#:: that’s blinded by the devil’s wonder || events

[haeunxhj]

𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲'𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘁 day: pride day six time: early afternoon with: yeongi @hjxyeongi tw: murder and death mention

hiding behind a pair of sunglasses, haeun looked around at the gathered people. quietly, she had to wonder if it was unethical to be participating in the big scavenger hunt? after all, she was part of the pirate descendants that helped put together the chest that would be given to the winner or winners. but after a moment of thinking like that, she remembered that she was extremely competitive and was willing to crush someone’s spirit to win. so, there she was carefully studying her clues when she caught sight of one of her cousins out of the corner of her eyes. now, it wasn’t like she only had one or two. she had a few when it came to those related to the captain but actually seeing yeongi out in the light and not looking like batman was… a rare thing. especially after their uncle’s death. he was a firm believer that their uncle was a fucking saint. haeun couldn’t help but think he was an idiot. an angry idiot. sure, she knew he didn’t deserve death but he wasn’t perfect. none of them were. it wasn’t like she was going to share any findings from her end when it came to digging into things herself. most of the pirate cousins were out of their damn minds over it all. still, “holy shit, you come out during the day.” she called out to yeongi, not really moving closer to him but watching him anyway. “i thought you had gone nocturnal…”

[candycandy00]

HI❤️ for your 2k follower event can you write

Character: sukuna

Setting: church

Spice: NSFW

Mood: Dark

Kink: Praise kink+breeding

🙏🙏🙏

Dancing With the Devil - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a priest. Praise. Creampie. Voyeurism. Humiliation. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k followers event! Any and all feedback is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear!

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

The priest on the other side of the wooden grate-covered window greets you in his smooth voice. “Tell me your sins.”

You know who sits only inches away from you, separated only by the thinnest of walls in the confessional. Father Sukuna is a new priest at the church, having only arrived six weeks ago. 

His appearance was quite a shock to the congregation. Pink, slicked back hair, eyes that were as red as a demon’s, and a huge muscled frame all turned heads. But most of all, it was the intricate pattern of black tattoos lining his face that had everyone talking. 

What kind of person had he been before joining the priesthood? That was the question on everyone’s mind. But one of the other priests was quick to remind everyone that Father Sukuna had turned away from a life of sin, and the Bible taught you all to “judge not”. 

So while some people still wondered and whispered about him, most people in the church accepted him without asking questions about his past. 

However, you’ve solved the mystery, entirely by accident.

The first time you saw him, you thought his tattoos were somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen them before. Then one day you visited the church to drop off some fresh lemonade for the men working on some repairs on the outside of the building. 

It was a blazing hot summer day, and as you stood chatting with one of the men, Father Sukuna peeled off his T-shirt to get some relief from the heat. Your eyes were instantly drawn to his sweat slicked body, incredibly well sculpted muscles rippling in the haze of the sun. And those tattoos. 

You recognized them at that moment, and a deep red blush spread over your face. 

Almost a year ago, a friend who knew you had a thing for tattoos sent you a video to watch online. It was a porn video featuring a handsome, well built man with black tattoos lining his whole body. His face was blurred out for some reason, but the rest of him wasn’t. You had watched it, enraptured by the way his body moved, way too many times to count. 

There was also a woman in the video, and you had grown wet watching her struggle to take the man’s impossibly huge cock, enormous even by porn star standards. When she moaned and writhed beneath him, you imagined you were her. 

You tried to find out who the man was, only so you could look for more videos featuring him, but his name remained a mystery. But by searching for terms like “male porn star black tattoos huge dick”, you found two more videos he’d done. Both also blurred his face. 

Countless nights you spent watching them, one hand in your panties, between your quivering thighs, wishing you knew what name to moan. 

You would know those tattoos anywhere, would be able to recognize that chiseled chest and back lined with black ink if you were half blind. 

The next few days, he was all you could think about. When he gave a sermon, his delicious voice carrying through the speakers and filling the church, you pictured him naked, fucking you right there in front of the entire congregation. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve never been very devout in your religion, but you still grew up fairly sheltered by your religious parents, so you never really had a “wild phase”. The “wildest” you got was sneakily watching porn after your parents went to bed. Even now, living in your own apartment, you have a pretty boring life. 

But Father Sukuna brings out every naughty fantasy you’ve ever had, right in the middle of church, of all places! So now that you’re in the confessional, inches away from him, talking about sin, you can’t hold back. 

“I’ve been watching pornographic videos online,” you confess.

“Ah, I see,” he says. “It’s hard to resist that temptation. But with God’s help, you can turn away from your lust.”

“There’s three videos in particular that I watch all the time,” you add, growing bolder. “I’ve been watching them for nearly a year, and I can’t stop.”

This time he hesitates for a moment. Is he catching on? Then he asks, “What makes these three so attractive to you?”

You lick your lips and take a breath, then press on. “It’s the man who stars in all three. He’s mesmerized me. He’s very handsome, and his body is covered in tattoos…”

This time he has to know exactly what you’re saying. You wonder if he’s embarrassed, if he’ll ask you not to tell anyone.

Instead, he’s sleek voice carries through the grate, “Do you touch yourself while you watch them?”

Your face heats up. You were not expecting that question! But after only a moment of hesitation, you reply, “Yes, Father. All the time.”

“Describe it to me.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His voice is so close, so honeyed, as he says, “Describe how you touch yourself, what you’re thinking when you do it, how it feels. Your confession needs to be thorough.”

Oh god. Can you really say stuff like that to the very man you’ve been masturbating to? But your panties are growing damp as you shift nervously in your seat. 

“I… I watch the videos in bed, on my phone… and I reach one hand down to… touch myself.”

“How? Where? Leave no details out,” he says in an authoritative tone. 

You take a deep breath, fighting back your embarrassment. Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I rub… my clit, with one finger.”

“Describe it more. Paint a picture for me,” he tells you. 

Your own voice is getting shaky. “I spread my legs open on the bed… hold the phone with one hand so I can watch the videos, and move my other hand down between my legs. I dip my fingers between the folds… to smear my wetness around… then I use one finger to rub circles into my clit.”

“And what do you think about while doing this?” Father Sukuna asks. 

Your breaths are shallow and quick. “I imagine the man with tattoos… forcing his giant cock inside me while I whimper underneath him.”

There’s a pause, then he speaks again, not a hint of surprise or struggle in his silky voice. “And do you cum?”

“Y-yes. Everytime. It feels so good, Father. I can’t stop.”

He hums as if thinking deeply, then says, “This sounds like a serious problem for you. I think you need some further counseling. Can you come back tonight and see me for a private session?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You know what he means, what he’s asking, and you’re afraid there’s going to be a sticky puddle on the seat when you get up. 

“Yes, Father Sukuna! I can come. Back, I mean. Tonight.” It all came out sounding rather breathless. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, and your fate is sealed. 

When you return to the church later that night, both terrified and excited, you find it empty. You’re not sure where Father Sukuna’s office is, or if he’s even waiting for you there, so you walk down the aisle toward the altar. Should you offer up a prayer asking for forgiveness? 

Before you can decide, you hear a loud clicking sound behind you. Turning around, you see Father Sukuna standing at the door, locking it up tight. You swallow a lump in your throat. 

He turns to face you, giving you a smile as he steps toward you. “I’ve locked all the doors. I’m the only one here tonight. We’ll be discussing private, sensitive topics, after all.”

Nothing he’s saying is inappropriate, there’s nothing threatening about his movements, but you still somehow feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web. 

“Th-thank you, Father,” you say, avoiding eye contact. This is the first time you’ve been face to face with him since your humiliating confession, and your face is already hot with shame. You can’t believe you told him how you touch yourself! You’ve kept that a secret from literally everyone, even your closest friends. 

He moves past you and sits down on a pew, his motions smooth and graceful. He’s a man who knows exactly how to move his body.  He pats the spot next to him and says, “Sit down.”

He has a way of saying things that makes you want to jump to obey every command. You walk over and sit down beside him, perhaps a little too close. You can smell his cologne. 

He turns in the seat to face you, one arm resting on the back of the pew, close enough for his fingers to touch your hair if he wants. “Now, tell me again about your sinful lust. You desire this man in the videos, the one with tattoos?”

Flustered, you look away from him, nodding your head shyly. It’s so much harder to talk about this when you can look him in the eyes! 

“And if he were here right now, what would you want him to do to you?”

You look at him sharply, eyes wide. “Huh? Uh… I don’t….”

He leans closer, red eyes boring into you. “Be honest. Confess your sinful thoughts.”

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. “I would want him to fuck me.”

A grin breaks across his face, a gleam in those red eyes. To you, he doesn’t look like a priest now at all, but a devil sent to destroy you. 

“Such a sinful girl,” he murmurs, scooting even closer. “Is your pussy wet right now?”

You jerk away from him in shock. You’ve never heard a priest speak this way before. “No! I’m… it’s not!”

He’s staring into your eyes. “Really? Show me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“Show me your pussy. I’ll see if you’re a liar as well as lustful.”

Oh fuck. Oh god. You know you’re soaking wet. The thought of this gorgeous priest looking at your dripping pussy has you heating up with both shame and arousal.

Slowly, you pull your modest skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. Then, breathing fast, heart racing, you slide your panties down, lifting your hips from the pew to pull the silky fabric all the way down your legs. They fall off your ankles, and for a moment you sit there, blushing, not looking at Father Sukuna. 

“Open your legs so I can see how sinful you are,” he commands, again with that tone of authority. 

You carefully spread your legs apart, and Father Sukuna moves from the pew to squat in front of you, giving himself a clear and perfect view of your bare, glistening pussy. He makes a soft “tsk” sound. “You lied. Your pussy is drenched. Your sins keep growing, but I can help you.”

Finally gaining the courage to look at him despite your deep burning shame, your eyes teary, you ask, “How?”

His eyes shift to your face. “Have you heard that some parents, upon catching their child smoking a cigarette, will force them to smoke a whole pack to get them to stop?”

You nod. You have heard of that before. 

He grins. “That’s how I’m going to help you. To make you turn away from your lustful behavior, I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.”

You inhale sharply as he stands up and pulls his priestly robes off, revealing those beautiful tattoos covering his torso. He unbuttons his pants, and you watch with anxious, rapt attention as he pulls out the beast you’ve been waiting to finally see. 

It’s even bigger in person. 

Your mouth goes dry as you try to figure out how this is going to work. You’re inexperienced, having never had a serious boyfriend and being watched carefully by your parents until you moved out. The massive organ between Father Sukuna’s legs is intimidating, but god do you want this. You’ve thought about how he would feel inside you for almost a year now. 

While you sit there, practically frozen to the spot, he removes your shirt and bra, so that the only thing left is your wadded up skirt around your waist. Then he pushes you back in the pew so that you’re lying on your back, lifting one of your legs up and hooking it over the back of the pew while the other dangles off the front. This leaves you spread completely open for him, your shamefully wet pussy exposed to his gaze. 

Your chest is heaving with your rapid breaths as he climbs on top of you, his huge frame dwarfing yours. One of his hands squeezes your breast, his rough palm brushing over your sensitive nipple. Then he moves down, his thick, warm fingers opening your slippery folds. He circles your clit with one finger, making your hips buck slightly off the pew. 

“Is this how you touch yourself while watching my videos?” he asks. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that he’s the man in those videos, and even though you knew it already, the admission sends a thrill through your body. 

“Y-yes,” you say, your legs beginning to tremble as he teases your little nub. 

His hand slides down a bit, and then you feel one of his fingers pressing inside you. It’s big, and you feel like it’s stretching you already. 

“So tight… Are you a virgin?”

Too embarrassed to speak, you nod and look away. 

He laughs. “I can’t believe a virgin has been rubbing her little clit and cumming to my videos.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and you feel his finger curl slightly within you. “Don’t close your eyes. I’m trying to get this cute little pussy ready to take my cock.”

You open your eyes and look at him just as he pushes a second finger inside. You squeak out a strange little sound, surprised by the sudden fullness. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel a sense of pressure, and your pussy clenches his fingers. 

He lightly pumps them in and out, making an obscene squelching sound that echoes in the church. With his free hand, he rubs your clit, making you let out small gasping moans at the pleasure. You had no idea his fingers could feel so good! 

Just as you feel like you might cum any second, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You whine by reflex, looking up pleadingly as he licks his fingers clean. 

“You’re being so good for me, so I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he says, pulling your hips into his lap and getting into position. “This might hurt a little, but you can take it, right?”

You look at him with big, wet eyes. “Yeah… I can take it,” you say, your voice quivering. 

He grins like a demon about to devour your soul, then you feel the tip of that rock hard monster of a cock press into your entrance. You shudder, hissing at the stretch as he keeps pushing in. Oh fuck it’s still going in! 

He moves in slowly, inch by inch, going deeper than you thought possible. When you wince, he reaches down and rubs your clit again to ease your discomfort. Soon, he’s all the way in, his firm body pressing against yours. After a moment to allow you to catch your breath, he begins moving. 

With the grace and strength of a tiger, he moves over you, thrusting in with smooth, practiced motions. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, to hit the spots that have you moaning and gripping his tattooed shoulders. 

For months you watched him fuck other women in his videos, always imagining being them. You wanted to feel what they felt as they cried out in pleasure, to know what his powerful body felt like on top of you. Now you finally know, and you’ll never be able to give this up. 

Your arms wrap around his neck as he leans down closer, kissing your lips. He tastes like sin itself, and you wonder if he’s dragging you straight to hell. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. 

His thrusts go deeper, harder, until you’re crying out his name, tears in your eyes, desperate for release. Three more thrusts later, each one hitting hyper sensitive spots, and you’re cumming around his cock, clenching him as tightly as you can. 

You look up at him through the haze of pleasure, and he’s wearing that devilish grin. “Good girl,” he says. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t even form words, only nodding weakly while his cock is still buried inside you. When he begins thrusting again, it’s faster, rougher, until he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. Before you can say a word, he cums directly into your womb in thick spurts. 

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you’re reminded of similar shots from his videos. You drop your head back on the pew, exhausted. 

He’s hovering over you, looking down with a disappointed expression. “Don’t fall asleep now. We have all night. I intend to fuck all the sinful thoughts right out of you.”

You raise up in alarm. “Wait… I don’t think I can handle any more!”

He’s already pushing your legs apart again. “You can handle it. If you’ve watched my videos then you know how much stamina I have. Try and keep up.”

You groan, realizing this is going to be a very long night. 

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡Armin x Reader⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Description: You and Armin exchange comfort, taking place somewhere after Eren's physical fight with Armin while he is still healing. While dwelling on past events, Armin joins you and the two of you share some emotions. This does ignore timeline accuracy as I wanted to provide some care for Armin following him getting rather beat.

The relationship between the reader and Armin is left more undefined, as I wanted to allow in a broader audience. This goes out to everyone who feels they grew up with the characters.

The two of you sat side by side now, on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was silent aside from the crackling of the burning wood, and it would have been dark if not for the orangey glow cast upon the common space. 

At first you were alone, staring at the dancing flames with a sense of melancholy. In a way, you felt a kinship to the burning cedar, the fire licking at its unmoving form until there was nothing left but ash. Once an element strong enough to build homes with, now becoming a pile of dust. The wind could just as easily blow you away in this miserable state, going over memories from the cadet corps and early scouting years. You envied Marley’s photograph technology, memory foggy recalling old faces of your fallen comrades. 

Armin was quiet as he approached and sat beside you, and you wouldn’t dare make him feel that his presence was unwelcome in your turmoil. You also wouldn't dare to further question the remnants of fast healing wounds upon his face from his recent encounter with Eren. Instead, you leaned into him selfishly, your head resting on his right shoulder as the two of you faced the fire. In the late hour of the night, you both found your eyelids heavy with sorrow instead of sleep. He gently nudged you, and you turned to look up at him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was soft and full of care. 

