#Ellison grab and go

[beehindblueeyes]

This is what I was talking about when I made my original time period post. A lot of the stuff in the convenience store was around at the time but all of it was modern packaging…. IE the shelf of candy vance knocks a kid into

Then some of this stuff in the case it’s straight up modern. Like redbull , that one fizz drink in the glass bottles

I like how the middle shelf has the right Pepsi, Tab and RC cola but then the rest above and below aren’t right 😭 guys please commit.

Not saying that you should switch everything out if this was a real convince store but at least the stuff actually in the shot. Then again no body but my ass who rewatched 300 times to notice details like this notices

[chvoswxtch]

checkmate

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that frank was gone, you were left alone to your own devices. could you protect yourself if trouble came knocking at your door?

warnings: swearing, lots of angst, brief mention of bomb violence, mentions of gun violence, blood, & death

word count: 4k

a/n: buckle up, sluts (i love y'all sm). shit is about to get real. ;) but don't just take my word for it. grab a snack, a drink, & get comfy. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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9:29 pm. 

The catastrophic events of today didn’t feel like they had happened just this morning. They didn’t even feel real at all. They seemed more like glimpses of a purgatory from an alternate dimension that somehow had been implanted into your head. How had your world become so goddamn unrecognizable in less than twelve hours?

Life as you knew it had unraveled right before your eyes in one fell swoop like a cruel magician’s trick. For the first time in months, you were terrified to leave your house again, and there was a gaping pit of loneliness carved out in your stomach.

Because Frank was gone, and he was probably never coming back.

Saline seared along your waterline as your last interaction with him replayed behind your glossy eyes on a loop. He had looked so detached, the usual warmth of his brown eyes snuffed out with a layer of black ice, face completely void of any emotion like a blank canvas.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

He didn’t say anything.

Every comet that flashed across his lips at one of your stupid little jokes. Every tiny gesture that brought him closer into your orbit. Every universe you discovered when he revealed more and more coveted constellations of himself to you. The asteroid he threw with his fists at the bar that night. The rockets he was always ready to launch on your behalf. The way all the planets had aligned just right when he glided with you around the dancefloor made of the stars.

All those intimate moments you carried around in your heart like a locket meant nothing to him.

You had only ever been a job to Frank, and that epiphany broke something inside you that you didn’t think could ever be fixed.

Sitting at your dining table staring off into the void of silence, it felt like you were wandering aimlessly through an abandoned forest in your mind. When was the last time you had felt so…lost? It was difficult to navigate a path when your whole world had been flipped upside down, right as you were ascending to the peak above the clouds. 

Ellison had politely demanded you take a few days off, or work from home, until there was a plan of what to do next regarding your safety. He didn’t know the details of why your security detail had been pulled, but the absence of Frank’s shadow was unmistakable. It was a glaring vacancy not even the darkness could hide. Coupled with the intense gloom of dejection lingering on your face and the desolation melting from your eyes, it wasn’t a hard mystery for him to solve.

Covering your face with your palms, you suddenly felt like a little girl again, hiding under the blankets and covering your eyes to hide from the villainous shadows that lurked in the corners of your room. You remember thinking that if you couldn’t see the phantoms, they couldn’t see you, and then they couldn’t hurt you. 

That logic made sense in your head at the time. Before you learned that monsters are real, and they don’t go away when you hide behind your hands. 

The sharp sound of clamorous repetitive knocking against your front door echoed through the quiet and caused you to jump with a noise of surprise. Glancing over at the clock on your microwave, your brows knit together in confusion as you read the glowing digital numbers. 

10:31 pm.

A second round of impatient knocks had you slowly rising from your chair, tip-toeing around the corner towards your front door as noiselessly as you could, not wanting to alert anyone on the other side of your presence. Leaning up to peek through the peephole, the perplexity weaved between your brows only grew seeing two officers standing outside your door. 

Despite the advice from your gut, curiosity got the better of you, and you unlocked the two locks in place, twisting the knob on the door to pull it open slowly. 

“Can I help you?”

The first officer straightened up when you opened the door, placing his weathered hands on his belt as he eyed you up and down in a way that had discomfort blooming in your lower stomach. 

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

Glancing between the icy gray eyes of the first officer and the sharp aquamarine of the second, your grip on the door knob tightened slightly.

“I am. Who are you?”

The second officer folded his arms over his chest, peering right over your head like he was searching behind you for something, or someone. 

“I’m Officer Walker, this is Officer Cavella. You uh, home alone?”

Something in your gut was setting off all the warning bells and alarms in your brain. The way Officer Walker tilted his head to the side with an ominous twinkle in his eyes, and the slight mocking tone you detected in his voice made you feel like he knew that answer already. Beside him, his partner was still attempting to scope out your place over your shoulders. An eerie feeling crept up your spine, and you pulled the door slightly shut, only leaving it open enough for your frame to fit through as you attempted to keep your voice calm and unaffected.

“I’m sorry, what’s this about?”

Officer Cavella chuckled lightly as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, taking a bold step forward and gesturing towards you with his hand, a large Cheshire grin on his thin lips.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’re here to keep you safe. Just gonna take a look around for any trouble. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you, now would we?”

The pet name he used made your skin crawl, and you detected that same artificial sympathy that had come from his predecessor. You felt like a lamb staring down two wolves with their fangs bared in sinister smiles.

“I…think there’s been some confusion. I already have protection-”

“Had protection. After that bomb fiasco yesterday, you’re not under Anvil’s wing anymore. Right?”

Officer Walker lifted his thick brows in question, a saccharine smirk on his lips, once again daring you to challenge the answers he already seemed to have.

How did he know that? Hadn’t Billy told you Homeland was keeping the details under wraps? That the attack was reported as an accident?

An icy sense of unease caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin. There was only one way either of them would know about the bombing yesterday, and it had your heart thrashing against your ribcage furiously.

“Mr. Russo arranged alternate protection for me already.”

“They running late or something?”

Officer Cavella quipped, cocking his head to the side in an imitation of concern. But the wild look in his piercing eyes gave away his real candor. He took another daring step forward, breaching the boundary of your personal space, and bared his teeth in a crooked grin.

“Tell you what, why don’t you let us take a look around while you wait for them to show up. We can keep you company. Wouldn’t be right to leave a scared girl all by herself-”

“I’m not scared.”

The harsh edge to your voice had the pleased smirks dropping from both their faces, and you could visibly see their patience running thin. Pursing your lips, you attempted to rain in your hazardous temper before it could spark a situation you couldn’t handle alone. Clearing your throat, you brushed a piece of your hair out of your face with your finger as you focused on keeping your voice at a civil decibel.

“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. I don’t need either of you. Have a good night.”

A thick boot wedged itself between the frame and the door, preventing you from shutting it, and your eyes widened slightly when Officer Cavella braced his palm against the door, exerting a show of strength in forcing it back, and you along with it.

“Sorry princess, but we got orders.”

Your lips parted slightly in surprise at the intrepid intrusion, but his words piqued your interest, and your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared up at him.

“Orders from who?”

Officer Walker took a step forward and placed his arm in front of his partner to halt his movements, flashing him a warning glance before flipping a charming smile onto his lips when he turned his attention back to you.

“You know, this will really go a lot smoother if you just cooperate and do what you’re told.”

That one sentence nearly paralyzed you with dread that spread throughout your entire nervous system, threatening to shut it down completely. A sobering thought flickered in your head that if you didn’t play this smart, these men might kill you, or worse. Glancing between them frantically, your mind fought through the cortisol pumping furiously through your bloodstream, and you quickly started to formulate a plan.

Both of these men were far larger than you, and you didn’t know any self defense. They were without a doubt faster than you, and even if you made a run for it with a headstart somehow, they would catch you. You couldn’t fight, and you couldn’t run, which only left you one option.

Do your job. 

Treat this like any other investigation. 

Play your role, get your answers.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you forcefully swallowed your inner combative nature, slipping into a more appeasing version of yourself as you looked between them with a tired smile.

“Can we…start over? Today has been so hectic…and with everything going on, I’m just super on edge. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to take that out on either of you. I apologize. I…appreciate you looking out for me. Please, come in. Can I get either of you some coffee?”

The tension that had been lingering heavily in the space like a suffocating layer of smoke seemed to slowly disappear as the two men exchanged a glance in a secret language you couldn’t understand, turning to face you with their previous artificial smiles plastered on their thin lips.

“Coffee would be great.” 

Officer Cavella had a sickly sweet tone to his voice, and the pleasure in his eyes from your submission turned your blood into molten lava, but you fought to keep your composure, reminding yourself that your life was potentially on the line. 

On the way to the kitchen, you elusively swiped your phone and hid it behind your coffee machine, subtly pressing record on the voice memo app that was on your home screen. Once their coffees were done brewing and the machine was no longer making noise, you cleared your throat and began your interrogation.

“So, you guys must be pretty relieved huh?”

Officer Walker perked up at your words, the hand that was lifting the coffee mug to his mouth pausing in midair. He glanced at his partner curiously before looking back at you from his spot at your dining table.

“About what?”

You feigned confusion as you glanced between them with a light smile on your lips. 

“The evidence that Homeland found? Mr. Russo said they found something in the bomb fragments. It’s a really good thing Mr. Price had already checked out of his hotel room. He got lucky.”

“Looks like that pretty boy doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Wasn’t Price’s hotel room that got blown up. It was one of his escort vehicles.”

For someone that was completely giving himself away, Officer Cavella looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to indirectly insult your intelligence, but he didn’t realize that by trying to prove his superiority to you, he was feeding you everything you needed to confirm your suspicions.

Conveying an expression of mock horror on your face, you braced one of your hands on the counter, placing the other dramatically over your mouth.

“I…I must have misheard him then. I-Oh my God, that’s…terrifying. I couldn’t imagine…knowing I was in danger like that.”

You pretended to shudder, leaning your back against the counter as you shook your head slowly and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Well, despite how it happened, I’m just glad they were able to pull those fingerprints from the fragments.”

“What?”

Officer Walker’s face was twisted up in puzzlement, but there was a specific emotion pooling in his eyes that caught your attention; fear.

“Yeah, I mean…they’re partials, but Mr. Russo said Homeland was pushing them through every database for a match. Didn’t they tell you that?”

Officer Cavella leaned over the dining table as he stared at you in almost a glare, his teeth bared more in a subtle snarl than a smile.

“Didn’t who tell us that?”

“Homeland. They sent you, right?”

Cocking your head to the side slightly, you attempted to feign innocence and perplexity.

“Russo sent us.”

Furrowing your brows slightly, you looked over at Officer Walker and let out a soft laugh with a shake of your head.

“He doesn’t have that authority. He only hires private contractors.”

“He put in a special request with our Captain.”

Officer Walker seemed to speak almost through gritted teeth, a light layer of warning laced through his quick reply to your incessant interrogation, but his patience was far more intact that his partner’s. 

Officer Cavella was the one you could get to break, and you knew just how to get him to shatter.

Aim for his ego. 

Letting out a soft hum in acknowledgment that you allowed to linger for a moment, you turned your attention to Officer Cavella, meeting his predatory gaze with an expression of indifference tied with a smile. 

“You know, it actually makes sense that Homeland didn’t tell you. They don’t usually share information with anyone that doesn’t have the security clearance. I guess you boys aren’t high enough up the ladder.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that your playful jest struck a nerve exactly as you had intended. The skin on his knuckles turned stark white from gripping so tightly onto the ceramic mug, and his jaw was clenched so hard, you thought he might crack his own mandible. 

“I guarantee you we have more clearance than some gossip magazine writer.”

“Newspaper, actually. And investigative journalism, not gossip. You’d be surprised at the kind of clearance I have.”

Although you knew it wasn’t wise to inch closer towards a firecracker that was dangerously close to exploding, you were too fucking close to a lead that could expose these assholes; the first one that had been discovered in months. You couldn’t shy away now. 

The fractures in Officer Cavella’s resolve were already starting to spread like an intricate labyrinth cracking through glass. You just needed to apply a little more pressure to get him to implode into guilty fragments. 

Waving your hand dismissively in his direction, you glanced around your kitchen with a content sigh before facing him with an arrogant smile.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who really sent you. They’ll have those full prints in just a few hours, and this whole thing will be over. Those cowards will finally go down, and I can’t fucking wait to cover the trial.”

There was an extra bite to your tone as you emphasized the word coward, and both of them instantly sat up straighter with squared shoulders. The neutral expression of innocence was still coveting your features like a mask, but the edges were steadily beginning to rip. 

All at once there was a quick shift in the room and an unspoken aura of understanding between the three of you was swiftly forming over all of your heads like a raincloud. They suddenly seemed to sober up to the motion that you were playing them like pawns.

“There won’t be any prints.”

Officer Cavella seemed to be vibrating with anger, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Walker reach to his hip to place his hand over his gun. There was a very real chance that you were about to die, but it didn’t matter. 

Because you would fucking win in the end.

You just needed one of them to make that last, foolish move across the chess board.

One final move to win the game.

“Why not?”

There was no reason to bother hiding behind a facade now. That mask of innocence had been ripped wide open, and even though your hands trembled with fear, your jaw was set in defiance. Your voice was firm and accusatory, daring him to prove his “superior” intelligence to you again. It was incredibly ironic he was being outsmarted by being so fucking stupid.

As you stared Officer Cavella down in a glaring challenge, you waited for that spark to reach the edge of his temper.

And the explosion was glorious.

“Because we don’t use our bare hands you stupid bitch. You think we’re that dumb, we wouldn’t use gloves?”

Checkmate.

Officer Walker slammed his fist down on the dining table in complete frustration towards his partner.

“God damnit Cavella, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cavella rose from his chair so fast that he knocked it backwards, glaring between you and his partner as he pointed an angry finger towards you.

“You think I’m gonna let this whore talk to me like I’m fucking stupid-”

Walker stood to his full height quickly, shoving his own chair back as he got in his partner’s face and jabbed his finger into his chest. 

“You are fucking stupid! You just sold us out because you can’t control your goddamn temper!”

Cavella shoved his hand away in frustration as he scoffed, gesturing towards you again.

“Whatever, we’re gonna kill the bitch anyway-”

“No. He wants her alive. If we bring her back with one scr-”

“Who?”

Both of them turned to face you as your voice rose in volume to cut above their bickering. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that wasn’t infected with anger, and you were struggling to contain your own rage.

“Who wants me alive? Who’s the fucking pussy behind the curtain leading the rest of you around?”

Cavella swiftly pulled the gun from the holster on his hip as he took a step towards you, cocking the hammer with his thumb while snarling at you.

“Keep running that fucking mouth of yours and you won’t get to solve that mystery, Nancy Drew.”

As you went to retaliate, you noticed a shadow flash past the window in your kitchen, and your brows knit together in confusion. You were too pissed off to even be afraid as you glanced between Cavella and Walker.

“Who’s outside?”

Walker instantly stilled his advance at your words, his grip tightening on the handle of his gun that was still tucked into his holster while looking over at you in skepticism.

“What?”

