute to leave, to delay seeing Bruce again for as long as possible. But she owed it to her grandmother, at least, to be present for the plans honoring her life. And she was sure she needed to sign some paperwork to have the bodies released.

Bodies. It’s a shock to think of them that way. Two people, two souls, reduced to shells in one accident.

Her mind jumped to her last conversation with Dory, the previous Sunday. Four days ago. Now she was simply…gone. Had she told her she loved her? She couldn’t remember now, no matter how hard she tried.

The ache was back, the tears flowing without her express permission.

“No, let me just–grab a bag and we can go now. I’ll call work on the way.” It helped to have a manageable list of things to do. Pack. Go with Alfred. Call work. Sign papers. One step, one breath, one moment at a time. Which would be the same way she would handle seeing Bruce again.

Thankfully the editor of The Bludhaven Tribune was more friend than boss and would completely understand. Besides, if it came down to it, she had a couple of weeks of unused vacation time saved up. Dory had always made the trip to her–at least for the past three years. She had understood the need to stay away from Gotham and the man who had broken y/n’s heart. So her vacation days were rarely used.

Within an hour, y/n’s bags were packed and a fresh cup of coffee was waiting in the cupholder of Alfred’s car. The cold air was a shock to her overloaded system. Her chest was too tight, her breathing labored. She couldn’t tell what was hurting worse–the grief for her grandmother or the anxiety of seeing Bruce again.

A silly, hopeless crush, he’d said three years ago.

A silly, hopeless crush that still hadn’t gone away, despite the fact that he’d effectively ground her heart to dust beneath his heel with the words.

A few minutes into the drive, another question bubbled to the surface. “Alfred…” she began, unsure how to find the bravery to ask. “Did she suffer? Did they suffer?” Because, as many times as her mother had broken her heart, she was still her mother.

Alfred was quiet so long that she feared the worst. But then, finally, “I don’t believe so, no. Your mother was driving. Dory was the passenger, where the impact was. And before you ask, your mother was clean.”

She did flinch this time.

It had been her first thought. She was glad of the answer though, twisted as it sounded.

She knew exactly why they were driving together. Because she used to take her grandmother to her appointments, but after leaving Gotham three years ago…it became harder and harder to make the time in the middle of the week.

And, surprisingly, y/n’s mother had stepped in. She wanted to make amends, her grandmother had told her. She’d scoffed at that, but couldn’t deny the relief that had washed over her. She loved her grandmother, but having to pick her up from Wayne Tower was a particular kind of torture. The place held too many memories, both good and bad, now so inextricably linked that the pain bled into the happier memories.

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Alfred asked quietly, as if reading her mind.

Her hands knotted in her lap. “In Gotham or…?” She let the rest of the question hang in the air. Or at Wayne Tower? Or in Bruce Wayne’s presence? Because all three had slightly different answers.

Alfred gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road.

Y/n sighed softly. “Three years, give or take a few weeks.”

“You never came inside when picking up Dory?”

“No.” Her heart clenched with pain. “That’s why my mother…”

Alfred nodded in understanding. “Maybe this can be…a new beginning,” he finally said. “Things are different. I think he needs you more than either of you realize.”

No need to ask who he was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but Alfred meant well. Of course he wanted her and Bruce to make up, to go back to the way things were.

He didn’t know how thoroughly Bruce Wayne broke her heart.

“Then Bruce can apologize.” She crossed her arms. Because, as much as she still loved him, Bruce had been in the wrong, not her. It had taken him a long time to turn his anger on her, but he finally had…right after she had confessed her feelings for him.

Y/n spent the rest of the drive in silence, the grief for her grandmother numbing her inside and out even as it warred with the anxiety gnawing at her gut.

She thought about how it would feel to step into Wayne Tower again. How it would feel to step inside and not be greeted with a warm embrace from her grandmother. With her love. With her understanding. With her gentle manipulations to get her to help her with the housekeeping duties for free.

A few tears slipped out. God, she was gone. Y/n would never again hug her or speak to her or have her tell a story to help her fall asleep–something that happened even as an adult. Something she had done to help ease the heartbreak of three years ago.

She startled as a hand took hers. Alfred said nothing, merely squeezed.

When she looked up, the city of Gotham was spread before her. She saw the neon lights from Gotham Square Garden near the city center, bright despite the early morning hour. Fog wound its way through the streets, a proper gloomy Gotham welcome to suit her mood.

Though Bludhaven wasn’t far, it was much sunnier than the city of her birth.

In the past year since the flood, Gotham became even gloomier. The streets were dirtier, darker, half the streetlights still broken. She remembered suddenly, vividly, the fear she’d felt upon hearing the news. She’d been called into work late at night last November. The office had been chaotic, frantic, Gotham’s nearest big city neighbor gearing up to help but also to tell the stories.

Y/n is ashamed to admit that her first thought hadn’t been of her grandmother.

It was of Bruce.

Alfred, she had known, had been safe in the top floors of the hospital. She’d returned from a visit only the day before. The panic from the news of the explosion, caused by a serial killer, had barely worn off. Even after seeing Alfred was okay with her own eyes, she felt a lingering panic. Even after Alfred told her that Bruce hadn’t been home at the time and was perfectly fine.

But Bruce–and by extension Dory–were unknown variables in the flooding. Had they been evacuated? Had either been present for the new mayor’s event? Had they remained safe in the tower, partially blown up as it was?

She had waited sixteen excruciating hours before finally hearing that they were safe. Unharmed, even.

The air around y/n suddenly darkened. While she was daydreaming of the past, they had reached their destination. Alfred pulled into the private, street level parking garage reserved for family only. There were several other cars there, including Bruce’s favorite classic sports car. The sight of the car alone made her chest ache.

Y/n stared vacantly at the car. She startled as Alfred suddenly opened her door with her bags in his hand.

She blinked slowly, dazed.

It was too much to deal with. Losing her family, coming back to Gotham, back to Bruce…She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It felt like eons since the Alfred at her door woke her, though it was only a couple of hours at most.

As she followed Alfred to the private elevator, she wondered if Bruce would avoid her. If he would hide from the uncomfortable as he so often did. Part of her hoped he did. Part of her hoped she could get through everything without seeing him. But that was stupid. He would be, at the very least, at the funerals.

Another wave of grief nearly knocked her over. She had to bury the last bit of blood relations she had. Had. The past tense was another unavoidable wave threatening to drown her. Her mother and grandmother both only existed in the past now.

Y/n suddenly realized that that was how Bruce had been feeling for two decades. The feeling of being utterly alone in the universe, no one but himself left with his family name, his family legacy. But his was worse, so much worse. She had, at least, had her family for twice as long as he had. And that counted for something.

The elevator ride was long and slow. Or maybe that was grief and panic warping time until she had no idea if the ride had just started or was about to end. Despite getting almost seven hours of sleep from a rare early night, she was exhausted. Her limbs were made of lead, her eyes heavy, her brain begging to be switched off.

The smell alone, the particular blend of dust and old paper, was enough to make her knees weak. Ten thousand memories flooded back all at once, so many of them that she couldn’t fixate on any single one.

The doors slid open and Alfred stepped out with her bags.

But she had to press a hand to the wall of the elevator to steady herself as a familiar deep voice rang out in the silence. “That was fast,” Bruce said. God, his voice. “Did she decide to stay until the last moment then?”

Alfred didn’t answer, because y/n’s presence stepping from the elevator was enough.

Her heart was somewhere in her throat, or maybe her knees. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the indifference he now felt for her. She couldn’t look at him and hold a thousand more memories.

She couldn’t look at him and love him, knowing he didn’t feel the same.

The silence was deafening and finally, finally, she tore her eyes from the floor and looked up.

There was a rush in her ears as she beheld him for the first time in three years. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of dark, well-worn jeans. His shirt was too big for him and his hair–his hair was longer. Her eyes skipped over him hungrily, noticing more and more differences in the person she used to know better than herself.

He was taller, for one. She thought men stopped growing at twenty-five years old, or something like that. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, like he was more sure of his place in the world. And his shoulders were more broad, his arms more muscular. Bruce had all at once become…a man. Not that he hadn’t been a man three years before, but something about him was…more.

There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, like he hadn't slept. And, she supposed, if he was the one who had answered the call about her grandmother and mother, he likely hadn’t.

She realized that they both had been staring at each other in silence. Alfred half-stepped out of the foyer like he couldn’t decide whether or not to give them privacy or stay to make sure they wouldn’t tear out each others’ throats. She wondered what Bruce had told him about their fight. Had it been the truth? Or had he played it close to the vest, like always?

“Hi,” she finally said. Her mouth was dry and her voice cracked on the word. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Thank you and I’m sorry and I still love you even if you hate me were all warring to be first.

“Hi,” he said back. His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. They seemed bluer, or maybe she had forgotten the exact shade of them. She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the familiar comfort of him, but those days were far gone. Three years gone.

“I–” She wasn’t sure what words would come out but the need to fill the silence was too great.

He beat her to it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She knew he meant about her family and not about three years before. She knew it in the way she knew most things about him, born of the sheer amount of time they spent together throughout their lives. Even with three years separating their last interaction, she could still read him. Maybe not as well as she used to but still well enough.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t. Or, I missed you, even though she did. Or even Thank you, because he hadn’t done anything other than offer to pay for the funerals.

“Your old room is ready,” Bruce said and his eyes flickered away. Was he so tired of her already?

I don’t have time for you and your silly, useless crush. The words seemed to echo in the air. Was he able to hear them too?

“Who–”

“She kept it ready for you,” Bruce said and his voice softened, easing the blow.

A stray tear escaped.

Of course she had. Y/n’s grandmother was nothing if not optimistic.

She had to take a breath and close her eyes against the wash of pain. Dory had kept her room ready for her, even knowing that Bruce Wayne broke her heart, even knowing she wouldn’t step foot inside Wayne Tower again unless absolutely necessary.

As always, y/n’s grandmother had ensured that she always had a place to come home to. You’ll always have a home with me, she had said the day y/n left Gotham.

She stepped away, eyes still closed, feet knowing the way by heart. When she opened them, she saw Bruce’s hand fall, as if he had reached out, perhaps to comfort her.

The pain of that missing touch was too much.

She simply nodded once.

And then she fled.

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent.

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman 2022 #battinson #the batman #bruce wayne #batman x fem!reader #battinson x fem!reader #battinson x y/n #battinson x you #robert pattinson batman #robert pattinson bruce wayne #reader insert #x reader #haven #haven fic

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daresplaining · 7 months

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Mattea Murdock, the Daredevil Drummer of Philly

In celebration of the forthcoming new Spider-Punk: Arms Race series (not to mention Hobie stealing scenes in "Across the Spider-Verse" last year), I wanted to finally write up my long-overdue overview post on Mattea Murdock! If you haven't read her introductory run yet, check it out here.

Mattea truly stands on her own in the wide canon of alternate universe DDs. She is a female Daredevil, she is Latina, and she somehow managed to escape Marvel's NYC gravity and base herself in Philadelphia, where she defends its citizens from violence and exploitation. Hobie and his self-styled Spider-Band encounter her in Spider-Punk (2022) #3, when they make a detour to fix the busted Spider-Van. They are all immediately-- and correctly-- impressed.