“I’m just…thinking. About everything. Old memories, mostly.”

He did not push further, knowing what it meant to mull over all of the past events in your mind. As the stars took their rightful place in the sky, the pain of change and loss caught up to you soldiers, unable to forever outrun the weight of grief alone with your thoughts at night. And it would still follow you underneath daylight of course, chasing you through the world of wonders you were denied inside those walls. Your chest sank with a breath as you felt the pain now, as if someone stuck their hand in and gave that precious beating organ a squeeze. There was a fault in your breathing that Armin could hear, the unmistakable sound of someone trying not to cry. 

The man beside you was quick to act, gentle as he gave you space. Armin had a look about him, one of guilt or shame, as if he felt it was a sin that he didn’t know what to do in order to comfort you, to save you. It was you who felt truly guilty though, for somehow hoping his presence could blind away the devil on your back by enveloping you in his bright sunlight. As if he could turn all of the leaves killed over the long years into fresh greens, simply by not leaving you to be alone with your sadness. You must have been a pathetic sight, and you felt sheepish to not stand tall and kind in front of him when he was also hurting beyond measure. As his hand then found yours, it grounded you as you let him see you this vulnerable. You then began to distract yourself with thoughts of him as he enveloped your space and your senses, his hand warm and firm in yours as he again inched closer. 

Armin was… special, and his appreciation for the beauty of life drew you closer to him with a magnetic pull. You understood Eren’s old pedestal for his friend, the awe and wonder in Armin’s eyes unreplicable, him acting as a reminder for your tired heart to keep beating in order to see what the world had to offer. Here, by his side so close, you wished you could simply rub against him and take with you his magic that is human hope. You clung to him as his friend not only for your shared qualities, but because he felt like what you needed in order to survive your darkest days. 

As he grew taller and Eren strayed, Armin’s eyes were dimming with the beginning of manhood. However, that still never changed the way you saw him and his nature. You really couldn’t picture him blooming underneath anything other than the sun’s light, a strong stalk constantly absorbing what the world had to offer like a sunflower. You only wished he had better soil to stand on as he matured. You only wished that things could be better for both of your sakes.

Your gaze lingered upon his face that should have still been dramatically bruised after Eren’s beating, if it weren’t for his titan aiding in his healing. He awkwardly smiled at you as you studied him, shifting as if self conscious. You decided to bite the bullet and ask about his feelings, turning the conversation away from yourself. 

“Sorry for all this. I’d really rather hear how you’re doing right now, Armin.”

There was a silence as he sat there looking at you, and you gave his hand still in yours a light squeeze. 

“There’s not much to say, I guess. I’m…hurt. I can’t believe Eren would say those things, or do those things.” 

His blue eyes rippled with emotion. 

“Say what things..?”

“He said he had always hated Mikasa. So I punched him.”

“Oh…so that’s how-”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m currently waiting for my titan abilities to fix me up.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to his comment regarding Mikasa. You didn’t have to guess that she must be heartbroken right now in her own right too, briefly imagining her sadness under the cover of the darkness of her room. After all she had done for Eren, that’s how he treated her?

“Why would he say something like that?” you said a bit angrier than you meant to. 

Armin sighed gently before responding with an “I don’t know.” 

In your dismay, unable to fully grasp the weight of comprehending the changes your old friend was going through, you decided to continue to reach out to the one directly in front of you. Your free hand lightly touched a bruised spot on his right cheek, and it was unusually hot to the touch as it healed. You looked at him desperately, as if he’d change under the light of the full moon too. 

“Are you in a lot of pain, Armin?” 

You lightly fussed over him, examining his face. He did not stop you, no matter how embarrassed his expression seemed to show he was. Your eyes mulled over his features, and he felt himself burning up under your caring scrutiny. 

Armin’s signs of aging were the easiest to recall of all the guys, going from a soft, rounder face to having a slightly more defined look. However, that wasn’t to say he lost his prettiness for a traditionally “chiseled” appearance, still adorning a button nose and fuller cheeks. While he couldn’t pass for a double of the cutest girl in the previous squad anymore, he was certainly tender in his looks. He broke the silence again as your fingers grazed over bruised skin.

“No, I’ve been in worse pain. I’m just upset.”

“Rightfully so.”

You dropped your hand from his face, watching as Armin’s expression changed to a gentle plea of sorts. 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. I don’t think I can keep…talking about this. Please don’t tell the others what I said either for right now, we don’t need more conflict. We’ve got to keep it together to keep fighting.”

In the quiet, your “ok” was all he needed to feel respected. You took initiative to gain back your previous closeness, leaning on him once again. Your head found his shoulder once more as you again switched conversation topics, urged on by the feeling of his newfound broader nature. You felt like telling him every first thought on your mind, as if losing a basic conversational filter.

“When did you become a man, Armin? Your shoulders were smaller when we were cadets.”

His laugh was clumsy, not forced per se, but a quick reaction to a strange question. He suddenly paused for a deep inhale, then exhale, as if gathering thoughts. 

“You don’t have to keep deflecting the conversation away from yourself, you know. I came in here to check on you, but you’re making it all about me.” 

“I’m…technically not deflecting right now. I was thinking about everyone we’ve lost and how we’ve all changed so much when you sat next to me. Then, looking at what Eren did to you… I guess I just never stopped to appreciate the good changes you’ve undergone. I think Eren’s changes for the worse scare me into not seeing what’s right in front of me. Thank you for surviving with me.”

It was here that you could tell Armin felt his familiar shyness creeping in, unsure of how to truly respond to the new conversation you were starting. You ran around him in circles here, it already feeling gauche to comfort you. He’d never admit the pressure of yearning for your approval in particular, tip-toeing around his discomfort with the topic of his own survival.   

“I…am happy to be by your side.”

You sighed comfortably, deciding to talk about yourself as he seemed to have wanted.

“To…talk about earlier a bit more. I miss everyone we lost in Trost and after. I miss laughing with Sasha and Connie together, and I even miss the warriors when they pretended to be our friends. If we had those…cameras…that Marley has, I could remember exactly how Mina and Thomas looked still. It just sucks, all of it. I am…scared to lose you. I am scared you’ll change too, that you’ve already stopped seeing the world in so much color with everything happening.”

Armin thought for a moment, wishing to give you a solid response. He was, in fact, emotional too as he heard you say these things about how he saw the world. He couldn’t remember exactly when he last spoke to you about something he was excited to experience, more focused on battle plans in a fight for survival. 

“I don’t think I ever stopped seeing the world in color, maybe. It’s more that I wish we could collect those colors and form rainbows, not wars.”

You remained quiet as you thought his statement sounded poetically cheesy, but good for what you needed to hear at this moment. His brain always seemed to translate the world as if pages in a book, inking those words into your tired mind as they left his mouth. He awkwardly glanced at you, giving you a reminder to react to what he had just said.

While you wouldn’t say Armin was the type to actively ask for external validation from others, you could always tell it’s what he craved in moments like this. To be told his words weren’t strange, to be reminded his presence was welcome and that he wasn’t out of place in the emotional space between you two. As he looked at you, you pondered on his silent plea for…something. 

“Can I hug you, Armin?” 

He did not falter, his cheeks a dusty pink as his eyes filled with tears. He moved closer on instinct as he answered. 

“Yeah...”

And as the walls around you built by age seemed to crumble down, you found yourself face to face with that familiar boy from all of those years ago. You saw it now, the salty air rippling through his long blond hair, water the shade of his eyes slipping through the cracks between his fingers on that special day. You couldn’t tell who reached out for the physical comfort offered first, crashing into each other as if by the pull of the moon. Your old friend gathered you into his arms in a swift motion. At the same time, you offered him shelter from the roaring tides in yours. Armin’s familiar nature was not lost in the sea of emotions shared tonight, but found. You felt his arms squeezing tightly around your torso as you did the same to him, the tickle of his nose in the crook of your neck as he buried his face close. You both clung to each other as if buoys in the middle of all that blue, promising to always be there to help each other stay above ebb and flow of the current. 

[cambion-companion]

Cat and Mouse

"See, I was dead when I woke up this morning. And I'll be dead before the day is done." -Seven Devils, Florence and the Machine

Raphael x reader (gn)

Cause how could I not write something to go with this gifset?

Your blood had run hot as you’d shared passion in a devil’s den. Simmering beneath your flushed skin as your fingers traced his fiery veins.

Your blood now pumped cold, dread and fear following wherever you ran, leading him right to your every hiding place.

Your blood would run red upon the ground if he caught you.  The betrayal rotting bitter upon his tongue. Turning hope to an acrid ash that he would choke you with.

You heard your name again, spoken with the force of expelling a deadly toxin, behind you. Again, you thought to the events taken place not hours ago.

Raphael on his knees before you, defeated. The bodies of his devilkin scattered and strewn like so many crumpled and brittle leaves.  His eyes barely able to open, he made to plea for his life, no more honeyed words to try and sway you.

Your sword raised high, paused. You looked down upon the devil who had committed no trespass against you.  It was your fault, this aching sundering. Your careless blundering.

“Shit.”  You said, lowering your weapon.  You knew time was short.  Raphael would lash out, sensing weakness like a shark smells blood clouding the water.

Your companions were already jumping desperately through the portal, you saw Astarion calling for you, unable to hear beyond the steady thrumming in your ears. Your world tilted as you staggered sideways, fighting to remain conscious long enough to retrieve the health poultice from your pack.

“I won’t allow him to have you.”  You wondered if he heard you, his bright eyes met yours and you knew he understood.

You threw the poultice at him, turned and staggered for the sparking doorway back to your dimension.

Your name, snarled from within the dark ruins brought you back to the present. To the situation you’d custom made for yourself. Raphael had caught your scent, try and you might to avoid the inevitable fate.

He was powerful once more, perhaps more so than last you’d seen him. You turned, unable to run further, your feet useless as blocks of ice supporting your weight. Your fingers numb upon the cold stone column you leaned against.

A plume of orange fire lit the very back of the old temple, the bright light momentarily blinding your wide eyes. You heard heavy footsteps approaching, unhurried, purposeful and intent on your destruction.

Leathery wings stretched wide, lit scarlet by the inferno. The glimmer of eyes slowly gave way to the familiar angles and ridges of a hellish face and curving horns.

Something metallic glinted in the flickering light, sat in regal splendor upon Raphael’s head.

“No.”  You whispered in horror.  You’d given it to Gale.

“Out of touch with reality, as ever.”  Raphael’s large hand took a fistful of your hair and pulled, yanking a cry of pain from your throat. “I gave you every opportunity and you squandered it all like a petulant child.”

Your breath was ragged, the freezing air scraping through your lungs like daggers. The crown of Karsus mirrored the natural curve of Raphael’s horns, like it was tailor made just for him.

“Gale…”

“Is in pieces spread from here to Cormyr by now.”  With an insulting ease, Raphael tossed you by the hair to the ground.  

The air left your lungs and you gasped in vain to regain breath, struggling like a fish out of water, trying to drag yourself away from his approach.  

Raphael rolled his shoulders, the bonfire far behind continuing to blaze at his command. He circled slowly, waiting for you to regain your feet, like a cat playing with an injured and frantic mouse.

“I spared you.” You hissed in pain, clutching your side as you struggled back up.

“You doomed yourself.”  Raphael answered, the edge of his voice seeming to take physical form to cut your very soul.

His arm moved and something small clinked upon the ground, rolling to rest against your foot. You looked down, your lips twisting into a grimace as you recognized the health potion.  

“How generous.”

“With you, my dear, I am lenient as ever.”  Raphael waited for you to restore yourself, his wings folding slightly, but his posture remaining tense and ready. “Now we will finish what you started.”

[balis77]

Limbus Faust Theory Time

Ok, so I've been thinking about this for a while. Ever since someone on Limbus' TvTropes page pointed out some Faust (Book) symbolism in Faust's base ego I've had this big fucking theory about Faust that I already know can't be confirmed until her Canto. And considering that (By the current order) that's gonna take like 2 years, I'm just gonna say it now.

Faust is actually a clone of the original Faust.

My evidence

Faust's symbol is a Flask. Now while Play!Faust (and the actual guy he was partially based on) was an alchemist, a flask specifically is a symbol of one character in the whole book/play; the Homunculus. The Homunculus is born as a small flame inside of a glass flask (And yes this is what Father from FMA's initial form was based on), created by Faust's (pre-deal with the devil) assistant Wagner who wishes to see the world. To this end, the Homunculus accompanies Faust and Mephistopheles to a Walpurgis Night (Sound familiar?) where they discover the wonders of nature. At the end of their segment, they shatter their flask and become one with the ocean.

It's weird that Project Moon would give Faust, based on a character who's literally the namesake for the term Faustian bargain, a symbol based on the flask instead of say, a demon. Not to mention Faust's sword saying Walpurgisnacht and her association with the in-game event. Unless of course, Faust isn't supposed to represent Faust himself, but rather the Homunculus. And that word almost universally regarded as a term for an artificial approximation of a human.

Every base EGO (Other than Rodion and Mersault for whatever reason) has a shadow across it that correlates to their respective Sinner's backstory in some way. Of the ones we have so far; Yi Sang's is a wing (Representing the wings he saw on his other self in the mirror and his status as a wing asset), Ishmael's is an anchor (Her previous status as a sailor and metaphorically her weighing herself to getting revenge on Ahab), Gregor's is a bunch of grasping hands (His experiences during the Smoke war), and Sinclair's is a tree with a snake going around it (Representing the temptation Kromer gave him that he gave into, which resulted in his family being slaughtered by her).

Faust's base EGO has the shadow of three separate people standing around her. Going off the original story, these would correlate to Faust, Wagner, and Mephistopheles standing around the Homunculus' flask. This is the specific bit pointed out by TvTropes that gave birth to this whole theory.

The abnormality EGO each character gets also tends to relate to them in some way, on a similar level to how each EGO used in a realization in Library of Ruina represented certain experiences. For example, as of the time of this writing Ishmael has Roseate Desire, Blind Obsession (Both relating to obsession and refusal to let go), Capote (Blind rage), and Ardor Blossom Star (Guidance or the lack thereof without a goal).

Faust's current EGO as of this writing include 9:2 (Forbidden knowledge), Telepole (experimentation), Hexnail (Abandonment), and Fluid Sack (Lack of direction), which in my opinion fits more with a creation trying to find their purpose in life after being free of their creator than someone willing to sell their soul for infinite knowledge.

It's mentioned that Faust rarely sleeps, and she rarely seems to be as affected by things like motion sickness or exhaustion as the other Sinners, which points towards her having some kind of inherent enhancement in some way.

The backstory of the homunculus matches with a shared desire among a lot of the other Sinners who we do know the backstory of; namely the idea of exploring the world and finding people you can truly call companions along the way.

Now, why do I think Faust is specifically a clone of the original and not say, a lab-created experiment? Well:

When we see Yi Sang's flashback to him agreeing to join the Company, we see him being recruited by someone who has to be Faust. She has the same voice actor and character name color... except we also never see her face, and the figure notably isn't identified as Faust and is instead credited as ???. Not only does the game usually explicitly identify a character as long as they've been properly introduced, but even the "But Yi Sang didn't know who it was at the time" doesn't work considering he's remembering and knows who Faust is now.

Faust is Sinner #2 instead of Sinner #1. While we can't be certain that Sinner numbers are based on recruitment order (Though there does seem to be some precedence in that Heathcliff seems to have been around when Ishmael was recruited, and he's #7 to her #8, and #10 Dante may have been recruited in their original self before Sinclair, Outis, and Gregor and simply never introduced to the group) it's odd that someone who otherwise acts as the head of the company (Recruiting Vergilius and Yi Sang, making the bus, etc.) would only be #2. In fact it's odd for that person to be in the field in the first place.

We know cloning is possible in the City, enough so that the Head outright has a law governing it. Namely, that only one copy of a person can exist within the City after week's time period. Note how that's worded. Only one copy of a person can exist within the City after a week's time period.

