#daredevil: ff

[lesbians-4-shivroy]

if y'all don't stop talking about Matt Murdock when Maya Lopez is RIGHT THERE-

[takemetothemoon-fics]

overstimulated // matt murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Word count: 848

Warnings: overstimulation

Tags: Fluff, comfort

Synopsis: When you come home incredibly overstimulated, there's no better person to calm you down better then the one and only matt murdock

A/N: I love matt. he looks like he gives the best comfort ever.

MASTERLIST

Sighing deeply, you grab your keys out of your bag. The ringing only makes you feel worse as you open the door. You enter your apartment you share with matt, and drop your work bag on the floor. With a toss, you get rid of your coat.

You're in a bad mood. Everything's too much, tiny sounds sound amplified, your clothing feels like sandpaper on your skin and your hair keeps touching your face, and tucking it behind your ear just won't work. Tiny things grow bigger and it makes you want to bawl your eyes out.

Matt had a free day, and had waited all day to wrap his arms around you. Happily, he stands up as he hears you come inside. "hey darling"

You feel like you're overflowing, and can't get anything out other than mumbling "I'm sorry.... I'm sorry" as you walk past him, into the bedroom.

Stumped, Matt follows you. Did I do something wrong? He thinks to himself. "darling?" he asks as he watches you go through the closet.

You need to change. you need to get into comfortable clothing, because this blouse you're wearing feels like sandpaper, and the only thing you can think about is taking it off.

Your mind is racing, and you don't even notice matt walking up to you. He grabs your wrist. "Are you okay? Your heart is-" he stops abruptly as you pull away. You fasten your tempo and quickly grab a pair of sweats and a big t-shirt and rush your way into the bathroom, leaving matt alone in the bedroom.

You close the door behind you. Your hand hovers over the lock. You sigh. You don't want to lock him out entirely. As you start to change, your hair keeps falling onto your face and you feel more and more agitated. You let out an annoyed grunt.

With now only a shirt, your bra, and underwear on, you decide to give up and turn on the shower. A wave of tiredness falls onto you as take a step towards the warm water and sit down. You let your head fall onto your knees and close your eyes, waiting for the horrible feeling to go away.

After a minute or two, there's a soft knock at the door. "y/n?". After not receiving an answer, he opens the door. Without saying anything, he sits next to you. The grey t-shirt he's wearing turns dark, and you sigh deeply. "You wanna talk about it?"

You lift up your head. You rest it against the wall. "yeah..."

"What's on your mind, angel?"

"It all so much, matt. Everything was just too much. Not sleeping last night did not help, and when I arrived at work, that prick was working as well. I... I had to swallow so much, because, honestly, if I didn't, I'm pretty sure I'd be in jail right now. And... I yelled at my boss. My boss, matt. He's gonna fire me, and I'll be jobless and-"

"Hey, slow down... You're okay. He won't fire you after one slip-up. And besides, you're good. Your boyfriend is a lawyer."

A small smile appears on your face. He seems to relax a little as he notices his gentle voice has calmed you down.

Matt moves up, and turns the shower off, and sits back down next to you. You're both soaking wet. You place your head on his shoulder and you sigh. "thank you"

He wraps his arm around you. "Are you feeling better?"

"Aside from getting cold, yeah."

He stands up and puts his hand out for you. You take it and stand up. He picks up a towel. He starts drying you gently, still testing the limits. After you're relatively touch-dry, you two walk into the bedroom and change into comfortable stuff.

"You ok?" Matt says, as he notices your quietness. "Yeah... I guess. I'm exhausted."

He takes a step backward and signals for you to lay down. You take the hint, and lay down on your back.

Matt is practically an expert when it comes to sensory things. Dealing with his new ability, he found out ways to calm down overstimulatedness, as he has been a victim to it numerous times. He would make a cup of tea for himself, or place a weighted blanket on him. Since there was no weighted blanked for him to use right now, he figured he would be the next best thing.