Mattea: "Yo, Kam!" Hobie: "Wait, you know each other?!" Kamala: "Duh! You think I wouldn't know the Daredevil Drummer of Philly?" Hobie: "You're a drummer too?" Mattea: "Best in town." Hobie: "Oh man, my friend Gwen is a pretty dope drummer too. I think y'all would definitely get along." Mattea: "Hope they're ready to get outplayed by a pretty, blind girl." Spider-Punk vol. 1 #3 by Cody Ziglar, Justin Mason, Jim Charalampidis, and Travis Lanham

I talked a little about her killer character/costume design when she was first introduced (I was a fool; of course she's blind), and my love for her look has only grown. It's badass, distinctive, and it slots her beautifully into Hobie's punk rock world while still evoking that trademark Daredevil image (red, sticks, pointy bits...). Her irises are red, which is a visual choice I enjoy in more heightened, fantastical DD stories/art styles, and I think it works for Mattea. Heck, I could even imagine them being colored contact lenses she's chosen to wear for the aesthetic. Also, one detail that wasn't in the previews is the fun little laughing devil face on the back of her jacket (I'm not punk rock enough to get the reference if it is one, but it reminds me of Darkdevil):

Of course, always a big priority for me is Daredevil's power-set, and Mattea provides a quick primer on her unique perspective, mostly focused on hearing and the radar sense:

Mattea: "What? You think just 'cause I'm a blind girl, I can't see? Echolocation, my abuelas used to call it. But it's more intimate. Instinctual. Can hear a kick drum from ten blocks away. Can see it too. If I think hard enough, I can even see what the garage it's being played in looks like." Hobie: "Yo, are you doing it right now?" Riri: "She's definitely doing it right now."

This is not my favorite description of Daredevil's powers, nor-- to be honest-- a particularly informative one. She can gather spatial information through walls...from ten blocks away? I also never love an overuse of visual language in any explanation of these powers, especially as it's implied that Mattea, like Matt, is completely blind. Surprisingly, no direct mention is made here of the hypersenses as a whole, beyond the reference to hearing a kick drum from ten blocks away. Even her hearing doesn't receive that much attention in the story overall, which feels like a missed opportunity for such a musical character. Her blindness, too, is pretty much irrelevant to the story, and never comes up again. But I do LOVE that she uses the term "echolocation", though is still very clearly the radar sense, in all its vague, undefined, semi-magic glory.

And visually? This is great. I'm always a fan of the cross-hatching visual, especially against a black background, and artist Justin Mason doesn't go too overboard on the detail, which is another preference of mine. And thematically, I love the ways in which Mattea's drummer identity is tied into her superheroics-- not just for laying a beatdown on bad guys, but also for channelling and enhancing her echolocation/radar sense. One of my favorite scenes in the comic is when she plays a drum solo on a roof edge to scope out the Kingpin's lair. I'm willing, in that moment, to ignore any gripes about radar sense irregularities out of respect for the coolness and thematic heft of the concept. I mean, this rocks:

Mattea: "Come on, show me the good stuff."

At the end of the day, though, this is not a Daredevil comic and Mattea is not the main character. Plus, it's only five issues long, and introduces a bunch of other new characters as well. There was only ever going to be room for the creative team to offer a cursory introduction, hopefully generating enough interest to prompt these characters to appear again in other comics. In that, I think they fully succeeded with Mattea; we get a cursory sense of her powers (or at least, enough to show that they're the normal DD set), her personality (delightfully cocky, playful, tough, fearless), a few hints of her backstory, and some truly kickass fight scenes. There's a bit of suspension of disbelief required to believe she can use drumsticks as a stand-in for billy clubs (unless her drumsticks are made of something really hefty-- and hey, maybe they are), but this is Spider-Punk. Hobie killed Norman Osborn with a guitar--twice. It's not about realism, it's about style.

Mattea: "Been waiting for this for a long time, Fisk. Real long time." Fisk: "I'm going to break you, li'l girl--AWGGH!" Mattea: "Big, strong man who sends out his band of wackos to push over people too weak to fight back." Fisk: "Wouldn't get too cocky, girlie...you're not the only one who's fast! I'm gonna hurt ya. A lot. Then I'm gonna kill ya. And I'm gonna love every second of it. You know, this is the same look you had when I had your old band clapped a few years back. I like it. Brings out your eyes--GAAAH!" Mattea: "There's something you need to understand about me, papi. I'm not the kinda girl who goes down without a fight."

I can't wait to see more of Mattea and learn more about her, her world, her friends, and her enemies. In particular, she seems to have a history (possibly romantic?) with this world's Kamala Khan, and I would love to see more of that relationship. While Mattea Murdock clearly has a lot in common with Matt Murdock, she also seems happy to be a team player, unlike Matt, and I really enjoy that. Though I guess it's not that surprising a distinction. After all, every drummer needs a band.

#Spider-Punk vol. 1 #Daredevil #Mattea Murdock #Spider-Punk #Hobie Brown #Spider-Band #Commentary #ID in alt text

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kincalling · 1 year

Note

Hi I’m Daredevil from the Daredevil series (duh) and I’m looking for anyone in the MCU, you don’t have to be from Daredevil, Though I would love to talk to Foggy again. I’m 18 and have WAY too many kin memories.

I’m not great at keeping track of who reacts to this post so it might just be easier to just find me at @Cutthroat-Crimson

🃏

#daredevil kin #mcu kin #canon calls

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anna-hawk · 3 months

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Running Hot

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: After running into Frank while fighting the enemy of the night, Matt notices that something about Frank has changed. Something that would have Frank almost tearing one of the criminals apart with his bare hands had Matt not intervened. As Frank flees, Matt follows him to get to the bottom of the story. After everything that has happened around the world recently, he shouldn't be surprised about what he ends up discovering.

Rating: E 🔞 // WC: 11k

Tags and warnings: Werewolf!Frank, feral!Frank, very short self harm scene, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, heat, smut, everything is consensual, biting, soft ending

A/N: Please check out @rivlin8781's art created for the fic. It's everything 🧡

Also read it on AO3

Jumping over the roofs of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt followed the sounds of police car sirens and radio calls to a large pharmaceutical building. There had been a break in roughly twenty minutes ago, and the security guards had only had the time to call law enforcement before they were overtaken by the intruders. The closer Matt got to the building, the more he could pick up the noises of a fight; gunshots firing, people shouting. As he stepped onto the rooftop of that building, Matt took a moment to further establish what was going on, focusing on more details. Eight of the criminals were running upstairs now, shooting off range after range of shots as they shouted to each other about an escape. Ready to intercept them, Matt frowned as his hearing picked up a particular heart beat that belonged to a ninth person running upstairs, but was further below the others. It had a familiar tattoo to it, but it was unusually quick for a human. One thing was certain, however, whoever that was, the criminals were clearly running away from them. A second later, the door to the rooftop burst open, letting two men out at once, before they were followed by the others in quick succession. As soon as the door was open, Matt could make out several scents. There was a mix of pharmaceutical products, gunpowder, blood, and sweat, as well as the anger and fear coming from the men. They came to an abrupt halt as they noticed Daredevil standing in front of them. Before they could all reach for their weapons, Matt let his billy clubs fly through the air, hitting the two faster men in the side of the head with them when they aimed at him. As he ducked and rolled out of the other’s bullets’ paths while catching the billy clubs, Matt almost froze in his move as his nose got a whiff of the ninth person, which had him finally realizing who it was.

Frank Castle came barreling out of the door like a bull at full speed, crashing into one of the men and sending him flying a few feet away with the force of the impact. Not winded in the slightest by running up several flights of stairs and knocking someone over, Frank turned to the closest guy and punched him in the side of the head, sending the man to the ground, before he aimed his gun at a third one. Fortunately for the man, he managed to avoid the bullet, but his maneuver sent him straight into Matt’s path, who hit him with a hard round quick to the face. As he went down for the count, Matt returned his attention to Frank. He threw one of his clubs into the line of fire of a bullet directed at the former Marine, deviating the trajectory and sending it into the thigh of one of their opponents instead. How could he not have recognized Frank instantly? They’d fought against or with each other so many times by now, that Frank’s heartbeat was now as familiar to Matt as the ones of the people closest to him. He always made Frank's heart beat out long before he was close enough to smell Frank. Not tonight, however. He’d recognized him by his scent, but it had taken for Frank to almost be on Matt to know it was him. There was something different about his scent as well. It had gotten… stronger. It was still most definitely Frank, but there was something else to it that Matt couldn't quite figure out. Something wilder, which said a lot, considering how Frank usually behaved in a fight. Something… animalistic. The notion was only highlighted as Frank growled and snarled as he viciously attacked or countered, swiping out with his fists and feet with a brutality that left bones and teeth broken in their wake. Frank’s form was easy to make out in between the men who weren’t already lying on the floor. His body temperature was unmistakably higher than normal, which made him more apparent to Matt’s senses than the others. Was Frank fighting with a fever? This wouldn’t surprise Matt, since neither of them stopped fighting even if they were almost ready to pass out. Taking out another criminal while also tripping the one Frank was going after with a billy club so Frank’s bullet wouldn’t be lethal, Matt almost thought that Frank hadn’t even noticed Matt’s presence. Clearly he’d been wrong, as Frank growled menacingly after Matt took the kill away from him.

“Keep outta my business, Red.”

They usually engaged in some form of conversation while they fought; exchanging some jabs and banter. Mostly the same things, like Matt remarking on Frank’s latest killing spree, and Frank subsequently calling him the classical altar boy or the likes. It was all done in good spirit nowadays, which was why Frank’s aggressiveness towards him surprised Matt. Tonight, there was no humor, no jibes. Just ruthless silence coming from Frank.

Matt’s train of thought was interrupted an instant later, as Frank slammed into him, making Matt believe for a split second that Frank was actually attacking him. That’s when he heard and felt the air whistle over his head as Frank got him out of the way of a round of shots. They rolled to the side, with Frank falling on top of Matt. Despite his suit, with how their bodies touched in several places, Matt could still feel just how much warmer Frank was running. He didn’t get the chance to reflect more upon it, since Frank was up and throwing himself at the one shooting Matt in the following second, running right into the line of fire but avoiding the bullets at the last second as he swerved to the side and ran the man over before landing a vicious hit to the temple. Meanwhile, Matt took the last man out quickly, sending him unconscious like the others, before he turned towards Frank as he heard the shriek of pure terror and pain coming from the man Frank was fighting with. Frank was standing at his full height and holding the other man up by the throat like he weighed nothing, his fingers uselessly scrabbling at Frank’s hand, until Frank pulled him down and put the criminal's back against his chest while keeping him in place with his hand still over the man’s throat. As Frank's fingers formed into a claw, Matt’s heart lurched in horror because he suddenly knew, without an ounce of a doubt, that Frank was about to rip the man’s throat out.

“Frank, no!” Matt bellowed, throwing himself forward, although he knew that he was too far away to get there in time if Frank didn’t listen.