Conveniently, we now know the inner workings of the bus just so happen to have a portal that leads to different parts of the Outskirts.

Faust has a habit of referring to herself in third person, but she's a bit inconsistent about it. In fact, a lot of the time it happens when she's boasting of knowledge specifically. But maybe she's not saying things in third person. Maybe she's intentionally saying "Faust is a well-renowned genius" instead of "I am a well-renowned genius".

Faust being a clone would also fit with who actually runs the company itself. It doesn't seem to be the Purple Tear (The three who attack Dante in the prologue seem to be her agents) and Faust is the one who seems to give everyone instructions, including both Dante and Vergilius, yet there has to be someone coordinating all the other aspects of the company like arranging travel and the Before and After teams. But maybe it is Faust doing everything. Just not the same Faust we're interacting with.

To sum it up, I think Faust is the one running the company, but not the same Faust who's part of the Sinners. I think she made a clone of herself, imparting all her knowledge into it before going to the Outskirts to run the company from there (Just like how Ayin and Carmen had their original facility there), leaving the clone to fulfill its own desire to see the world and also take the risk involved with becoming a Sinner in her place. The reason Vergilius gives so much respect to Faust? Because she's a proxy of the original, the original who recruited him and the other Sinners in the first place. The various shady shit Faust does? All on orders from the original. Faust's constant boasting of her own knowledge in third person? She's trying to convince herself that she's as good as the original Faust instead of just a copy.

If anyone has any evidence they can think of, feel free to reblog with it.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Matt Murdock / Daredevil Masterlist

Image Credit: kissmegoodbye.net

Welcome to the masterlist for my Matt Murdock aka Daredevil fics. My general masterlist is here.

Posted fics can also be found on A03.

Please let me know if any links are broken or if you wish to be added to the tag lists.

Last Updated: 7/16/2024

Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Series

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Alley Cat {Installment List}

You are a paralegal (and trouble magnet) with an escape artist cat who keeps encountering Daredevil. You start falling in love. Both with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the man behind the mask. {18+}

Ongoing Series

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Orange Cat Shenanigans, Legal Drama, Legal Nerd Stuff Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, police corruption, workplace harassment

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Taelynn Christopher (Unsplash) / Anna Kolosyuk (Unsplash)

Happy Little Accident {Installment List}

You are a klutz. You are pretty used to tripping over nothing and embarrassing yourself. But this time has to be the worst. Because this time, this time, you have gotten paint all over Matt Murdock. Your handsome neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. {18+}

Ongoing Series

Tags: Romance, Art, Female Gaze, Fluff Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, clumsiness

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Greta Punch (Unsplash) / Stephanie Harvey (Unsplash)

Cozy Corners {Installment List}

Ongoing Series

You have a problem. You have feelings for two men. The first man is local defense attorney Matt Murdock. A regular at your cafe Cozy Corners, you've been pining over him since he first walked through your door. The second man is Daredevil. The vigilante who saved your life during a mugging and has appointed himself as your guardian angel.

Meanwhile Matt is wondering how he managed to get into a love triangle with himself. {18+}

Tags: Romance, Secret Identity Hijinks, Accidental Love Triangle Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, anxiety, panic attacks

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Zac Ong (Unsplash) / Biswapati Acharya (Unsplash)

The Phantom {UPCOMING}

You are a ghost. Not literally but you might as well be. Your old life is dead. Because of them, you cannot make a new one. Then one day, in search of food and a shower, you enter an apartment and discover a dangerous secret - the identity of Daredevil. {18+}

Part One: Breaking and Entering {coming soon}

Tags: Slow Burn, Allies-to-Friends, Friends-to-Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, flashbacks to traumatic events (unwilling human experimentation, physical abuse, verbal abuse, medical abuse, threats of sexual violence, murder, threats of death)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Andre Benz (Unsplash) / Nicolas Picard (Unsplash)

Arachne {UPCOMING}

University is hard enough without developing superpowers. Too bad nobody asked you. You were just trying to study when you were bitten by a strange spider. Then things started to get weird. Fortunately, you aren't the only odd freshmen at Columbia University. {18+}

Part One: Metamorphosis {coming soon}

Tags: Slow Burn, Friends-to-Lovers, College Hijinks, Angst, Fluff, Superhero Adventures Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content

Love is Blind {UPCOMING}

You are a blind attorney who has recently moved to New York from California after a very nasty break-up. It's a big change but with your trusty guide dog Luna, you figure that you can handle it. While exploring your new neighborhood, you meet local defense attorney Matt Murdock. And you hit it off right away. Unfortunately your past isn't willing to be left behind. {18+}

Part One: New York, New York {coming soon}

Tags: Romance, Fluff, Secret Identity Hijinks, Dogs, Drama, Disability Issues Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, ableism, stalking, flashbacks to traumatic events (domestic violence)

The Bonds of Friendship {UPCOMING}

Book I: High School Blues {coming soon}

You are a teenager who has recently moved to New York City from Colorado with your family. While shopping for groceries, you meet a local teen - Matt Murdock who is at the store with his adoptive mother Anna Nelson. Becoming friends happens fast but the love that grows in your heart creeps up on you. Before you know it, you are in love with one of your best friends. {18+}

Inspired by the prompt from @importantnightwerewolf

Book II: University Days

Book III: Law School Confidential

Book IV: Vigilantes

Tags: Slow Burn Romance, Friends-to-Lovers, High School Drama, Teenagers Being Idiots, Families of Choice, College Hijinks, Fluff, Growing Up, Superhero Adventures Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, bullying, ableism, body image issues, adoption, reference character death, abandonment issues

Full of Surprises {UPCOMING}

You had been dating Matt Murdock, a fellow summer associate at Landman & Zack. But summer has come to an end and it is time for you both to return to your respective law schools. You go back to Massachusetts to start your final year and prepare for the bar exam. Only to discover that you are pregnant. {18+}

Part One: Our Last Night {coming soon}

Tags: Romance, Fluff, Parenthood, Original Child Characters, College Life Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, childbirth, parenthood, law school stress

Sanctuary {UPCOMING}

You are a doctor with a rather unusual patient. John Doe is a badly injured blind man hidden in the basement in a local church. You have many questions but no one seems particularly interested in answering them. Complicating matters is that John Doe is very handsome. And when he wasn’t brooding or being sullen, he is rather sweet . . . {18+}

Part One: John Doe {coming soon}

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, injuries, medical inaccuracies, severe depression, grief, mourning, referenced attempted suicide, reckless behavior, anger, abandonment issues, referenced character deaths, disability struggles, internalized ableism, religious discussions, religious imagery

Keeping Secrets {UPCOMING}

Your new boss Matt Murdock is rather mysterious. He regularly shows up to work with poorly explained injuries. He isn’t speaking to his oldest friend. And a thousand other little things that all say Murdock is keeping secrets. Big secrets. But that’s okay. Because you have some big secrets of your own. Not least of which is your interview wasn’t the first time you had meet each other. Or who the father of your son Jack is . . . {18+}

Part One: Curious and Curiousier {coming soon}

Tags: Slow Burn Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Murder Mystery, Legal Drama, Secrets and Lies, Original Child Character Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, referenced murder, secret child, religious trauma, flashbacks to traumatic events (domestic violence, sexual assault, child abuse)

Cat Man Do {Installment List}

Matt Murdock is having a bad night. He has been turned into a cat with a blizzard is coming in. Lucky for him, you came walking by. And you love cats. {18+}

Completed Series

Tags: Idiots In Love, Female Gaze, Animal Transformation, Cats, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Love Confessions Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, involuntary magical transformation, referenced animal abuse (non-graphic), explicit sexual content

Freaky Friday {UPCOMING}

You are a journalist. One night when you are walking home, you stumble across Daredevil fighting. The criminal shouts something while throwing a beam of light at you. Daredevil shields you but it doesn't appear to do anything to you. Until you wake up the next morning not in your own body but Daredevil's. {18+}

Part One: Random Encounter {coming soon}

Tags: Body Swap, Secret Identity Hijinks, Strangers-to-Lovers, Fluff Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mild body dysmorphia, disability struggles, sensory issues, anxiety, panic attacks, possible explicit sexual content

A Romantic Cliche {UPCOMING}

It's a plot straight out of romance novel. You would know. You write them for a living. Your sister is getting married. Naturally, she wants you to come to New York and be her maid-of-honor. No one warned you that the best man was devastatingly handsome. But nothing could prepare you for the strength of your desire. Thankfully, this intense desire doesn't appear to be one-sided . . . {18+}

Part One: The Meet Cute {coming soon}

Tags: Strangers-to-Lovers, Wedding Hijinks, Fluff, Sexual Tension Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

The Broken Hearts Club {UPCOMING}

It’s Valentine’s Day and you’ve been depressed all day. Granted, you’ve been feeling awful since That Day. Then your day got worse. You found the ring that your boyfriend had been planning to give you before that terrible day . . . You don’t know how or why your feet led you to Fogwell’s Gym nor why your fellow vigilante Daredevil was there. You just know that you started off sparing with each other and ended up having sex. Not for the last time. Soon the sex became a regular thing. But you weren’t worried about anything else changing between you . . . after all, it’s just sex, right? {18+}

Part One: The Ring {coming soon}

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow-Burn Romance, Superhero Adventures, Reluctant Allies-to-Lovers, Secret Identity Hijinks Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, temporary character deaths, permanent character deaths, grief, mourning, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse

A Fragile Thing {UPCOMING}

You just discovered that you are pregnant. Before you can share this news with your husband Matt Murdock, he collapses and dissolves into dust. Along with half the world. You do your best to raise your daughter alone and not to give up hope that you might get your husband back . . . but that gets harder as each year passes . . . {18+}

Part One: The Most Happy {coming soon}

Tags: Angst, Eventual Comfort, Motherhood, Original Child Character, Holding Onto Hope, Male-Female Friendship, Female Friendship Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Grief, Mourning, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Symptoms, Single Parent, Parenthood, Nightmares, Explicit Sexual Content

One-Shots and Drabbles

Humor

Dicta (drabble): Matt and Foggy are studying for their law exams when juvenile humor ensues.

The Thing That Speaks For Itself (drabble): Matt names a cat.

Fluff

Will You Be Mine?: You have been nervous since Matt said he had something important to ask you.

Baking with Love: Matt and You make pumpkin bread and cookies. Matt Murdock x Reader. Written for Mandy’s Sweater Weather Challenge.

Stormy Weather: It was a dark and stormy night when Matt returns home with a surprising rescue. Matt Murdock x Reader. Written for Mandy’s Sweater Weather Challenge.

Cozy Sunday: On a quiet morning, you decide to surprise Matt. Written for 300 Follower Celebration.

Cookies: You are baking cookies when Matt comes home. Written for 300 Follower Celebration.

Hurt/Comfort

Flare Up: You wake up with an asthma flare up along with a cold. Matt takes care of you.

Smut

Older: Sometimes, it's the little things that hurt the most.

Can't Sleep: Matt can't get his brain to turn off.

Relax: After a long day, you try to relax in the shower.

Bound: You fulfill a fantasy with your husband. Sequel to Relax

Fan Art

The Duality of Man - Mixed media (alcohol markers, colored pencils), manga style

Reader POV - Mixed media (alcohol markers, colored pencils), manga style

Matt smiling - Pencil drawing, realistic style

[tangorinee]

Hi!

I wonder what if our devil butlers became vampires for 1 month and they were usually bloodthirsty?🤔

Tw: mention of blood (i meah duhh), biting, a bit sensual at the end, tiny lil bit 🤏 (coughs), sorry if its ooc

────────────────────

This strange turn of events is definitely gonna test their loyalty and restraint.

Hmm, I think they would have a hard time handling it at first, with their work as a butler and hunting angels, and now they are somehow turned into vampires? And for a month?? Not to mention how thirsty they are. I dont think you, their master, can turn blind eye from this situation. Especially if you want the butlers to be in their tip-top shape, you have to feed your dear butlers!

However, how can you help them if they are incapable of hurting you? These are the same butlers who get all worked up about a little wind when you sneeze. Nor can they just meander around the city and wait in the shadows for a civilian to walk by. Some people already despise and dread them due to their title as the Devil's Butler. What would happen if they found out they are vampires as well?

As their change progressed, so did their hunger, which grew increasingly difficult to control. You knew this couldn't go on. Their persistence will lead them to an early death. So you must carry out the necessary tasks. Each night, you'd invite some of the butlers to your chamber and offer them your blood. With so many butlers, you must take pauses in between. The ritual was both intimate and harrowing, a delicate balance of trust and fear. Now, how do the butlers fair with this ritual?

Hold themselves back: "Their duty comes first."

They are consumed by guilt each time they sank their fangs. They would just drink enough to calm their thirst, pulling away immediately before their greed took over, Eyes filled with remorse and gratitude. The sight of your calm expression despite the danger you faced was both comforting and a torment. With how well-behaved they are, you'll probably tell them to indulge in their hunger for a while the next time. Their movements may seem soft, yet you can sense the hunger in their touch and the way their eyes were fixed on you.

-- Berrien, Fennesz, Bastien, Teddy, Yuhan, Flure, Miyaji, Lono, Nac

Lost in the clouds: "hesitant but driven by nature."

They can't suppress their hunger any longer. Their fangs gleam in the dimly lit room, longing for the warmth beneath your skin. The gentle bite turned into something deeper. Your senses were heightened; a faint gasp escaped your lips, and you could feel the warmth spreading across your face. Your body experienced an unanticipated rush of both pain and pleasure. They were so consumed by bloodlust that they didn't comprehend the gravity of their acts until later. As they drew back, breath quivering, they apologized for their lack of control. You can only give them a reassuring smile with the strength you have left.

-- Boschi, Hanamaru, Lucas, Ammon, Lato, Haures, Lamli

In the end, the butlers' gratitude for you got even stronger, and they are genuinely affected by what you have done for them over the last month. Your relationship with the butlers is stronger than ever.

────────────────────

Note: idk why this turned out to be longer than i expected, i was planning to answer shortly, but i ended up writing, lol

[fullstcp]

"The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology" by Taylor Swift Sentence Starters

THE BLACK DOG

"I am someone who until recent events you shared your secrets with."

"I just don't understand how you don't miss me."

"Old habits die screaming."

"I move through the world with the heartbroken."

"My longings stay unspoken."

"I may never open up the way I did for you."

"I still can't believe it."

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

"I can tell when somebody still wants me."

"I'm gonna get you back."

"I'll make you wanna think twice."

"You'll find that you were never not mine."

"I might just love you 'til the end."

"Push the reset button, we're becoming something new."

"Say you've got somebody, I'll say I got someone too."

"Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same."

"Pick your poison, babe, I'm poison either way."

THE ALBATROSS

"Cross your thoughtless hearts."

"One bad seed kills the garden."

"I'd visit in your dreams."

"They tried to warn you about me."

"Devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger."

"She's/he's/they're the death you chose."

"You're in terrible danger."

"I tried to warn you about them."

CHLOE OR SAM OR SOPHIA OR MARCUS

"Your hologram stumbled into my apartment."

"And I just watched it happen."

"If you wanna break my cold, cold heart, just say, 'I loved you the way that you were'."

"You said some things I can't unabsorb."

"You turned me into an idea of sorts."

"I crashed into you, like so many wrecks do."

"Could it be enough to just float in your orbit?"

"Will I always wonder?"

HOW DID IT END?

"Our maladies were such we could not cure them."

"A touch that was my birthright became foreign."

"Come one, come all, it's happening again."

"We'll tell no one except all of our friends."

"How did it end?"

"We were blind to unforeseen circumstances."

"We learned the right steps to different dances."

"Didn't you hear? They called it off."

"Say it once again with feeling."

"I can't pretend like I understand."

SO HIGH SCHOOL

"I feel so high school when I look at you."