“I just saw someone outside. Is that your fearless fucking leader? You gonna show your face like a man?! Or hide in the dark like a fucking p-“

Walker tugged you backwards roughly by your arm when you went to storm towards the window, clamping his hand tightly over your mouth to cut off your furious yells. His icy gray eyes were wide with apprehension as he hissed.

“Shut up. No one is with us.”

Glancing over at his partner, he silently motioned with his head towards him to go investigate. Cavella slowly began to approach the window with his gun in his hands, loosely aimed at whatever target he was about to discover. 

All of a sudden the sound of shattering glass pierced the silence, and your eyes widened seeing a metal canister rolling against the tiled floor of your kitchen. It exploded into a thick fog of ivory smoke that steadily began to fill the small space. Cavella began firing blindly through the gaping hole in your window, and you took the opportunity to run while Walker was distracted and yelling at his partner. 

You could hear Walker’s heavy footsteps pounding on the floor behind you, yelling your name, and you screamed when a bullet whizzed by your head and punched through the drywall in front of you. 

The second you reached your bathroom, you attempted to slam the door shut, but Walker caught the spine of your door and wedged it open with his hand. Turning around, you forced all your body weight back against it, struggling against his dominant strength. Glancing around in a frenzy, you reached your foot out towards the counter of the sink in front of you, and with a surge of adrenaline, you let out a feral scream as you shoved both of your feet forward against the sink to give you momentum against the door. A satisfying crunch sounded in your ears as Walker howled in pain and retracted his broken hand, causing the door to finally slam shut behind you. You swiftly twisted the lock into place on the door before backing away.

The sound of bullets raining down in rapid succession had you covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut as you attempted to breathe. Your lungs burned from running as fast as you ever had in your life, and with anxiety overflowing in your bloodstream, you were on the brink of hyperventilation. 

“Who the fuck are y-”

Bang bang.

The echo of two bullets cracking through a skull you could only assume belonged to Walker had your breath hitching in your throat. Muffled through the sound of your own labored breathing, you could hear his body drop to the floor just a few feet away from the door with a heavy thud. Your eyes went wide with terror as the thundering roar of heavy footsteps began to slowly strike closer and closer outside the door.

No. 

This isn’t how this ends.

This is not it.

Eyes frantically darting around your bathroom for something to use as a weapon, they landed on the horrified reflection of your own face. There was a small cut above your eyebrow from where a shard of glass had nicked you that was actively bleeding. Your pupils were completely blown wide open with hysteria, and your waterline was shimmering with unshed tears. You hadn’t seen yourself look this small and broken since you were a child.

Without thinking, you smashed your fist against the glass, sending hazardous shards falling into pieces in the sink like shiny raindrops. Grabbing the biggest one, you didn’t even flinch when it sliced deeply into the meat of your palm, and you only sent the jagged edge further into your skin as you clamped your fingers around it tightly, slicing them in the process. Your brain barely registered the warm, wet feeling of blood starting to cascade from the wounds on your hand, dripping onto the floor below you steadily like a leaky faucet.

Staring at the door in front of you in complete terror, you held the makeshift weapon out in front of yourself. The way the lights above you caught the reflection of the glass everytime it shook in your hand caused spheres of white to dance along the bathroom walls, as if there were a mirrorball on the ceiling.

As soon as the threatening shadow appeared right underneath the door, you willed the last shard of strength in your body to take over.

“Stay the fuck back! I have a gun, and I swear to God I will shoot you!”

Panic trembled in your voice almost as much as it did in your hands. On the other side of the door you heard a faint rustling noise, and then there was a gentle tapping of knuckles quietly knocking against the wood, accompanied by a voice you would recognize anywhere.

“Sweetheart?”

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary

[dried-mushroom]

Please provide us with some Harlan fic 🙏 anything you want!!

Teach me

Summary: Harlan was known to like shooting pool so how could he not teach his pretty wife how to play it with him?

Harlan Ellison x Fem! reader

Warnings: Suggestive themes, slight dry humping

You both sat there, curled up together on the velvet tawny couch, your head resting against Harlan's shoulder as his head was buried deep in one of his favourite books. You had begun to draw small patterns on his bare arm with your finger when he looked over at you curiously, smirking at the action. He placed the book splayed open on his lap and grabbed his smoking pipe and lighter from the table beside the couch and lit the pipe, blowing a cloud of smoke into your face laughing. You rolled your eyes and hit his arm lightly.

"Are you bored, my love?"

Sarcasm dripped in his words as he looked at you, eyebrow quirked, from above where his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.

"As much I adore your company, Harlan, a girl can only sit still for so long hmm?" You mumbled against his bicep. Harlan dog-eared the page he was on and placed the book on the table and swiftly got up, dragging you with him by the hand throughout his eccentric home into the basement where he had an ornate pool table set up in the middle, colourful balls nestled neatly in the rack, Harlan let go of you and placed his glasses on a nearby bench and leant against the pool table, holding two cues in his hand,

"C'mon pretty girl, play with me since you clearly don't enjoy leisurely activities."

You knew he was teasing you and you couldn't say you didn't enjoy it You smiled and rolled your eyes at his antics and grabbed a pool cue off him and sighed exaggeratedly,

"You're going to have to teach me. I've never played before."

His smile widened, and he dropped his pool cue down, eager to teach you one of the things he enjoys (and totally not excited he'll have you bent over the pool table underneath him.). You noticed how his gaze shifted, turning darker and he romantically extended a hand to you,

"It'll be an honour, my dear."

You grabbed his hand and he spun you around so you were in front of his and bent you over the table, his body leaning over yours, his warm breath fanning over your ear, you tried to ignore your obvious frustration but it got a little hard when Harlan jutted his hips against your ass when he adjusted your arms to hold the cue correctly, his hand was tight around your waist while the other, he used to demonstrate. It became unbearable when he 'accidently' ground his obvious erection into your plush thighs and ass when he helped you shoot for the first time, his gentle lips ghosted a kiss against the shell of your ear which snapped you out of your haze. What Harlan didn't expect was for you to squirm back against him,

Harlan knew how sexually frustrated you had become with his antics and it was delightfully amusing to him, but he wasn't going to let you give in so easily. So much to your dismay, he pulled away from you, grabbed his pool cue, and walked to the opposite side of the table, a grin threatening to cross his face. You glared at him, partially offended he stopped touching you and partially offended you were that desperate for his touch.

" Honey I think I've taught you enough, I wanna see how you play and maybe if you win, I'll reward you and don't worry I'll go easy on you."

God, you wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face, you thought. You desperately wanted to get back at him for all the teasing from before, so you swallowed your pride and let him reset all the balls.

"Because you're my darling wife and I love you, I think maybe this once, I'll let you start."

You couldn't help but blush at his sweet words, Harlan always had a way with words, that's why he had such great stories. That's what drew you to him, his charisma, his talent and the fact he was stupidly handsome. Driving away those distracting thoughts, you arched your back and lined up your cue in front of the white ball and shot. Luckily for you, you managed to scatter the balls and to your surprise, you managed to sink a striped ball.

It had been a quick game, and Harlan manoeuvred himself behind you with each shot he took, casually brushing a hand over the swell of your ass, sliding his fingers to brush the bare skin of your hip beneath your shirt, each contact making you jump with pleasure. You figured he deserved some payback for all the teasing so you turned into his embrace right before your last shot, your body shielding your hand as it lightly palmed the front of his trousers.

There was only the 8-ball left on the table, which sat perfectly in the middle of the green fabric and to be honest, Harlan was quite proud of you, he was pleasantly surprised that you were just as good as him at pool. It was your turn and you could feel his burning gaze on you, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. Harlan is standing opposite to you, fingers wrapped around his cue tightly in anticipation. You bit your lip (a sight Harlan thoroughly enjoyed) and lined up your cue at an angle and after a few seconds of deliberating, you gave it all and you were ecstatic when you managed to sink the ball. So was Harlan who sauntered over to your side of the table, trapping you between his hips and the wood of the table. He stroked your hair lovingly and smiled down at you, a mysterious glint in his blue eyes,

The end :) I'm sorry it's so short oml

"You want your reward now sweetheart?"

I'm sorry guys I keep saying looked down/ stood overtop, its cuz I'm 5'1 and i keep forgetting Harlan was 5'3 😭

(Also if y'all want I can continue this and write the nsfw ending)

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie, diary, detention ^^

Oh, y'all are getting sick of Eddie fluff fics? Too bad, sorry xoxoxo 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff!

WC: 1.2k

--

“Goddamn Carver,” Eddie mutters to himself, slinging his backpack onto the desk and plopping into the attached chair. “Always running his goddamn mouth and then pulling the ‘But I have basketball practice’ excuse to get outta trouble.” He brings his voice up to a grating falsetto, mocking the jock’s whiny tone. “But does Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson get the same courtesy for his Hellfire campaigns? No, sir, he does not.”

“Wonderful monologue, Mr. Munson,” Mrs. O’Donnell says dryly, heels clacking as she walks through the open doorway. “Perhaps you’ll be a playwright in your next life.”

“Like one lifetime isn’t enough,” Eddie grumbles, low enough so his least favorite teacher can’t hear him. 

O’Donnell peers at him over her horn-rimmed glasses. “You know the drill better than I do, Mr. Munson,” she scoffs with a wry smile. “One hour. No talking, no music, no funny business. You may do homework if you’d like, though I don’t anticipate you choosing now to act like a star student.” 

Eddie slumps down into his seat. He’d already counted all the ceiling tiles last week when he ended up here after shoving Patrick for picking on Dustin Henderson. Guess I’ll start on the floor tiles now, he thinks grimly. 

He makes it to 28 before something catches his eye. In one of the baskets underneath a desk is a purple leather-bound notebook. The way it’s resting halfway out of the basket looks like it had fallen out of a backpack or accidentally left behind. It’s too fancy to only be used for school, and it piques his curiosity. 

“Uh, Mrs. Oh-Dee?” Eddie blurts out, shooting his hand up in the air. “Can I grab a textbook? I think I’m gonna take you up on that homework offer.”

The teacher rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she quips. “And for the last time, stop calling me that.”

But Eddie’s already scrambling to the seat, plucking the journal from its spot and shielding it with a history book. As soon as he opens the cover, his eyes widen. 

This diary belongs to is printed on the first page, with a name handwritten in neat cursive underneath. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes, earning a scowl from O’Donnell. This is your diary. 

Eddie doesn’t have too many classes with you; you’re in mostly honors courses, while he’s in his third senior year. But you do take health together, and he constantly finds himself stealing glances at you whenever he can. 

He knows he shouldn’t read any further; he can close the diary and turn it into the Lost and Found box. But Eddie Munson’s never been known for his impulse control, and before he knows it, he’s skimming the pages. 

Most of the entries don’t draw too much of his attention. There’s one from a few weeks ago about an argument you had with your best friend, but Eddie’s seen you two laughing together since then, so he assumes all’s well. A few days ago, you’d just written, “that history test was a bitch” accompanied by a frowning face. Eddie laughs quietly, knowing you’d probably aced it. 

It’s the entry after that where he finds what he’s looking for. 

Mr. Ellison paired me up with Eddie today! We had to work on an anti-smoking poster together, which was ironic, because he reeked of cigarettes. He asked me what I was doing this weekend, and I thought he was going to ask me out, but he didn’t. Guess he’s not into shy nerdy girls. Then again, who would be?

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach. If you only knew how much he wants to take you to dinner, hold hands across the table, maybe kiss you after splitting an ice cream sundae. He had planned on asking you out that day, only to wimp out at the last second. 

He hastily tears out the page and pulls out a number two pencil that’s sharpened down to a nub. In the margins next to your entry, he draws and arrow and writes:

He’s definitely into shy nerdy girls, but he didn’t think you’d be into loud metalheads. Meet me at my locker tomorrow before health?

He slips the diary into his bag, vowing to put the note in your locker after his prison sentence—erm, detention, is over. 

~

The next day, Eddie waits by his locker in between second and third periods. His heart pounds in his chest, and his stomach is doing that flip-flop thing it does before a gig. He relaxes a bit when he sees you walking towards him, note in hand. 

“Hey,” you say softly, holding up the sheet of paper. “Did you…”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Y-Yeah, that was me,” he admits. 

Your ears heat up, suddenly bashful. When you found the note, you’d assumed it was some prank by one of the jocks. The fact that it actually was Eddie gives you heart palpitations. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” you manage. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me till, y’know, I read it,” Eddie mumbles, hoping you’re not too angry about that. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “So, we’re just snooping through diaries now? A bit juvenile, dontcha think?” But your tone is light, despite the truthfulness of your statement. 

“It, um, wasn’t my finest moment,” Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he reaches into his bag, “which is why I wanted to show you this.” He pulls out a tattered composition book and hands it to you. “It’s not as cute as yours—oh, which I also have, heh.” He offers you your beloved purple journal. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, ensuring that it’s now safely stored in your own backpack before bringing your attention back to his notebook. “What’s this?”

Eddie bites his lower lip anxiously. “It’s my lyric book,” he explains sheepishly. “But not the one I show the guys. This has all my lovey-dovey songs in it. Y’know, shit they’d kick my ass for.” Another nervous chuckle. “They’re, um, they’re about you.”

“Me?!” you ask incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, letting his fingertips graze your hand. “Figured it was only fair, since I totally read your stuff.”

You flip through the pages, heart warming at the words etched on them. Lyrics like, her smile melts me like snow on my tongue/grow old together but we’ll always feel young make you giggle. “These are really good,” you muse. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Not too corny?”

“Oh, no,” you tease him, “they are extremely corny. But I’m a sucker for a good rhyme scheme, so…” You trail off as Eddie grins. 

“Maybe I could play them for you sometime? Like after school today?” He winces, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he thinks he does. 

You nod. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Eddie closes his locker and turns to you slowly, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Actually, what do you say we ditch health and hang out at mine? I promise I’m a lot more interesting than whatever Ellison is going to lecture us about today.”

You peer around the hallway, making sure it’s clear of teachers before slipping your hand into Eddie’s larger, calloused one. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“That’s my girl.”

--

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part sixteen: "The Time You Saved Daredevil"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt is shot trying to help stop an armed bank robbery and you can't get ahold of him. You take it upon yourself to find him and get him home safe.

Or

You discover Matt in a dumpster without his senses and find yourself communicating with him in a strange and stressful version of charades.

[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: 4.9k

a/n: I like symmetry so of course there had to be a hurt/comfort installment where Reader helps out Matt! You can find all of the installments for this series that are on tumblr here.

Pressing the heels of your hands onto your closed eyelids, you slouched over your desk at The Bulletin. There had been a large scale robbery at a bank just a few blocks away in Hell's Kitchen and Ellison had called quite a few staff back in to cover the breaking story for tomorrow’s issue. You had been among them, expected to help pull together information from whatever sources you could.

But you were too busy stressing over the fact that Michael's outside source was telling him that Daredevil had shown up and had been attempting to diffuse the situation at the bank. 

And he was being shot at.

Your nerves had been pushed to their limit for the past twenty-seven minutes, your eyes mostly glued to your phone as you waited for any update from Michael's source or the actual Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself. You had been unable to focus on anything Ellison wanted accomplished for the duration of the robbery. All you could think about was something happening to Matt. 