He gently places himself on top of you, carefully putting his arms around you. At first, you're a little confused, but notices this really seems to calm you down. You sigh again deeply, as you place your hand on his head and weave your fingers into his hair and start caressing it, causing him to calm down as well. You close your eyes, and feel your body going from tense to relaxed.

You nuzzle your face into his neck. Your turn your head, and look at him. He looks back at you. "What?" He says softly to you with a smile.

"Nothing. You're just perfect."

[elen-tari2]

Thinking about writing a Kastle fic based off the little D&D sesh Deb dropped on Jon during their Real Ones podcast, where Karen and Frank get transported into a fantasy world and have to fight an owl bear and talk their way out of getting eaten by a dragon. Going on a quest + sarcastic comments about needing to find some ruby slippers to get home. Anyway, it’s just an idea for now but feels like to could have long, sprawling multi chapter fic potential, depending on my brain.

[garglyswoof]

Fragile Things

ao3 For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marci like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could. 

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night. 

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office. 

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening. 

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

---------------------------------

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marci, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her. 

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now. 

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor. 

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows. 

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing. 

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell? 

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.” 

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass.  “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?” 

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.” 

She almost laughs. 

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt.  “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time. 

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

[jolapeno]

Could we 👉👈 have some more comforting!Matt? Pretty plz

of course—i might be a little rusty with him so be kind. it has been a while hahah. but here’s 1.1k of matt somewhat being comforting.

matt murdock x f!reader (comfort edition)

He knew just from the way you entered, something was wrong. It clung to you—hanging from your tendons; the unspent emotions swirling with your perfume and the city's smoke.

Matt didn’t need to move from behind the desk and place his hands on your shoulders to feel how they’d sunk; didn’t need to hone in on your heartbeat to hear how dulled, and pitiful it was.

You were talking, forcibly and animated. Have been since you’d entered his door without knocking. Chattering on as if you weren’t upset out, all blackened at the ends from being burnt out from wearing a smile.

You did that a lot, he’d noticed—put on a front.

Whether for him, for Foggy or anyone else.

He hates it. Wishes he could rip it from you, ball it up and fling it across the city which makes you doubt yourself—which makes you think you aren’t good enough.

“—and I’m aware it’s a big ask, but—“

“Sit down.”

It leaves his mouth harsher than he intends. But, you’re panicking, bottling it all up. You’re one foot in a wet puddle from crying, he knows it. Can tell.

It nips at him, almost feeling it cuts. Which is why his words leave his lips, needing to keep you here, to calm you. The words, harsh as they were, blazing from a place within him he tries to bottle—the one which has a cap that never fits when it comes to you.

Because he’d do anything to rid you of your doubts.

Your words fizzle, practically dissolving on the tip of your tongue, followed shortly by the walls you’d thrown up before arriving.

They crack first, and then they crumble.

Apprehension ebbing at your edges, peeling at the withered parts you let him see.

“Please,” he adds.

It is so much softer than his initial two words. Almost brushes over you like a feather.

And then he slowly removes his glasses from his face, closing the arms before placing them on his desk.

He doesn’t touch the worn wood of his desk as he walks around it. The same desk which smells of alleyways and garbage bins when the heating is on.

The reason is that Matt doesn’t bother with pretend touches now you know his secrets. He doesn’t need to hide himself, you know all the sides of him. Even the thin line where he begins and Daredevil starts.

Yet, even so, you still hide from him. You’d rather suffer through a bad day and disguise your tears, than let him make you feel better—save you from your horrid thoughts.

Don’t need saving, Murdock. But, the city does.

Not realising the city includes you. He breathes, watches and waits for you. Finding nothing better, not even than winning a case, than being able to run his fingers up your sides and press a kiss to your temple, his sheets covering your skin—keeping you warm until he returns.

“Talk to me, please.”