Thankfully, Frank’s head snapped into Matt’s direction, like he was suddenly coming to his senses. With a snarl, Frank let go of the man’s throat and, to Matt’s shock, sank his teeth into his own forearm, ripping through the barrier of the shirt. Blood instantly began soaking the sleeve, before it started running down the length of Frank’s arm and dripped to the ground in thick droplets, permeating the air around them. Finally, Frank jumped away from the criminal, who crumpled to the floor in fear, while Frank landed on the edge of the roof in a crouching position. Before Matt could reach him, Frank was suddenly jumping off the roof and landing on the fire escape that was several feet below, hurrying away at a fast pace. Extremely fast pace. Matt frowned, bewildered.

Gritting his teeth and stopping himself from going after Frank immediately, Matt turned around and knocked the whimpering man out cold. He made sure that everyone was still out, listening as the police, who had secured a perimeter around the building, were progressively making their way upstairs. Matt kept his senses focused on Frank all the while, before he finally began trailing him over the roofs of the city, the task made easy by the heavy scent of blood.

It didn’t take him long to find Frank. The scent of blood had lessened, but Frank’s intense scent led Matt to an old apartment building. Carefully climbing down the flight of stairs that took him to the basement, he felt Frank’s presence in a storage room, the door surprisingly unlocked and ajar. Was Frank so out of it that he’d forgotten something as basic as locking a door? Matt could hear Frank’s heavy breathing and soft growls as he nudged the door slowly open and took in the room. It had been transformed into a safe house, with the necessities like a cot, a sink, and a dresser in it, along with cases of ammunition and other military paraphernalia. Matt’s attention drifted towards Frank as he greeted Matt with a low snarl from his huddled position on the cot. It was a clear warning. Matt stood in the doorway, head cocked to the side.

“What happened to you, Frank?”

“Get the hell outta here,” Frank spat through his teeth.

Breathing out softly, Matt did the exact opposite and walked into the room, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. He noticed the way Frank shifted away even more into the corner of the little bed. However, Matt knew that it wasn’t out of concern for himself, but clearly out of concern for Matt with how Frank’s body seemed to almost vibrate with holding back from attacking. Matt stopped a few feet away from the cot.

“Tell me what I can d-?”

“There’s nothin’ to do, Red. Just leave me alone,” Frank hissed, baring his teeth this time.

Matt frowned and tightened his jaw in thought. Finally, he removed his helmet and placed it on one of the crates of weapons, feeling like actually talking face-to-face might help, while also showing that he wasn’t going anywhere. He propped himself against a crate and tilted his head back, letting his senses roll over Frank.

“I said, get-”

“What happened to your arm?” Matt suddenly cut in, leaning his head back forward and tilting it curiously as he realized what had been bugging him since he’d stepped into the room.

He’d felt Frank bite into his own arm on the rooftop earlier, had heard the tearing of the shirt and skin, smelled the blood as it poured over Frank’s skin and onto the ground. There was no trace of an injury now, however. Only drying blood on Frank’s skin and shirt.

“The hell you talkin’ about?” Frank grunted shiftily, his breathing still quick.

“You bit into your arm earlier. I know you did. I could taste your blood in the air there was so much of it. So explain to me why there’s no wound now?” Matt asked carefully, pitching his voice low.

Frank froze at the question, and Matt heard him grinding his teeth together hard. He didn’t answer, however, trying to retreat more into the wall at his back, his fingers twitching in agitation.

“Listen, Frank, I don’t know what’s going on, but I know someone at the hospital and-”

Matt was roughly cut off by a loud and harsh laugh that held no trace of humor in it.

“I ain’t hurt, Red. Said it yourself, didn’t ya. I-” he panted and stopped, clearly trying to keep his body under control. “Nothin’ a doctor or anyone can do.”

Matt’s brain was working overtime as he attempted to figure out what had happened to Frank. He knew that the injury Frank had inflicted on himself had been serious, enough for a large row of stitches. Whatever Frank was going through wasn’t something normal, of that Matt was convinced. Although he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was going on, Matt had witnessed enough things recently to know that something supernatural had to be at play. For one, how could the tear in Frank's skin have just gone? And for another, how could he be as inhumanly fast and strong as what he’d shown on the rooftop?

Squaring his jaw, Matt took the last steps necessary to be in front of Frank, who growled, the sound so low it almost seemed like one of a large animal. Feral. It had every hair on Matt’s body standing on end. Matt didn’t back down, however. They might not always see eye to eye, but Matt cared and refused to leave Frank in this condition. He might hurt himself or someone else, and Matt couldn’t let that happen. He could almost hear his friends calling him out on his savior complex, but he was unable to turn his back on Frank. As he knew that Frank wouldn’t have left him either. The few times they’d teamed up, they’d protected each other. As they’d done tonight. Frank had jumped into action to push Matt out of harm’s way and nearly gotten hit by a bullet for it.

Matt crouched down right in front of Frank, listening as his already quick heart beat sped up the closer Matt was coming, while letting out small, apprehensive growls. Heat emanated from his body, and like earlier, Matt wondered whether Frank had a fever.

“Don’t,” Frank warned, uttering a whine this time, which surprised Matt as the other man dug his fingers into the bedding and ripped the sheets as Matt moved closer again.

At the back of his mind, Matt knew that he was treading uncharted and dangerous territory, but since when had that ever stopped him from doing anything? That, and Frank was clearly in some form of pain and reluctant to hurt Matt; otherwise he would have already been on Matt.

“Just here to help,” he said softly, as if talking to a wild animal, which didn’t seem like that much of a stretch as far as comparisons went.

“Told you, you can’t,” Frank croaked, closing his eyes, the defeat in Frank’s tone making Matt’s gut clench as Frank’s breathing seemed to escalate.

“Frank,” Matt almost whispered, as he pulled off one of his gloves and tentatively stretched out that hand towards Frank’s neck, wanting to feel Frank’s temperature.

As soon as his hand made contact with Frank’s burning skin, Frank’s eyes flew open and he pounced. Despite his quick reflexes, Matt wasn’t fast enough to pull away from Frank as the latter grabbed Matt’s wrist in an iron hold. In a flash, Frank twisted them around until he was on top of Matt, his thighs bracketing Matt’s hips. Winded and dazed by the rapidity of Frank’s movements as well as by his strength, which had already been considerable before, Matt was about to block any attack coming towards him and retaliate, when Frank stilled for a short second before he suddenly pressed his whole face against Matt’s neck. Matt froze, his balled fists stopping in midair as Frank lay his whole body on top of Matt’s and breathed in deeply. As the initial shock abated, Matt held perfectly still while Frank… While Frank sniffed at him? Frank was running his nose along Matt’s throat and shoulder with little growls and sighs, his body still tense, but the tension felt different now. His heartbeat had gone down a notch, as had the aggressiveness in his movements. After some seconds, Matt hesitantly placed his bare palm over Frank’s nape. Frank stiffened briefly, before his body turned lax and almost melted into Matt’s touch. Surprised, Matt left it there for a minute, until he pulled off the other glove with his teeth and placed that hand on Frank’s shoulder blade. The contact had Frank groaning and pushing his nose deeper into the crook of Matt’s neck as Matt gave him a little squeeze.

“I got you, Frank,” he gently rumbled against the side of Frank’s head. “I got you.”

Keeping his hand over Frank’s nape where it was, Matt began drawing slow circles over Frank’s back with his other hand. Through the shirt, he felt the bumps on Frank’s skin from old scars as his hand moved soothingly, earning a deep rumbling sound from Frank. There were gunshots and knife wounds, some just slashes, while others went deeper into the skin tissue. As he came to Frank’s shoulder, Matt found a different scar. It was neither from a fire arm nor a stab wound, and clearly one of the most recent ones. Matt frowned to himself when he recognized what it was as his fingertips danced over it. A bite mark. It was large, and the deeper parts showed that it wasn’t from a human, but something with fangs. If Matt had to guess, he would go with a large dog or… a wolf. His stomach clenched in trepidation as he pieced together everything he’d found out about Frank’s situation. Super human strength and speed, accelerated healing, high body temperature and quicker heartbeat. Feral behavior. The last piece of information, and the one bringing those other details together, was something that he’d found out earlier today while listening to something Foggy had been telling him. They were two days away from the full moon. Matt wanted to laugh hysterically at the word that entered his mind. No, this couldn’t be… Right?

“How long have you had this scar?” he finally ventured, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Frank’s reaction to his question as well as the light touch against the bite mark told Matt what he needed to know. Frank froze and shuddered, before he turned his head into Matt’s neck and actually whined. Matt forced himself to remain calm, knowing that Frank would be able to tell if Matt panicked in any way, and Matt didn’t want to put him on alert again. Especially as Frank had kept relaxing under Matt’s touch and scent. So Frank might be a werewolf. Matt just needed to wrap his mind around that idea…

“You’re okay, Frank,” Matt spoke gently against the side of Frank’s head, squeezing the back of his neck like earlier since it had seemed to soothe Frank. “Who did this to you?” Matt continued, deciding that finding out more about Frank’s situation was the most important thing in order to figure out how to help him.

Frank growled menacingly, the sound going through Matt, who, for the first time, didn’t feel like berating Frank for taking out whoever or whatever had done this to him. Matt made a sound of understanding and shushed Frank gently, sliding the tip of his fingers into Frank’s hair. A full-body shudder ran through Frank, who leaned further into Matt’s touch with a grunt. Matt smiled to himself at that and let Frank settle again, doing the same as his mind adjusted to what he’d discovered.

After a few long minutes of utter silence in which Matt continued his slow petting, and had Frank rumbling softly against his neck, Frank began slowly moving again. His nose stroked lightly up and down Matt’s skin, from right under his ear, to halfway down his throat. His body tensed up again, but it was different from earlier. Matt kept one hand flat over the middle of Frank’s spine, while the other one stayed at the base of Frank’s head, his fingers stilling in Frank’s hair as he realized what was different this time. The scent of panic and anger had all but gone, leaving Frank relaxed, but now it turned into something warmer, flowing down to the base of Frank’s lower body as his hips started rocking back and forth incrementally. Matt gasped faintly as Frank nuzzled him under his ear and felt the beginning of an erection against his hip. This he hadn’t been expecting.

As if finally noticing what he was doing, Frank let go of Matt like he’d been burnt and rolled off and against the wall side of the bed. Matt picked up the scent of embarrassment that was also shown in the way Frank’s face glowed warmer than before. He obviously couldn’t bring himself to fully break the contact with Matt, however, because didn’t get up like Matt had anticipated, but remained where he was, both men lying side by side on the tiny bed, arms and legs touching. Matt didn’t mind, figuring that Frank’s reaction to him just now must be part of the whole werewolf thing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Frank mumbled after a beat of silence as they both sat up against the head of the bed.

Not sure whether Frank was talking about the pouncing and scenting or about getting aroused, or possibly even both, Matt only smiled lopsidedly and turned his face in Frank’s direction. “It’s okay, Frank. I’m glad if I could help in some way.”