"More news!" Michael called out, rising in his cubicle so everyone in the office could see him.

Your hands immediately fell from your face as you sat bolt upright in your chair. Holding your breath, you prayed everything was over and Matt was alright. Prayed that you could sneak to the bathroom and call his burner phone in fifteen minutes and hear his voice telling you he was fine and he'd see you later.

"So the robbers have been finally apprehended by police," Michael continued, the room breaking into applause. "No casualties as far as I'm aware, but one person was injured. My source heard reports that Daredevil was shot, though."

The room felt like it was spinning at this bit of news. You couldn't breathe. Matt had been shot? 

"But he's got that suit, right?" Katy called out beside you, her voice breaking through your panic. "So he's okay, isn't he? Being shot at isn't new for him."

Michael shrugged, turning his attention to Katy. "I mean usually, yeah. But my source was saying Daredevil seemed off. Barely made it out of the building before the cops showed up. Said it looked like he was struggling or something."

You felt sick. You were definitely going to be sick. 

Shaking, you pushed back out of your chair and rose to your feet. Katy shot you a look, concern on her face.

"You okay?" she asked you. "You look pale."

"Fine," you breathed out. "I'm going to–to check with one of my sources on–on something. Can you let Ellison know?"

Katy's brows furrowed as she nodded. You swallowed hard, grabbing your purse off your desk and throwing it over you. 

As you made your way out of the office on trembling legs, your stomach churning and twisting uncomfortably, you tried hard to think of a plan. If Matt wasn't okay, you'd need to go and find him. He probably wouldn't be too far from the bank if he couldn't make it home. 

First thing you needed to do was call Matt's burner phone. If he answered, then there was no need to worry. If he didn't, well, then you'd figure out what the second thing you needed to do was.

You pulled your phone out of your purse, typing in the number Matt had you memorize as you hurried down the few flights of stairs. As you neared the first floor, his burner phone only continued to ring in your ear with no answer. You cursed, hanging up and trying to think of step two. 

If Matt wasn't answering, he either needed help or he was on his way back to his apartment. Not wanting to waste time, and being unable to be in two places at once, you quickly dialed Karen's number. The phone rang twice before she answered. 

"Hey," you said quickly, feeling a little out of breath from running down multiple flights of stairs. "Are you busy?"

"Uh, no?" Karen answered.

"Matt was shot," you told her, continuing over her loud intake of breath. "He was stopping that robbery and one of my co-worker's sources said Daredevil was shot and seemed off. Like he wasn't okay. And he's not answering his burner. I'm going to get spare clothes from my apartment for him and go search around the bank. See if he's hurt somewhere and can't get back. Can you check his apartment? See if he shows up? I'd do it but I can't be in two places at once. I don't want to waste time waiting to see if he shows when he might be bleeding out in an alley."

"Yeah, yeah sure," Karen said in a rush. "I'll be there in less than ten minutes."

"Thank you," you breathed out. "I owe you. Text me if he's there or if he shows up. I'll text if I find him."

You hung up, pushing out of the doors to the building and hailing the first taxi you could find.  Giving them your apartment address, you settled anxiously in the back, chewing your nails and willing your phone to ring with good news.

__________

Your phone hadn't rung with good news.

You'd been searching the alleys in a two block radius around where the bank robbery had taken place for thirty minutes now, practically sprinting around all of the blocks. Karen was waiting back at Matt's apartment in case he showed, but she'd said he hadn't been there. 

The longer you spent looking for him with no answer on his burner phone–the one you were occasionally calling every few minutes hoping you'd at least hear it if he didn't answer–the worse you felt. 

Were you going to find him dead somewhere? 

Nope. No. Not a thought for right now.

Your body was shaking and it had been for awhile now. Your hands clutched nervously to the straps of the backpack on your back as you continued your search. You'd stopped at your apartment only long enough to grab the backpack and one of the shirts and sweatpants Matt had left at your apartment. The ones you occasionally stole to cuddle with while you slept when he didn't stay the night because they smelled like him. Now you needed them in the event you found Matt and he couldn't get himself home as Daredevil, you'd have to find a way to get him home in less conspicuous clothes.

It was when you'd reached one of the last few blocks of the perimeter search around the robbed bank that you heard it. You'd called his burner again and in the distance down a darkened back alley you heard the sound of a phone ringing. 

Instantly you paused at the sound, slowly turning and looking down the alley. It was poorly lit but seemed empty except for a couple of dumpsters. Nervously biting your lip, you ended the call and listened with bated breath. The ringing in the alley stopped also.

"Please don't be a really strange coincidence and someone is actually waiting down there to murder me and throw my body parts in a dumpster," you mumbled to yourself.

Ignoring everything in your body telling you not to wander down a darkened alley just two blocks from a robbed bank at almost eleven at night in Hell's Kitchen, you wandered down the darkened alley. Your eyes swept back and forth as you moved, your hand clutching the pepper spray you'd grabbed for protection in the hand that wasn't holding your phone. When you reached the dead end of the alley, you frowned. You hadn't found Matt lying on the ground anywhere, where was he?

Hesitantly you called his burner phone again, waiting anxiously. The sound of the ringtone came loud and clear just a few feet behind you and you turned, brows furrowed as you tried to decipher where the sound was coming from. And then your eyes landed on a dumpster. Slowly you headed over to it and sure enough the ringing was coming from inside.

Ending the call, you slipped the phone and pepper spray into an outside pocket of the backpack before you cautiously called out to him. "Matt? It's me," you said. When he didn't respond you called out your name, but he still didn't answer.

He's not dead. He's not dead. Maybe he just fell asleep. In a dumpster. Or passed out. But he's not dead.

Carefully you kicked some boxes on the ground towards the dumpster, testing your weight on them. They felt like they would hold so you nervously stepped onto them and grabbed onto the edge of the dumpster, pulling yourself up the best you could. Sure enough you were met with the sight of Daredevil laying on a pile of smelly garbage. He was curled in on himself and didn't seem to be responding to your calling out to him or your presence.

With drastically less upper body strength than Matt had, you pulled yourself up and into the dumpster, gagging at the stench. You were both going to need a shower real bad after this. With Matt's senses, you might need to scrub off the top layer of your skin.

At the feel of the garbage bags shifting, Matt immediately turned towards you and swung a fist. Eyes wide, you ducked down to a particularly smelly garbage bag as you shrieked.

"Matt, it's me!" you called out again. "Don't punch me or we're both screwed!"

He swung at you again and you awkwardly dodged it, your hand landing in something damp causing you to cringe as Matt's body fell over into the garbage on his other side. Fighting back a wave of nausea at whatever you'd gotten on your hand, you wiped it off onto your jeans as you studied Matt. 

He was acting strange. He wasn't responding to you talking to him; instead he was trying to hit you. Laying in a dumpster didn't seem like something he'd be particularly fond of, especially with how much it had to smell to him. He wasn't throwing punches quite that well, either. If Daredevil wanted to hit you he'd have hit you. There was no way you'd ever have been able to dodge his blows, but for some reason he couldn't seem to land one on you.

And more obviously–why would Matt try to punch you?

Were his senses not working right now? Could he not smell the disgusting garbage you were both laying in? Could he not hear you calling out to him? Talking to him? Hear your hearbeat that he'd often told you was a familiar sound, one he could easily pick up on in a crowded room? 

Could he…not sense it was you? 

The realization dawning on you had panic rising in your gut. You'd have to find some way to get him to realize it was you who'd found him, especially if you had any hope of getting him out of that suit and back to his apartment. And if he was already throwing punches for just someone being near him, you couldn't imagine what he'd do if he realized someone was taking his suit off of him.

"Shit," you grumbled. "What the hell will make you realize it's me?"

You sat for a moment, smelling the horrible stench of garbage that was sure to have seeped into your clothes. For a moment you almost ran that dirty hand through your hair, pausing and shooting it a resentful look before you lowered it back to your side. 

Then a thought struck you. Carefully you maneuvered yourself closer to Matt, grateful he'd stopped trying to swing at you for the moment. Using the hand that hadn't gotten something disgusting on it, you very cautiously reached out and ran the tips of your fingers along the bit of stubbled jaw exposed under his helmet. Matt instantly tensed, his body shifting as if he was about to throw another punch, but then he hesitated.

"Come on, Matt," you muttered nervously. "Who else would jump in a dumpster with Daredevil and stroke your jaw after you'd just tried to punch them? It's me. You know it’s me."

Cautiously you continued the movement, watching as his arm slowly lowered. His head shifted around a few times, like he was searching for who was touching him. He said your name quietly, like a question. You smiled, grabbing one of his hands as you continued to stroke his jaw before placing it on your cheek. Slowly, you nodded your head in response, hoping he could understand the movement.

His mouth twitched briefly, his gloved fingers lightly grazing your cheek. He whispered your name again and you nodded again.

“I–I can’t hear,” he whispered, his voice sounding full of fear and a little off. “Can’t get–get back. Everything is off. Shot in the head.” You winced at that. “Helmet protected me but–but everything is off.”

You fought back tears at how terrifying it must be for him right now without sight or sound, along with his senses being dampened. But you couldn’t focus on that right now. Matt needed you. You’d have to find a way to communicate with him so you could get him home and then you’d figure out what to do after that.

Quickly you pulled the backpack off of your back, Matt keeping his gloved hand on your cheek. You figured it was probably comforting to him. As you pulled his spare clothes from the backpack, you were at a point to which you ignored the pile of garbage you were both settled in. Placing the clothes in front of you, you paused, trying to figure out how to get him to understand that you were going to have to change him out of his suit. 

Biting your lip, you grabbed the gloved hand that was on your cheek and lowered it, unclasping the glove and sliding it off. Carefully you placed the soft shirt in his hand, watching as his fingers inspected what he was touching. And then you let him feel the pair of sweatpants you’d grabbed, his hands inspecting the fabric of it carefully next.

“You…need me out of the suit?” he asked, his voice still sounding off since he couldn’t hear himself.

You raised his hand to your cheek, nodding your head again.

“I can’t leave the suit,” he mumbled.

You shook your head, exaggerating the gesture. Then you lowered his hand to the backpack, dragging it along the pouches and zippers. 

“Okay,” he agreed.

You reached out, trying to tug him up by his shoulders. You’d need him out of the dumpster and probably standing to be able to peel him out of the suit. Thank God you’d helped him out of it a few times now and you knew how to open it and get it off of him. But that didn't mean this wasn't going to be difficult.

It took a few tries of you tugging him to get him to realize you wanted him out of the dumpster. And as you struggled to help him out of it, you cursed him quietly for choosing to climb into a dumpster in the first place. Even if it was a good way to hide. 

Eventually you’d both gotten out and you’d managed to maneuver him against the alley wall, but it was incredibly dark and took you a long time trying to find all the hidden buckles, snaps, and zippers in the dark while also keeping an ear out for anyone who might stumble upon the pair of you. And once you'd managed that feat, you were struggling with trying to pull the suit down off of his body. It was practically skin tight, though Matt tried his hardest to assist you the best he could. 

When you finally managed to tug the suit down past his hips and his ass–which was very difficult considering Matt had an ass on him and his suit clung to it about as badly as you'd like to–you'd finally had an easier time tugging the suit down the rest of the way. You sighed in relief when you could fold it up and stuff the suit, billy clubs, his helmet, and gloves into your backpack and zip it up. Then you worked on helping him into his sweatpants, showing him what it was before you knelt down, tapping one leg at a time to get him to lift them and get his feet in them. He slid the pants up the rest of the way himself and you took the moment to shoot Karen a quick text saying you'd found him and were going to bring him to his apartment. 

You helped pull his shirt on afterwards, tugging it down over him and making sure he was fully dressed. Relieved that you'd managed to get him safely out of his Daredevil suit, you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his hips, carefully drawing him into a hug. Matt's arms were quick to encircle themselves around you, his face burying itself against the top of your head. The hold he had on you was tight, almost crushing you to his body, and as much as you both probably wanted to continue to seek comfort from the other right now, you knew you needed to get Matt home. Reluctantly you began to release your arms from him, but Matt was a bit slower to follow suit. 

Unfortunately you didn't have shoes for Matt as you glanced down at his feet, but you were contemplating hailing a cab and pretending Matt was drunk. It'd be faster getting him home that way then trying to half carry him while toting the backpack across Hell's Kitchen. 

You grabbed his hand, nervously chewing your lip and hoping he could kind of figure out what you were trying to tell him. You knew he mainly read braille, but you also knew he was able to trace the indentation of words that weren't in braille with his heightened senses, so he should still understand what you were going to trace onto his hand. 

You spelled out C-A-B on his upturned palm before anxiously staring up at his face. His eyes narrowed and you chewed your lip harder. You tried a second time, tracing the same three letters onto his palm again, this time even slower.

"Cab?" he asked. "Taking a cab?"

You placed his hand to your cheek, nodding. 

"My place?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded again, eyeing him carefully. After a moment he nodded in response. With another relieved sigh, you threw the backpack onto your back before wrapping an arm around Matt's waist. He threw his left arm over your shoulders, leaning some of his weight on you. 

It was a struggle getting him down the alley and you'd had to walk about half a block in the direction of his apartment before you found an available cab and flagged it down. You were exhausted by the time you reached it, placing Matt's hand on the door first so he knew what was going on. He nodded and you took that as your cue to open the door and help him in.

The cab driver gave the pair of you strange looks, but once you'd given him the brief explanation that Matt was drunk and blind, not wanting to risk him piecing anything together about the man beside you possibly being the infamous vigilante, he didn't pay either of you any mind. Instead, he focused on driving to the address of Matt's building. 

The entirety of the drive you were holding Matt's hand in the backseat. He, on the other hand, was clutching your hand desperately as if it was the only thing grounding him. And it probably was considering he couldn't see or hear a thing. As the full realization of that hit you, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, sliding your leg towards his. A moment later his left hand snaked its way over and grabbed onto your leg as he leaned against you, his forehead coming to rest along your shoulder. You couldn't even begin to imagine what he felt right now, and that only made your heart ache further for him.

Thankfully getting him up to his apartment once you'd both gotten to his building wasn't too difficult. You'd easily navigated him through the lobby and into the elevator, riding it up to the sixth floor. Once on his floor, you led him to his apartment where Karen quickly let you inside.

"What happened?" she asked, watching in concern as you led Matt to his living room.

"Said he was shot in the head," you answered, still struggling to carry his weight. "His helmet I guess took the brunt of it but he can't hear. His senses aren't working properly. Found him in a dumpster." 

You placed one of his hands on his leather sofa, watching his face as his hand slowly dragged back and forth across the surface. A look of calm washed over him.

"My couch?" he asked hopefully.

You placed the hand he had enjoined with yours to your cheek as you nodded. Instantly you saw his shoulders droop, his body relaxing a little.

"Jesus," Karen breathed out. 

"Yeah," you said, leading him around the couch. "It wasn't easy getting him out of the dumpster and changing his clothes before trying to hail a cab. Now I'm…not sure what to do."

"Maybe his nurse friend Claire needs to look at him?" Karen suggested. "Or he just needs to do that meditation thing he does?"