He hears you shift. The chair you’ve promptly sat in letting out a soft squeak as you huff. “I mean… I was before you interrupted.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, even if he fights it. He folds his arms, slowly leaning against his desk. Legs spread, feet planted, giving his best neutral-lawyer-face, as you call it, waiting.

For what? He’s not sure. He never is. Sometimes it’s a list—hammered into the air, all never-ending and weighty. Sometimes it’s one singular thought, one revolving concern that you can’t shake on your own.

He doesn’t need to say it, but his eyes must because you sigh, again. The sigh you do when he calls you sweetheart and stops you from figuratively running from him.

“It would actually help if you can take on this c—“

“—What happened, who upset you?”

“—Murdock—“

“—I can’t help if you don’t let me in, sweet—“

“—Matt—“

“—heart. I can help. I want to help—“

“I fucked up, alright?”

You spit it.

And then he hears the tears balling up at the back of your throat. The ones which cling to your words. The ones which coat the walls in anger—as if they’ve been burning a hole in your tongue.

Knowing you, they has. Each letter of each word hitting the air with a purpose, piercing through it.

The thought and emotions behind them shifting, shaking and trembling the air around them.

He hears you inhale. One which fills your lungs and steadies your pulse—but does nothing for your hands, your bracelet softly tapping the arm of the chair.

“A-and, I let someone down, and now, I’m just trying to get through the day. OK? I just need to g-get through the next few hours, and I’ll b-be fine.”

Even shaky, the force you say the words hit his ears all wrong. The pitch shifting, volume jumping. All of them leaving your lips, your beautiful, soft, lips, when they shouldn’t even be thought.

Because you should do more than be fine. You deserve more.

It’s another thing he hates. That your mouth wraps around words like let down, disappointing and you can do better.

Because he’s not sure he ever could.

If anything, he didn’t deserve the patience, care and adoration you provide. The safety you bring and stability. But, even if he’s said them, brushing his fingers against your cheek, they don’t sink into the space between your ears.

Your need to make him feel better, to assure him you belonged here, with him, a greater need than believing him and taking the compliment.

It’s why he gravitated to you. It’s why he loved you.

It’s for that reason he knows there’s little point in speaking words you already know. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he bends down, almost into a squat before you.

He tilts his chin, focusing on where your face will be—seeing the hazy, burning embers of your head as he takes your hand. The one touched by the New York cold and the same one which runs through his hair when the night has been long.

Lifting your hand, he brings your knuckles to his lips, all softness and wild fig scented as he kisses them. He hears your heart skip, a soft jump—a little leap. So he unclenches your fingers, pressing your palm to his cheek. Not caring about the cold, just focusing on the way your fingers spread, clutching him.

“I’ll do it,” he says. “Take the case. Take the load from you. Of course, I will.”

And he hears your muscles sigh, before you actually do.

“But—“

“—Fuck—“

He smirks, still continuing as you swear in a whisper under your breath, “—you have to stay here for half an hour. With me. You don’t have to talk about it, but you have to be here.”

Your glare is warm, almost searingly so. He lets it touch each angle of his face, softly smiling as it does.

Knowing that it’s your weakness—him. You’d said it, all full of sleep, lashes heavy. You make me feel better by just being around, Matty. You never call him Matty. Only sleep-you does that.

Always Murdock, sometimes Matt.

“Because, sweetheart—“

He hears you scoff. Expecting a shake of your head and a roll of your eyes if he really tuned in.

“—I can’t let you go, just yet.”

Your glare softens. His hand reaches, ready to mirror your palm on his cheek, but he pauses to touch your chin, to feel the grin he’d expected to be there.

“You’re a very selfish man, Murdock.”

“It’s the catholicism.”

You lightly laugh, not a giggle and not a chuckle. “I’ll be okay…”

“I know that,” he says, lowering onto his knees, kneeling up as you part your legs. Not caring about the dust and carpet fibres getting on his trousers.

Just caring about you.