Frank grunted in acknowledgment, but fell silent again.

“How long?” Matt tried slowly a minute later, once Frank’s body had finally calmed back down.

Frank sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face.

“Close to four months,” he said, finally confirming Matt’s suspicions, then laughed without humor and clearly at himself. “Big bad punisher, huh? Guess you were right. Finally went after that one thing I couldn’t come back from.”

Matt’s heart clenched at the self loathing, his lips twisting sadly. “Frank-”

“Save it, Red. I hate what I’ve become, but I ain’t sorry I went after them. Ain’t sorry I killed ‘em all. Not after what I found on ‘em.”

Matt nodded slowly a few times. He wasn’t going to ask Frank about what and how things happened. It wasn’t like it would change the outcome, so he chose to let it go unless Frank decided to tell him.

“Does anyone know?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, didn’t have much of a choice really… The first time I transformed, I was in an old safe house belonging to a friend of mine. Thankfully by myself. When I woke up the next mornin’, the whole place was trashed. I wasn’t able to escape, only ‘cause I’d already locked the place down.”

Frank paused as he thought back to that night, his heart beat picking up for a second, but Matt placed a hand on his arm, which seemed to ground Frank.

“That place got security cameras… That’s how I found out.”

Matt could only imagine Frank’s shock at watching himself transform and virtually destroying a place in an effort to get out. And then having to explain it to someone else without seeming crazy.

“Got two friends who know. They helped try and figure out how to deal with this, but we only got some half answers. Basically, no take backs… They helped secure each place I got, like this one; made sure I couldn’t get out.”

“Shit,” Matt breathed, as he took it all in.

“Yeah.”

Then Matt frowned at what Frank had just told him.

“You left the door open on purpose, didn't you? You knew I'd come after you.”

Matt should have known. No matter the situation and how badly hurt or mentally altered he was, Frank was still methodical to a fault and never did things randomly. He would never have left the door open if he hadn’t expected Matt to show up and want to know what was going on. Frank smiled, small and one-sided, but it was the first smile he'd made the whole night. It wasn't exactly that he hadn't wanted Matt here, but rather that he had been worried that he’d hurt him. Frank hadn’t liked the prospect of potentially injuring Matt and that’s why he had tried to play the situation off, but he knew Matt well enough to know that he’d be too stubborn to let things go after witnessing what had happened on the rooftop.

“Ain’t my fault you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

Matt huffed out a short breath of a laugh that Frank emulated, and shook his head at himself. It seemed like Frank did know him as well as Matt knew him.

“Fair enough,” Matt admitted easily.

A second later, Matt frowned as Frank’s lifting spirit evaporated again as something seemed to unnerve him.

“You gotta know… When you told me to stop earlier… your voice, it… I dunno… it snapped me out of it… The closer I get to the full moon, the harder it gets to control myself. The wolf part is closer to the surface, I guess, and it ends up like tonight. I shouldn’t have been outside, not with how angry I already was, but I was after that group for weeks and I just couldn’t let them leave.”

Frank's heart began pumping harder again, and he seemed visibly nervous. “What happened with you just now, Red… Your scent was throwin’ me off earlier, and I didn’t know why. But we were fightin’ anyway, so I couldn’t really focus on it… But… When you touched me, I didn’t think, just acted. I dunno. I know it’s fucked up, but nothin’s been able to calm me down until I had you underneath me and could really smell you.”

Matt let that information slowly sink in.

“Maybe the wolf inside you realized how charming I am,” he quipped, as he leaned his head back against the wall, trying for humor despite the situation and wanting Frank to get rid of that new bout of unease.

The amused snort frank uttered made Matt’s smile broader.

“Yeah, maybe he did,” Frank amended, clearly relieved that Matt wasn’t disgusted by his behavior tonight.

And Matt wasn’t. Sure, the whole situation was a bit crazy, and he knew too little about it to really know what to make of how Frank reacted to him, but Matt didn't mind if touching or smelling him helped Frank. He hadn't felt uncomfortable under Frank, and Frank's sudden arousal hadn't bothered him either. He wasn't sure if it was solely because of him or because of the approaching full moon, but it was alright either way.

“Do you think you’ll be alright now?”

Frank didn't say anything for a couple of seconds as he considered his answer.

“Yeah, guess so. Feelin' much better than I have in a while. So close to the full moon, anyway.”

“It’s not all bad all the time, then?”

Frank sighed softly.

“No, not really. I'm … actually feelin’ pretty good for a good three weeks in between each shift. The days leadin' up to it and the days just after are the worst, though. I'm either going crazy runnin’ around, or I'm completely drained afterward.”

Matt hummed in understanding, feeling quite a bit of relief that the state Frank was in tonight didn’t last for more than a few days.

After they were silent for a couple of minutes, Matt’s head snapped to Frank as the latter uttered an amused chuckle.

“You can go home now. Promise I’ll lock the door as soon as you’re out and won’t try rippin’ anyone’s head off.”

Matt tilted his head to the side with a small frown. Did Frank think that Matt was only staying because he was worried that Frank might run amok again?

“Didn’t have any doubts about that,” he said simply. As much as Matt hated how easily Frank could resort to killing, Matt also knew that Frank would never jeopardize innocent lives by walking around outside when close to a shift.

Matt could feel Frank’s eyes on him as he observed him quietly.

“I’ll be fine, Red,” he said at last in a quiet voice, finally understanding that Matt was staying because of him.

Matt let his senses purposely roll over Frank one more time. His heart was still beating quicker than normal, but it seemed to be Frank’s new regular cadence. He could still detect the residual agitation that had to come from being this close to the full moon, but Frank was a far cry from the wild and rampaging creature that Matt had encountered on the rooftop just an hour earlier. Nodding slowly, Matt shifted on the cot until he could get up and retrieved the helmet, sliding it under one arm. Frank stood as well and followed Matt to the door. As Matt put a hand on the door knob to open it, Frank suddenly pinned him against the door with an unhappy growl, sending the helmet clamoring to the ground. Surprised by the yet again unexpected reaction from Frank, Matt gasped as Frank slid his nose along Matt's temple and down the side of his face until he reached the dip in his throat. He grasped Frank's shoulders, but stayed still, going as far as tilting his head back. Frank growled once more, the sound lower as the notes of arousal surrounded them again.

However, as fast as he'd been on Matt, Frank jumped back with a vicious snarl directed at himself.

“Fuck, sorry. I… my wolf doesn't want you to leave,” he sighed at the last part and rubbed his palms over his face. “You gotta go.”

“You sure?” Matt questioned, wondering whether leaving would set the wolf part inside Frank off again.

“No,” Frank huffed with an exasperated bark of a laugh. “But you gotta… I’ll be okay, yeah? Just need to calm the fuck down, and he — I won’t as long as you’re here.”

Nodding again, despite the tendrils of arousal still drifting over to him, Matt picked up the helmet and opened the door this time. There was a new growl, but Matt ignored it as he turned towards Frank again.

“Come find me if it’s getting too much again.”

Frank huffed. “Like hell I will.” Then he slammed the door closed before Matt heard the row of large bolts locking into place.

The following day, Matt’s mind kept going back to Frank, wondering whether the effects of scenting and touching him were still working or if Frank was restless and worked up again. Matt stopped himself from checking in on Frank at least three times, knowing that Frank wouldn’t appreciate it. And besides, Matt had been honest when he’d more or less told Frank that he trusted him to stay put if things took a turn for the worse again. Or, at least, until he’d gone through the full moon. What he was concerned about was that Frank might not ask for his help if he was in any pain. Frank had called Matt stubborn, but he was just as bad as Matt, and asking for help wasn’t something either of them really liked doing. At the end of the day, as he lay in bed well after midnight while listening to the sounds of the city, Matt decided to check on Frank the morning after the full moon.

Several hours later, Matt was suddenly woken by the sound of loud banging. As he jolted into a sitting position while his senses quickly tried to tell him what was going on after being ripped out of sleep, Matt soon realized that the banging was coming from the door leading to the roof. The wild heart beat that reached his ears told him who the visitor was. Hitting a button on the clock that was sitting on the bedside table, Matt’s eyebrows rose as it informed him that it was just a little past six in the morning. Between the early hour and the erratic heart beat, Matt knew that Frank had to be in quite the state. Quickly extricating himself from the bedsheets, Matt hurried through the living room and up the stairs to unlock the door. Frank burst through the door and across the threshold as soon as the lock was open, the heavy breathing that Matt had been able to hear from downstairs now sounding louder and harsher. As Frank rushed past him, the scent of anger, frustration, and need swept over Matt, who was surprised that Frank practically ignored him and instead bolted down the stairs in just a few long strides. Matt followed him at a more measured pace, coming down the stairs slowly as he took in Frank’s bright silhouette, which told him that Frank’s body temperature had risen again. Frank began walking up and down in front of the coffee table, huffing and growling in frustration, giving even more the impression of a wild animal.

“Frank?” Matt tried calmly, as he reached the main floor and walked to the couch.

“Didn’ wanna come here,” Frank gritted out without ever stopping in his stomping. “Tried my hardest to stay put, but that fuckin’ mutt just kept pushin’ and pushin’.”

“I told you you could come to me if it got any worse again,” Matt said soothingly, stopping at the couch as he kept his attention on Frank’s movements.

“Yeah, but I ain’t your problem, Red. I can’t come runnin’ to you like… like… like some…” Frank huffed and raked his fingers through his hair in agitation.

“Maybe, but I already told you, if I can help, I wanna do it.”

Frank finally paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to keep himself in check. “You don’t get it, Red. The things he wants… the things I want… I just… how can you be okay with that?”

Frank sounded both frustrated and desperate, clearly holding on to the last shreds of his control as the cloud of anger and need got thicker around them. Matt didn’t even hesitate as he stretched a hand out towards Frank.

“Come here,” he coaxed softly, while sitting down on the couch.

“Red…” Frank started before he trailed off, his voice a rough whisper, his knees buckling as he still fought against the wolf.

Matt only smiled and waited. Maybe he would be able to soothe Frank like he had last night, perhaps even enough to make it bearable to get through the transformation. Finally, Frank moved and, to Matt’s great surprise, knelt at Matt’s feet, head bowed. Slanting his head to one side at Frank’s unexpected show of submission, Matt slowly slid a hand to the back of Frank’s hot nape. Frank tensed briefly, but instead of relaxing into the touch, he moved as swiftly as the night before and slammed forward, which had both men falling sideways in a tangle of limbs on the couch. As soon as Frank was on top of Matt, whose head was reclining on the armrest, Frank pressed his nose against Matt’s neck, bringing them back to the same position as the previous night. Having expected it this time, Matt let his head fall to the side as Frank instantly began scenting him, emitting a rumble of satisfaction at Matt’s gesture. Yesterday hadn’t been a coincidence then; something about Matt’s scent did something to Frank. It did seem to soothe him, seeing as how Frank’s breathing slowed, and his heartbeat lost its erratic thumping. The arousal, however, which had been running through Frank among the anger and frustration, was only getting stronger while the two other emotions were settling. Last night, Frank had only gotten aroused once he’d calmed down and all anger had fled his body, but tonight it seemed to be part of the reason why Frank had caved and sought Matt out in the first place.