You slipped the backpack off and placed it near the coffee table before lowering onto the couch beside him. You grabbed his palm, turning it over and tracing C-L-A-I-R-E onto his hand very slowly. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he spoke.

"Claire?" he asked.

You nodded against his hand. A moment later he shook his head 'no' and you frowned.

"I can–can meditate," he answered.

You nodded against his hand before glancing back at Karen. "Thank you for helping tonight. Keeping an eye out here for him," you told her, Matt shifting beside you to lay on the couch. "I don't want to hold you up all night though. If he's just going to lay here meditating I'll probably just lay here with him. I think having something to ground him has been helpful."

"You sure?" she asked. 

"Yeah," you said, shooting her a tired smile as Matt tugged on your hand, a silent question for you to lay with him. "Thank you though. Seriously," you told her.

"Anytime," she replied, smiling back. "You know Foggy and I are always here for you and Matt. Will you let me know what's going on? If he's okay?"

"Absolutely,"  you assured her, feeling Matt tug your hand again.

As Karen made her way out, you returned your focus to Matt. Carefully you laid down, rolling onto your side and facing him. You both reeked of garbage from your time in the dumpster and you desperately wished you could wash your hands at least, but you were pretty sure Matt wouldn't want you to leave him. So instead you settled in next to him, reeking of who knew what.

"Having you here is helping," Matt murmured to you once you'd stopped squirming beside him. "Just wish I could hear your heart."

An idea struck you a moment later and you reached down for the hand he had resting on your hip, tentatively clasping your hand over it. Swallowing hard, hoping he wasn't thinking you were trying to do anything strange, you slipped both of your hands up under the hem of your shirt, your eyes fixed nervously on his face just beside yours as his brows furrowed. You slid your hands up further, Matt's warm hand gliding up your stomach and passed your bra, your hand pausing with his just over your heart. 

You could feel your own heart racing, waiting for him to react so you knew he knew you weren't trying to have him cop a feel in his vulnerable state. A smile slowly spread across his mouth before his palm pressed itself firmly against your chest. You released the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, relaxing beside him. Your hand slid back out of your shirt, but Matt's remained, feeling your heart beating under his hand as his eyes slowly closed.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Closing your own eyes, you fell into a comfortable drowsy state, only falling into a light doze in case Matt needed you. The warm hand he had over your heart was a comfort to you as well as him after the fear you'd had the majority of the night. While you dozed, Matt dropped into a meditative state beside you; he'd once told you how he used it to heal himself, though you had no idea how it worked. But right now, you were grateful if it did.

__________

You weren't sure how long you both had been lying on the couch before you felt Matt no longer motionless beside you. His shifting woke you from your light sleep and your eyes opened, taking in his expression. His brows were knitted together and his nose was scrunched up, his eyes opening slowly. Your heart jumped in your chest, worried something was wrong or that he was in pain. 

"We smell terrible," he announced. 

A laugh burst forth out of you, loud and unforgiving. A massive smile instantly spread over Matt's face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and the lone dimple on his right cheek making an appearance. You knew everything was alright when you saw that damn dimple.

"I don't think I could think of a better sound to have my hearing come back for," he said.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your laugh trailing off. "I found you in a dumpster," you told him, unable to stop the smile on your face. "I'm pretty sure I got something disgusting on my left hand, I have no idea what. I didn't want to leave you so I haven't had a chance to even just wash my hands. But are you…feeling okay? Do I need to call Claire? Take you to a hospital?"

"Everything isn't fully back yet," he told you. "But I can hear a little more now. This happened once before. In a bit everything should come back fully." His eyes dropped down near where your hand was and he grimaced before grinning. "You definitely don't want to know what's on your hand."

"Oh my God, really?" you asked, eyes widening as you looked down at your hand in horror.

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing the skin of your chest where his hand still rested above your heart. "Yes, really."

"Okay, do you mind if I go scrub my hands a million times now?" you asked.

He shook his head, grinning wide. "No. Honestly we probably both could use a shower. Though I'm not sure I could quite navigate one right now."

"Is this your way of getting me naked in your shower with you?" you teased. 

"Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure I couldn't navigate that right now, either," he answered with a sheepish grin. "Which is a shame, because this isn't exactly how I pictured showering with you for the first time."

"Alright, well," you said, sitting up as Matt reluctantly removed his hand from inside of your shirt, "let's go get the mystery substances washed off of ourselves."

"They're not a mystery to me, unfortunately," Matt murmured with a cringe. 

Your nose scrunched up at his words. "I don't even want to know," you said, helping him up off of his couch. "You're probably going to want to clean your couch. And toss your clothes."

You led him carefully down the hall to his bathroom, pointing out obstacles and where to turn since his senses weren't fully back yet. Flipping on the light in the bathroom, you felt Matt's hand grab your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Thank you," he whispered, face serious when you looked back at him. "For coming to find me. Bringing the clothes and getting the suit back like you did. For–for staying with me. It…means more than you could know."

A soft smile slid across your mouth, your hand reaching down to cover his over your wrist. "It was worth it, knowing you're okay. I can't imagine how that must've felt losing almost all of your senses and being alone," you said.

"It…was not pleasant," he admitted. 

"I'm going to get the shower warming up," you told him. "So we can stop smelling like trash and I can stop wondering what is on my hand."

He released your wrist and you turned, pulling back the glass door and switching the water on. As you turned back around, you saw he was already tugging the shirt over his head, revealing his very defined abdominal muscles. Your heart sped up despite the situation you were currently in, your gaze lingering on his body. 

"Don't get too excited," Matt teased, his voice drawing you back and causing you to blush in embarrassment. "I told you I can't manage that right now. Though the moment I can–" he said, shooting you a cheeky smile, "–I'll give you a proper thanks for saving me."

Breathing harder, your eyes darted away, biting your lip in wonder about what a proper thanks would entail. Matt laughed lightly, the sound echoing in the bathroom.

"Been a few months and your heart still races when I say things like that," he said. "And I hope it always does."

"Knowing me," you said, nervously slipping out of your own shirt in front of him, "it probably will."

[senditcolton]

Be My Victim

Watching a horror movie together, curled up in bed. Hiding your face into your lovers shoulder when something scary happens, holding them close, breathing in their scent.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.9k | warnings: OC & descriptions of horror movie scenes from Sinister.

“I don’t know how you managed to convince me to do this,” Andrei groans as he climbs into the bed, slipping his body beneath the black silk sheets. Rhiannon just laughs, her dark hair falling over her shoulders.

“It’s Halloween, Andrei. Best night of the year. Perfect time for scary movies,” she says, climbing into bed next to him after she has made sure the bowl outside her front door is filled with candy for any trick-or-treaters that might come by.

“You know I hate scary movies,” he quips, grinning over at her.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Rhiannon says.

“Yes I do.”

“Besides, Sinister isn’t the scariest movie ever. There are definitely worse ones to introduce you to.”

“There were parts of Scream that I didn’t like so I don’t know if this is going to be any better,” he mumbles, his hand diving into the popcorn bowl already, grabbing a handful of kernels.

“And you did really well with the scary moments, so I think you’ll be fine. Besides,” Rhiannon says, scooting closer to him, her legs intertwining with his. “I’ll be here the whole time to protect you.”

Andrei sighs, his body relaxing into hers. Rhiannon reaches over him to quickly switch off the lamp on her bedside table, plunging her bedroom into darkness. The only source of light comes from the screen, the DVD menu on loop. She grabs the remote, quickly pressing play and placing the device on the table before curling into Andrei’s side.

The movie begins, the atmospheric soundtrack playing as the scratchy Super8 film appears on the screen. Rhiannon hears Andrei curse a little under his breath as he watches the opening scene, the family of four slowly lifted by their necks by a falling tree branch, their legs kicking until they stop.

“Fuck, dorogoy,” he whispers as the title card appears on the screen. “This isn’t scary?”

“I never said that,” she responds with a small giggle. “I just said there are worse movies.”

The movie continues and from the corner of Rhiannon’s eyes, she can see Andrei sinking lower and lower into the covers as each tape of murders play. She can’t help but smile, laughing a little bit at his discomfort. But it makes her happy – not his fear but his commitment. Because even though he was scared shitless, he was invested. He was following the plot, occasionally asking hushed questions. He was doing this for her and it made her feel loved.

She knew she wasn’t the girl that everyone expected a professional hockey player to be with. Her gothic style, her mostly black wardrobe, her dark makeup, her love of heavy music, her enjoyment of all things creepy. She was a far cry from the model blondes that filled the roster of wives and girlfriends and she dealt with her fair share of mean online comments when the public learned of her and Andrei’s relationship.

But Andrei loved her, despite everything people said. This was evidence of that.

Rhiannon keeps her eyes on the screen as Ellison Oswald prepares the reel titled “Lawn Work ‘86” and she can’t stop the wicked grin that tugs at her lips. The film begins and she watches Andrei’s eyes glued to the screen, watching the lawnmower glide across the screen, the humming bass of the soundtrack playing underneath. The appearance of a face on the grass in front of the mower coupled with the spike of the music hits. The iconic jump-scare does its job as Andrei practically leaps from the bed, his body turning to hug Rhiannon.

She tries not to break out laughing at his reaction, her arms coming to wrap around him and one of her hands brushing through his hair. Andrei’s face is buried into her neck and she can feel him muttering Russian curses into the skin.

“Babe, you’re gonna miss the rest of the movie,” she whispers, running her nails gently across his back.

“Don’t care,” he murmurs but reluctantly pulls away from her, his eyes moving back to look at the screen.

The rest of the movie goes on without another major reaction from Andrei, the most is a tightening of his grip around her hand as the final scenes play. The credits roll and Rhiannon can hear the breath of relief woosh from Andrei. She reaches over him, flipping the lamp back on and flooding the room with light.

“I don’t know how you don’t have nightmares after this,” Andrei says, his wide eyes looking over at her.

“I did when I first saw this movie,” she confesses, extricating herself from the sheets after gathering the empty popcorn bowl and discarded candy wrappers. “But now, I don’t know. Horror movies are kinda comforting to me.”

“Comforting?”

“Yeah. They basically take the things you are afraid of and gives you a chance to face those fears in a safe environment, knowing that it’s all going to be okay once the credits roll,” Rhiannon explains, turning to face Andrei, still staring at her bewildered. “But I don’t expect you to become a horror movie fanatic in order to be in a relationship with me.”

“Trust me, dorogoy. I don’t plan on it,” he teases, his breathing still heavy as he gently shakes his head.

Rhiannon laughs, laying back down on the bed next to him, her long black hair blending into the sheets. Andrei looks down at her, his confused expression turning softer.

“I may not understand why you like all the things that you like,” Andrei says. “But I love you and that’s all that’s important.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Rhiannon replies, looking up at him. “Because I still don’t really understand hockey.”

The two of them laugh before Andrei leans in, kissing Rhiannon. She sighs into the kiss, her arms wrapping around him and pulling him closer, happier, and more in love than before.

[deliicats]

I don’t know if anyone is going to read this, but is it just me, or am I tripping because Harlan Ellison keeps appearing in my dreams? The first time he appeared in my dream was about two days ago. In the dream, it started off with me and my friends running away from someone because we did something—I don’t remember what. We found a hiding spot, and suddenly Harlan was at his desk, writing on his typewriter. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Oh, hey [my name], I’ve been looking for you! How’ve you been?” He was super nice to me (which caught me off guard because we all know how he can be). He grabbed me by the shoulders, led me to this desk with a typewriter, a copy of one of his books, and a lamp beside it. He looked back at me and said, “Congrats, [my name], you made it into the club!” I looked at him, confused, and said, “Oh really?” After that, I woke up. (I forgot the rest of the dream.)

After that dream, I was really confused. The second dream I had of him was that I was his wife (I have no idea what happened, but okay), and not only that, we had SEVEN KIDS in the dream (what the fuck, how did we get to this?). I forgot what happened, but that’s what I remember from that dream.

Okay, so then the dream I had of him last night was that him and I got 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 in our place (I don’t know why), and then the dream I had last night was the same 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 dream but in a different setting.

I’m tweaking out. Anyways, thank you for reading my yap session.

Real pic of me yapping about the dreams that I had about Harlan Ellison

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 4

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, probably not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~1600

A/N: Here's chapter 4! If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this story, please let me know!

(Divider made by the insanely talented @theradioactivespidergwen!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41

Early the next afternoon, Ellison called you into his office.

You walked in. "What's up?"

Ellison leaned back in his chair. "I need to talk to you about your article."

Your brow furrowed. You had stayed up half the night working on it (while eating some of what was quite honestly the best tiramisu you had ever had) and had sent a rough draft to Ellison that morning after reading it over. "What about it?"

"Quite frankly, it sucks."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"It reads like you literally just transcribed the interview. There's no emotion to it."

"So, what, do you want it in another format, or…" You were hoping Ellison wasn't going to tell you to just forget about it or that he was reassigning the piece back to Kelsie, who was still out sick with food poisoning.

Ellison shook his head. "We need to switch gears. Instead of an interview, I want a full human-interest story." Ellison sat back up. "I want our readers to get to know Chef Murdock as both a chef and as a person. You got a bit of that in your interview, but I want more. Spend as much time with him as possible and do what you do best -- get him to open up to you. Find out what his interests are outside of cooking, how he develops his recipes, where his inspiration comes from. Give me personal details and anecdotes."

You nodded. Your second attempt at an interview had gone a lot smoother than your first -- you had found Chef Murdock had relaxed more the longer the two of you had talked, so you were pretty sure he wouldn't mind sitting down for a more in-depth interview. "Okay."

"Alright, that's it. Get a rough draft of your new article to me by next Wednesday -- that should be enough time to edit before we go to print the following Monday."

"Got it."

Ellison eyed you. "Don't make me regret that raise I agreed to."

You shook your head. "Don't worry, I won't."

You went back to your desk and eyed the clock. You had already been planning on stopping by Daredevil on your way home from work in order to drop Chef Murdock's dish back off to him and was just going to leave it with Karen at the host stand, but since you needed to talk with Chef Murdock anyway... 

You pulled out your phone and sent him a text. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could come by the restaurant to talk with you for a minute before you open?

A few seconds later, your phone chimed. It's not a bother, and sure.

Okay, I'll be by in about 20 minutes.

Sounds good.

You grabbed your bag and Chef Murdock's dish and popped by Ellison's office again. "I'm leaving a bit early so I can go by Daredevil to talk to Chef Murdock."

Ellison nodded. "Okay, see you Monday."

You hurried towards Daredevil, sending Chef Murdock a text as you approached.

A minute later a man with shaggy blonde hair and a friendly face unlocked the door. "Hi, you must be the journalist from the Bulletin, right?"

You nodded and introduced yourself as you stepped inside.

The blond man smiled and stuck his hand out for you to shake. "Matt's signing for a delivery, but he'll be out in just a second. I'm Foggy Nelson, his business partner."

You took his offered hand. "Oh, yes, Chef Nelson. It's nice to meet you too."

Chef Nelson grinned. "So, I heard you were on the receiving end of Matt's apology tiramisu."

You huffed out a laugh. "Oh, uh, yeah, I guess he told you about that. Does he always apologize with tiramisu?"