"I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you."

"Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me."

"Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?"

"No one's ever had me, not like you."

"It's true, swear, scouts honor."

"You knew you wanted, and you got it."

I HATE IT HERE

"Quick, quick, tell me something awful."

"Tell me all your secrets."

"All you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize."

"I don't believe in good luck."

"Seems like it was never even fun back then."

"If I'd been there, I'd hate it."

"I'm lonely, but I'm good."

"I'm bitter, but I swear I'm fine."

"This place made me feel worthless."

THANK YOU AIMEE

"All that time you were throwing punches, I was building something."

"I can't forgive the way you made me feel."

"Your words are still just ringing in my head."

"I built a legacy that you can't undo."

"There wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you."

"I don't think you've changed much."

I LOOK IN PEOPLE'S WINDOWS

"I had died the tiniest death."

"What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?"

"Does it feel alright to not know me?"

"I'm addicted to the 'if only'."

THE PROPHECY

"Thought I caught lightning in a bottle."

"Change the prophecy."

"I just want someone who enjoys my company."

"Even statutes crumble if they're made to wait."

"I'm so afraid I sealed my fate."

CASSANDRA

"Do you believe me now?"

"I was in my tower weaving nightmares."

"What doesn't kill you makes you aware."

"They knew the whole time that I was onto something."

"Bet they never spared a prayer for my soul."

"That's where I was when I lost it all."

PETER

"Is it something I did?"

"I thought it was just goodbye for now."

"You said you were gonna grow up."

"Are you still a mind reader?"

"Life was always easier on you than it was on me."

"We both did the best we could do."

"I didn't wanna hang around."

"I won't confess that I waited."

"Love's never lost when perspective is earned."

"The shelf life of those fantasies has expired."

"Please know that I tried to hold onto the days when you were mine."

THE BOLTER

"We must stop meeting like this."

"Hearts are hers/his/theirs for the breaking."

"There's escape in escaping."

ROBIN

"Long may you reign."

"You have no room in your dreams for regret."

"The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean."

THE MANUSCRIPT

"I'm not a donor, but I'd give you my heart if you needed it."

"Looking backwards might be the only way to move forward."

"The story isn't mine anymore."

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

Catching up on fics. Wonderful A+++ job to every writer who participated in an October writing event, whether it be a single fic or one every day or any number in between 😊💜

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@criticallyacclaimedstranger Frankie Hungry

@tropes-and-tales Frankie Kinktober Exhibitionism

@frenchiereading Frankie Mouthfuls of You

@theewokingdead Frankie Breaking Free

@whatsnewalycat Frankie Like a Moth(man) to a Flame(thrower)

@guess-my-next-obsession Frankie A Soft Place To Land

@oogaboogasphincter Marcus P Deceits of the Devil / Joel Lovesick

@whataperfectwasteoftime Marcus P Forgive These Bones I’m Hiding

@foli-vora Marcus P Used By You

@say-al0e Marcus P Choices

@the-blind-assassin-12 Marcus P Unfinished

@beskarandblasters Din Me and My Husband + Tell Me How It’s Lookin’, Babe/ Joel Thick Skull Never Did Nothing For Me

@spacegay-official Din Pain For Pleasure

@lamamasjamas Din NEXUS

@flightlessangelwings Javier Kinktober Free Choice / Marcus P Kinktober Food Play

@undercoverpena Javier Anytime / Frankie It’s the Sniffles

@mandoalorian Javier Tolerate It

@swiftispunk Joel Creep It Real!

@toomanystoriessolittletime Joel Claimed / Dave Sneaking Around

@thirtysevenodddogs Joel RED

@ozarkthedog Joel A Quiet Storm

@tieronecrush Joel Trick or Treat

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Dieter Red Lipstick / Marcus P Mother Knows Best

@popcornforone Dieter More Than Friends

@novemberrain-writes Dave Whumptober Words Carved Into Skin / Joel Whumptober Blood Loss + Whumptober Left Behind / Din Whumptoer Whipping

@absurdthirst Marcus M Kinktober Glory Hole / Joel Kinktober Cuckolding / Javier Kinktober Pregnancy / Whiskey Kinktober Hotdogging / Din Kinktober Free For All / @storiesofthefandomlovers Dieter Crashing the Party + Marcus P The Wolf in the Woods

@sirowsky Marcus M Recovery + All Hallows Quarrel/ Pero Temple of Love + Grumpy Pumpkin/ Javi G The Haunted Toaster / Dieter Like Father, Like Son

@ghostofaboy Whiskey Kinktober Blackmail / Whiskey + Frankie + Marcus P + Dave Kinktober Group Sex / Frankie Kinktober Gape/Fisting + Kinktober Public Sex / Pero Kinktober Aphrodisiacs / Din Kinktober Tentacles

[haeunxhj]

!tagdump!

[sorcerous-caress]

If you have the time, could you do a Wyll request with a durge!tav who is waaaaay too selfless to balance out the violent parts of their brain. Like Wyll is about to take a massive hit and tav just pushes him out of the way, taking the damage and bleeding out on the ground but they just offer a smile to Wyll in return. They don't know how to express that it makes them feel less of a monster when they do this stuff.

Into my arms | Wyll

[Angst, comfort, themes of indirect self harm/destructive behaviours, getting better together, Durge Reader, Nb!Reader]

[ part of the Wyll's Week event]

To bleed is to know you have a soul.

Oh, how reassuring it was, the sight of your own life essence escaping your veins. A cleansing shower of red that washes away all of your sins.

All of your father's sins.

To be bathed in your own blood, to bear the scars of every arrow and sword that you dived in front of, it's proof to the world of your innocence.

Your companions, your friends, the people who accepted you for who you are, you can't fail them.

So you closed off your walls, built a fortress of steel and enchanted the bricks to deflect all of your emotions and urges inwards, on yourself instead.

To protect the ones you loved, to spare the world of your cruel heart.

If your brain craves for blood to be spilled, it will be yours. A member to dismember, will come from you.

Wyll was the most vocal out of your other companions about his discontent with your ways of indirect self-flagellation masquerading as selfless kindness, your constant sacrifice of precious parts of you until you hoped nothing will remain.

“I am grateful for you sparing me from that arrow, truly,” Wyll sat down next to you just as Shadowheart bid her goodnight after healing your wounds, “but why put yourself in front of me? Why tempt death constantly by using yourself as a shield for me, for all of us.”

He sees the way you look at him, at all of them. As if they were something precious, as if they were doing you a favour by giving you a decent treatment. A stark contrast to how hollow your gaze becomes whenever you glance at a mirror, face your own reflection with disdain.

You would carve out your own flesh to feed them if you had to, it was written in your soul clear as day. And that notion was far too scary for Wyll's brain to comprehend.

You haven't given him a reply, merely smiled. Too tender and sweet of a smile for someone who's ready to sacrifice their own body for him, for someone who already did countless times.

He isn't blind, he is far too familiar with this kind of overcompensation. The idea that if you let the world punish you enough, drag your limbless form through the mud and dig deep, then maybe just maybe salvation will be an option.

An attempt to balance the scales of fate, the unfair hand you were dealt in this life, the child of a slayer god. Bathed with blood and adorned with carcasses since the day you were born, not that you had any choice in the face of your ever so doting father.

Where is he now? Wyll wonders. Where are any of the gods? When they turned their backs on him that damned night, when he begged on his knees for a devil to deliver what the divine couldn't care to.

They only reared their ugly head when it suited them, and yours seemed to only send you the best of gifts after forcing your own hand to rip something equally as precious from your world.

The campfire flame cackles at both of your miserable states, your joint desperation for approval.

Wyll tries to offer you what he cannot give himself, to be the person he needed most that night.

Reassurance.

“You're not a monster, you don't deserve to bleed just because.” He tells you the word he repeated to himself once before, “you don't have to be strong for us.”

You can be weak

Be weak and drop the weight of the world from your shoulders, be weak and fear death for your life is worth living. 

Be weak and cry when you get hurt, stay down when you fall, hug yourself when you crumble. 

Please be weak.

“Let me have your back, be your sword and shield.” The campfire light reflects off of his horns, he just like you, already paid the price.

The bandage around your waist where the arrow struck is still fresh, you wince as you try to get closer to him. Before you could force your body to move again, Wyll himself closes the distance, leaving his seat and kneeling on the ground in front of you.

“Please.” You see your reflection in his eyes, “promise me you will at least try, depend on me, on all of us.”

The words are dry in your mouth, his lips look especially lovely as he pleads his case.

So many words unspoken, so many thoughts swirl around your brain.

I can handle it.

It's my fate.

It's what I deserve.

I rather die than watch you get hurt.

It claws at my skin every second demanding I give in.

You deserve more than I can afford.

I'm death incarnate.

I should be hurt.

I can't handle it.

Then your mind blinks away, a blank state as you feel his lips, those same lovely lips, kiss your bruised knuckles.

Then, emotions.

You almost forgot you had them, almost forgot you deserved to feel them.

You cup Wyll's face gently with the same hand, hold him tenderly.

“I promise,” you vow, “I will try. For you, I will do anything.”

[cellophaine]

hi, happy new year! first & foremost i love all your work, highlight of my 2021; it always got me giggling & kicking my feet LMFAO i was wondering if you could do a slow burn (the reader could be a vigilante working alongside daredevil), & it’s the enemies to lovers trope, with the italicized oh/ah for realization, angry love confession & all, if you know what i’m talking about. & one of them goes “please-“ in a breath of a whisper & the other just slams their lips into theirs. sorry if this is a lengthy request LMAO do what you want with it!

I'm very sorry for the 10-and-a-half-month-long wait! This was a long request, so I did try to put everything together in a way that makes sense. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Futile Devices

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Word Count: 8222.

Warnings: Violence. Light angst. Enemies to lovers. A tiny mention of decapitation. Blood. Injuries.

Author's Note: I wrote this with a female reader in mind, but there's no mention or indication of Reader's gender.

Holy shit, this is the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you guys won't be bored to death lol.

*The events in this fic took place after Daredevil season 3*

GIF Credit

The familiar click of the coffee pot registered somewhere in his keen hearing, but he didn't seem to notice. Matt was going through a series of motions, scrambling his eggs, flipping his bacon, getting his plate and mug ready for his breakfast, all while his mind walked on a frenzied march he couldn't keep up in the recollections of that night. That night was long gone, five days into the past, but it was still fresh and present to Matt, no matter the logic he came up with. He tried, and failed. Again and again. It haunted him in his few hours at nights of lying awake, and his days of paperwork and court affairs. Matt had to admit this could be something worse than he initially thought.

The last thing he needed was a new assassin in town.

Thin as a hair thread. That was how close Matt was to failing to save another's life. A criminal's life, but a life regardless. He almost lost it to the hands much more brutal than him. Much more merciless. Even more so than when Matt lost himself, haunted by his mistakes and Elektra's death, tormented by his own malice, of what he would be capable of had he let his pain consume him whole. The fact that someone was out there with such force and cruelty was alarming. It wasn't your ruthlessness that confounded Matt; he was no stranger to it, but everything about you.

You evaded his sweeps and blows as if they were nothing, as if he was only a martial arts enthusiast and not the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The gracefulness in your moves made you look like a ballerina to his enhanced senses. The sharp gusts of air from your movement cut his skin like a dull blade, and Matt suspected the purpose was not to hurt him, but to warn. You rendered him almost helpless, meeting him for every strike. A good match in all the wrong ways, for all the wrong reasons.

You had the agility and deadliness of the Hand's lifeless soldier, which made Matt think you were one of them. Still, the steady rhythm of your heart said otherwise. It was as real as the sharpness of your dagger when it slid across his forearm. Your mercilessness was not the most fatal part of you. The precise delivery of your weapon almost took a life, and even though Matt prevented that from happening, he felt as if letting your victim live was your decision, not his. He was only a witness who was at the right place, at the right time. Your escape was silent and swift, leaving no trace for him to follow. No matter how hard he tried, he could only detect a subtle scent of wet earth in the air, and nothing else. Since then, Matt had spread himself thin, patrolling the Manhattan area, even as far as Brooklyn, asking for his friends' help in places he couldn't reach, like a confused hound dog on a blind chase. The clues he picked up were only fragments of a bigger picture you were a part of. Days passed, and the seed sprouted from his curiosity of you kept growing, yet his search gave him nothing to attach you to.

Not until tonight, when your ruthlessness struck again.

You took hold of the man's collar, tugging on his tie, making sure that it sat tightly at the base of his throat. His face turned a dangerous shade of red, blending in with the crimson liquid and purple bruises all over his skin. His mouth opened to take in desperate gulps of air as you wrapped the remaining blue-striped tie around his neck, making a noose.

"Pl-please … don't do this. I have a wife an-and … a daughter. I have a family. Please!"

You sighed, bored and fed up with what he told you. In the face of great danger and near death, they always said the same thing. You would know since you had lost count of the men and women who had told you they had families. Unfortunately, none of them was alive to testify that.

"I know you do, Eddie. I had one too, at one point. But they're all gone now …."

You tugged hard on his tie, making him choke on the restricted and precious breaths. His face, stained with tears, only stroked your confidence. You almost had him. Just a little more, and you would have your next victim. Or victims, if he was so generous as to inform you.

"Tell me names. Better yet, point me in their direction, and I just might spare you."

Eddie shook his head, whimpering pathetically.

"I can't. They'll know it's me. They'll kill me."

You ran your beloved weapon along the side of his torso, hinting at the possible chance of you cutting him up at any moment like he was a rag doll. You rested the edge of your blade against his bloated stomach while he tried to stay away from it as much as possible with his legs and hands bound. There was no use in doing that, but he desperately tried, wriggling and struggling against the confines.

"It's either me or them that will end your life. So choose."

You dipped the blade into his side. It wasn't too deep, just enough to draw blood. The metal parted his flesh with little resistance, smooth and easy as if cutting through a leaf. The man before you cried out in pain; his prayers were half screams, half cries and all the agony. He sputtered, choking on the words he desperately tried to get out.

"Imani! Imani Campbell! She's the head of security f-for the Stromwyns. She and h-her team have access to everything!"

You pulled the blade free, patting his face softly as you cooed at him.

"There we go. Wasn't that easy?"

The man sobbed uncontrollably. Blood seeped out from his dress shirt, staining the fabric a dark red. You registered a soft thud from behind; the sound, accompanied by a low voice, made its presence known.

"Let him go."

The deep timbre in his tone was familiar, even though you barely exchanged a word that night. Only grunts of exertion. Twirling the dagger in your hand playfully, you took hold of the hilt once more before slamming it into Eddie's temple, knocking him unconscious. What you might have to say to the man behind you might fall on Eddie's deaf ears since he was only a thin thread away from passing out, but you preferred not to leave that up to chance.

You turned around to face him, fastening your bloody dagger to the strap on your thigh. Your gaze assessed him as you took a few steps forward. The man from the night before returned with a fresh bandage on his forearm, courtesy of your blade.

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

Your voice was light but alert. You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, keeping the smile off your tone. You wondered what he had to say.

"I should be the one who asks you that."

You chuckled to yourself. An expected answer, but different from what you anticipated from him. You figured as much.

"I thought you should know who I am already, considering what you've been up to lately, Matt Murdock."

The muscles in his body were pulled taut in his straightened posture, locked up in alarm, and you didn't miss that.

"How do you know my name?"

You tsked, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Don't feign innocent now. You were looking for me, trying to sniff me out like a dog."

His hands balled tightly to the sides, and you could see the tension in his jaw, even from a safe distance away.

"How do you know that?"

"By doing the same thing as you did. I like to be five steps ahead of everything, you know? That's how I stayed out of your radar."

You were prepared and well-versed to the point it felt like a game. A game of hide-and-seek, catch-and-release. Just simple as that. You spoke over your shoulder as you turned on your heels, returning to the unconscious man.