You and the world which keeps taking your smile, your laugh, and bits of your soul. His elbows resting on your trouser-covered knees, fingers stroking your jawline.

“It’s just a bad day.”

“Know that too,” he says, almost cockily.

But you don’t seem to mind, cause he feels you smile a little wider.

“I’ll stay here… for a while.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

[darlingshane]

Kastle · Masterlist

> DRABBLES & ONE-SHOTS – Office Christmas Party – The Last Job – The Rink – Live Together, Die Alone ** – His Keeper – Putting Out The Fire (With Gasoline) ** – Jigsaw

> FICS – Coming Up Roses ** – Uncharted Abyss ** – You Keep Saying that ** – Something About Us (Frank x Karen x F!Reader) ** – The Consultant

** = Explicit – No use of y/n. No physical descriptions. – Check out my main masterlist for other characters.

[annabelle1901]

Lost Frank Castle x Karen Page fic

Hi! So I don't really interact with anyone on Tumblr but I don't really know what else to do, so here we go. I'm back on my Kastle bullshit <3 and I've been trying to find this old fan fiction on AO3 that I started reading years ago. Stopped reading after a certain point but had the tab open on my phone and I thought I'd continue reading eventually.. And then my phone got stolen, and I forgot the title & author name. Not great. I've dedicated the past few days to looking for it and so far I got nothing.

So what I'm gonna do is write down everything I remember like a mad woman in the hope that this jogs someones memory. Please help me this fic haunts me. ANY sort of reference or whatever could potentially help (Tumblr posts, links, screenshots, Google history, etc)

Fandom: Daredevil/ the Punisher obv

Pairing: Frank Castle/ Karen Page

Rating: probably explicit (canon typical violence and eventual smut)

Published: 2016-2017 (started post s2 Daredevil but pre The Punisher s1 because I don't remember any of the plot or characters from that show showing up) might have been deleted in 2020ish

Length: has to be +10 chapters (long chapters as well, don't know if it was finished)

Characters: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil, Foggy Nelson, Claire Temple, Elektra Natchios (I vividly remember them making some sort of appearance)

now let's get really unhinged...

Plot:

Pretty sure the story starts on Karen's birthday but her mood is meh.. She's on her way home or something, gets in her car and Shining Star starts playing which let's her know that Frank was recently there. Something else must have alarmed her because she goes looking for him and finds him in like an alley around her building. He's in really bad shape, bloody practically dying. She carries him to her apartment and either helps him herself or calls Claire Temple.*

*Don't think it was in this part of the story but she helps Frank and makes a joke about him not being healthy enough to be sleeping with Karen anytime soon which makes them blush. Don't think they were intimate yet but tensions were rising.

For the next couple of chapters I remember it was mainly beautifully written angst between them in this contained space while he's healing. Karen doesn't want Frank to get killed while being the Punisher, he resists her care and tries to hurt her by saying "You aren't Maria and could never be" or something.

I also vividly remember a scene where he's grieving and keeps like tugging on this necklace Karen has on while he cries in her arms. She leaves her necklace at his family's graves and the groundskeeper or something tells her not to do that because it'll get stolen but she knows that but does it anyway as a sign of respect.

They sort admit their feelings eventually but don't sleep together yet because they know they can't go back after that. For some reason Frank needs to leave the city for a little while to re-home a dog I believe he found while on a "mission" and the idea is that the time apart will help them decide whether or not they want to be together. They reunite on a sunny, lovely day in the city and go back to her apartment and lots of smut ensues. Daredevil shows up at midnight/ morning to get Frank. Something's going down he needs his help. It doesn't end well somehow Karen gets involved and they both go to the same hospital. Frank is in a coma and Karen visits him when she's allowed and urges him to live sort of mirroring when he first got shot in the head at the carousel. He wakes up but needs to go back to prison. Everything is really bad. The press somehow knows about their relationship as well. Last scene I remember is Karen and Foggy talking about all this and a newspaper printing a picture of Karen's legs with the caption Keys to the Castle? or something. Gross everything sucks and that's where I stopped reading.