"Only when he knows he really screwed up." Chef Nelson glanced towards the kitchen before looking back at you. "By the way, thanks for giving him another chance at an interview. Matt can be prickly but he's really a good guy underneath."

You smiled, thinking about how warm and open Chef Murdock had been the previous afternoon compared to your first meeting. "I'm beginning to see that."

"Sorry about that," Chef Murdock's voice said as he came out of the kitchen towards you.

You turned towards him. Today he was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants with his usual red glasses. It's unfair how damn hot he is , you thought to yourself.

You swallowed. "Hi, Chef Murdock."

"Hi," he replied pleasantly. "So what brings you by? Did you have some more questions for me?"

You nodded. "Yes, but I also came by to return your container to you and thank you again for the tiramisu."

Chef Murdock took the empty container with a grin. "I guess that means it wasn't poisoned, then?"

You huffed out a laugh even as your face heated. "I'm sorry about that."

Chef Murdock chuckled. "It's okay."

You shook your head. "In all honesty though I think that that was probably the best thing I've ever eaten. I'll definitely be placing some to-go orders for tiramisu after work."

Chef Murdock smiled. "It's not on the menu yet because I'm still perfecting it, but until then if you let me know in advance I'll be happy to make some for you."

"Matt makes his own ladyfingers from scratch," Chef Nelson chimed in. "That's the secret."

"Well, one of them." Chef Murdock grinned at you. "There's a few other secrets to my tiramisu that not even Foggy knows."

Chef Nelson chuckled. "And with that, I'm going to go get started on the dishes I do know the secrets to." 

He gave you a brief nod. "It was very nice meeting you."

"Same to you," you replied.

You waited until Chef Nelson had disappeared into the kitchen before turning back to Chef Murdock. "So about my article… I turned a draft of it into my editor this morning and he said it wasn't personal enough, so he wants me to expand it into a full human-interest story instead of just an interview."

Chef Murdock's brow furrowed. "Oh? What does that consist of?"

"Uh, well… usually with my human-interest pieces I spend time with the person I'm writing about, getting to know them over the course of several days, but since I don't want to take up too much of your time I'd probably just have some more interview questions for you, and if it would be possible I'd like to watch you work in the kitchen for a bit? It doesn't actually have to be during open hours or anything like that, and I'll even sign an NDA if you want me to promising that I won't reveal any of your recipes to anyone."

Chef Murdock pursed his lips as he thought. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah, that's okay."

You huffed out a breath. "Thank you so much. I'm free all weekend, so you can just text or call me and let me know whenever is convenient for you."

"Actually, how about we start tomorrow? Meet me here at, say, 8 AM?"

You nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds good."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Thanks again for the tiramisu. It really was fantastic."

Chef Murdock smiled. "You're welcome."

"Okay. Bye."

You turned and walked back into the lobby so Karen could let you out, actually looking forward to seeing Chef Murdock the next morning.

Matt waited until you left then returned to the kitchen, where Foggy was slicing up cucumbers for the dinner salads.

Foggy paused in his prepping. "So… she seems nice."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, she is."

"Pretty, too."

Matt shook his head with a grin. "I wouldn't know."

Foggy chuckled. "Mmhmm. Sure you wouldn't, Matty. That's why you were totally flirting with her just now."

Matt's brow furrowed. "I wasn't flirting."

"I know your tells, Matty -- you like a girl, you cook for her." Foggy dropped his voice into an imitation of Matt's. "'Oh, I can totally make you tiramisu even though it's not on the menu, no problem'."

Matt shook his head. "She's writing an article about me -- of course I'm going to be nice and offer to make tiramisu for her again. Which reminds me, the editor at the Bulletin wants her to expand her interview into a human-interest story." 

"Oh hey, that's awesome, man. A full human-interest piece will be great publicity for the restaurant."

Matt nodded. "We're going to meet up tomorrow morning to discuss it."

"Couldn't wait to see her again, huh?"

Matt shook his head. "She wants to watch me cook, so I'm going to have her accompany me to the farmer's market then give her a small cooking demo here afterwards before we start prepping for tomorrow night's service."

"Ah okay, cool."

Matt turned his head towards the receiving door. "Josie's here with the wine order."

Foggy set his knife down as the doorbell rang. "I got it."

"Make sure she's got the Frangelico I added to this week's order, will ya?"

"Sure thing."

Matt sighed to himself as Foggy left to go receive their order. The truth was that he actually was looking forward to spending more time with you. You were kind, and funny, and endearing, and according to Foggy, 'pretty', which admittedly made Matt curious as to what you looked like. 

He shook his head. He needed to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. The last time he was interested in a journalist it almost cost him his career and he wasn't going to make that mistake again, no matter how much he was beginning to trust you.

[hpowellsmith]

Books of January

I've really enjoyed reading more this month! I always read a lot over the holidays and then fall out of the habit but ended up doing more this time around.

Wild: from Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail - Cheryl Strayed (reread)

I liked this when I first read it, and liked it even more this time. The sense of the outdoors and the personal journeys within feel incredibly real to me. It inspired me to get out and about more: I always feel better when I take some time outdoors. I didn't really get on with her other books, but this one remains a favourite.

Dancing on Eggshells: Kitchen, Ballroom, & The Messy Inbetween - John Whaite

Every so often I read a celebrity memoir and usually it falls a little flat - often too obviously ghostwritten/over-edited or glib or twee. This one is less over-polished which is to its benefit, includes a bunch of lovely recipes, and explores growing up gay in England during Section 28 (at the same time I was growing up). Whaite comes across as very sincere in this, and since publication has said he's quitting TV which is probably a good thing. It was interesting reading the Strictly parts having read Craig Revel Horwood's memoir last year - Revel Horwood is very blithe about how lovely it all is whereas Whaite gives a more complicated perspective.

Maw - Jude Ellison S. Doyle

This horror graphic novel is gripping in places but it didn't pull me in as much as I'd hoped having read Doyle's discussions about the writing process and inspirations. It was over a little fast, characters appeared and were killed off a little too speedily for it to have much impact, and the ending felt a little abrupt. I liked the characters and the general idea but would have liked more breathing room to get to know them. I've got The Neighbors on pre-order and hope to get into that one more.

The Easternmost Sky - Juliet Blaxland

I could write an essay about what was frustrating about this book - the lack of class-consciousness from someone who casually mentions going to visit cousins for Christmas at the local manor, the (wilfully?) ignorant comments about rewilding, the unexamined pro-hunting commentary - but parts of it are quite good and evocative. Having grown up in rural England where neither I nor my peers were involved with the hunting-and-shooting manor-house culture, it's irritating to read a book which cheerfully conflates "country life" with being someone who loves running to hounds and thinks hunting is great, but some of the descriptions were lovely. Still, I'd recommend other nature writers like Robert MacFarlane or Helen Macdonald (who engages with falconry, but in a much more thoughtful way) over this one.

The Lives of Christopher Chant - Diana Wynne Jones (reread)

This was a beloved book from my teenage years and I shared it with my child after there was a lot of enjoyment of Howl's Moving Castle and Charmed Life last year. This one was a harder sell, it turned out: it's slower-paced than I remember, and bleaker, and there's very DWJ-esque penultimate chapter where a lot of stuff suddenly happens and is revealed and resolved very fast. I do love Christopher and his friends, though, and as with many of DWJ's books, it does betrayal and sudden self-awareness heartbreakingly well.

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

I. Loved. This. I loved it! I'd read a couple of Moreno-Garcia's books before and enjoyed them reasonably but this was the first one where it really grabbed me and wouldn't let go. A post-colonial Mexican gothic horror in which the heroine probes into an English family's business when her cousin, who's married into this family, sends a disturbed message begging for help... it's so good. I don't want to say anything more about it but I enjoyed it immensely and it solidified Moreno-Garcia as a favourite author.

Toto the Ninja Cat and the Legend of the Wildcat - Dermot O'Leary

This was really cute. My child and I ended up losing track of some of the plot, which became slightly complex, but it was generally adorable. There's not a ton else to say other than it's a nice story with a few jokes for adults that are good sensible-chuckle material.

Untamed Shore - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

This was so good. It's a noir thriller without the supernatural elements I'd encountered in the author's other work, but it gripped me excellently. I really enjoyed the unfolding dangerousness of all the characters, including the protagonist, and I was genuinely uncertain about what would happen towards the end - it had me really tense! I enjoyed it greatly.

[cobalt-knave]

ooooh really intrigued by the sentinel fic death loop wip, if you want to talk about that one! 👀

Sentinel death loop my beloved. I took Blair Sandburg (alas!) and trapped him in a death loop :D

For show context: The Sentinel is a mid-level cop show from 1996 that as far as I know is not streaming anywhere. It follows Jim Ellison, a detective with recently discovered super senses and his partner, Blair Sandburg, who is an anthropology grad student helping Jim with his senses (they become best friends) as they solve crimes.

There is an episode where Blair gets trapped along with several hostages on an elevator that is being threatened to drop if ransom isn't paid. At the time, I had also been rewatching season 1 of Russian Doll (an Excellent death loop show). One of the character's introductions has them about to drop to their death in an elevator, and there is this exchange:

Nadia: Didn't you get the memo? We're about to die. Alan: Oh, that's ok. I die all the time. Nadia: Me too.

Which got me thinking about death loops and Blair Sandburg, and it was my turn to dump him in the whump machine.

What's really fun with it is that the POV character is not the one in the death loop; it's Jim's POV, and he doesn't have any memory of previous loops (this is something the brilliant fic series Daniel of Abydos did for its time loop chapter).

Excerpt (featuring guns):

Blair just shook his head. “Hey, man, do you want to get out of here? We never did get that fishing trip, and I haven’t been outside the city in weeks.” “We went out of the city on Friday for that conference thing you had a talk at.” He wanted to push, find out what the hell was going on with Sandburg, but all he could see was the downward cast of his eyes, the sunken look to his face, feel the slump of his shoulders. Instead, he said, “But how about we go out of town tomorrow? I’ve got a handful of vacation days I can use, and you look like you could really use the day off too.” Somehow, Sandburg managed to look even more miserable. He choked out, “Tomorrow’s not good for me, man. I won’t be around.” Jim was so focused on Sandburg that he almost didn’t hear the booming click of the gun behind them. But he did, and he spun around to grab the gun away from, what do you know? A six foot man with a balaclava. Guess Blair wasn’t making that part up. As he struggled for control of the gun, he darted a glance at Sandburg. Instead of his usual stressed or even excited reaction to this kind of thing, he looked resigned. It was startling enough to see that he missed a beat in the fight, letting in a swift kick to the leg that threw him off balance. It was just enough for Balaclava to regain control of the weapon and, without the barest pause, fire at Sandburg. 

That might be more than you wanted, but I had fun answering anyway! :D

[rabothekerabekian]

My top books I read in 2023:

1: Sirens of Titan (Kurt Vonnegut) - I love Vonnegut’s writing so much, and Sirens is such a great narrative on free will and loving whoever is around to be loved. (Plus chrono-synclastically-infundibulated is just fun to say)

2: Invisible Man (Ralph Ellison) - already a book about important social issues that are still incredibly relevant today, Ellison’s style portrays a lifelike picture of the politics of race in America.

3: Midnight’s Children (Salman Rushdie) - The language and style of this book make it a delight to read as Rushdie paints an incredible mural across a canvas of Indian historical events interwoven with the supernatural to create an amazing story.

4: Job, A Comedy of Justice (Robert Heinlen) - Excellent satire of fundamentalist religion, packed with jokes and reality shifts, a complex world that goes from Mexico to Kansas to heaven to hell has a lot to say about religion.

5: The Master and Margarita (Mikhail Bulgakov) - The Devil and his entourage cause chaos in Soviet Moscow, in addition to a narrative about Pontius Pilate. An excellent and absurd premise sets up a criticism of humanity but also a defense of it, both in Judea 2000 years ago and now.

6: Ficciones (Jorge Luis Borges) - While the writing can be dense, so much is packed into these short stories parsing the meaning is definitely worth it. Fantastical scenarios act as mirrors to reality and each story leaves just enough to the readers imagination to make it a compelling and thought provoking work about the labyrinthine ways of reality.

7: Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe) - I love novels you can get lost in, and such a rich portrayal of Igbo life easily lends itself to a complex world that many people failed to see about Africa. Important social issues are dealt with and both extreme ways of living are critiqued in a compelling narrative.

8: Bluebeard (Kurt Vonnegut) - A coming of age a going of age and the Armenian diaspora are explored through the life of Abstract Expressionist artists and what it has to say about culture, society, and gender roles. You have to keep reading to see what’s in the potato barn, and when all is revealed it makes a lot of sense for Vonnegut.

9: Kafka on the Shore (Haruki Murakami) - So much happens in the book you are riveted as the chapters bounce between characters. An excellent hook grabs you in and doesn’t let you go. Murakami’s imagination runs wild and this strange reinterpretation of oedipus makes you think.

10: Cat’s Cradle (Kurt Vonnegut) - Newt Hoenikker said it best - “no damn cat, and no damn cradle.”

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - Lover of Mine

tags: @mayasaurus--rex @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger @astrobees @woowwwee // five // seven // masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 9,732

Summary: The constant circles and playing different parts grows more and more dizzying as events continue to unfold. Alliances tested and lives endangered, Ex and The Man in the Mask take a stand against the new Daredevil.

“How? Y/N, calm down and talk to me. What happened?”

“I can’t calm down!” You snapped and he stepped in front of you, hands landing on either arm to stop you.

“You’re burning up.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You almost yelled. “This puts everything at risk!”

“Slow down, Y/N/N.” He said carefully. “Tell me what happened.”

“He cut my mask. I grabbed it and he saw me. He saw my face.”

“But he has no proof.” Matt offered calmly, though you knew your frazzled state was radiating and vibrating through him. He stood before you as solid as ever. “He can’t throw around an accusation like that without proof.”

“You can’t accuse him of being the knock-off Daredevil without proof either.” You deadpanned.

“I have proof.” He let go of one arm and held out Dex’s tape player.

“That doesn’t connect him to Fisk. And that doesn’t change the fact that he knows who I am. And- And Ray. Oh my god, Ray. We have to find him.”

“Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna take care of it.” He promised.

“He’s gonna try to blackmail me. He’s- He’s gonna expect me to go along with it. He’s going-“

“So go along with it.” Matt nodded and your jaw went slack. “Your mask records, doesn’t it? You can get proof.”

“This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to have to use this for a double agent. The whole point of her is to do things on my terms. Besides, in case you forgot-“ You thumped your fingers against his forehead. ”- I’m a federal agent. I can’t exactly walk around my office in a bulletproof body suit.”

“Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the middle of a shit show.”

“He won’t hurt you.”

“Stop acting like you know him! You don’t!”

“Why are you acting like you care about him? You didn’t want anything to do with me when you said I betrayed you back in that alley. But he chooses to work for Fisk and you don’t care?”

“He’s gonna see this as a betrayal.” You gestured wildly towards the apartment below you. “It makes me look like the untrustworthy one.”

“Since when do you care what others think of you?” He scoffed lightly.

“Matthew, you are not listening to me.” You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. “That man will not hesitate if he gets a chance to kill me.”