"Now excuse me, I was in the middle of something."

He was silent and fast. Before you could give Eddie the second slap to his cheek, Matt seized you with his arms around your torso and dominant arm, dragging you away from Eddie. He backed you into the cement railing; the hard and rough texture dug into your back. He pinned your arms back, spiking pain and discomfort along your body. Nothing you could handle. Your heart rattled in your chest as you looked up at him; his laboured breathing reverberated and mirrored your own. You stayed like that for a few moments, studying each other. You felt no fear, yet your heart thundered, your blood pumping for something else.

To your surprise, he smirked as if he had caught onto your wandering thoughts and foreign feelings.

"You're not scared. You're not even frustrated. You're… excited."

You held your tongue, waiting for him to continue his assessment.

"Perhaps this has something to do with me. Having someone on your level."

You huffed a biting chuckle, your eyes trained on the part of his face exposed to you. Plump lips accentuated by light stubble, adding softness to his rugged intricacy. A strong jawline that you wouldn't mind caressing, stroking the scruffy hair on your fingertips. And putting your dagger to it. You would place your fingers on the delicate pulse on his neck while you did that, feeling the panic coursing underneath his skin. But you suspected your foe wouldn't be scared off by a sharp blade that easily.

"Maybe I do like a challenge. At last."

Fearless to the point of arrogance. Matt was dumbfounded, then it clicked: you didn't know who he was. You might be new to this city, its politics and underground scenes. Maybe you were here on a chase for something, someone dangerous, following the trail of blood, corruption and murders. It led you to his territory, which he had slowly but steadily returned to protect. When Matt told you as such, a skip in your heart told him he was right. You went still against him, and goosebumps rose along your skin. Still and rigid, a stark contrast to your confidence and playful manner just moments ago.

Either way, whether you were familiar with the area or not, Matt had to clarify one thing.

"You must stop what you're doing."

"Which is …?"

You dragged your sentence, feigning innocence. The slight lilt in your voice should irk Matt, but to his surprise, it didn't. It glided on his eardrums, soft and soothing, which had started to distract him. Just a little bit, Matt assured himself. He lied some more when he told himself that your body, pressing snugly against his, was not the reason for his slipping focus. Not at all. Your body was warm; Matt could feel it even through your suit. The unconscious man's blood on your gloves enveloped his acute sense of smell, steering him back to the conversation he was having with you.

"Killing those criminals. Taking lives that aren't yours to take."

You fell silent, and Matt could hear the grind of your teeth. The muscles in your jaw grew taut, and he had no doubt that he had struck a nerve. Matt paid extra attention to another scent entering his olfaction. Subtle, yet refreshing, like wet earth … after the rain. And all of a sudden, it made sense to him. Perhaps you used a scent like that to blend into the element around you, becoming one with your surrounding. Leaving no trace. Just like that night when he first met you. The more Matt learned about you, the more fascinated he became. But he wouldn't have known that yet. Not at that moment.

You pushed yourself up, pressing your chest flush with his. Your voice was low in contrast to your guards, which were high and tall, and you hoped they wouldn't topple over.

"Just like you said, they were criminals. I don't kill anyone that doesn't deserve it."

Your answer didn't satisfy him by the way his jaw clenched, his lips curved downward in disapproval.

"What they do is wrong, but that doesn't mean they deserve death. Two wrongs don't make one right."

Your hands tugged on the skin and bone shackles he had on you, but he wouldn't let up. Your skin prickled in frustration.

"I'm weeding the bad out. You should thank me since I'm doing you a favour."

He tightened the hold on you, making an imprint on your wrists.

"They deserve second chances for redemption. How can they change for the better if they're not given a chance to do so?"

Okay, now you were beyond annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? To walk all over you, to jeopardize your mission. To act as if he was the one with authority.

"Stop with the fucking lectures! Not all of them deserve that."

You thrashed with all you might, desperate to escape his hold. But Matt held on.

"They're humans. They make mistakes, just like you and me."

That snapped something inside you, something that had always been there. You tipped your head back and slammed your head to his face. Matt let you go as he held a hand to his nose. You delivered a sharp blow to the base of his throat, right below his Adam's apple, effectively choking him. He sputtered, taking a few steps back, holding his throat while you followed him like a predator. Anger and grief took over, like a storm waiting to be unleashed.

"Spare me that bullshit!"

You grabbed his shirt, gripping it and pulling him back to you before throwing him against the brick chimney.

"If you know so much about the way this …"

Matt held a hand to his nose, swiping the runny liquid onto his hand. From the feel of it, a small part of his nose was splintered, but other than that, no serious and long-lasting damage. You took hold of him again, throwing him against the bricks.

"… thing works, then tell me. Tell me how it feels to have my entire life stolen from me. To have my family taken away, to have those barbaric so-called human beings abuse me, torture me, put drugs and chips inside of me like I'm no less than a toy? I'm nothing more but a weapon, a tool for their profit. And when I finally escaped and tried to have a normal life with a normal guy, they found me and took that away too?"

You leaned closer, and Matt could sense something other than his own blood. The salt of your tears, the blood rushing in your veins, fueling the rattling rhythm of your pulse.

"Tell me, Murdock. Tell me how it feels like to come home one day, and find your love's decapitated head on the bed you shared, in the only home you've ever known?"

And then there was nothing, only your heavy breathing and his; the wind died down, and the city carried on. Matt thought about the accident years ago, losing his sight, then his father. Stick came as abruptly as he left, and that was how he spent most of his teenage years alone and aloof. Matt couldn't shut out the clamour of crimes happening around him; he was helpless to it. When he decided to do something, to take charge, Matt lost more than he gained. Still, there was Foggy, who brought so much joy to his life. Foggy's presence was a blessing. Then came Elektra, who made him feel heard and understood when no one else could. Being with her was an ever-changing mesh of euphoria and affliction that stuck with him, before and after. The fights he had fought for the better only brought more pain to his life, full of losses.

The words manifested on his tongue, but he didn't say any of them. Your pain was your own, and it was immeasurable. Matt held both hands out in a gesture of peace. And when he spoke, the words were ripped right from his heart.

"I am sorry for everything that happened to you. I won't say that I understand everything what you went through. But I do understand why you're doing this. Trust me, revenge is not everything."

"No, you don't know anything about me."

Your tone was sharp. Final.

"Let me guess, you have some sob stories too?"

He swallowed hard, and you knew you were right.

"I guess that's why we turn out like this, huh? Inflicting pain on others because we can't bear our own."

It hurt more than the healing wound on his arm, than the forming bruise on his throat. It was as if your dagger had sunk into his chest and twisted until his heart was nothing but a mangle of tissues and vessels. He protected Hell's Kitchen; he had kept it safe with his violence. Deep under the overlapping layers of his good conscience, he knew it was another way for Matt not to face his own pain. The past year was the embodiment of that. No matter how much time passed, he knew that time would always stay with him, reminding him of the destruction he had made.

"Stay out of my way if you know what's good for you."

You turned on your heels, stepped onto the ledge and jumped. Your gracefulness landed you on the fire escape as you descended, blending in with the surroundings once more. Matt tipped his head back onto the warm bricks and caught his breath, deep in thoughts and the scent of you lingering behind.

Wet earth. Fresh rain. The saltiness of your tears.

Matt came home to his empty apartment; frustration and pain burned his skin, grating his insides. His throat hurt, the wound on his arm throbbed, and his nose stung, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Matt knew he would have to take it easy for the next few nights. Matt peeled off the dirty suit, undoing the hand wraps quickly. Standing in his boxers, he went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. The small machine hummed as it heated the water inside as Matt prepared his tea. While waiting for the water, he went to the bedroom and grabbed a zip-up hoodie and sweats before gingerly them on, careful of his injuries. Matt went through the motion automatically because he didn't allow himself to stop and think. Not yet. The kettle whistled a high-pitched note, dragging him to the kitchen. Water was poured, tea steeped, and honey added. Matt settled down at the kitchen table with his mug, hissing softly as his aching muscles voiced their discomfort. Matt closed his eyes, letting the steam of chamomile soothe his eyelids before diving into everything he knew about you. Which was not much at all. But he had more now than he knew of you six nights ago.

Rubbing his throat, Matt took a sip of his honeyed tea. He recalled the sound of your voice, the inflection of it when you were angry. The piercing rawness of it when you cried. He got to learn another part of you that he had tried to reach. You were in the position to knock him out swiftly, to kill him even, but you didn't. You spared him of your own volition. He might not know your name, but he knew your pattern now. You struck precisely, seizing someone on the weaker links and climbing up. However, singling out one of the lawyers on the retainer for one of the most notorious crime families gave him a clue of what you came to New York for. Even though it was out of character for you, it gave him a hint of where you could go next, and Matt wasn't going to pass out on this chance. The crime family you targeted was someone he had an interest in himself. The Stromwyns. They were a force to be reckoned with, and from what he knew of you, you acted alone. It was personal from your history with them, and he suspected you wanted to take them down yourself. Matt would admire your bravery if it wasn't so reckless and incredibly foolish. But on what ground could he judge you, considering that he did the same thing?

Your fist curled tightly, your knuckles drenched in blood and mangled flesh of your own and your victims. But you wouldn't stop, not until you got what you wanted. A swift punch followed another on Imani's broken face. Her bodyguards and associates laid unconscious a few feet away, leaving only your ragged breaths and the woman's pained whimpers echoed in the destroyed meeting room. You usually wouldn't strike them at their base, where they could easily call for backup, which they did, but you felt particularly reckless tonight. You were up for a challenge, and you almost paid for it. The searing pain on your side was the throbbing proof. You wanted to speed your investigation along, too impatient to wait. You had done enough of that. Still, this stubborn woman before you wouldn't give in. You could feel your temper rising, and soon, you wouldn't be able to control it. Imani was a delicate knot in an elaborate scheme that you couldn't solve by cutting her string short. You didn't take out her whole team for nothing, especially when your venture for revenge ended up being something bigger, something more sinister than you thought.

You gave Imani's face a slap. She came to before you, despite her drooping eyelids.

"I know the Stromwyns are planning something big. Tell me what it is."

She gave a bloody smirk, her teeth stained red. She tried to keep her head straight, her eyes bored into you.

"No."

"Should have saved that energy telling me what I want."

Another jab, and she fell to the floor. You propped her up against the table, pulling out the blade concealed on your thigh.

"One last chance. I won't be so lenient this time."

The thumps of his boots made it to your ears, and you felt the air change slightly. Maybe it was just you. His footsteps drew closer on the once pristine marble floor behind you, entering the crime scene. You closed your eyes, already knowing what he would say.

"Don't do this."

You didn't bother standing up to greet him this time.

"I've killed before. This will change nothing."

"Believe me. It will."

His tone was the same. Kind, soft, imploring for the part of you that no longer existed. Yet, he still searched for it, drawing it out. You would lie if you said you couldn't feel the tug of his kindness and patience on your heartstring. It was just that you couldn't afford to follow his call.

"Why are you still trying? Why waste time on me?"

You had to know whether it was his Catholic guilt, and you were his charity case, or it was something else entirely. It wasn't like New York's shady marketplace lacked assassins for hire. You knew that as much.

"I was you before. You think you're irredeemable. But you're not. You still have a chance to turn around …"

Your real name on his tongue sounded foreign to your ears. It affected you in a way you didn't think possible. The sound triggered the alarm going off in your head, screeching in your ears. You slowly rose on your feet, exhaling an unsteady breath. You had isolated yourself and made acquaintance with no one. The shock of Matt finding out shot unnerving prickles along your skin. You used his name in vain to gain an advantage, while he used yours in the hope of steering you back to yourself with such an intricate tenderness. And that made you angrier than ever.

You closed the distance between you, wielding the dagger between your skilled fingers.

"Who do you think you are? Waltzing in here with your talks, when you're doing the same thing as I am–"

"I don't kill–"

"Same - fucking - shit! Just because you don't kill doesn't make you better than me."

Your words were punctuated with each swipe of your weapon, which he easily dodged. You were blinded with rage, with a wave of anger so potent that you could only release it when your blade had sunk into his flesh. You knew deep down if you stopped, your weaker emotions would get the better of you. Your fury consumed you whole, fueling every step as you advanced toward the infuriating figure that seemed to have so much trust in you.

"Stop it! I know you have it in you to stop. I know it feels good to get revenge, but it will ruin you."

Matt only dodged your blows and not once fought back. It only fueled your boiling rampage.

"Shut up! Just … shut up and fight back!"

It was harder to ignore his voice and what he said now. His words were like vines, slipping through the cracks of your control, taking root quickly. But you were broken; no one could mend you. You had long accepted that you would never be someone you once wished to be. This was your life. Full of rage, violence and loneliness. That was how you would die. Your demons would always follow you, then, now, and when it was your time to depart this world. You were beyond saving.

The quiet click of a gun made you whip your head toward the sound. You couldn't see clearly through the veil of tears that had started trailing down your cheeks. That was when you realized that you had been crying. It was such an appalling recognition that you didn't register the bullet leaving its chamber. Everything that happened after that was so fast your mind couldn't catch up. You could only feel. You felt the rough contact of his body against yours when he tackled you, the hard marble floor on your back when you crashed. Matt continued to shield you with his body over yours as a few more shots rang out. He cried out suddenly as a bullet hit him; his body jolted but didn't move an inch. You tried to push him off you so the two of you could run for cover, but he wouldn't budge. Suddenly, it became eerily quiet except for some empty clicks, followed by a sharp cry of pain as Imani got up and took off toward the exit. You pushed Matt off, getting yourself ready to run after her, but you ceased acting on your instinct. Matt tried to rise with one hand braced on the littered floor, his lips parted to expel a pained groan. Your foggy mind replayed the feeling of him lunging for you, saving you from the bullets' line. You blinked, watching as your whole body trembled, the bloody blade unsteady in your hand. Your target had escaped, but that was the least of your concern right now. You looked to your saviour, fixed on the ghastly look on his almost unmasked face. His eyes stared straight ahead, his mouth opened agape, and his movements shaky before he dropped to the floor with a sickening thud.

Matt woke to the unfamiliar surrounding, with strange air and the companion of another's presence. He found himself almost naked, saved for his boxers, nestled between the warm sheets that definitely weren't the silk he used to. Despite its roughness, it was just as nice as his own, as it possessed your scent, earthy and soothing. Matt had grown to like it. A pleasant mix of you and his own blood, which he could sense as he moved to set his feet on the floor. Matt ran a hand through his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and felt no resistance. He seemed to only recognize the missing safety of his mask now, and for a brief moment, he panicked. It was soon washed away when the gentle breeze carried something else in from the open window. A scent of moss, morning dews, and vines seemed to attach themselves to the brick exterior of the building, like soil after the rain. It reminded him of how you always blended in with your environment. And the thought eased his concerns. If you wanted him dead, he wouldn't be alive right now. But Matt was here, in your home. Hurt but alive, the rough gauze on his thigh reminded him.

Matt took a few unsteady steps as he oriented himself, getting familiar with the surroundings. The search for the door was a success, and he opened it to step into a different world. A different feel. The space was warm and pleasant, with sunlight coming from the right side, and the aroma that hung in the air felt homey. Upon further inspection, Matt could smell freshly chopped parsley, rice, and chicken. In the midst of everything were you and your ever-steady heartbeat.

Without turning around, you directed him.

"Take a seat. Food is almost ready."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit onto your bottom lip, feeling a little out of place. There was something strangely domestic about the way you told him to make himself comfortable. Even though you did try to kill him just a few hours before.

Matt searched for the seating and sat down, his back resting nicely against the cushion. He closed his eyes, soaking in the warm sun. You let yourself look at him from where you were standing, taking in how peaceful he seemed. How at ease. He seemed different, yet still the same as the person who had followed you, matching your violence with his own just to urge you to turn the other way. Realizing that you had been staring at him for perhaps too long, you whirled around to tend to the steaming food. With the porridge done, you turned the stove off before pouring a good portion of the hot dish into two bowls and sprinkling some parsley on top.