So that's about all I can remember, feels like a fever dream. If anyone could help me out I'd really appreciate it. Thx!!

[pluto-00]

I hate when i’m interested in a character/fandom and I go on tumblr and they have 0 black reader fanfics.

gonna start writing them myself atp.

[wanderingmind867]

I almost wonder what sort of small talk was going on here. Roy Thomas and Stan Lee pretty much dare readers to imagine it themselves. And the picture gives me some hints. Like the Thing and Human Torch interacting. Or Hawkeye, Daredevil and Dane Whitman over there. All the X-Men (besides cyclops) gathered together, etc. To imagine those conversations... (Avengers #60):

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Music Friday (late again eheh)

The rules: Post a song that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it. I’m also including the lyrics.

Finish me last night, I want more forever Cold hands on my body in the coldest weather Fell in love last night, swear I'm yours forever 'Cause just like the knife in my back, we are one and the same When you're close, our bodies in flame Hold me tighter as ever if feeling comes one in my brain 'Cause you're in my blood, my blood is the stars Everything's nothing and nothing is ours You're in my blood, my blood is the stars Everything's nothing and nothing is ours Sell me your soul, you won't regret it My love's a drug, I know you want it You're a fiend, I'm mean but I'm sweet when I want 'Cause just like the knife in my back, we are one and the same

All the vibes of their first chapter/how they got together ❤️

You're like gold Mhmm, black gold My kinda poison And I would do anything just for you to be mine I'll take it all, I dont wanna be fair

I've tried sleeping alone With these undertones, there's no, there's no hope I can't get enough of you Tell me what I want to know Love me, say you're never gonna leave me Even if it's only for an evening

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @cassietrn @clicheantagonist @thesingularityseries @direwombat @strafethesesinners @madparadoxum @poisonedtruth @detectivelokis @shegetsburned @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @voidika @socially-awkward-skeleton @florbelles @euryalex @vampireninjabunnies-blog @dumbassdep @strangefable @v0idbuggy and anyone that would like to do the tag ❤️

[futo-m0m0]

sometimes I impress myself. how did I become obsessed w daredevil and finished the series in like 3 weeks then already go through all relevant FF that I would be interested in… truly girlbossed too close to the sun

[bethanyeliseart]

Kinda want to start reading daredevil. But I'm not sure if I start at the beginning or just hop in at some random point.

[takemetothemoon-fics]

Can't believe I care

ONESHOT

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Vigilante/reader

Word count: 720

Warnings: violence, swearing

Tags: angsty-ish (I guess)

Synopsis: Reader is a fellow vigilante and has been taking care of Hell's Kitchen as well as Matt. They've crossed paths before, but this time reader has to save Matt's ass but goes terribly against his moral code.

A/N: I'm back and I've got some Matt Murdock for y'all :)

Daredevil, wearing his dark costume, is on patrol out on the streets at night. It seems to be going smoothly until he spots some suspicious activity down an alley. As he approaches, his senses tell him he's dealing with an organized crime situation. He quietly makes his way into the alley, approaching the group. He tries to listen in on what the criminals are doing. There are about three of them, and they're just loitering around. He's terribly out-numbered. All of a sudden, a man in a trench coat walks into their view. Matt walks up to the group and reaches for his weapon, as the criminals take theirs too.

The fight starts, and Matt's out-powered. As if God heard his prayer, you appear out of nowhere and take a good hit at the man in the trench coat. He falls down.

"What the hell?" He jumps back. "I didn't hear you. Can you give a guy some warning before you just appear behind him?" Getting mad, he takes a moment to calm down. "Where did you come from? What are you doing out here?"

"Same as you." You say shortly. You turn to the criminals. As you walk up to the man in the trench coat still on the floor, you grab one of your knifes. With ease, you manage to kill the man.