As if Frank were aware of Matt’s thought process, a hot tongue against his neck had Matt gasping and gripping at Frank’s Henley. The reaction got a growl out of Frank, who gave the neck more attention for a few licks and sucks before he suddenly slid all the way down Matt’s body. He began nuzzling Matt’s groin, which was only covered by a thin layer of pajama pants. Matt took in a sharp breath of surprise, from the action and from the rather tender way Frank was rubbing his face against his crotch. It was so different from Frank’s otherwise agitated behavior. He gently combed his fingers through Frank’s hair and grasped it lightly. Frank made a rumbling sound and pressed his head into Matt’s hand. Licking his lips, Matt kept his hand there as he thought. He’d wondered whether Frank’s arousal last night had only been due to the full moon’s approach, but taking into account everything that had happened until now as well as what Frank had told him about his reaction to Matt, maybe there was more to it.

“You said your wolf wants me… But do you want me, Frank?” Matt asked in a low voice, pulling at Frank's hair until Frank was staring up at him while his cheek rested against Matt’s inner thigh, his breathing ragged.

Because that was the real question, wasn’t it? Wolf and human might be one and the same person, but Frank was still fighting his new side. The wolf clearly wanted Matt, and as much as Frank and Matt might get along nowadays, Matt refused to give Frank more if the man wasn’t fully on board as well. He couldn’t have Frank regret anything. This was too important.

“Yes,” Frank rasped through deep panting breaths, clearly struggling to get that one word out when all he wanted to do was let his other side take over.

Nevertheless, there was no uptick in Frank’s heart beat. Not an ounce of hesitation as he spoke. There was nothing but the absolute truth.

Somehow, this little word and Frank making the effort to say it, had Matt’s throat going dry as he allowed the heat of his own arousal to wash over him. Having Frank kneeling between his parted legs, looking so eager to please, was something that Matt found really turned him on. Frank made a deep appreciative sound at the back of his throat as Matt’s cock, which had gotten half hard despite himself thanks to Frank rubbing his face over it, filled out further. He pressed his face against it again, breathing in and mouthing along Matt’s covered balls, which caused Matt to groan and lift his hips into the contact. Breathing harder, Matt slowly slid a hand down his body until he caught a thumb in the waistband of his pajama pants and tugged them down. Frank repositioned himself on the couch to allow Matt to lift his hips and slide the pants off, which left him in only a threadbare tee shirt, then Frank laid down between his legs. Frank’s breathing got harsher and faster again before he whined in anticipation, his lust filling Matt’s senses. Taking himself in hand, Matt gave himself a slow pump before he angled his cock towards Frank’s mouth.

“Go ahead.”

There wasn’t even a fraction of a second of hesitation as Frank burst forward and slid his lips around the head of Matt’s cock. Frank didn't stop there, he pressed forward and took Matt's entire length into his mouth, the head going down his scalding and eager throat in one slide.

“Fuck!” Matt cried out, while his head bowed back over the armrest as his hips reflexively jerked up and his hands fisted inside Frank's hair.

Taking Matt’s hips in a tight grip, Frank shuddered and groaned deep in his throat, which had Matt uttering another curse at the intense vibrations along his dick and balls. Panting, Matt felt Frank squirming around, until he realized, as another scent reached his nose, that Frank had just come inside his jeans from going down on Matt. The smell of Frank's release had another wave of heat curling inside Matt's belly. He stroked his fingers through Frank's hair and hummed out a pleased sound.

“You're being so good,” Matt voiced softly, going along with Frank's obvious need to please Matt.

Frank whined and popped off Matt's cock, licking along the ridge on the underside as he started to rub himself against the couch again. He'd just come, but his erection hadn't seemed to have gone down at all. As Frank took his time exploring Matt’s length with long and meticulous passes of his hot tongue, Matt wondered if Frank was either just pent-up or if the short refractory period had anything to do with the werewolf side. A minute later and Frank was coming again, whining and grunting against the soft skin of Matt’s balls that he was busy sucking on. Matt moaned from the feeling and the sounds that Frank was making. Frank breathed deeply against Matt’s hip, licking and nibbling at the skin at random before he was suckling at the tip of Matt’s cock again. After barely a whole minute, Frank was back to sucking enthusiastically and taking most of Matt’s cock into his mouth. Matt lost his focus for a few long seconds at the tight suction on his length and carded his fingers through Frank’s hair as he bucked his hips up. However, as Frank began humping the couch again just a few moments later, Matt knew that there was more to it than Frank only being pent-up.

Frank kept Matt on the edge for the next ten minutes, since Frank came three more times in that same time frame, which had him stopping in his ministrations each time. Matt panted, as Frank went from taking him down his throat and almost making him come, to just dropping open-mouthed kisses along the length again as he began shaking for a fifth time. But this clearly wasn’t enough for Frank. The sounds he was making now were of absolute frustration, but it also seemed like he couldn’t stop himself. It was as if he would keep going and going until finally satisfied. Which clearly wasn’t happening. At least not by only sucking Matt off, no matter how much Frank enjoyed giving Matt all the attention. Getting a good hold on Frank’s hair to get his attention as he tugged on it, Matt cut off a groan of pleasure as Frank lapped at his balls. He might have an inkling as to what could be missing for Frank to get there.

“Do you need to fuck me, Frank?” Matt murmured in a low tone.

Frank startled and whined deep in his throat, the sound pitiful and needy as the question hit its mark. Matt licked his lips, while his dick twitched at the words he was about to say.

“Then do it.”

Surprise poured off Frank at Matt's words, but the sound that followed was between human and animal; a groan turning into a deep growl. Before Matt could say anything further or move an inch, Frank sprang into action. He rose to his knees and grabbed Matt by the waist, easily manhandling him until he was on his knees, face over the armrest and his ass in the air. Breathing heavily while Frank knelt behind him as he practically ripped his jeans open, Matt felt a mild sense of concern that Frank might try to go in without any preparation. But Frank caught him off guard once again. Feeling two hands on his ass, Matt only had the time to open his mouth in surprise as he understood Frank’s intentions right before Frank leaned in with a snarl and dove, mouth first, between Matt's ass cheeks. He showed as much enthusiasm for opening Matt with his mouth and tongue as while he’d been blowing him. There was no sign of restraint as Frank sucked and licked around Matt’s entrance, the vibrations of his hungry growls running down Matt’s taint and making his cock leak onto the couch. With his forearms braced on the armrest, Matt buried his face into them as he moaned and groaned, while pressing his ass back into Frank’s mouth and fingers. Matt had been surfing the edge of release for so long now, that as Frank’s scruffy chin rubbed against his tightening balls while he finally slid an inch of his tongue inside, Matt suddenly came with a muffled shout. He gasped loudly as Frank growled in satisfaction, and felt Frank’s hand run over his length to cup the tip and catch the remainder of his release. His senses followed the way Frank shuffled back on his knees and brought his hand to his face to run his tongue over the come covered palm. Matt shivered at Frank’s low hum of contentment about having pleased Matt. A second later, he was using that same hand to grip his own erection and jerk himself quickly, whining as he gathered the traces of his previous orgasms to mix their essences together. Frank uttered a raspy sound of need and let go of himself to rub his slick fingers around Matt’s hole before pushing a thumb inside.

“Oh, God,” Matt croaked out, his head pressing into his forearms.

Despite feeling slightly sensitive now, Matt still felt the new stirrings of arousal from Frank’s ministrations. He relaxed into the touch and hummed in encouragement as Frank went deeper, having switched to index and middle finger now. As wild and erratic as Frank’s behavior might have been so far, Matt was still impressed by the restraint that Frank was showing by not just shoving into Matt right away. Especially since Frank’s hard length was twitching and continuously pumping out small pulses of pre-come. However, as he moaned when Frank went in with a third finger, Matt finally realized something. Reaching behind him to grab Frank’s wrist and stop what he was doing, Matt turned his head towards the other man and squeezed his wrist.

“Fuck me,” he whispered fiercely, knowing that Frank had been waiting for him to give the go-ahead.

As expected, the two words catapulted Frank into action. He whined deep in his throat as he pulled his fingers free to a small gasp from Matt, and leaned his body over Matt’s, holding himself up next to his shoulders with one hand. With his panting breaths hot on Matt’s nape, Frank shifted around until Matt could feel the blunt but burning tip of Frank’s cock pressing against his entrance. Matt pushed back with a grunt as Frank shoved forward, which had the head slipping inside. Frank had barely moved in a few more inches, when he came with a sound that had all the hairs on Matt’s body rising, the growl so deep that it ran through Matt’s entire being. Liquid heat coated Matt’s walls as Frank filled him with his come, which eased the way as Frank already began moving again after only a few seconds of stillness. Frank whined against Matt’s nape in a clear apology, but Matt was quick to reassure him, his body gradually accepting Frank’s girth.

“You’re good, Frank. Keep going… you're good,” Matt rasped breathlessly, his cock now back to full hardness at the welcoming burn of Frank settling fully inside him.

As if spurred on by the praise, Frank whined and thrust again. And again. And again. Matt took it all, letting his body sink into the couch as he focused on Frank's pleasure to build his own. With his dick starting to leak as Frank’s powerful thrusts kept passing over his prostate, Matt snaked a hand down his body to stroke himself quickly. He shivered at the sudden feeling of Frank’s lips brushing over his shoulder, but uttered a sharp gasp as the lips pulled back to reveal Frank’s teeth. They wrapped around the muscle where shoulder met neck, and while the hold was loose, Matt knew what Frank needed. As Frank pounded into him, his jaw tightening ever so slightly over Matt’s shoulder while barreling towards a seventh orgasm, Matt knew that if he agreed, this time it would be enough to satisfy the wolf as well. Matt didn’t hesitate, since, if he had to be honest, he wanted it too.

“Do it,” he said firmly at Frank’s whine, and cocked his head to the side in invitation.

Frank growled that deep, animalistic sound again, then sank his teeth into Matt’s shoulder. A second later, his hips locked against Matt as he erupted deep inside him. Matt cried out at the sharp burst of pain zinging down his spine, and came with a long shudder all over the couch again. His breaths were quick as he felt Frank’s orgasm going on for longer than the others before, hot splashes pulsing inside him repeatedly while Frank jerked faintly for long seconds. He growled around the tender flesh between his teeth, but he didn’t break the skin. Thankfully, it was in a spot that was usually covered, since Matt would most definitely be sporting a large bruise later on.

After a while, Frank’s jaw finally loosened and let go. He snaked an arm around Matt’s waist, and after a few pulls and tugs, Matt found himself lying on his side with Frank behind him, his dick still lodged inside. Matt felt the stickiness of his come against his skin from the wet spot he’d created on the couch, but with Frank’s warm presence at his back, he found that he didn’t mind it too much. Frank curled his arms around Matt’s chest and waist, and pressed his forehead against the back of Matt’s head. His breathing was still fast, but it was slowing by the second, as did his heart beat. Matt closed his heavy eyes since his sleep had been interrupted, and focused on the feeling of Frank’s body finally relaxing. It was long minutes of silence later that Frank’s hand moved from Matt’s chest to lift to his neck instead. A small shiver ran through Matt as Frank stroked a gentle thumb over the bite mark.