“He won’t.” He shook his head firmly.

“Yeah, cause you’ll be there to protect me, right?” You mocked. “You can’t even come to the goddamn apartment. You expect me to believe that you’ll be around now?”

He sighed and nodded in resignation. “Are you gonna hold that against me forever?”

“Are you gonna give me a reason to believe you? C’mon, I mean… You act like you love me and then you ask if I ever manipulated you.”

Your implant pinging caught your attention so you stepped away from Matt to answer it.

“You need to find Ray.” You said over your shoulder as you put distance between you two.

“Yeah?” You said simply, hearing the shuffle of Matt’s boots as he left.

“Have you talked to Karen?” Foggy asked on the other end.

“Not since the questioning. Why?”

“I invited her to this thing and she said she’d come but she hasn’t shown up. I’m a little worried. Did you know she lost her job?”

“Ellison fired her?”

“Cause she wouldn’t give up his real name.”

“Shit.” You sighed, though you appreciated the loyalty. “Uh, yeah. I can track her phone, hang on.”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah, I’ve saved all of your numbers to a program that can locate your phones by SIM card. Back when we thought Matt was just a dumbass, I wanted to make sure he didn’t fall in down a manhole whenever he didn’t answer the phone.” You explained while you slid your finger across the mask. You held it in place with the other hand while you looked around the city. “Okay, I found her. Looks like she’s just driving around. I’ve gotta get back to work so I’ll text you if I get a hold of her.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N.”

“It’s what I do.” You shrugged and tapped the implant off.

You snuck off the roof and to your car, parked at the empty structure a few blocks over. You changed back into work clothes and headed to the Presidential. You got to the media room and took a seat at the monitors, 

though your mind was still buzzing.

You wondered how long it would take until Dex opened his mouth. Would he tell Fisk and let the big man try to play you? Would he go after you the way he went after Jasper? Or would he sit in silence? Let you drive yourself mad with the possibility that he could out you at any second. That he could make you the fugitive instead of him. You didn’t like the leverage he had over you and you needed a way to take it away.

You needed to get the advantage. And what better way to do that than to put yourself in a position above him to boot him out.

When you finally managed to focus on work, you realized who Fisk was talking to.

“Hey.” You waved one of the other agents down without taking your eyes off the screen. “Who let her in?”

“Page?” The agent asked and you nodded. “His lawyers okay’d it. She said she’s writing a story about his mother. Who gives a shit?”

“Are you guys stupid?” You urged. “She worked at the firm that got him locked up. Why would you let her in?”

“Lawyers said it was fine.” One of them shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like we can go in with her.. We got the cameras on so she’ll be fine. Didn’t that firm shut down anyway?”

Either your colleagues were complete idiots or they were absolutely clueless.

You disguised the use of your implant as a scratch to your head, tuning into their conversation as you watched it unfold on the screens in front of you. You heard what she said as she leaned in close and your hand tightened into a fist. She was egging Fisk on by claiming to have killed Wesley. She wanted Fisk to put hands on her, but you knew that for Wesley, he’d kill her.

“Come with me.” You stood quickly and gestured to both agents. “Now!”

“What?” One of them asked, though he stood.

“Why?” The other said and followed suit. As you were stepping into the hall, you ran into Foggy.

“You’ve gotta get her out of there.” Foggy said and you nodded, hurrying past him. There was a hushed conversation between the men behind you but you ignored it.

You kicked the door open and raised your gun, pointing it at Fisk. You yelled for him to get back, to keep hands where you could see them and to get away from her. Your coworker escorted Karen out but you stayed to make sure Fisk didn’t try anything while you guided him to his room with a gun at his back.

“Did you know?” He asked tightly and you knew what he meant.

“I know she was lying.” You answered quietly. “And I know the truth. I’ve always known.”

“And you hid it from me?”

“I thought you would’ve been perceptive enough to put it together on your own. The burn on his chest… was an electrical burn. The bullets were just an extra.” You said with a small smile.

“You?” He turned with a sneer, taking a step closer.

“Careful.” You said confidently as you put your gun away, flaunting that you were untouchable at that moment as you lifted a finger in the general direction of one of the cameras. “You’re gonna need me if you wanna keep your newest toy. You didn’t need me to break him because you were already plotting to take everything from him. Imagine how he’ll react once he knows.”

His brows furrowed as you backed away.

“Maybe you’ve gone too far… I’d love to test that theory. This is gonna be fun.” You smiled and his eyes went wide for a moment when he realized.

You hopped down the steps and back out, finding your friends in the hall. The doors closed behind you and the agents posted tried to talk to you, to apologize and ask how you knew something was wrong, but you ignored them.

“Page.” You called and she rolled her eyes before looking at you. “Are you insane? I mean, honestly, have you lost it?”

“I had him.” She said angrily before turning to the elevator. “And you ruined it. You both ruined it.”

“Ruined it?” You laughed. “I just saved your ass. He would’ve killed you. Are you really that desperate?”

“At least it would’ve been on video.”

“Goddammit, Karen. Don’t turn into Matt on me.” Foggy said with a small stomp.

“Hey.” You reached foward and grabbed her arm to spin her so she would face you fully. “You really wanna try and get yourself killed? Because guess what, if you weren’t on his shit list before, you are now. I can’t protect everyone when you’re all running off in different directions like toddlers.”

“Then don’t.” She snapped. “And I didn’t want him to kill me.. Just to come after me.”

“Yeah, that’s so much better.” Foggy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well I got the idea from you. Talking about getting Tower worked up. I thought I just had to get him to stop thinking, to react emotionally.”

“Last time he did that, he decapitated one of the Russian brothers with an SUV door.” You said simply. “You think he wouldn’t have done something like that to you?”

“It’s not a bad plan, except for the part where you have to hope the FBI comes in before he beats you to death.”

“Let’s be honest. If I wasn’t here, those ball scratchers wouldn’t have gotten in there in time. Half the people here don’t want to be here so they don’t give a shit.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She snapped and pushed into the elevator.

“Neither does you throwing that name around.” You said quickly.

“What?”

“He knows it was me. Probably won’t save you from retaliation but it can keep him on me a little longer.”

“Why would you-“ Foggy tried but the door shut before his sentence could finish.

Later that night, you were sitting in the media room at the closing hour of your shift. You were waiting for one of the others to come take over when you felt it, so saturated it almost knocked you out of your chair. It was a burst of rage, white hot and pulsing. You felt it seer through you, hotter than anything you felt from yourself or Matt. It was like it had been brewing for a long time, building and burning and festering until it broke its way out.

And it was coming from a few floors below. It was coming from Dex.

Your apparent betrayal broke him and you weren’t completely sure it was a good thing.

Meanwhile, back in his secluded underground part of the church, Matt was looking for something else to think of. All his mind kept coming back to, other than letting Dex get away, was her. He could understand why she didn’t want to believe her partner was working for Fisk. He believed that she did what she could to keep him away, but she was right. She couldn’t control everyone all the time so it wasn’t fair for Matt to throw that at her. And Fisk was smart. He had to have known Y/N was trying to keep Dex away from him. So he found ways to break him that not even Y/N could stop. Things Y/N probably didn’t

even know about, not until it was done.

He was listening to the tape with Maggie when his mind finally let her go, just for a minute.

“He didn’t have any parents. Spent a lot of time fighting. Angry.” He said simply, just stating what he had learned, when Maggie hummed in response. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I promised to keep my mouth shut.” She answered.

“But you wanna say it sounds familiar.”

“More ways than one.”

“I didn’t have anyone either but I’m nothing like him.” Matt shook his head. “The tapes make it sound like he was a killer at a young age.”

“That bit sounds familiar, too.” Maggie said to herself, but they both knew Matt would hear it.

Was that why Y/N protected him? She saw herself in him?

“Y/N’s nothing like this guy, okay?” He decided. “She actually cares about people and has a heart. The guy’s a psychopath… And I had a chance today. A shot to catch him off guard and I blew it.”

“You did what you thought was right. You kept your word to Agent Nadeem.”

“Yeah. And how many people are gonna die because of it? Not to mention that he knows about Y/N. Now she’s in the middle of it and either has to go along with this or go on the run. He could throw her under the bus, same way Fisk did to me, just to save his own ass. He doesn’t care about her.”

“Do you think Y/N can keep herself alive? Or does she need you to be her knight in shining armor all the time?”

“I just want her to be safe. After everything I’ve done, I owe her that.”

“I think you owe her more than that.”

He sighed heavily and nodded. He knew he couldn’t run from her questions forever. It wasn’t fair to leave her so deep in the dark. And it was killing him all the same.

“She’s gonna get herself killed trying to save this guy.” Matt spoke with a certain bitterness. Bitter towards Y/N’s sudden adherence to morals that he once claimed, towards her sudden belief that people could change.

It made him wonder what had changed so drastically in the time he was gone that she would stand so adamantly in a losing fight.

“You said this man is her partner at the FBI?” Maggie changed the subject.

Matt reluctantly nodded. He hated the idea that she would have to go back and be around him, to essentially be at his mercy. At the same time he knew if there was one person in Hell’s Kitchen that wasn’t helpless, it was Y/N.

“Then she knows his tendencies better than you do. She’s a very strong, very smart girl. I’m sure she’s endured worse so she can take care of herself until you two have a plan.”

“I don’t think she wants to do this with me anymore.”

“This?” She gestured to Matt. “Or this?” She tapped her chest where her heart was.

“Both.”

“Just give her time, Matthew. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, like you hung the stars. That’s not something that can be thrown away. You both will always be there for the other when they call.”

She left after that, allowing Matt to punch his pain away. He was angry. At himself, at Dex, at Fisk. He even wanted to be angry at Y/N, but all she had done was refuse to leave him. How could he be angry at that? As he worked on the punching bag he could hear Sister Maggie’s prayer in the church above. He was listening but also not, using it as a sort of background noise. It wasn’t until the end that it mattered.

“Our son is too much like you, Jack.”

Our son … Jack.

“Mom?” Matt muttered as he fell to his knees.

He was in complete disbelief but suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why she made sure he was okay. That’s why she made sure he had a place to stay. That’s why she refused to give up on him. He didn’t know what to do, what to think.

But he knew his heart was calling for Y/N, in a way only she would know. In a way that he wasn’t sure he deserved anymore.

You couldn’t call him. You doubted the man had a phone anymore. You had just gotten home when you felt that crushing feeling, that world shattering uncertainty. It made you dizzy when you walked through the door and you nearly fell to the floor.

You made it to your couch and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be absorbed by that heavy feeling. You pushed back, following that line back to Matt. You were hoping he wouldn’t ignore you. You were hoping he would understand, but with the intensity he was putting out, you didn’t know what would get through to him.

Come home, Matt. Let me help you.

Damn it all if you didn’t forget that you were angry when he really needed you.

You fell asleep on the couch waiting for a response. You waited for a change in feeling or to feel it growing closer. You waited to hear him calling your name or touch your shoulder. You waited for the door or some sign that he was there. You didn’t know how late it was when he finally showed up.

He sat beside you on the couch and gave your leg a gentle shake, but you still jumped up in a hurry. Unsure if it was Matt or Dex or someone else to kill you, your hands raised reflexively into fists while your eyes tried to adjust to the neon shining in. Matt chuckled and put his hands over yours, gently pushing them down and assuring you it was just him.

“Matt.” You sighed and relaxed next to him. “What happened?”

“Sister Maggie, she was upstairs praying.” He said carefully, but you could tell there was a waver in his voice, threatening to break. “She was asking my dad for guidance and said ‘our son’.”

“Talking about you?”

“Why else would she talk to him?”

“Took a while for you to get here… Where’d you go?”

“Father Lantom.”

“Was it any help?”

“No.”

“How can I help? Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know.” He nearly whispered. “It was right there, the whole time. Y/N, everything could’ve been different.”

“Yeah, but then who knows if it would’ve been good or bad different.” You tried gently. You reached forward carefully to remove the familiar glasses and he didn’t stop you. Instead, he gave you a small smile and turned his head towards you. “Maybe we don’t meet. Maybe I end up with a different vigilante boyfriend. Maybe you end up as a priest, too. Who knows what would’ve changed?”

“I could’ve had my mom.” He spoke softly.

“I know.” You nodded and gently ran fingers through the sides of his hair. “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

“I thought you didn’t know him.” He shifted his body towards you.

“I don’t, but I did meet him once, before I met you.” Your hand fell to his shoulder. “My aunt, Melina, would talk about them when I was a kid. I looked up their names when I got out, found some leads and kept tugging strings till I found him living in a small town in California. He had a new wife and a son… I remember when I left him, I kept thinking that I could’ve had a brother. I could’ve had siblings and a real family if he was willing to run just a little while longer.”

“What happened when you met him?”

“He said my mother was dead and so was her daughter, Alexa. He was talking about me.”

“Your name is Alexa?”

“To my parents, yes. Once I wasn’t theirs, that little girl did die and Y/N was born, which is fine. Alexa’s someone else completely as far as I care. Listen, my point is that I could’ve had a different life, too. But you can’t sit here and think about ‘what if’. What if I was never in the Red Room or if I never got out? What if I never came to Hell’s Kitchen? What if I never went to Columbia?”

“So you think I shouldn’t do anything?”

“I think you shouldn’t let it change too much now. I know you want to figure things out, but I’m sure she was just young and scared. People don’t always do the smartest thing when they’re scared.”

“You ever make a bad decision cause you were scared?”

“Leaving you the first time.” You confessed, though that event felt so far away given everything that had happened since. “I didn’t want to scare you and Foggy away with the truth so I left. I left you alone, Matt, and I never wanted to.”

“I left you too so I’d say we’re even.” He offered a small smile and you chuckled. “But I never wanna leave you again.”

“So don’t.” You offered, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “When I look at my life, and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing that I think I got right… I want you to stay, at least for tonight, but I won’t make you.”

“All my regrets, things that you can’t forget.. You still want me with all of those?”

“I can’t really give you away.” You shrugged slightly. “I already made that mistake a long time ago…”

“I want us to be okay, sweetheart.” He reached out and out a hand on your folded leg, thumb rubbing gentle lines.

“We can figure it out later. Right now, you’re in a crisis.”

He offered a weak smile as he nodded.

“I’m not saying to forgive Maggie, but I’d say hear her out, when you’re ready. Maybe she had her reasons.”

“What if she didn’t? What if she was just… ashamed?”

“Who would be ashamed of you?” Your fingers danced around on his shoulder, skimming across the crook of his neck. “You took off the crucifix? I liked it.”

“It was my mother’s.”

“Ah.” You nodded.

“I thought you hated me after what happened at Midland Circle”

“Yeah, I kinda did. But I also understand that it was your stupid way of protecting me because you loved me and I loved you, so that ended up beating out any other feeling. I haven’t forgiven you for it yet, though.”

“Clearly.” He gave a small chuckle. “Do you still?”

“Love you? Or hate you?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, to both. I’m still hurt by what you said to me. But I’m guessing you being here means you realized you can trust me?”

“Sweetheart, I always have.” His hand came to your cheek and you leaned into his touch, earning a smile from him. “I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t.”