You put the bowl in front of him with a soft thump, and his eyes lazily slid open. The spoon made a small clang on the wooden table as you set it down on his right before going to your seat. Matt picked up the spoon, taking in the dish before him. It was steaming hot with a savoury aroma of rice, chicken, herb and seasonings.

"I didn't poison it, don't worry."

Matt huffed a soft chuckle.

"I trust you."

"You're way too trusting considering what you do."

That made him smile. Matt took a spoonful of the food, blowing it for good measure before giving it a taste. A pleasant and hot feeling engulfed his tongue before it smoothly chased down his throat. The taste was delectable, flavourful and wholesome. It warmed him inside out.

"Seasonings are on your right. Just reach your hand out a little."

That made Matt pause for a moment, but he didn't say anything. You continued your meal in silence, and the air between didn't feel tense or forced. Outside of the enclosed space, New York was a bustle of sounds.

Your spoon made a small clang on the side of the bowl, and it seemed like you decided it was more than enough to start a new conversation.

"I'm guessing from the way you are not panicking or overwhelmed or freaking out, you've been blind for a long time?"

No beating around the bush. He liked that. People walked on eggshells around him, around his disadvantage, for a good reason. But Matt didn't need coddling. He definitely didn't need protecting, either.

"Since I was nine. Freak accident."

"Freaky indeed."

Those two words marked the end of your conversation. Matt occasionally felt your intense gaze, watching him carefully as he cleaned the bowl. Once his and your hunger were satiated, you put the dishes away in the empty sink. Matt stood up to help, but his good intention was quickly forgotten as he hissed lowly in pain. He touched the area around the wound, feeling its mouth crack, allowing the blood to seep into the gauze. Matt winced, and it didn't escape your watchful eyes.

Rummaging around your kitchen, you poured him a glass of water and set two pills in his palm.

"Take these. Or don't. I don't care."

Your halfhearted concern warmed his heart. He knew your intention behind it, and the little spike in your heart never lied. Matt took the pills as you walked away, fetching the medical kit.

"Can I see your wound?"

He nodded after a brief moment. You dragged your chair to settle beside him, and your thighs exchanged accidental brushes. Your touch was careful and tender as your hands worked on his broad thigh to unwrap the bloodied bandage. Matt's jaw clenched, holding back a pained groan as you pressed gently around the tender area. You cleaned up the blood with a clean cloth, precise and swiftly. Not a word passed between you as you secured the wound with a sterile bandage until you asked if you could see the injury on his side. There was something serene, tender and peaceful about the way you took care of him, as if you had done this many, many times before. As if you had known each other for a lifetime.

Once finished, you pulled away with a gentle squeeze on his knee before working on your injured hands. You sighed in exasperation as you undid the hand wraps. The torn skin on your knuckles was red and angry, staring back at you as they throbbed a warning melody, giving you no choice but to listen. You would have to take it easy for the time being.

Lost in your thoughts, your hands pulled on another roll of gauze when Matt's warm hand on your wrist startled you, sending a pleasant prickle to your skin. Your eyes widened as Matt extended an open palm, wordlessly offering to help you dress your wound. You stared at him, your eyes flicked at the upward motion of his brow. Tentatively, you passed the white fabric to him. Matt held you in his hands and quickly assessed your knuckles. Your hands were colder than his, calloused and scarred, like a written memoir of your past that you carried all the time. He tried not to think about the smaller, barely-there scars you probably obtained from your younger years. You were older now, yet, your fight hadn't ended. The path you walked on only led you further into the woods like a prisoner who still fought even though their chains were broken, their prison door unlocked. He wanted to focus on the now, where you were safe, alive and with him.

Judging by the echo of your apartment, it was spacious, cozy and most likely expensive. It was a bold move, living in the heart of Manhattan. You were almost fearless, that much he knew. Matt had no doubt that you knew what you were doing, considering your profession. Maybe your name on the lease was fake, or someone owed you a favour. A very big one.

"How do you afford this apartment?"

Matt kept his voice light, distracting you from the sting of disinfectant.

"How do you?"

You asked him with just as much airiness, if not more. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as you found yourself smiling with him. You continued as the crinkles around his eyes deepened in amusement, remembering that you probably knew where he lived.

"I kill for a living. Sometimes. I'm pretty good at my job, remember?"

Matt took a deep and sharp breath, and you bit your tongue. It was too much, and you felt stupid for making that joke.

"I only take on jobs that target the Stromwyn. Nothing beyond that. Anyone with mutual interest benefits me."

"I know."

"Do you now, smartass?"

Matt could hear a slight smirk in your voice. It was refreshing to see you so relaxed, so … different from what he had known of you. But then, you were full of surprises. Silence fell over you like a thin veil; the only sound left was his movements, wrapping the bandage around your hand.

"Don't you get tired of it?"

The strokes of his hands were soft, certain as he wrapped himself around you. His warmth spread to your hands, making you shiver. Just slightly. You took a long moment to yourself, mulling over what he said.

"I do. But I can't stop. They're still doing it to children, to little kids like … like I once was. I'm a result of them, and I won't be the last."

His grip on your hands tightened, careful of your injuries. Matt brought your intertwined fingers closer to his chest, urging you to look into his unsighted eyes. Upon the near distance, you noticed the hazel gleaming in the bright light of your kitchen, holding more than just your attention.

"What they did to you is not who you are. They don't get to make you into someone you don't want to be."

His words were kind, his touch was soft, and they suffocated you. You jerked your hands out of his as if his touch burned you. A reflection of hurt took shape on his furrowed brows and curved lips, and you felt sorry for pulling away. When did you turn so soft for a man you barely knew?

"My firm can bring attention to their organization. With a big case like this, it can't stay under wraps forever. I have connections, and I can assure you that there will be people looking into this. We can work together. I can help you. Let me. Please."

You swallowed hard, feeling queasy in your seat. You stood up, and Matt followed, but he gave you space when you started pacing. You had known for a long time that you wouldn't be able to do this by yourself. The Stromwyns' influence ran deep. It would take more than an assassin with a want for vengeance infused in her blood to uproot that. To completely dismantle their organization, you would need a miracle. And Matt just might be that miracle you need. You sighed heavily, bringing your nervous pacing to a stop. You held his unseeing gaze, more for your sake than his, as if to seal your fate.

"Fine."

Matt offered a hand to you, initiating a physical agreement. After a brief moment of fleeting contemplation, you held his offering hand and shook. He pulled you closer to him by your skin-on-skin attachment, making you take a sharp breath as the sudden movement grazed your wounded skin.

"No killing."

You tugged on his firm clasp, and he wouldn't let go.

"Fine. No killing."

Matt only released you then, and you were all too eager not to have his hands on you again. That was what you told yourself, even though your heart thrashed unhappily at the traitorous thought. The tingling feeling on your fingers was back, and your mind raced with the possibilities of an uncertain future and foreign feelings.

Matt delivered on his promise. It was a long fight, stretched over two years, but the outcome was victorious and sweet. Nelson, Murdock and Page investigated and gathered evidence with witnesses, bringing the case to New York's district attorney. The ordeal was blown up, which brought in law enforcement from the higher-up. The news of the Stromwyns controlling important assets throughout New York, infesting neighbourhoods with gangs and criminals to secretly collect "protection money" from the residents, was brought to the media, pulling the attention of the whole country. When things began to come to light, the Stromwyns issued a bomb threat in an attempt to bury the whispers. It backfired as the warning was proven real by you and Matt on your investigation at night. The FBI quickly acted on the lead, making arrests for the whole family. The Stromwyns were forced to liquify their assets, and their accounts in foreign countries were seized and frozen by the CIA. Unfortunately, before law enforcement could put all of them in cuffs, some members of the family had already fled to Europe, according to the intel you obtained illegally.

It amazed you how a team of three managed to make such an impact, how relentlessly and tirelessly they worked to get people involved. You were also a part of that team; Matt told you no matter how hard you denied it. He introduced you to his friends and partners, Foggy and Karen. Even though they were skeptical of your relationship with Matt, they took your intel seriously and worked with you. You kept your distance, knowing they weren't comfortable being in the same room with an experienced assassin as in Matt's past, and you were fine with that. You had a working association with them, striving for the same outcome. You weren't there to make friends.

You weren't sure what to make of your relationship with Matt. Something had changed, but you didn't want to acknowledge it. You couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him when you had to leave eventually. You had each other's back when you scouted for new information, when you infiltrated the Stromwyn's warehouses. Those fights didn't often result in grave injuries; when they did, you took care of each other. Small and big damages. Matt ensured that you looked after yourself and wouldn't agonize over your past. He was there to soothe you in his secure embrace when you had a nightmare. It was almost as if his arms and hands had morphed around your frame, embracing you, making you feel at ease when your grief was too much. You would wake up thrashing in his arms when the needles were too close; the stiffness paralyzing your body felt too real. Eventually, your place or his wasn't a matter since you would always end up in the same bed at the end of everything, whether due to exhaustion or nightmare-filled nights into early mornings. Whenever you woke with a headache, he would have his special tea readied, along with medicine at your request. You were afraid that he would spoil you rotten, and if you got used to his affection and care, you would never be able to leave. You couldn't stay, couldn't allow yourself that one thing. You had shared too much of yourself with him, and you were afraid you would be left with nothing if you kept on giving. You knew you didn't deserve him. So you packed your stuff up and booked a flight to Germany, following the trail of the scattered Stromwyns. You decided to leave without a word, but Matt had another idea.

"Don't do this to me."

Call you sentimental, but you had come to the rooftop of your building one last time to soak in the sound, the feel, and the air of this city. There was nowhere else quite like it, and the reason wasn't entirely due to the man standing behind you. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Matt. Your apartment was empty now, doused in the warm late afternoon light. Matt stood before you, his dress shirt creased, his tie crooked, his hair ruffled, and his face flushed from exertion. He must have run from his office in Hell's Kitchen to your apartment in Midtown Manhattan. You extended your gratitude to Karen and Foggy in person for helping you with the case before Matt got there, nothing else. You guessed they were suspicious of that and told him, even though you didn't show anything out of place. You wanted to get this over with.

"Do what?"

"Leave. Leave New York. Leave me."

The wounded edge in his plea twisted the knife that was already embedded in your heart.

"I told you. I can't rest when they're still out there."

"Let the authority take care of that. Don't be reckless."

The tone in his last sentence was stern, reprimanding as if you were a child out of line.

"Me? Reckless?"

You turned to face him, appalled at his audacity.

"I followed your 'no killing' rule. These bastards are still free because of it."

Your hands helped enunciate each word you threw at him, even though it was fruitless. You were making a point for yourself. An excuse to leave.

"They can't run forever. You've done your part. You've suffered enough."

Matt erased the distance between you, getting close enough that you didn't want to step back. You would miss his warmth.

"Stay. You have friends here."

His tender intention thrummed on your nerves, coaxing your guard like the sweet honey he always put in your tea. His words were so convincing that you felt like you could be fooled.

"No, I don't. I don't have anyone."

You stubbornly turned your head away, unable to look at him.

"You have me. Foggy and Karen, too. They don't say it but they do care about you. And I do, too."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

He said it with so much conviction. You wanted to believe him.

"I can't, Matt. I don't know who I am without this."

The constant running, following, chasing. The continuous shutout from people, shielding yourself until you were isolated and all alone. In a way, your violence, pain, and loneliness were a way for you to punish and protect yourself. That was how you stayed anchored to reality, never strayed too far from your cruel fate, and never looked at what you could have been.

"You're still you. The strongest, most stubborn person I know. Even when you don't know yourself, you'll get there eventually. Stop running and allow yourself a chance to live the life that you deserve. To be who you want to be."

"I'm still a murderer. That's all I am and all I'll ever be. I'm only capable of that, and I will only bring you down with me by merely being in your life."

He shook his head.

"Yes, I will, Matt. Nothing good comes with me. Why don't you just let me go?"

Your throat hurt with the stricken cry that was torn from your chest. Your eyes were wide, watching Matt through the thin veil of your tears.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you. Everything about you."

Matt inched even closer, and you let him step into your space, knocking down your crumbling barrier. You weren't strong enough to back away. To run. You were exhausted from it.

"Please …"

You had always been careful, five steps ahead of most things. But not everything. You didn't expect to fall for Matt, yet, you did. This was his desperate plea for you to stay, to live your life instead of hiding in the shadows, being a ghost of who you truly were. He had whittled away your defence wall, brick by brick, over the span of time you knew each other. He taught you there was safety in letting go. And you did.

In a swift and clumsy motion, you slammed your lips against Matt's, accepting his promises, love, and everything in between. His full lips were soft and addictive, parting easily to deepen the kiss. Your tongues tangled in a fiery dance, and you felt like you could get drunk on his taste alone. Like the barest hint of salt, a touch of cinnamon spice, and something else that only belonged to him. His hand tangled in your hair, bringing you closer as if it was possible. When he was finally satisfied with the absence of space in between, his hand trailed down to the column of your throat in a soft caress, before stopping at the coursing, delicate pulse. Matt pressed in with his fingertips, acting on the overwhelming need to feel you, to feel the proof as if your woven bodies and intertwined tongues weren't enough. That you were real, and you were here with him. You only parted when you felt like your body could slip away from your consciousness. You heaved hard, feeling the gasps of air on your lips as Matt touched his forehead to yours. He whispered against your lips.

"Please. Stay with me."

You closed your eyes. You were tired of running, of letting your rage consume you. You and Matt were two flames. Similar to a fault, but he brought balance to you in his own way. He soothed that anger inside you and showed you that there was more to you than your past, the deadly intents you carried in the company of your wrath. You had a chance to start over with a future that wouldn't end in solitude, with the man who had so much trust in your potential when you didn't. At last, you weren't afraid to take it for yourself, as long as Matt was with you. You nodded; your face bore joyous tears and a genuine smile.

"I'm all yours."

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

[hopeforkitten]

I was inspired by the lines of playing a warlock from the game, and I really wanted to describe the psionic mind fucking from your patron. Yes, it took an unexpectedly large plot for this

Everything was going so well and fast, wasn't it? All such vile problems with illithids and maggots promised to end with a crown of divine power on your master's head. Raphael's stories and dreams have just been passed on to you, and you set off through the back streets of Baldur’s Gate to continue your journey. However, this sunny warm day was suddenly replaced by darkness and cold....

A dull blow to your head and rough palms that pull you by the arms into the alley.

Next, the cloth cloth of the bag is on you, your twisted body and the smell of dust. Gradually, he was completely blown out by the icy wind as the noises of the two loud kidnappers grew louder. They argued and grunted until your head was completely lost in space due to the chaotic shaking.

Soon the cold disappeared, the smaller bag remained on your head, and your hands were handcuffed. You were led for a long time, supported by scaly hands, through the corridors in relative silence.

The bag was abruptly ripped off your head and you were blinded by a golden light. Your eyes adjusted in a few seconds and you stared at the huge figure in front of you. The devil was sitting on the throne and you realized that it was Mephistopheles. There were removed portraits in Raphael's archive, and when they were examined, the most unsuitable for his style was found. They were similar in face, but the style of clothing, facial hair and the shape of the horns were definitely not in Raphael's preference. The portrait was engraved on the frame "Archdevil of Cania Mephistopheles, beloved father" you then winced when reading and Raphael's brief answer was enough to understand their relationship to each other.

But now he is in front of you and you swallow realizing the depth of your position in hell.

Its horns stretch upwards and then to the sides, separating like a red deer. He has a beard on his red face, and his wings hang loosely behind his back. A black robe exposes the chest and hides everything else, you wonder if there are hooves under this dark cloth.

The golden eyes sparkle at you with interest, and the face smiles like a winner.