“Sorry ‘bout that. You told me to go for it, but…” Frank said, voice rough with disuse, before he trailed off and shook his head.

“Don’t be. I wanted it too.”

Frank exhaled a short and soft incredulous laugh, as if, until now, he’d still been unable to believe that Matt had been completely on board with anything that had happened.

“Just so you know, it wouldn’t have turned you if I’d actually broken the skin,” he said at length. “Only if I’d been transformed.”

“I know.” Matt smiled lightly at the frown he felt forming on Frank’s brow after Matt’s statement, his confusion evident. Matt continued before Frank could inquire further. “You would never have bit me if you knew it could turn me.”

“How can you be so sure? I’ve been mostly runnin’ on instinct since yesterday. What if I’d just lost control ‘n-”

“Would you though?” Matt countered, turning his head slightly towards Frank. “You might have been running on instinct, Frank, but your wolf clearly also doesn’t want to hurt me either. It wanted to please me… The both of you did.”

It was a bold statement, but not less true. It showed in how Frank’s face and chest glowed with warmth as he flushed. He also didn’t contradict Matt.

“You always got too much faith in people, Red. Gonna get you killed one of these days,” Frank grumbled, but the arm around Matt’s chest tightened.

Matt chuckled. “I’d rather say I have faith in the right people.”

Frank scoffed, obviously unconvinced. They lapsed into silence, until Matt felt Frank’s heart slow as he began to nod off, the man even more exhausted than Matt.

“As nice as this is, how ‘bout we, huh, clean up a little and take this to the bedroom? My couch’s not bad, I’d know, but my bed’s much better.”

To Matt’s surprise, Frank hummed in agreement. He’d thought that Frank would choose to make a quick exit and lock himself away now that his need had settled, despite having all day before the moon rose. Instead, they moved together, Frank’s soft dick slipping from Matt’s loose hole and bringing with it a gush of come. Matt was silently glad that the couch was made of some kind of leather like material, which made it easier to clean than some other fabrics.

“Christ,” Frank rumbled, as Matt got up and come slid down his thighs.

There was a deep wave of contentment coming from Frank as a flicker of heat lit in his groin and chest. It stayed that way, however, only a flicker, and Matt supposed that the wolf was satisfied to have left its mark on him.

Throwing Frank a small smile over his shoulder, Matt walked towards the bathroom, his ass feeling a little sore, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. He could tell that Frank’s eyes followed him as he stripped off the tee shirt and entered the bathroom, leaving the door open in invitation. However, he felt Frank move towards the kitchen to find what he needed to clean the couch. He did join Matt a few minutes later as Matt stood under the spray, letting the hot jets of water hit his lower back. As he stepped into the shower, Frank stood unmoving for several seconds, until Matt raised a hand towards his neck, his fingers light over the warm skin. He smiled as Frank sank into the touch and took a step closer to Matt, his eyes falling shut. Matt maneuvered him under the water, and from there it didn’t take them long to finish cleaning up and step out of the shower to dry off.

“I should head back,” Frank said quietly, as they stood naked at the foot of the bed, having those thoughts that Matt had expected of him earlier.

“Later,” Matt insisted, slipping under the covers. “You’re about ready to pass out, and so am I.”

Frank hesitated, although he yawned widely, confirming Matt’s words.

“C’m ‘ere, Frank,” Matt beckoned, hand stretched out like earlier.

Frank licked his lips nervously, but put a knee onto the bed and moved up until he was lying behind Matt under the covers. Matt smiled to himself as Frank automatically pressed his front to Matt’s back, one arm wrapping around Matt’s waist as he sank his nose into Matt’s neck, breathing in deeply.

Matt wasn’t surprised that Frank was asleep within the next exhale, but he wasn’t far behind.

Matt jerked awake to Frank jolting into a sitting position, his heartbeat frantic as panic poured off him.

“Wha — what time is it?” Frank barked, trying to extricate himself from the sheets, but Matt grabbed one of his arms while simultaneously hitting the bedside clock with his other fist.

“Two forty-seven PM,” the electronic voice announced.

While Matt was shocked to realize that they'd ended up sleeping for such a long time, there was still more than enough time for Frank to return to the safe house before moonrise. Frank didn’t seem to come to the same conclusion, however, since he kept trying to get up. Huffing, Matt rolled until he was leaning over Frank and fighting to push him down.

“Frank, stop, you’re good. It’s not even three yet,” he grunted, as he strained against Frank’s superhuman strength.

Frank finally seemed to understand what Matt was telling him because he fell to the bed again, which Matt was thankful for since he wouldn’t have actually been able to stop Frank if he hadn’t relented.

“Moonrise isn’t until another four hours,” Matt added, since he’d checked the exact time the previous day. “Take a sec and then we’ll go.”

Frank went completely still underneath him at these words.

“We?” he barked.

That at least seemed to fully snap Frank out of his spiraling thoughts. The panic got a furious twist to it, though.

“What d’you mean we? You ain’t comin’, Red. Ain’t no way you’re gonna stay while… while…” Frank pushed Matt off and got up, completely oblivious to the fact that he was still naked, before he started pacing at the end of the bed. “I ain’t gonna attack anyone on the way back,” he mumbled with an irritated grunt that was supposed to hide his worry at the thought of Matt following him to the safe house.

Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know I’m not worried about that,” Matt told him exasperatedly, before continuing without being able to hold back from sniping back in the face of Frank’s reaction. “Although, considering how agitated you’re getting, maybe I should be.”

“Oh fuck you. Whose fault’s that, huh? Comin’ up with dangerous ideas that could get you killed?” Frank snapped, stopping in his pacing and facing Matt with a finger pointed at him.

Matt rolled his eyes and climbed off the bed to join Frank, whose quick heart beat thudded louder as Matt, just as naked as him, came closer. Satisfied by Frank’s momentary distraction, Matt shortened the distance between them and slid a hand to the back of Frank’s neck. Frank’s shoulders slumped and he instinctively leaned into the touch as his eyes closed.

“I won’t stay,” Matt said softly, stroking his fingertips along the short hairs at the base of Frank’s head. “I just want to make sure you’re okay before you shift.”

Frank sighed deeply and pressed his forehead against Matt’s.

“I dunno how it’s gonna go after… everythin’. But even though it ain’t gonna be a walk in the park, I know it'll be okay,” he fell quiet for a second. “I feel good, Red. Better than I have since this all started.”

Matt’s grip on Frank’s nape tightened for a second, before he released a long breath and nodded. If Frank was so sure, why should Matt push him about it?

“‘Kay,” he relented.

Matt thought that Frank would take a step back and quickly move around to get his clothes and leave, but Frank ended up with his nose buried in Matt’s neck instead. Smiling as Frank loosely linked his arms around Matt to pull him closer as he breathed him in, Matt closed his eyes and let his hand slide into Frank’s hair. After a minute of scenting, however, Matt smelled the beginning of Frank’s arousal. Frank took a few steps back though when his cock twitched with interest against Matt’s hip and cleared his throat.

“We should get dressed,” Frank suggested with a tinge of embarrassment highlighting his face.

Matt grinned because, this time, it wasn’t the wolf’s need at play, but the man’s proximity to a naked Matt.

“Oh, shut up,” Frank huffed at Matt's smirk, but his lips were quirking up as well.

Once Frank was dressed and ready to leave, Matt led him to the entrance door.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” Matt informed him decisively.

Frank opened his mouth as he reached for the door handle, but closed it again after a second.

“Right,” he ended up saying, and Matt knew that he’d been about to tell Matt that he didn’t have to come, but he was also aware that Matt wouldn’t listen anyway.

Frank regarded him for a few quiet seconds as he stood in the open doorway, then ducked his head.

“Right… see you later, Red.”

Matt gave him a one-sided smile and nodded, just hoping that tonight would be alright.

“Yeah.”

As Frank walked away, Matt listened to his heart beat for as long as his hearing could follow.

That night, Matt slept fitfully. He wasn’t particularly tired since he’d slept in so late, and he kept waking, wondering whether Frank was going through the shift okay. He shook his head at himself as 2am rolled around and he lay on his back, eyes open and thinking instead of sleeping. Frank had gone through this several times before, and while the experience had been highly unpleasant, he’d been alright all the same afterward. He’d also told Matt that he felt better than the other times after spending the day with Matt. But it didn’t stop Matt from feeling the itch to get up and head over to Frank’s safe house anyway. After another hour of sleeplessness, Matt got out of bed with a huff and got dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie before heading out of the apartment. He made his way through the city, until he reached Frank’s safe house and slowly went down to the basement. The closer he got, the better he could make out the sounds inside the locked room. He swallowed thickly as he felt the huge form on the other side of the metal door, growling and prowling around like a tiger behind bars. Despite everything, it was still wild to think that the creature was Frank.

“Frank?” he tried, putting a palm against the door, feeling the vibrations of the growls through it.

There was instant silence on the other side, which was followed by a small whine a second later. Yeah, this definitely was Frank. The large form came closer to the door, until its head thumped against the metal. Matt smiled at the huff Frank made as he sat against the door. It sounded annoyed and so much like Frank. Could it be that Frank was conscious inside the wolf this time? From what Matt had understood after Frank’s description of the previous transformations, Frank wasn’t in control during the full moon.

“I know I said I’d stay away, but…”

Another huff, which sounded like a snort this time. Matt laughed and sighed, turning around to lean against the door and slide down its length until he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Maybe I could’ve stayed with you in the end,” Matt mumbled while reclining his head against the metal.

Frank growled menacingly, which only had Matt chuckling because he could hear Frank’s voice saying “Don’t be an idiot.” in his head.

“Okay, okay, fine.” He was silent for a minute as he thought. “Are you in any pain?”

This time, Frank made a low rumbling sound that Matt understood to be a no.

“Good,” Matt said softly, as his eyelids began to droop, finally feeling tired now that he knew that Frank was okay.

They stayed quiet for a while, as both of them seemed to finally relax enough to rest. After a while, there was another soft grunt from Frank and a thump against the metal, but Matt was already falling asleep with his head against the doorjamb.

He woke some time later, to a crick in his neck and a stiff hip from the awkward sleeping position he’d been in, but that wasn’t what had pulled him out of his sleep. Soft growls of pain and loud snapping sounds echoed from the storage room, which had Matt on alert instantly as he ignored the discomfort of his own body. He followed with a grimace of sympathy as the wolf morphed into a human again. Once the noises stopped, there was only labored breathing from the other side of the door.

“Frank?” Matt asked softly, as he rose to his feet.

No answer.

“Fra-”

“Go home, Red,” Frank cut in, his voice rough and strained from pain and exhaustion.

Matt’s jaw clenched. “Open the door, Frank.” A beat of silence. “Please.”