“Maybe there’s still a chance to fix us when all this dies down.” You smiled softly, turning your head to place a kiss to his palm. “After that, you can fix things with Maggie. When you’re ready.”

“I love you.” He said softly.

“I love you, too.”

That night, wrapped in Matt’s arms, you had the first full night’s sleep since Midland Circle.

The next morning, you were getting ready for work when you got a message from Dex. It said that he was picking you up and you knew it wasn’t up for debate. You told Matt what was going on and he told you to be careful. He told you he wouldn’t be there when you got home, and he wasn’t sure where he’d be, but he would let you know somehow. Despite your protests, he promised it’d be for the best.

The ride with Dex was silent. There was a thick tension in the air and your skin was buzzing with anticipation. You kept thinking of scenarios where he would make a move on you, but in close quarters, it was an easy win for you. You could crash the car and run. You could use the backseat to get away. You could kick out the windows and tuck and roll. But there was no action, hardly any words. Instead, you pulled up to Ray’s as if everything was normal.

“Ray doesn’t know.” You said simply as you got out. “He doesn’t know about her and he doesn’t know that I know about you.”

“This’ll be fun then.” He smiled before grabbing your arm and practically pulling you to the front door.

Dex greeted Seema and gave you two a proper introduction. You let him do most of the talking, only offering a polite smile and an answer when necessary. Seema didn’t seem to notice, and you were thankful for that.

“And that makes it curve?” The boy’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Like crazy.” Dex smiled.

“It’s the circle change that gets ‘em though.” You cut in, kneeling to his height and stealing his attention away from Dex. You ignored your partner’s glare and focused on the boy. “A curve is great, don’t get me wrong. But a good hitter can see it coming. The real fun is when you can speed them up with the fast ball and then sneak the change up. If you want a strikeout pitch, the circle change is what you need.”

“Can you show me?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s super easy. The ball sits here.” You moved the back to rest at the back of his palm. “These two fingers make a circle like this.” You slid his thumb and forefinger to make a circle on the side of the ball. “And these fingers just kinda spread out.” You fanned his other three fingers. “And then you just throw it normally.”

“So… Wait, how does it slow down?”

“When it rolls off your fingers, the backspin makes it look like it’s coming faster than it is.”

“Ooh.” He laughed and looked at his fingers on the ball.

Ray came down and gave his son - Sami - a reason to leave the room. When he made eye contact with you, you gave a shrug and nodded to Dex to show it was his idea. Ray brought you and Dex outside to keep his family

out of it.

“What are you doing here, Dex? Your issue is with me, not my family.” Ray asked tightly.

“My issue is definitely with you.” Dex agreed. “That stunt with the lawyer, Ray? That was cold. You convinced me that you had my back.” He turned towards you. “You both did.”

“I did until you chose Fisk.” You admitted. “I tried to help you but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Well Fisk wants you two alive.”

“Lucky me.” You mumbled.

“What does he want from me? Or her?” Ray nodded to you.

“Your little friends. The ones you brought into my home.” He took a step closer to Ray and your hand shot out to his chest, pushing him back with a warning glare.

“I don’t know who he is, or where he is. I know even less about the girl.”

“Nah, you know.” Dex countered. “But it can wait. You’re bleeding, Ray.”

“Cause you shot him, jackass.” You mumbled, making Dex chuckle.

“I’ll cover with Seema while you change. Let’s go. We’re all spending the day together.”

“Why'd he bring you?” Ray asked when Dex went back inside. “What does he know?”

“Too much.” You admitted. “That I know Exodus. I know Daredevil. I know what happened at his apartment, what really happened at the Bulletin.”

“How?”

“Как ты думаешь, с кем ты разговариваешь?” You asked with a small shrug before following Dex in and leaving Ray in confusion. (Who do you think you’re talking to?)

You didn’t stay at Ray’s much longer. Seema gave you a plate to take with you and you thanked her. Sami thanked you again for the change-up and you offered to show him a knuckleball next time. Ray rushed you guys out of the house and when you got to the bureau, Dex told Ray to call Matt. You tapped your implant and listened in on their call while you waited with Dex. Though if anyone asked what was actually said, you wouldn’t be able to tell them.

“How long do you think you can keep it a secret?” He asked simply, turning to face you.

“Longer than you did. I didn’t need to see any of it to know what you were. One look told me everything I needed to know. Wanna know how?” You tilted your head back to face him. His brows raised and he offered you an amused smile. “Because you’re weak. Your old therapist was wrong about you. Your internal compass is broken, Dex. And no one can save you. You’ll follow anyone that uses the right words.”

He grabbed you by your face and pushed you against the wall behind you, making you laugh.

“Get your hand off me or I scream. Remember, not every agent in the room works for him.” You warned and you watched his eyes dart between yours and try to figure out if you were joking. “Go ahead… Try me.”

He pushed off you when Hattley came in for an announcement. You pulled off the wall and moved to stand with Ray, hearing your SAC declare Dex reinstated. You were hidden behind him so rolled your eyes and feigned a gag. But when he stepped aside to thank you and Ray specifically, you put your hands behind your back and offered a proud smile.

“Someday I’ll pay you guys back for everything you did.” He said, though you heard the threat in his words.

“We’re partners.” You said with fake sincerity and reached for his hand, which he hesitantly gave you. “You’d do the same for me.”

After a few moments of congratulations and praise for Dex, the three of you were taken to a conference room where a handful of agents sat around the table. You scoffed in disbelief as Dex headed to sit at the head, Hattley at his side. You stood at the other end, leaning

onto flattened palms against the table.

“Fisk has something on all of you?” Ray asked in disbelief.

“It’s better we don’t talk about it.” One of the other agents in the room said. He may be stuck under Fisk’s thumb, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to be. “And in here, we don’t even say his name.”

“That’s one of the rules, Ray.” Dex explained. “We only refer to him by his codename… Kingpin.”

You had to drop your eyes to hide your quiet laugh.

“Something funny, Y/L/N?” Hattley asked and you picked your head up with your smile still present.

“This whole thing, actually.” You shrugged and pushed yourself off to stand tall. “An office of dedicated federal agents falls victim to a big bald guy who doesn’t even do his own dirty work half the time? Y’know when Fisk was around the first time, people only would call him ‘their employer’ and it was embarrassing then too. I’m sorry but… it’s all a little pathetic.”

“You’re here too, Y/N. So what does that say about you?”

“Oh man.” You exaggerated a sigh. “I should’ve talked

to Madani about transferring to Homeland. At least then I could’ve had a partner who stood for something-“ You made eye contact with Dex. “-instead of kneeling to a little bit of pressure.”

“Real cocky when you’re the one with the most to lose, Y/L/N.” Dex said with a smooth smirk.

“At least I know who I am. Can you say the same?”

“Anyways.” Hattley cut in firmly. “Another round-up today. We hit them fast and hard. Kingpin wants this one to make a point.”

You felt grimy by the time the assignment was done. You hung back for most of it, hardly even raising your gun. Instead, you just kept the people around the marks calm. Even at the public groundbreaking for something seemingly religious, you ensured no one made a scene. Later that day, you sat with Dex in the media room.

“You seem tense. What’s eating at you?” Dex asked with a sly smile.

“Thinkin’ about how I’m gonna put a bullet in you.” You said calmly. “Y’know what an old friend told me? You don’t hear the ones that get you.”

“Pretty confident.” He nodded with that same smile, one that made you want to slam his face down on the desk. “But I remember the last time we went at it. I put in a knife in you. How’s that healing, by the way?” He snuck his hand to the joint of your leg and gave your leg a slight squeeze.

Your body jumped at the unwanted contact and you reached for his hand quickly. You gripped tightly, feeling the long bones of his hand shift slightly, and moved his hand forcefully. 

“And how many times did I knock you on your ass? All it takes is two seconds where Ole Red isn’t looking.” You leaned in closer so you could speak quietly, hands folded beneath the table. “You keep this up, Dex, and you’ll be the one who pays a price. Not me.”

The day shift went on relatively quickly but then you two were called for an additional night shift. Ray left with Hattley to get Fisk while you and Dex finished up upstairs. You saw a message from Foggy as you headed to the car and saw that Fisk had his hooks in his family. The deli had embellished a loan application from Red Lion Bank, and someone was threatening to pull it. It was now a growing priority for you to get your hands on Felix Manning. You had seen the man in the hotel a few times but never with enough clearance to get to him.

You drove with Ray in the front while Fisk and Dex rode in the back. You followed Dex’s directions, intentionally slamming the brakes harder than necessary. When you parked, Ray called Matt.

“If you can hear me…” You spoke quietly, putting a hand over your mouth so the men in the back wouldn’t see. “Fisk is using all of us, just be careful.”

Fisk sent Ray out while he kept you and Dex in the car.

“What do you need us to do?” Dex asked and your other hand gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Exodus.” Fisk said calmly and your eyes darted to the rear view mirror. “Where is your suit?”

He didn’t need to know that you were wearing your suit beneath your work clothes. You wore a sweater over it instead of a button up with simple black pants that were easy to ditch, along with your usual jacket. Your Bites, and mask were all tucked between the material of your suit and the top, blending with the extra fabric of your loose sweater. Your shoes were your usual vigilante boots. So really, the only thing you were missing were your staffs, and that was only because the pack would’ve been too bulky to hide. You had returned all of your equipment to the closet back home, knowing it’d be too risky to just leave in your trunk now that you were caught in the middle of everything.

“Parti. Et vous le serez aussi, assez tôt.” You said tightly. (Gone. And you will be too, soon enough.)

Dex reached around and locked his arm around your throat. He yanked back and forced you against the headrest, increasing the pressure on your windpipe. You coughed roughly and reached down, finding the side lever for the back of the seat. You pulled up on it and threw your weight back, hearing the thud when it slammed into Dex.

“Enough.” Fisk announced, but you jammed an elbow against Dex’s jaw to prove a point before shifting in your seat to face Fisk.

“Allow me to clarify something. I do not work for you. I’ve stood my ground before and I’m not afraid to do it again.” You said firmly, knowing the anger sparked in your eyes. “Daredevil and I will finish this, the real Daredevil. No one can save you.”

He turned towards Dex with a smirk before facing you again.

“Y’know…” You turned towards Dex with an innocently curious expression. “I haven’t seen Julie around since your little chat at the cafe. How is she?”

His brows furrowed as you tugged that concern closer to the surface. His eyes went big when he either remembered or realized something so you gave Fisk a smirk before heading inside to meet with Ray.

“The Feds want something.” The woman you took from the groundbreaking said and looked around your small group of agents.

“Not the Feds.” You sighed and drew head turns just as Fisk walked in.

You had to bite your tongue to keep your comments to yourself. You watched as Fisk tried to barter FBI protection for twenty percent. The woman was interested, and truthfully, she interested you. Calm and comfortable in her power, but willing to work with others. If you weren’t so inclined to stay on the right-ish side of the law, maybe you would’ve been like her.

What really kept your attention was the man you only heard addressed as Mr. Starr. The old man was set in his ways, refusing to budge. He refused to kneel to Fisk’s pressure and while you commended him for his conviction, you knew what was coming.

Dex’s baton came flying in before you could react and the man slumped forward against the table in a puddle

of his own blood. Dex came to stand at Fisk’s side and you moved to the other side of the now dead body, picking up the club. You flipped it in your hands, earning uncertain looks from the other crime bosses. You tapped the other end against your empty palm before stealing a move from Dex, throwing it against the table so it’d bounce. The bounce led one end to jam into Dex’s chest, making him stagger back a few steps and you smiled.

You may not be able to take him on in broad daylight, not with the handful of agents in Fisk’s pocket. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t take smaller jabs at him. After the deals were said and done, when Matt didn’t show, Dex moved across the table and stood close to you.

“If you tipped him.” He said lowly, attempting to threaten you.

You calmly titled your head back to meet his burning glare with a small shrug. “When would I have done that? You’ve been watching me the whole time.”

His jaw clenched as he stared you down, growing uncertain as you refused to falter. Your chin lifted slightly in a soft challenge as Fisk called him back.

“What a good lap dog.” You mocked softly as he followed Fisk without question.

You only followed when Ray nudged you. You ignored the lingering looks from the various criminals at the table as you left, but you couldn’t ignore their fear. It spiked when you threw the baton at Dex and it was clear that while they did fear Dex, you terrified them. And not because you were Exodus. They couldn’t know that. What scared them about you was the way you carried yourself. Your total confidence in challenging Fisk and his faux Daredevil. It left them to wonder what you could do on your own.

You realized that part of you missed the fear your presence used to cause, but the reality was that you didn’t need to be a looming force. Fear was fun when it was only you. Respect was better when others were at stake.

The car ride was quiet, but the tension was building quickly. It soon felt like your suit was suffocating you, like the high collar was digging into your throat even though you didn’t have it zipped all the way. The collar was folded under your sweater, but that didn’t mean your skin wasn’t stained with the ghost of the material. You called your jitters to your hand, creating a small collection of bouncing wisps in your palm. The silver streaks danced around and weaved through your fingers, shaking and ricocheting off your skin as you flicked them away and called them back like a yo-yo.

But when the announcement sounded in your implant, the string snapped and the wisps instantly disappeared.

Karen Page is located at the Clinton Church. Keep all NYPD units clear until otherwise advised. Copy.

You spun in your seat with wide eyes, a panic settling deep in your stomach when the SUV stopped and he sent Ray out.

Would Matt get there in time? Would you? How would you get away? Would Matt even know what was happening? Even if you were still upset, you knew you needed his help. You didn’t even know if he had heard you earlier. If he came up and saw you there, would he think you sided with Fisk out of spite?

While Fisk and Dex talked about what they needed to do next, you took a glance around the street. There was no one around, so you running out of a blacked out SUV wouldn’t raise any questions.

“He was murdered!” Fisk shouted and slammed a fist against the door,

“And I’d do it again.” You said firmly, drawing an angry glare from him and a quizzical one from Dex. “He deserved it for threatening people I cared about. When I walked out of that warehouse, his blood splattered on my suit, I damn near celebrated.”

“When I sent you to the Bulletin, it was to discredit Daredevil and his partner-“ He gestured to you before turning to face Dex again. “-and the reporter that helped make them into heroes. At the time, I didn’t know that she had assisted in his murder.”

“If there’s something you want me to do, just ask.” Dex added smoothly.

“I want you to kill Karen Page.”

Your former friend made a point to meet your eyes. “Consider it done.”

“Good luck.” You scoffed before reaching across the gap and slamming Dex’s head against the window.

You hurried out the door after that but you felt a hand on your arm. You turned to see Dex and he yanked you back, pushing you towards the other SUV. You pulled free and threw a roundhouse against his jaw that threw him into the nearest wall. He got up quickly and threw a right hook against your jaw before grabbing the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the sides of your neck and he slammed your head against the window of the SUV. You felt the skin at your hairline split so you stuck a foot against the car and kicked off, pushing you both backwards so Dex would hit his back on a nearby dumpster.

You took the chance to climb to your feet and took off sprinting down the streets until you got to the church. You got inside just as mass was starting so you snuck up the stairs that led to the balcony. You stripped out of your work clothes and tucked them under one of the pews before fixing the final details of your suit. 