"So you're Raphael's special interest, aren't you. Tell me how my son is doing."

He throws a brief hand gesture, leaving you at a loss. What should I tell him? Is Raphael okay?

"Em... He makes deals and conducts typical devilish business"

Your mouth dries up from such a weak potential of eloquence. You are nervous and look down at your hands, they are in iron shackles and covered with frost, your hands are pale and how strange that you do not feel cold. The desire to move them loses out to weakness, which, along with the cold, spreads from the iron on your hands.

"No, little lamb, I want to hear the answers. They say he is more active than ever, what inspires him to do this?"

Again, my head is empty, what kind of question is this anyway?

"Em... his ambitions? He's your son, what else can you expect from him. And by the way, I think he won't really like it if I say too much..."

You blurted out your thoughts as if they could change your position. Nevertheless, keeping at least something in mind seemed like hard work. The power emanating from the archdevil made you lower your head and press your neck into your shoulders.

"That's how things are... Then let's make it easier"

Mephistopheles shifted his support to one hand and looked somewhat disappointed. He lifted his wrist up and with a lazy movement of his fingers, pain pierced you. It was as if these fingers pierced your temple, and an invisible force prevented you from pulling away or indicating your pain. The last thing you see clearly is the face of the archdevil in front of you before your gaze is covered with white smoke.

Further events continued to happen without your will. You hear Mephistopheles' questions, you hear your mouth answering him, but the pain in your head makes you want only to lean back and squeeze something in your teeth.

Your head turned out to be a place of battle because you clearly felt two presences. One is seeking from Mephistopheles, and the other is protecting from your patron. The first one inexorably cut through the passages in your brain as Raphael's defense retreated further and further. It was unbearable that you couldn't even show your trembling. There was a taste of blood in your mouth, and warm trickles flowed from your nose when you felt that Raphael's presence had disappeared. Before you is the laughter of the devil, and then the sounds when you talk about the Crown of Karsus, that one of the thieves was an old guest of Raphael, about the plans of the dead trinity and about such lucky adventurers that they almost handed the crown into the hands of his son and, of course, about his plans to conquer hell.

Your story ended, and you felt that any intrusion into your head had stopped.

The haze in your eyes remained only along the contour when you were forced to look up exactly into the face of Mephistopheles.

"Tell me, little lamb, does my son love you?"

He leaned forward a little while sitting on the throne, waiting for your independent answer.

"I... I don't know

You spoke uncertainly. It was unpleasant to move your lips while droplets of blood from your nose flowed into your mouth, and you couldn't stop them with your shackled hands. You cringed, expecting another intervention in your head, but it did not come. Only the Archdevil's evil and low laughter followed.

- Of course he loves, otherwise he wouldn't have been so compliant in protecting your little head and you'd be dead. He had the opportunity to defend his plans, but he didn't do it.

He leaned back in his chair and he didn't even need to voice an order for you to be taken away, he just waved his hand towards the doors.

This time you were led through the corridors without a bag on your head, but after all you were not up to examining the interior. Soon the golden environment turned to gray and you were thrown into a prison cell. Three cold walls of iron bars and one cold wall of stone, next to other similar rooms. At first glance, they are empty, but in the next one you notice a lump of clothes, it seems bones are visible at the edges. This image of a former prisoner flashed through your mind as you leaned against the wall and slid down it powerlessly. The cold enveloped you like a blanket when you felt the air burning your lungs more and more.

It is not known how much time has passed, but someone was shaking you, there was only a warm dark spot in front of your eyes, and a hum in your ears instead of a voice. It is interrupted by a sharp pop and a flash when, instead of the cold of kania, the heat of averno pinches you.

Your vision thaws and you understand the picture. Raphael is hugging you to him in the middle of the portal room. He is on one knee when your back is on the other, and his hands are hugging your face, threatening to leave a characteristic burn on it. There are new emotions in his face-worry and regret.

"My treasure, I'm so sorry."

He's talking to you.

Someone quickly distracts his attention. His face returns to its usual expression when he barks an order in response.

Your jaw thawed only after you were loaded into a warm regenerating pool, right in your clothes so that it would not burn your cooled skin. Only your head was lying on a cushion by the pool, and Raphael was sitting next to you, holding his hand in your hair.

"I... Raphael.... he asked, and I had no choice...."

You wanted to apologize and tried to find the words, but they didn't come to you.

"Shhh... Sweet, it doesn't matter. It's not your fault."

He told you to be silent and his words thawed your soul.

It's important that you're here. It begged to jump off Raphael's tongue, but he restrained himself. He's already fallen too low today. It is unlikely that Mephistopheles really cared about his son's plans, he only wanted to harm him. And there was no better way to do it than through you, a concentration of his potential power held together by affection.

[ao3statistics]

Guide to all charts on this blog

The "most popular ships" and "most popular tags" charts are most often connected to a certain character.

Please not that the number of percentages in my pie charts correlate to the numbers in the chart and NOT the overall number of hits I got.

Meaning: All the hits displayed in the chart make up 100% and if I get many hits off Ao3 not all the hits will be displayed in the charts and the 100% will be made up from the most popular hits only (which are then displayed in the pie chart).

Long story short: I let Excel convert the real numbers I make the pie charts of into percentages.

I try to make my charts as easily accessible as possible. This includes:

writing that isn't too small

numbers and writing in black instead of grey etc.

colours that are easily distinguishable (no too dark colours next to each other etc.)

no colours from the red/green spectrum directly next to each other because some Tumblr users might have red-green colour blindness

colours that won't make you fall asleep

colours that (in combination with each other) won't give you an epileptic episode from looking at them

everything written outside of pie charts instead of outside and inside for easier comprehension

the same kind of chart for the same categories (pie charts for ships, bar charts for the most popular tags etc.)

I cannot account for everything though and might make mistakes. Some of my earlier charts might also not really conform to the above in all aspects.

Current Poll

Events

Most popular ships on Ao3

Avatar – The Last Airbender

Most popular Atla ships

Aang

Azula

Jet

Sokka

Toph Beifong

Zuko

Avatar – Legend of Korra

Most popular LoK ships

BTS

Jungkook | JK

Kim Taehyung | V

Danny Phantom

Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

DC

Most popular DC's Legends of Tomorrow ships

Most popular The Flash (TV 2014) ships

Alfred Pennyworth

Bette Kane (Bat-Girl | Flamebird)

Cassandra Cain (Batgirl | Orphan | Black Bat)

Cissie King-Jones (Arrowette)

Clark Kent/Kal-El (Superman)

Conner Kent/Kon-El (Superboy)

Damian Wayne/Damian al Ghul (Robin)

Dick Grayson (Robin | Nightwing)

Duke Thomas (Signal)

Eddie Bloomberg (Kid Devil)

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)

Helena Wayne (The Huntress)

Jason Todd (Robin | Red Hood)

Jean-Paul Valley (Azrael | Batman)

Joker

Kate Kane (Batwoman)

Koriand'r (Starfire)

La'gaan (Lagoon Boy)

Lucius Fox

Lukas "Luke" Fox (Batwing)

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

Ra's al Ghul

Raven

Rose Wilson (Ravager)

Roy Harper (Arsenal | Speedy | Red Arrow)

Shayera Hol (Hawkgirl | Hawkwoman)

Selina Kyle (Catwoman)

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

Talia al Ghul

Tim Drake (Robin | Red Robin)

Trigon

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Wally West (The Flash | Kid Flash)

Yara Flor (Wonder Girl)

Diabolik Lovers

Laito

Kanato

Ayato

Grishaverse

Kaz Brekker

The Lord of the Rings/TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms

Boromir (Son of Denethor II)

Legolas "Greenleaf"

Peregrin "Pippin" Took

Underswap Sans (Undertale)

Most popular tags on Ao3 connected to Underswap Sans (Undertale)

Most popular tags on Ao3

Avatar – The Last Airbender

BTS

Most popular languages of BTS fanfictions

DC

Most popular tags connected to DC's Legends of Tomorrow

Most popular tags connected to The Flash (TV 2014)

Popularity of the Batman members according to Ao3 tags

Barbara Gordon (Batgirl | Oracle)

Billy Batson (Shazam | Captain Marvel)

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Cassandra Cain (Batgirl | Orphan | Black Bat)

Damian Wayne/Damian al Ghul (Robin)

Dick Grayson (Robin | Nightwing)

Duke Thomas (Signal)

Jason Todd (Robin | Red Hood)

Ra's al Ghul

Selina Kyle (Catwoman)

Yara Flor (Wonder Girl)

Diabolik Lovers

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[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty: "The Interview"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re struggling to finish writing an article at The Bulletin when your work day is unexpectedly interrupted.

Or

Those two men clearly aren't chauffeurs and they are definitely not taking you to an interview.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: This installment beings our descent into the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments. Not until you get to "The Aftermath" do you begin to see comfort which is Part fifty-eight. Just a head's up for those who can't handle no comfort without all of the installments posted. We also from now on begin to get occasional Matt POVs! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here, and if you're enjoying it let me know!!

Running your hands through your hair, you stared blankly at your computer monitor. You had almost finished your article, though your word count was just a bit under what you needed it to be for an upcoming issue. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush the longer you stared at the document, willing more thoughts to come to you. With a loud, frustrated groan, you threw your face in your hands. A second later you heard the telltale sound of Katy’s computer chair wheeling back towards your cubicle.

“Struggling still?” she asked.

“Yes,” you whined into your hands. “I can’t think of two hundred more words to say about this upcoming event of which I personally don’t care about.”

“I hear that,” Katy sighed out. “Why don’t you just step away for a bit? No one else is here, Ellison won’t care. Go visit your man or something.”

“Can’t,” you said, sliding your hands down your face. “Court day today. His phone is off and I can’t exactly barge into the courtroom.”

“I mean you could,” Katy replied, shooting you a grin. “Bet he’d have some frustrations of his own to work out, if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself back into your chair. “Katy,” you groaned, “why is it always about sex with you?”

“Have you suddenly gone blind?” she shot back, ignoring the look you sent her at the comment. “Your man is smoking hot. Like sure, he sounds absolutely sweet and smart and wonderful and charming from everything else you’ve told me, but like, don’t tell me you’re not always wanting to bang him when he walks into a room. Because I will not believe you.”

"Okay, you're not entirely wrong," you conceded, "but there's vastly more to that man than sex, Katy."

"Of course there is," she cooed, suddenly adopting a teasing tone. "Because you love him. You want to marry him. You want to fuck his brains out and have an entire horde of fucking beautiful little babies with him."

You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. "Something along those lines, I suppose," you said with a laugh. You abruptly shot her a stern look as her eyes went wide at your admission, pointing a firm finger at her chest. "But that is strictly between us, Katy. You hear me? I don't need to scare him away."

Katy exaggeratedly rolled her eyes back at you. "Oh please, that man is practically married to you already," she said. "Sending lunches to you, walking you home from the office. Asking you to move in on your terms . Buying you expensive flowers when you have a bad day. Taking long ass road trips to spend the holidays with your family."

Your brows furrowed as you glanced back at your computer monitor. "That…doesn't mean he's thinking about marriage," you said slowly. 

"Doesn't it?" Katy shot back, brows raised. 

"No, it just means–"

Your sentence was cut short when you heard your name called through the office. Both you and Katy exchanged a look before you hesitantly rose to your feet. Two large men in suits were standing by the main office door, one of them with a very noticeable scar along his forehead. Both of them had dark, short cropped hair and stern expressions. Your palms began to sweat at the sight of them, your hands balling into fists at your sides. Even under their dark suits you could see their muscles, and the possible shape of something far more dangerous and deadly. 

"That's me," you answered, trying hard to sound like you weren't quickly becoming nervous. "Can I help you?"

"We were asked to invite you for an interview," the man with the scar told you, a false polite smile flashing at you across the room. 

Your brows furrowed, your heart beginning to race. "Oh? I–I didn't have any interviews scheduled for today," you replied, voice shaking.

"No, but Mr. Backman would very much like to discuss some things with you," Scar Face continued. 

"Uh, well, now is not really the best time," you told them quickly, cold fear shooting through your body. You could feel Katy's eyes burning a hole into the side of your head as you spoke. "I have a deadline I'm trying to meet right now. But I could schedule something for later this week?"

The man beside Scar Face crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms becoming more prominent with the gesture. You swallowed hard in response, eyes drawn to his intimidating figure; they were obviously trying to scare you and it was very much working. Your fists curled tighter, nails beginning to bite into your skin.

"Well you see," Not Scar Face said slowly, holding your stare unblinkingly as he spoke, "Mr. Backman sent a car for you to come for an interview now. He doesn't exactly do rescheduling."

"You're uh, sure about that?" you asked weakly. 

"Very sure about that," Scar Face agreed. 

Licking your lips nervously, you tried not to externally show how much you were internally panicking. You didn't seem to have a way out of this. They were currently blocking your only exit, and judging by the strange way their suit coats were fitting them, you were certain there was a gun under at least Scar Face’s jacket. It was currently just you and Katy here at the office, too; no other witnesses or hope for any backup were around. And you doubted you could make a call to police, stall these men long enough for them to get here, and then manage to have any sort of excuse to get these men arrested. And if you somehow did manage that, you were certain more men would come for you. And they’d probably be a lot less pleasant and cordial than these two currently were. Not to mention, if you did the wrong thing here, you could be putting Katy in harm's way.

No, you were going to have to go with them, and if they didn't kill you, Matt certainly would after this. 

"Alright, well, do you mind if I just use the bathroom real quick before we go?" you asked carefully, nails biting further into your sweat-dampened palms. 

Not Scar Face was about to respond, his mouth opening as he managed the first syllable, but Katy popped up in her cubicle beside you and briefly startled the two men. Their attention immediately shifted to her short frame, both of them tensing as they took in the sight of her. You saw Scar Face’s hand inching towards the inside of his suit coat, but Katy’s eyes were only on you when she spoke. 

"You need a new tampon before you go?" she asked loudly, ignoring how the two men pulled faces at her question. Her eyes remained fixed on you as she threw out the question you'd both agreed on in the event one of you were ever in a dangerous situation. 

"Yes, actually,” you told her, shooting her a strained smile. “I could use another.”

“Just make it quick,” Scar Face snapped from across the room. “Mr. Backman doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Your attention focused back on the two men across the room as Katy bent down and rummaged through her purse for an actual tampon. Your hand was searching blindly along your desk for your phone as you held their gaze, trying to come across as inconspicuous as you could. 

“Of course,” you said, forcing the strained smile to remain on your face as your hand finally collided with it. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” you assured them as you slowly slipped the device into your pocket.

You turned, breath feeling like it was catching in your throat and stomach roiling uncomfortably with nerves. You focused on Katy, her eyes still locked only on you as she dramatically held up the tampon so the men across the office could see she was indeed handing you one.

“Here,” she said loudly, crossing the space towards you. As you accepted the tampon from her, she quickly whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Call the cops when you leave?”

“Ah, thank you!” you said, nodding faintly.

She sent you a tense smile before you turned and tried to walk as casually as you could towards the women’s bathroom just in the hallway near your cubicle. You pushed the door open, fighting the tremor in your hands as you did, and continued all the way to a stall before locking yourself in. Hands still shaking, you took a moment to catch your breath, tossing the tampon on the bathroom floor. 

You needed to call Matt.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you pulled up your contacts and immediately dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear, but just as you suspected, it went straight to his voicemail. Because he was in court and he always had his phone turned off when he was in court. Closing your eyes, you whispered a curse into the bathroom stall. He’d already recessed for lunch just over an hour ago, you had no idea when he’d be out of court for the day and see your message. But you had to leave one anyway, hoping that he’d get it. 

At the beep you took a deep, shuddering breath and began your message, trying not to be too loud in case the men were somehow waiting near the bathroom.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem,” you began nervously. “There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” You paused, eyes closing as you tried to keep your breathing even–falling into a panic attack would be a terrible idea right now. “I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

Your mouth felt like it was going dry and you swallowed hard, trying to talk faster. You didn’t know how much longer you could pretend you were just using the bathroom. 