A weary sigh met Matt’s ears, but the bolts slid free one after the other until the door opened. Frank was already walking away from the door as Matt stepped inside, slipping on a pair of sweatpants he picked up from the cot. Last night, Matt had been too focused on Frank to check on the state of the room, but it looked like Frank hadn’t broken anything, nor tried to, unlike the time Frank told him about. That had to be a good sign. Without a word, Matt made a quick detour to the tiny adjacent bathroom before he joined Frank again, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Frank shrugged as he stared at his clenching and unclenching fists.

“Fine… Tired ‘s all.”

“The shift’s painful, then?”

They hadn’t talked about it, but from what Matt had heard as he woke up, it certainly seemed that way. Frank shrugged again, then turned his head to stare at Matt.

“Wasn’t as bad as the other times, though.”

Matt nodded, understanding that being with Matt had also helped Frank with that part of the transformation.

“And you were able to stay in control too, right?”

Frank huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah… Up until you came, the wolf was takin’ up most of the space, but he wasn’t angry this time. And when I heard your voice, he just… I dunno… mellowed out completely.” Then Frank pointed at Matt with a serious expression. “But don’t think ‘bout stayin’ next time. Ain’t gonna happen.”

Matt snorted loudly and patted Frank’s thigh soothingly. “Maybe we could find a way where-”

“Not. Gonna. Happen. Red”, Frank growled so deeply and menacingly that Matt sighed as the smile slipped from his face.

He knew that Frank was worried that he could end up biting Matt if he ever stayed around.

“I know,” he amended gently.

What Matt didn’t say was that he was willing to bet that he might not have to fear anything from Frank while transformed if things went on like they had last night. But after what Frank had gone through these last few months, Matt also understood Frank’s worry and knew that it was too soon to really have that conversation.

Frank visibly relaxed at Matt’s acceptance and started leaning sideways to lie on the bed. What Matt didn’t expect was for Frank to wrap an arm around Matt’s waist and pull him down along with him. Matt made a sound of surprise but allowed Frank to push him into the position he wanted. They ended up face to face, with Frank’s arms wrapped around Matt as he pressed his nose against Matt’s throat. Like he’d done several times now in the last three days, Matt curled his fingers over Frank’s warm nape as the calm thumping of Frank’s heart took over his hearing.

“Does that mean you’ll keep doing that even after the full moon?” Matt asked with a light chuckle, as Frank breathed him in.

Frank grumbled at the question but didn’t pull away, which only had Matt grinning broadly. Frank smelled so relaxed and content that Matt couldn’t even begin to mind. Instead, Matt slid his fingers into Frank’s hair and pulled his head back. Frank grunted in annoyance, but went still as Matt kissed him. It was only a soft press of lips at first, but Frank responded a second later, leaning into the kiss as he rolled halfway on top of Matt with a low growl.

“So the wolf likes this too?” Matt grinned through soft pants, as Frank eased up again.

Frank hummed while nosing along Matt’s jaw, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Guess he and I are finally startin’ to understand each other.”

#fratt #frank castle x matt murdock #frank x matt #frank castle #matt murdock #frank castle fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #fratt fanfiction #werewolf!frank castle #frankmatt #the punisher #daredevil #fratt smut

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nordickies · 1 year

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Iceland Headcanon Masterpost!

Halló! It's time to update my Nordic 5 headcanons! I'm offering you this (way too long) master post of big and small headcanons I have for each family member, and first up we have Iceland

Note: My headcanons are just my interpretations of the characters. As a warning, I am known to drift away from the canon quite a bit when necessary, focusing more on history and culture. I love hearing how other people view these characters, especially if they contradict my ideas, so feel free to share them! Also, all my headcanons are free to steal - feel free to add them to your own interpretations

Read the whole list under the cut!

Physical Features

Iceland is the second "shortest" Nordic at 180 cm / 5' 11″

Iceland has a lean and soft body type, which lacks definition or muscle

He may not be physically strong, but his active lifestyle keeps him in good shape and makes him relatively enduring - he could hike up mountains without problem, while his older brothers (Denmark) would keep complaining the whole time

He has a birthmark on his right leg, below the knee, supposedly presenting the Vestmannaeyjar

He has a red spot on his forehead, that is teasingly called Surtsey

Iceland has ashy blonde wavy hair, which he keeps in its natural state. Though for formal occasions he tries to comb it to the side, which usually causes frustration in a hurry

He tried to grow facial hair once but got teased for it, and now he's too self-conscious to try it again

He has faint freckles on his nose and acne scarring on his forehead and cheeks. He also has bacne

Iceland has a tendency to get reddish skin. Whether it's the cold weather pumping his cheeks red or just a physical reaction to emotions. He often experiences windburns

He gets voice cracks more often than others

Personality

Iceland has always been very independent and free-spirited. He hates when others tell him what to do, even when it comes from a place of just trying to help

He values self-efficiency and has taken care of himself from a very young age. He's calm and composed, at least on the surface

He's a young nation and a bit childish. It's something his family loves about him but something he might get judged for in work-related settings

Ice has this innocence and child-like naivety. He follows the world news quite intensively nowadays but he can have a rather simple outlook on life and its problems. He can also be a bit reckless and inexperienced, like with finances, which might backfire occasionally

He's known to be the daredevil of the group. Also lacking common fears, such as the fear of heights, which let him remain calm in unexpected situations

He's a proud person but not arrogant. He's proud of his country and people; he talks about it with a big smile. He thinks he lives in the best place in the entire world and has a close relationship with his tight-knit population

Iceland is the type of person to make everything out of anything, both positive and negative. A small victory is a huge celebration, but a minor inconvenience can ruin his day

He's a bit blunt. He might accidentally say something rude but immediately realize it and be embarrassed. Iceland is very respectful and fears offending anyone

Ice is emotionally the most open and vulnerable of the Nordics and isn't afraid to cry if he needs to

He's also a bit hotheaded and gets frustrated easily, especially if things don't immediately go as he wants. Learning new skills takes him a while due to his bad temper

Iceland can be a loud personality who proclaims his space, at least with close friends and family. A trait he learned from Denmark. He just gets irritated when the other Nordics pester him, and he will let them know about it

He's extremely caring and always ready to help others, lending a hand even to complete strangers

If anyone takes the time off to go and visit him, it's a huge deal but also something that makes Iceland feel a bit anxious. It feels bad that a person dropped everything just to see him. But if people do it, Iceland will make sure to be a lovely host and welcome them with open arms

He may overreact to people having arguments or petty disagreements and he wants them to get resolved immediately. He hates seeing people angry and can make him emotional. Iceland is remarkably pacifistic and having grudges seem like a total waste of time; fighting always leads to the other side feeling bitter or hurt

He has a weird, even dark, sense of humor. He finds Hugleikur Dagsson's illustrations extremely funny

Iceland has no organization or time management skills whatsoever. He's very flexible when it comes to planning, but you can never be 100% sure that things go as you initially planned with him

Iceland feels stress from his position and fears of burning out. He's still fairly young and not that experienced, but he has difficulty talking about it in case his abilities are questioned

Iceland appreciates when people have trust and confidence in him. He feels like his skills are downplayed a lot, but he's actually very reliable and intelligent

Hobbies

Whenever he feels down, he goes to one of the local farms to take care of horses and sheep; they're therapeutic to him

He plays fiðla (Icelandic fiddle) but he's not particularly skilled at it. He still tries though, even if he's not musically talented. Iceland wants to preserve as many of his unique traditions as he can

Iceland had to learn how to make traditional sweaters (mostly Lopapeysas) because all of his friends kept asking for one. He usually gives them away as a birthday or Christmas present

Ice is a decent cook but not a creative one. He can make you a traditional meal without a problem but learning any new recipe can be time-consuming for him. He has done things this way for centuries, so being constantly introduced to new trends and ideas can be overwhelming to him. But Sweden is trying his best to help him out

Iceland doesn't like baking. He does enjoy pastries and such, but he doesn't have the patience or energy to make them. To him it's annoying to follow complicated recipes, the ingredients are expensive, it takes too much time and the kitchen is a mess afterward. He just doesn't get the appeal of the hobby

Ice likes all things weird and unusual, and he collects strange items and trinkets he comes across, like ceramics or just weird stones in nature

Growing up, he was rather sheltered and lonely. One way for him to ease that loneliness was by sending letters to various places, in search of a pen pal - and there are a few friends he made that way! Ice might still send letters on special occasions, and he remembers that time fondly

He's into photography, and has been into it for a while! He still has all his old retro cameras stored somewhere. His land is particularly picturesque, so Iceland is snapping photos quite frequently. He just adores his land and nature, and photos are just a great way to store memories

When the weather allows, he'll head outdoors for a beach picnic or hiking in the mountains. Out of the Nordics, he's the most used to bad weather and never complains about it. In his words, "There is no bad weather, only bad clothes"

Ice loves relaxing at the local spas, saunas, and hot springs. Recently he has developed a skincare routine, and he is trying to teach the rest of his family to adopt something similar too

Iceland knows a thing or two about football and handball. But other than that, he's out of the loop regarding sports - He just likes hiking by himself or trying ice and rock climbing!

Iceland is familiar with his local wrestling sport, Glíma, but he quickly realized that contact sports aren't his thing. His brothers might still teasingly challenge him into a match though

He's quite gifted at chess, being the land of surprisingly many chess grandmasters. He and Norway might play for hours if they have time to do it

Iceland is a fast and active reader with an impressive bookcase wall at home. He has read all the classics. He mostly likes gloomy fiction, Icelanders can just relate to cynical topics - and he likes historical sagas and poetry, of course

Fantasy is one of Iceland's favorite book and tv genres. Though he tends to point out all the inaccuracies relating to his country and culture, especially about the Vikings

Iceland also likes fantasy RPGs! He enjoys coming up with storylines and playing campaigns online with his teen-nation friends; it's an activity where his literature geek side gets to shine through

Iceland is a bit of a linguistic nerd. He speaks multiple languages and likes studying them. He is active in preserving his own native language as well

Lifestyle

He goes by the human name Eiríkur Ingólfsson, but his nickname is Eirí or Erik. Iceland doesn't know who his dad is, so he named himself after the supposed first settler of Iceland

Iceland is, of course, the youngest of the group and is in his early twenties. He was born in the late 9th century but developed very slowly throughout history. At the time of his independence, he was around 18 years old

Due to his job, Iceland finds it the most convenient to live in Reykjavík. To him, Reykjavík feels massive and busy, so he wouldn't mind living somewhere a bit more peaceful, like the Westfjords

He fears he has a heavy accent when speaking in English, but actually, he speaks the best out of all the Nordics due to his long historic connections to English-speaking countries. He also speaks Danish, and can therefore understand most Norwegian and Swedish. Other languages he has been exposed to throughout history are Gaelic, Latin, German, French, and Basque

Iceland is known for his weird customs and rituals, and he's still very superstitious. He believes in supernatural things and events, even when others might mock him for it. He, for example, believes in a lake monster (Lagarfljótsormurinn) and elves (Huldufólk)

Ice has his own secret spots where he likes to go hiking, swimming, and picking berries. He generally finds the tourist spots annoying and too crowded