Looking at the man you just killed. "Hey, I have rules. I don't kill people. Now you on the other hand seem to not have any such qualms. You're a loose cannon."

"Fucking rules." You say under your breath as you move towards another criminal. You knock him down and put your knife against his throat.

He sees you point your knife at the criminal. "Hey. Stop. Don't kill him." He says with a stern voice.

You look up at him with an angry expression. You exhale and drop the criminal, smashing his head on the concrete floor.

"I said stop. Don't you care at all about the consequences of your actions?" He can tell he's hit a nerve, and he's trying not to be harsh, but he has to be stern. He can't have you running around like this.

"No. I don't." You say as you move towards the last criminal.

"What's wrong with you? You can't kill people. Killing people doesn't make you a superhero, it makes you a murderer. And it makes you just as bad as the scum out here tonight, just in a different way." He sounds upset.

"Fine. I'm the bad guy. Who gives a shit?" You knock the last criminal down and once again you hold my knife to his throat, ready to strike.

"This is not okay!" He gets closer and tries to take your knife away. "If you kill this man, then I'll have to be the one to stop you." I pull the knife out of your grip, and hold it in my hand. "And I don't want to have to do that."

Your heart flutters lightly, but you snap back into your fighting-mindset. You wait a second, look at the criminal, then look at him and exhale deeply. You let go of the criminals head and you stand up.

Infuriated, He grabs you by your arm and gives you a firm shake, not letting go of the fact that you just took a human life. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not have a shred of humanity? Or compassion? This is sick, and I won't stand for it." You can hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Let me go." You pull my arm back as you turn around, moving away from him "Annoying prick" you say under your breath.

His anger is still there. "You have to learn to control yourself. You can't just start killing people. You're gonna end up in jail, or worse. Do you just think you're above the law? Are you some kind of psycho?"

You stand still for a second, looking at him from over your shoulder "Later, DareDevil." You start running and you disappear behind a corner.

He starts yelling out after you "Wait… Dammit!" Frustrated, He stands there for a few seconds, before sighing deeply and running off in a different direction. He speaks to himself. "That woman's insane. I can't believe I care."

[elen-tari2]

Aiding and Abetting

This fic is for Kastle Week 2024 Day 4: Observations/Through New Eyes

Plot Summary: Karen has a medical emergency and ends up hospitalized. Foggy is surprised by who shows up to see her. In character softness and fluff ensues.

Excerpt:

Leaning by the wall, one foot propped against it, was Frank Castle. His former client. Mass murderer.

He didn’t really look like Frank Castle, but Foggy still recognized him beyond any doubt. He had grown a beard and his hair was slightly longer in kind of a floppy, unkempt fashion. But the way he was dressed made for the least Frank Castle-like appearance Foggy could possibly have imagined. He wore green board shorts and a t-shirt with sunglasses tucked into the collar. A small bouquet of some absolutely lovely long-stemmed white roses was tucked under one arm. And he was wearing flip flops.

Foggy somehow didn’t let his brain melt and instead approached the serial killer. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Frank shrugged. “You called me.”

“What?” Foggy stared at him. Comprehension dawned, but it was like a train derailment— all the cars following one another off the security of their tracks, heading straight for an inexorable disaster. The explosion would certainly follow.

“You called me,” Frank said simply. “So I came.”

@kastlenetwork

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

So I like She-Hulk. I didn’t know I also liked Daredevil until I saw him working with the green machine yesterday.

And now I’m laying here, watching episode 5 of the netflix Daredevil, beside myself.

this show was made with the female gaze kn mind, and I can’t be told otherwise.

[reillyparkerluck]

Addressing the comments I know I will get: Peter Parker is not in the running because he is a) NOT sad bc he has a badass wife and lovely children/proteges/friends, and b) NOT a bastard, he knows who his father is, we respect Uncle Ben in this household.

can you tell i am suffering from the current asm run