“It’s only Katy and I at the office,” you continued in a rush. “She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” You exhaled a shaky breath, the full weight of the situation you were trapped in hitting you hard. “You were right,” you whispered into your phone. “When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.” 

Chewing your lip, your heart thundering in your chest, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes as a multitude of fears raced frantically through your mind. Would Matt even get this message in time to help? How would he even find where they were taking you? What did Backman even want with you? 

And were you even going to make it out of this alive?

Quickly you brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek with the back of your free hand. Fighting down a wave of nausea, you shakily whispered into your phone, “I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” You paused one brief moment, blinking back tears. “I love you, Matt,” you breathed out, voice so quiet even to your own ears.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you hung up. Once again you wiped away the tears that had fallen from your cheeks before you exited the bathroom stall on unsteady legs. You began to slide your phone back into your pocket, but then you briefly paused, pulling it back out and looking down at the little device. They’d surely take your phone from you, probably destroy it so no one could track you with it, right? It’s not like they’d just let you make some calls and shoot some texts with it, so what was the point in bringing it with you? Maybe if you left it behind you’d seem more like a clueless and harmless reporter thinking you were really just going for an interview. Maybe that could work in your favor. 

You could do that. You could play innocent and dumb. So innocent and dumb you didn’t think to grab your phone–because who doesn’t carry their phone? Naive and clueless air-headed people, right? Especially someone who wasn’t thinking they were about to be kidnapped.

With shaking hands, you tossed your phone onto the bathroom counter away from you. Your stomach felt like it was sinking to the floor as you tossed away your only lifeline before walking straight into certain danger. Exhaling one last long breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way out of the bathroom.

Katy spun around on her office chair, her back rigid where she sat. The two men were still standing in front of the exit, arms crossed and looking quite intimidating. Walking towards them felt incredibly wrong, everything in your body screaming not to. You wished you could fight like Matt in this moment, wished you could knock them both out and get you and Katy out of the building–but you weren’t Matt. You weren’t Daredevil. You were just a reporter who’d made a mistake in your investigation and you were about to pay for it.

“Hey, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Katy asked you, her eyes clearly trying to tell you something else.

“Yeah, of course,” you told her, forcing that strained smile back onto your face.

“Good, I got you tonight, alright?” she replied.

“Thank you,” you answered, your eyes also trying to tell her something else.

Forcing your feet to carry you forward, you nervously approached the two burly men who looked irritated and impatient. You tried to wipe your sweaty palms against your dress pants as you stopped in front of them, your heart still wildly thrumming in your chest. 

“Let’s go,” Scar Face grumbled, gesturing with his head down the hall towards the elevator.

You nodded stiffly, fighting to keep your eyes from dropping down to the outline of the gun in his suit coat. He turned and began walking and you followed on trembling legs, Not Scar Face stalking down the hall behind you. As Scar Face hit the elevator call button, you tried to fight down another wave of nervous nausea. You needed to keep your cool, you needed to play a part, and you needed to do it believably. Because it might be your only way out of this.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat and trying to fight the waver in your voice, “what exactly is Mr. Backman’s interest in this unexpected interview?”

Not Scar Face’s attention shifted towards you and you refrained from flinching under his stare, his cold eyes studying you. You tried to keep your breathing steady as you held his gaze, very much trying to look like a curious and naive journalist.

“You can ask him yourself soon enough,” Not Scar Face told you.

The elevator doors opened, revealing that familiar empty and small space that now seemed terrifying to you. Scar Face threw out a hand, holding the doors before he glanced back at you, raising his brows expectantly. Forcing that strained smile back onto your face, you stepped in and muttered a polite ‘thank you’ as you did. 

You were just a naive, stupid little journalist after all. Not a threat. 

Both large men stepped in after you, Scar Face pushing the button for the main floor. The doors soon closed, trapping you in the elevator with the pair of them standing directly in front of you. Blocking any chance of you just bolting out of the elevator when the doors opened. Anxiously, your eyes darted up above their heads, your focus on the numbers quickly descending to the first floor. 

A minute later the doors opened, both men stepping out before you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued to silently follow behind Scar Face as he led you out of the main doors of the building. Your eyes instantly landed on the black SUV parked in front of the building, not even remotely surprised that was where Scar Face was leading you. 

He turned when he reached the back door of the SUV, his eyes falling on you. You stopped when you neared him, refraining from flinching when his hand began moving. He ended up outstretching his palm expectantly towards you, your eyes dropping down towards it.

“Mr. Backman is a very private person,” Scar Face told you. “Your phone, please.”

You almost wanted to laugh out loud; of course they were going to take your phone. It was like Kidnapper 101. You knew they were going to.

You made a show of reaching towards your pocket, wanting to be compliant, and then pretending to be shocked that you didn’t actually grab your phone. Your hands even patted both of your pockets a few times, brows furrowing as you glanced down. Behind you, you heard Not Scar Face sigh in annoyance.

“Shit,” you cursed, glancing up at Scar Face. “I think I left it back at the office.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at you for a moment. You continued to keep that puzzled expression on your face as his hand lowered.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if we just double check, will you?” Not Scar Face snapped from behind you.

Before you could respond, you felt a pair of hands patting you down. Fighting back the urge to grimace at his touch, especially as his hands grabbed you in places you knew weren’t necessary, you tried to focus on taking deep, calming breaths. Eventually his hands left you, probably making some gesture to Scar Face because he nodded in front of you before turning and opening the car door. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for you to get into the car. Heart sinking to your feet, you made your way forward and climbed in. Not Scar Face slammed your door shut, opening the passenger door in front of you, though he hesitated as he waited for Scar Face to get into the driver’s side. The moment he did, Not Scar Face hopped in and the doors locked, the sound causing you to flinch.

As the car pulled out onto the street, the hair on the back of your neck rose. You were locked in this car with these two men. You had no way out. You had no idea where you were going. You had no idea if and when Matt was going to get your message or if the police Katy was surely calling would even find you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the car for either as they drove. Your eyes tried to memorize the route as you'd sat trapped. In the backseat, you had been nervously chewing your thumbnail and trying to come up with some plan of escape, but none were coming to you. And when the car pulled down a few side streets that looked disturbingly empty, you felt a sense of unease really settling over you. 

Eventually the car came to a stop in a vacant parking lot in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Scar Face cut the engine and a dreadful silence fell over the three of you. The doors unlocked a few seconds later, both men getting out of the car. Not Scar Face immediately opened up your door, stepping aside when Scar Face rounded the vehicle and pointed a gun at you. Your back went rigid in the seat instantly, your eyes dropping down to the barrel of it.

“Get out,” he ordered.

Hands fumbling nervously, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid out of the back seat. The cold metal of the gun was instantly at the back of your head, sick churning in your stomach at the feel of it.

“Walk,” he ordered next.

You followed behind Not Scar Face as he headed into the abandoned warehouse. Two other armed men were inside already, greeting your two kidnappers with nods of their heads. Eyes shifting behind them, you noticed a metal table and two metal chairs set up. The barrel of the gun dug into the back of your head, urging you forward.

“Sit,” Scar Face demanded.

Nervously you headed towards one of the chairs, your legs feeling like they were about to give out. You slowly sunk into the metal chair, adrenaline and fear coursing through you. Scar Face lowered into the other chair, resting the gun on the table and training it right on your chest. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“Now,” Scar Face began, the three men standing behind him armed with guns and just as intimidating, “I want you to start talking. What do you know about Daredevil? Who is he?”

Your mouth immediately went dry. “What?” you asked, taken aback.

Scar Face leaned forward along the table, eyes narrowing. “Who is Daredevil? We know he protected you once before from Figureroa’s men. We know he has a soft spot for Bulletin journalists. You clearly know him.”

“I–I have no idea who he is,” you said earnestly. “He showed up out of nowhere that night he saved me. I’ve never seen him since, I swear!”

“I’m not buying that,” Scar Face told you. “Now I know you’ve been looking into Wayland. And I know he’s been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately. Clearly the two of you are working together. And Backman would love nothing more than if we brought him his head."

“No, we’re–we’re not working together!” you pushed, eyes wide. 

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought it would give out. You weren't here for an interview with Backman you quickly realized–you were the bait for Matt. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” you urged, panic flooding you knowing Matt would walk in on a trap. "I'm just a journalist!"

“Ugh, come on!” one of the men ground out behind Scar Face. “Just shut her up. We can use her to try to lure that asshole for now. And if he doesn’t show, then we can start with the questions.”

Scar Face’s jaw tightened as he studied you closely. You couldn’t hide the way your body was shaking in the metal chair, especially at the mention of questions–you didn't think they would just be talking to you. Slowly, he lowered the gun to the table, turning and rising up to his feet as he ran his hands over his face. Your eyes immediately dropped down to the loaded gun sitting across the table from you, heart pounding so loud in your own ears you couldn’t hear anything else.

Would it be possible for you to take that gun and try to shoot your way out of here? Was that your way out of this?

________

“Oh man, I could totally use a drink at Josie’s after that,” Foggy complained beside Matt, running a hand over his face. “I mean that witness testimony took four hours!”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, nodding his head. “I’m pretty sure that fried my brain, too, Fog.”

Matt adjusted his briefcase over his shoulder with his free hand, the other holding Foggy’s arm as Foggy led him down the courthouse steps. 

“You want to call your future fiance and see if she wants to come out?” Foggy teased, nudging Matt’s shoulder with his own.

Matt grinned in response, laughing lightly. “I can see if she’s available tonight, yeah,” he agreed.

"Ahh!" Foggy exclaimed loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at Matt. "So you don't deny she may be the future Mrs. Murdock!"

Still laughing lightly and shaking his head, Matt slipped his phone out of his dress pant’s pocket with his free hand. For a moment his finger felt around the edge of the phone before holding down the button to turn it back on. Seconds later he heard the buzz of the device as it kicked back to life.

"Your silence is really saying a lot, man," Foggy pointed out, leading Matt down the sidewalk and back towards the office. 

"Is it?" Matt shot back, shooting Foggy a playful grin.

The vibration and beep of Matt's phone drew his attention back to the device. That notification meant he had a new, unheard voicemail. Brows furrowing, he navigated his phone, pushing the button to bring up his voicemail. He held the phone to his ear as Foggy shot him a curious glance. 

"What's up?" he asked Matt. "You look confused."

"She sent me a voicemail," Matt told him, speaking over the automated voice that was reading off the name that had called and the time the message had been left. "But she knew we had court. She never calls and leaves messages when we do."

"Maybe it was important?" Foggy suggested.

A frown drew across Matt’s mouth the moment the message began to play. There was a nervous breath and a long pause, something you never did when you left messages. You normally began them with your cheerful or hurried tone. Something wasn't right. And his fear was confirmed the moment he heard your scared voice speaking into his ear.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem. There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” 

There was a pause after your words, Matt instantly stopping on the sidewalk at the mention of Backman’s name. Foggy came to a stop, too, shooting Matt a confused look.

"What?" he asked.

But Matt didn't respond, too focused on the sound of your terrified voice.

“I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

At the mention of a gun, Matt's hand gripped his phone tighter, his entire body tensing. You were in danger and you'd called for help. You'd called for help two hours ago. And he'd been stuck in court while men with guns had taken you. Anger burned in Matt–a burning white hot rage that was sure to quickly consume him.

“It’s only Katy and I at the office. She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” 

Matt's heart ached at the shaky exhale he heard you make over the message, his jaw tightening. You were terrified and you needed him and he hadn't been there for you. 

“You were right. When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.”

His heart was thundering in his own ears, almost pounding louder than the sound of your nervous whisper in his ear. 

"I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” There was a brief pause before he heard your voice so quiet one last time. “I love you, Matt.”

Tearing the phone from his ear, he slammed his finger on the button to end the message. Matt ripped his hand from Foggy's arm immediately.

"They took her," Matt snarled, enraged.

"What?" Foggy asked, panic flooding his voice. "Who?"

Matt said your name, his voice breaking on it. "Backman took her."

With a growl Matt tore his briefcase strap from over his head, tossing it roughly at Foggy. He fumbled but managed to catch it.

"Matt, what're you doing?" he asked nervously.

"I'm going to find her," he answered, his tone already darkened by the Devil when he spoke. "And so help me if they hurt her I will tear them apart ."

Spinning on his heel, ignoring Foggy's panicked voice calling after him, Matt darted down an alley. Once out of sight, he clambered up a fire escape towards the roof, racing across Hell's Kitchen towards his apartment for his suit. Spurred on by adrenaline and fear, he leapt from roof to roof without a care for himself, only one thing on his mind–he needed to find you.

[murfeelee]

IWTV INSP - MerMay Pt2: Siren Nature

"Something was very wrong with Louis. No one else would have noticed but the three royal Pointe Du Lac children had been tuned to each other and Grace could read the tightness in Louis’s walk, the note of falseness in his smile and eyes, and the subtle press of his lips that meant that he was in pain. Louis’s new friend, Mr Lioncourt, had disappeared a few days ago and Louis had been like a ghost ever since. Paul had noticed too, knocking on her door last night, and his theory was that Mr Lioncourt had stolen away Louis’s soul. Grace didn’t believe that, but something was deeply wrong and Louis had rebuffed any gentle attempts to find out what.....  "But when Louis had been at family breakfast the other week, days before Mr Lioncourt’s disappearance, Louis had been scratching and Grace had caught his arm. A bronze scale had come off his skin and Louis hadn’t noticed. Grace had palmed the scale discreetly, so that no one else would see...."

-- Excerpts from Part of Your World, by @weather-mood

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

A [FREE SPACE] entry for @vamptember's MerMay VC event!

Just a heads up for those familiar with PoYW: for my gameplay, I've moved ALL of the siren scenes from the fic to Louis' official transformation at the end of the story, into Tidelines; so some of my next posts actually take place out of order from the fic itself.

What I really like about WeatherMood's PoYW fic is how clearly you can see the parallels between siren!Lestat's "deal" with Louis, and vampire!Lestat's "wedding vows" pitch. In PoYW, Les is the Sea Witch who makes a deal with the naive & lovestruck Little Mermaid--it's largely based on Hans Christian Anderson, but with a slight Disney twist. Louis knows Lestat is evil (he massacred Louis' whole ship crew), but Lou also has garbage taste in men. 🤦 But Lestat's deal throws Lou for a loop; it sounds too good to be true, cuz it is. Hans' Sea Witch is more forthcoming about their deal highly likely ending in utter doom; while Ursula deliberately withholds information (her plans to sabotage Ariel & keep her (& King Triton) as a polyp/slave).

Likewise, vampire!Lestat knew good & dang well that Lou had no idea what vampirism really was or entailed; going in blind as a bat into a damned eternity off of nothing but a few "tricks" he'd seen Lestat do (and ofc he compartmentalized seeing Les eat the priests). He turned Lou & babytrapped him so Lou would/could never leave him; just like siren!Lestat traps Louis in a bad deal he knows is anything but temporary/amphibious enough to let Lou to survive on land.

Lestat loves Louis, undoubtedly, but he's also a bonafide monster, ("Is my very nature that of the Devil?"). It's effed up, but Louis loves him, so what can you do. U_U At least Les isn't like Hans' Prince, who treated The Mermaid like trash & loved someone else entirely, only for The Mermaid to willingly die for him anyway, like GIRL. 🤦🤦🤦🤦🤦 Take that knife & go crazy! 🔪

CC CREDITS

- Stained glass windows by @deniisu-sims & Abuk0

- Toe claws & eel tails in beta by me

- (If anyone's wondering, I put Loustat in scale-patterned swimming briefs cuz in the fic they don't actually wear clothes. But my blog's PG-17 goshdarnit! 😅)