He always carries chapstick with him and can't leave the house without at least one in his pocket

Ice loves the smell and taste of fresh coffee but can't handle caffeine. It just makes him more anxious and trembly. Thankfully there are decaffeinated options available nowadays

He enjoys soft, mellow music. Just a man and a guitar is enough. He has a long list of his favorite indie bands and artists

Iceland feeds and looks after birds, through which he has made adorable Puffin friends. They're curious and sociable animals, always cheering up his day

His favorite foods include traditional lamb or fish stews. Plokkfiskur with traditional Icelandic rye bread is also a classic. Maybe a bit hesitantly, he'll also admit that he does enjoy fermented shark, Hákarl, as a guilty pleasure. But quickly add that Pylsur are a classic Icelandic hotdogs everyone should try

Though he pretends to be super mature, he can't help but look forward to Fastelavn and most importantly, Bolludagur, every single year. And he drinks kókómjólk occasionally, to become stronger and not because chocolate milk tastes great

His house is hot because he is a bit sensitive to cold. When the other Nordics visit, they complain that his heater is turned all the way up

He likes celebrating national holidays, birthdays, and even little accomplishments. His favorite is the tradition of Sólarkaffi when the residents of a small village will come together for a coffee in the house where the first sun ray of the year lands

Iceland takes part in réttir every year on horseback! It's the annual roundup where people retrieve their sheep stock from the mountains and valleys. It’s a nationwide event, where people come together to play music, picnic outdoors, and help each other gather their sheep

Iceland, as a small remote country with no railway system, is used to traveling everywhere by car nowadays. At least if he needs to get out of Reykjavík

Iceland is a diva when it comes to sleeping. He needs block-out curtains, a warm room, no sounds, comfortable pajamas, and a soft cold pillow. Thus he dislikes sleepovers. He can get adjusted to anything once long enough time has passed, though he's definitely taking in all the luxuries of the modern age

Ice dresses up for practicality. It's better to bring too much clothing than too little, and you might catch him with a winter jacket well into the summer season. Back home, he's not too concerned with his style, but if he's visiting some other place or having guests over, he suddenly gets very conscious of what he'll wear. He fears that he dresses up too "old" at times, but instead, he gets a lot of praise for his clothes. He's probably so late on trends, that his clothes end up becoming fashionably vintage. Sweaters are his favorite, with a high-quality pair of outdoor pants and hiking boots

Relationships

Due to the far distances to the continent, Iceland often experiences loneliness. Iceland has spent most of his life alone or with his family, so he doesn't really have long-time friendships outside the Nordics. But he has a strong urge to make friends, preferably with other younger nations, as he's tired of being always treated like a child in his family. He tries his best to reach out to others, but his shyness occasionally hinders that. Due to his distance, Iceland doesn't travel as often as other Nations, and nowadays does most of his meetings online. Iceland takes his job very seriously and wants to prove his abilities. He's an active listener at meetings and follows the world news constantly. He hates fighting and isn't afraid to stand up against bullies. When he has a lot to say, he'll take the initiative (after trying to get others' attention for half an hour)

Denmark Iceland has a huge need to get away from Denmark and appear as independent as possible. Denmark has always acted like Iceland's guardian and still has difficulty trusting him with adult responsibilities. Ice thinks Denmark can take his role as a former guardian too seriously and fall back into the overprotectiveness he used to have. To Iceland, Den can appear very pigheaded and forgets Iceland has been independent for a while now and has his own culture and life. Den calls Iceland all the time and makes sure he's okay, which Iceland finds condescending. But, when Iceland needs "dad's help" with something, he's immediately calling Denmark in panic. Denmark can be pretty playful and teases Ice a lot (and bores him with dad jokes), but he's just proud of the kid and sees Ice as a brilliant young man. Den knows Iceland can be shy when trying things out of his comfort zone, so he pushes him to new situations for better and worse. The Copenhagen nightlife was more traumatizing than fun for reserved Ice, so now Denmark opts for simple board game nights at local Icelandic pubs with him. Ice gets self-conscious when visiting Denmark, fearing he will somehow embarrass himself with how he speaks or dresses up. In return, Denmark gets very defensive if someone is making Iceland feel uncomfortable (which Iceland sees as another form of overprotectiveness). But as long as Denmark doesn't come to tell him what to do, Iceland doesn't mind him. Growing up, Denmark was always the father figure young Iceland so desperately wanted. So he has to take Den's fatherliness, in both good and bad

Norway Norway has never been good at parenting or taking responsibility for others, so he has a lot of regrets concerning Iceland. He has always known Iceland is his brother but has never been able to connect with him. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about the kid; he absolutely does, but Nor just never found a way to claim that big brother status. Iceland can feel insecure with Norway - like he needs to prove himself and his capabilities to get his validation. He's afraid to ask for Norway's help in case he appears weak or Norway would somehow judge him (which he of course wouldn't). Norway's attempt to reclaim their lost bond is sometimes irritating to Iceland, even though he knows it shouldn't. He has lots of disappointing memories when it comes to his brother, which is the reason for his underlying insecurities. He fears Nor will abandon him once again On the other hand, Norway has always given Iceland the freedom Denmark never knew how to give. He took Iceland on long trips and taught him necessary life skills. Iceland adored Norway growing up, always choosing him over anyone else. He even got jealous if someone else took his brother's attention. When Iceland was nervous or unsure as a child, Norway would tell him fantastical stories and restore hope in him. Norway sees a lot of young himself in Iceland. He wants to make sure Ice has everything he needs and the tools to do better than he did in the past. Norway has difficulty putting his love in words, so he keeps buying Iceland stuff and asking if Ice has always got what he needs, which Iceland insists he has. Norway feels terrible that he wasn't there for Ice when he was still a small child. But Norway wouldn't have been much of a parental figure even if he had been with him. He still feels a sense of failure in this and tries to make it up for it nowadays. In order to build their relationship, they go camping and fishing together whenever possible. They tell stories and talk about the past. Iceland is fascinated by his roots, and Norway tries to help to the best of his abilities (but the fading memory isn't helping). They both have regrets and disappointments regarding their shared past, but they will always have that unique family bond no one can take away from them

Sweden While historically they have been pretty distant, Sweden has always worried about the kid and ensured that whatever dispute and fighting happens, it doesn't directly affect little innocent Ice. During Union times, Iceland was a bit scared of Sweden, but Sweden managed to get on Ice's good side with various toys he carved for him. Little Iceland occasionally guided practically blind Sweden around and told Denmark to stop bullying him. Iceland and Sweden have gotten closer during modern times, and Sweden usually takes the mentor role. Whenever Ice has a problem that he will definitely not bring up with Nor or Den, he'll go straight to Sweden. Iceland is always welcome at Swe's place, and Ice can always call for any troubles or issues he might have. Ice never says it out loud, but he does appreciate this. Sweden isn't pushy or obsessive about it but rather a trustworthy adult he can rely on. Sweden actually listens to him and offers some genuine advice as he trusts Iceland's ability to make decisions himself. Swe is always happy to see Ice, makes him his favorite foods, and offers him a room to stay. Ice can become a bit uneasy about this because he feels Sweden does so much for him and never expects anything back. He'll start working and cleaning around the place to show gratitude, and Sweden tries to stop him. Lately, Sweden has taken time to teach Iceland skills, like cooking, and they're slowly getting somewhere

Finland Finland and Iceland have the most distant relationship out of all the Nordics since they are on opposite sides of the region. Ice finds Fin cool, but even he can fall into parental-protection-mode like the rest of the Nordics. Finland is always lending a hand to Ice when needed. Iceland likes Moomins and asks Fin to bring him a new mug when he visits. On the other hand, Finland admires Icelandic nature and wants to try all the craziest activities (like having a barbeque on lava). Finland can relate to Iceland and bond over the fact that they're both considered strange within the family. They both have a morbid sense of humor, which the others sometimes find a bit concerning. During the union times, Finland was left out of discussions and decision-making, and he had to spend time working or taking care of the youngest members, like Iceland, probably bringing him along to work and taking care of chores. Care for animals is something that unites them both. Nowadays, they go camping occasionally, which is a lot of fun, and they always say they should hang out more often (but they never seem to have time to do so)

England Iceland doesn't have enemies, but he feels like he has always been England's target. In his eyes, England is a bully, and he doesn't respect Iceland (or many others, for that matter). England finds Iceland petty and immature, but he won't say it out loud; he has frightening big brothers after all. They have had many little disagreements throughout the ages. Little Iceland was known to be mischievous, and he would often prank England when he was visiting their house. The other Nordics found this hilarious but tried to stop Iceland before he could do any significant damage; they didn't want to embarrass their important ally, after all. The Cod Wars against the Brit were important for Iceland, even if others saw them as unnecessary. The victory offered a well-needed confidence boost and showed others Iceland was more than capable of taking care of himself

Ireland When it comes to other island nations, Iceland has nothing but nice words to say about them. They have all been very friendly and welcoming. Iceland is especially friendly with Ireland! Ireland and he share history, and Ice is fascinated by this. He might sometimes inquire Ireland and ask him questions about the past, which Ireland would gladly answer if he had much to offer. They both have harsh environments and rocky relationships with England, so they get along great on that front too

United States America is one of the few countries Iceland has historically interacted with. He was the first to recognize Iceland's independence and considers Iceland an ally he is always ready to support. Iceland isn't sure how it happened. Their relationship just started with young America claiming, "You're my friend now," and Iceland was too confused to say anything to that. America finds Iceland cool and shares a similar upbringing to him, though Iceland would disagree. Iceland is happy to know he has a strong ally like America, but he's not exactly sure what to think of him. America is an important business partner and someone who supports Iceland no matter what. But America has a very different status and lifestyle, and he can be oblivious to Iceland's life or problems, so their friendship is rather one-sided at times. Yet, they get along surprisingly well

Miscellaneous Iceland is a small nation that supports other small nations. He was among the first to recognize Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan from the USSR - also Croatia's and Montenegro's independence from Serbia. Significantly, Iceland was also the first Western state to recognize Palestine. His solidarity and recognition have given him a lot of praise among other small nations. They remember this by sending Iceland postcards and flowers occasionally, which Ice gets flustered by - He's just doing what he'd want others to do for him Iceland also feels a special connection to other younger nations, such as Seychelles, Latvia, and Hong Kong - and the South-East Asians, who have always welcomed him. Iceland has an easy time making friends and connections due to his friendly attitude. He's a well-connected Nordic, with strong diplomatic relationships that have over time turned into friendships. Ice might just stay a bit quiet and unnoticeable in a crowd. And he doesn't even seek any attention on himself. He's quite content with the way things are - he's just happy that he gets to finally do his own thing

And there it is, more or less copypasted from various sources haha. If you were wondering, no, I will never beat the insanity allegations because no sane person has this much to say about a fictional character. I adore Iceland, and it's always fun trying to find a balance between the awkward hotheaded teen and the well-read modest young man that he is. I was about to add my historic headcanons for him too, but maybe some other time, this is too much already

Next up is either Denmark or Sweden, let's see which one I finish first (and when)

#hws iceland #headcanons #my art

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