You listened to Father Lantom’s speech, thanking everyone for coming to mass. You tapped your mask and looked between the priest and the doors as the tension buzzed through your body. You felt electrified by the looming threat but the gentle, honest words from Father Lantom seemed to serve as a buffer to break some

of that buzzing. If you could count on nothing from the ideas of religion or from any church, you could always count on Father Lantom to be genuine with whoever he was talking to. You smiled softly towards the altar where Father Lantom was, and he had offered you the same sentiment, when a voice cut through everything.

“Karen Page!” Dex called out as he entered the church, dragging the club against the side of the pews as he stepped further inside. “Where is… Karen Page?”

You hopped over the railing and landed behind him. By the time your feet hit the ground, he had already beat on three patrons. You shot a wire at his throat and once it wrapped, you yanked hard to pull him back a few feet. He yanked the wire off and turned on you, both clubs in hand before Karen announced herself.

You felt your heart drop to your feet when he smirked, turning to face her. She was quick to put herself in front of the people and you felt helpless, for only a moment. 

“Hello, Karen. It’s nice to see you again.” Dex said simply.

You took that chance to get in front of him, hands quick to reach behind and find your knives. You brandished them quickly and Dex tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t have to listen to him.” You tried, pushing out a subtle desperation.

It would be the last chance. Standing against Dex, against your partner, you couldn’t protect him and defend against him at the same time. So in that church, with all the lives that hid behind you on the line, you forced Dex to make a choice.

You. Or the man who only saw Dex as a weapon.

“Pick your side.” You warned. “You won’t get another chance to change your mind.”

He gave you a wicked smile and you knew that the man you knew before was gone. His mind had snapped and he was now a fractured, broken version of the person you once called a partner. His lack of empathy had never been so clear, like a vacuum that sucked in and destroyed any sense of emotion around him. It began to drag on you as well, but Matt made it just in time.

He landed contact with Dex from behind so you turned and gathered the people who had attended mass. You pushed Karen to join the crowd while Matt handled the fight. You shoved the knife away and reached into a different pocket for your communications case, you shoved it into her hands and turned in time to see Dex standing before you. Your eyes darted to the side and all you could see behind the small altar of candles were Matt’s feet.

You turned back to Dex just time to see the knife coming. Instantly, you moved to the side to put yourself in front of the people but two hands came to your arms and threw you to the side. You looked back and saw the knife buried in Father Lantom’s chest.

“No.” You said quickly, eyes brimming with sudden tears. “No!”

Matt ran back into the fight screaming, the anger radiating off him. Lantom spoke quietly to Matt as he laid in Karen’s arms, her own hands trembling around the knife. You reached for the case you gave her, opening it and pulling one of the ear pieces. Shakily, she put it in her ear and gave you a quick nod. You tapped your scar before finding Matt. When he floored Dex, you practically ran across the short distance.

You clipped the microphone to the collar of his shirt, throwing a hard sidekick when Dex tried to get to his feet.

“Karen? Can you hear me?” You spoke quietly.

“Yeah… I can get everyone out.” She answered, her voice echoing around your skull. “But you guys have to get him away from the nave.”

You offered a sharp nod and focused back on Dex. You ran towards him and slammed your knee into his chest. He rolled through the impact and kicked himself down one of the aisles. From there, he began throwing small candles at the two of you. The wax splattered across your face as they shattered against your arms after you raised them, causing you to wince slightly as you turned your head. Keeping one arm up, you stuck your Bite between the small gap at the bend of your arm and fired. The electricity landed at the base of his throat and his movements became tight convulsions.

You took advantage and moved closer, slamming a kick to the back of his knee. When he fell to a kneel, you used the opposite foot you kicked and threw a roundhouse to the side of his head that forced him to the floor. You turned to find Matt, seeing Karen moving people on the other side instead. You heard movement from behind you and turned to see Dex standing with a piece of marble in hand.

When he pulled back to throw it, Matt came and drew his attention away. You let out a small sigh and glanced back at Karen, hearing her talking to one of the patrons about getting out.

“Make sure they stay low to the ground.” You instructed as you watched Dex and Matt exchange blows. “Keep out of his line of sight and move fast.”

When the boys came back into the main area of the church, you jumped back into the fight. Matt threw Dex into a pew so you moved to the side and grabbed hold of the edge as Dex kicked out at Matt’s chest. You threw your legs forward to slam into his chest and flip him over. Your feet landed on the seat so you crouched on the wood and waved the group of churchgoers forward after you noticed they had paused to watch the fight.

The small crowd was huddled low as they crept across the floor. You made a small noise to yourself when you thought they weren’t going fast enough but the sound was cut short when Dex yanked you down by your arm, a hand gripping aggressively around your wrist. You yelped slightly when you landed on your shoulder and Dex stood over you, rolling you to your back with his foot before he pressed it at the base of your shoulder as he searched the group. You craned your neck as you tried to force Dex off and you saw Karen running down the center aisle.

“Don’t.” You tried as his arm pulled back and he forced you back to the floor. The force of his foot combined with the way your arm was twisted was enough to pop the bone out of its socket and you couldn’t keep the sound of pain from happening.

Luckily, Matt knocked Dex off balance just in time to send his throw off course. Using your other hand, you jabbed two knuckles into a pressure point at the back of Dex’s leg and he fell against the pew. With Matt’s help, you wiggled out from underneath his weight and got to your feet.

“How are we gonna beat him?” Matt asked through heavy breaths. 

Your mind raced and the only things that kept repeating were three things you learned from Melina. She taught you those things not to help as a Widow, but to protect you. 

What I’m going to teach you isn’t for anyone but yourself. Remember these rules and no one can beat you, little Y/N.

Looking around, you realized you already used one.

“A man can’t stand, he can’t fight.” You spoke quietly, reaching out to find Matt’s hands. You guided them up to your shoulder and he moved closer, allowing you to close a fist around the material of his shirt. His fingers traced the joint before his palms found their positions and he pressed hard, a sharp exclamation falling from your lips as you felt the bone fit back into place. You bit your lip as you let out a small whimper while you heard Melina’s voice repeating those same words. With a. deep breath, you took a step away and collected yourself.

“If we can keep him off balance, we-“

Your sentence was cut short by a heavy fist at your jaw. You staggered back against the main row of pews and once your back hit the wood, you were bombarded with more hits. Your arms came up quickly, batting away his hits but every fist seemed to come heavier and heavier.

“Hey! I’m the one you want, right?” Karen yelled from the door, stealing his attention.

You took advantage of his hesitation and slammed both fists against his chest. He staggered away and coughed heavily, giving you space to stand tall and wipe the blood off your nose. 

“A man can’t breathe, he can’t fight.” You spoke to yourself and turned to Karen. You were tackled to the ground and his foot pressed down on the center of your chest.

You squirmed beneath him and Dex leaned his weight against you and you could feel the cartilage in your chest cracking. He snapped a rosary and pulled back to throw the beads. You lifted a wrist and shot a wire towards Karen’s ankle. It wrapped around your target and you yanked back to pull Karen to the floor just in time.

You popped the wire off and felt the weight disappear from your chest after Matt knocked him off. You took deep, gasping breaths while you looked back as you got to your feet and saw Karen was gone. You tapped your mask and saw her heading up the stairs to the top deck. You checked over your shoulder and saw Matt locked in with Dex. You thought of joining in but you chose to follow Karen up the steps instead. You found her crouched in the darkest corner and she covered her

mouth with her hand when she saw you.

“Oh God.” She whispered, likely horrified by the blood you were covered in.

“You okay?” You asked quietly and all she could do was nod.

You heard footsteps coming so you used your mask to see it was Dex. Instantly, you wondered where Matt was but you didn’t have time to figure it out. You stepped out and pulled a knife from the back of your belt. You made a grand gesture as you moved closer to Dex.

“Is this what you wanted?” You asked simply. “You killed an innocent man.”

“You know what I want.” He answered flatly. “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“Because at least I’m fighting for something. What do you fight for, hmm? What do you stand for? You’re a joke. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing. When Fisk is done with you, he’ll throw you away. You’re not special to him. The only thing you’ve done is destroy what that suit used to stand for around here. You can’t compare to Daredevil.”

Dex simply growled as he charged you. You braced yourself just as his shoulder slammed into your stomach. He lifted you off the ground and slammed your back into the marble pillar in the center of the deck. You coughed roughly and flipped the knife so you could swipe it across his back. You dropped the blade and locked your fingers behind his neck. Tucking your knees against his chest, you threw yourself to the ground so when you landed, your knees slammed against him. You rolled you two so you could be on top and you kept a grip on his suit front, slamming down hit after hit and watching his head bounce off the ground.

You pulled your arm back and armed your Bite, seeing the bright red glow shine in your peripherals. You were angling the shot when his forehead slammed up into your nose and knocked your teeth together. You fell to the side and Dex pushed you the rest of the way off. A pair of hands came under your arms and hauled you up. You looked quickly and saw it was Matt.

Together, you two took your stances across from Dex. The man across from you let out an annoyed sigh and moved at you two again. He shoved you towards the railing and you teetered over it. Your hands were tightly holding the top as your upper body tilted over and your feet lifted from the ground. You had to let one hand go for a second to hook the wire from your belt around the posts.

Once that was secure, you turned to your back and pushed yourself to be seated on the wood. You focused in on the scene in front of you and found Matt on the floor and Dex with a small, familiar blade in his hand. Your blade. You were quick to shoot the other end of your wire around his neck.

When the material whipped around, you yanked him back so he stood flush against you.

“You won’t win.” He choked out as you replaced the wire with your arm around his neck.

“I don’t have to.” You said into his ear, the other hand pressing the Bite against his throat. “We just both have to lose.”

You fired the weapon and locked your ankles together around his waist. He yelled in pain before you threw yourself backwards, launching you both over the edge. Your own body slammed against the heavy wood posts as your wire held you in place, dangling you over the drop like a piñata. In any other circumstance, the display probably would’ve made you laugh.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and undid the clasp at your belt. You motioned to Karen to check on Matt while you took heavy breaths and collapsed to your knees, pressing gently on your loose sternum to figure out the extent of the cracks. She hurried over, hesitating by your side. You waved her off before hauling yourself up to peer over the edge.

As soon as your chest leaned over, all of the air was sucked out of you as the sharp object pierced your solar plex. You were breathless as your hands hovered over the penetration and Dex was gone. You looked down with shaky breaths and you saw the familiar handle sticking out.

He threw your own knife at you. Again.

[emma-m-black]

White Knight - Chapter One

Cory Ellison x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

Cory Ellison's coffee is stolen one morning in an unconventional first meeting with Elenora McKnight (Yeah, it's another Elenora character I really need to find new names). I do totally ship him and Bradley together, but I like my OC's

This will be a multi chapter story and I'm not sure how spicy it will get. Cory's character is so interesting and he needs all the love from the fans.

Warnings - There is mention of rape in this story.

Chapter One:

“Cory!” The cafe barista yelled as she set a large white to-go cup on the counter. Cory Ellison, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his tall, lean frame, stepped forward to grab his drink when a small hand deftly cut through the small mass of people and snagged his coffee. Following the hand, he found it attached to a woman adorned in a dark green, worn leather jacket, exuding an air of casual confidence. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, framing delicate yet simple features, and her light green eyes sparkled mischievously as she flashed him an enormous smile. With a wink, she laid down a crisp hundred-dollar bill before sauntering out the door, leaving Cory momentarily stunned.

“Well, that was unusual,” Cory remarked with a bemused smile. The barista, still in awe of the unexpected encounter, nodded in agreement. “Well guess I would like to order again." He laughed.

“Right away, Sir,” the barista replied, quickly composing herself.

A few minutes later, Cory had his coffee in hand and was navigating the pedestrian traffic for the short distance to U.B.A. Tower. He exchanged nods with the security officer at the entrance before making his way to his office on the top floor. However, his routine was interrupted by his assistant, Kyle, who appeared to be in a state of mild panic.

“I tried to stop her, Sir, but she insisted she didn’t need a meeting,” Kyle explained breathlessly.

“What are you talking about, Kyle?” Cory inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“She said she was your boss.”

“I don’t have a boss,” Cory replied, his curiosity now mingled with amusement. “Do I?” A smile played on Cory’s lips as he approached his office door.

Kyle trailed behind him, his concern evident. “Did you want me to call security just in case?”

As they reached the doorway, Cory was met with the sight of the mysterious woman from the cafe, comfortably seated at his desk with her feet propped up, sipping his coffee as if she owned the place. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Kyle.” Cory greeted her with a mixture of surprise and amusement as he entered the room. “Coffee girl!

“For the future, I prefer a little more sugar in my coffee,” the woman quipped with a playful smile, her gaze meeting Cory’s with unapologetic boldness.

“I will remember that for next time. And when I get you said coffee, what name would I be putting on it?” Cory replied, matching her playful tone.

Pulling her feet from the desk, the woman stood up gracefully and extended her hand in greeting. “Elenora McKnight, a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Cory Ellison, but I obviously you already know that,” Cory said with a smile as he shook her hand, his gaze lingering for a moment on her athletic build and simple yet elegant attire. “McKnight...” Cory trailed off as he attempted to place the familiar name. “Wait, you’re Matthew’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“The one and only,” Elenora confirmed with a theatrical flourish, her demeanor exuding both confidence and warmth.

“And what brings you to U.B.A. today?” Cory inquired, intrigued by the unexpected visit.

An enormous smile spread across Elenora’s lips. “Well, I heard you are looking for an investor.”

Cory gestured towards the couch, inviting her to take a seat. Elenora settled herself comfortably, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her as she made herself at home. “So are you telling me anti-news Matthew is looking to buy a news station?”

“No, not at all. I’m looking to buy,” Elenora clarified, taking a casual sip of her coffee.

“What, did Daddy finally give you your inheritance?” Cory quipped, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

“What would it matter to you?” Elenora replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders with a wry smile.

Cory let out a sigh. “I’m not in the game of getting in the middle of some family dispute.”

“This has nothing to do with him. I am a woman, with a fifty-five billion dollar investment fund, waiting to be assigned to your company, Cory.”

Setting his coffee cup down on the desk, Cory rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for whatever this is, Ms. McKnight.”

“No, you don’t. You have a company that is about to lose your last few remaining ad revenue deals because you have no money. Or did you not know that Fred Micklen is telling everyone and anyone that this place is a sinking ship and no one should touch it?”

“FUCK!” Cory’s frustration boiled over, his hand slamming against the leather of the couch. “He’s gonna haunt me to my grave.” With a heavy sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands.

“Probably. He is an asshole like that,” Elenora remarked casually. “Which is why I’m willing to help. Legacy media is going to die, and I happen to enjoy The Morning Show, although I mainly watch to see what kind of disaster is going to befall this place that day.”

“You and most of America,” Cory muttered under his breath, lifting his head to regard Elenora with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. “What’s in it for you? What do you get out of this deal?”

Elenora leaned forward, her demeanor earnest yet determined. “I want a position on the board, and I would want to revamp this place slightly. U.B.A. would see an increase in the sports division to allow for us to compete with other sports networks and we would hire for a new digital news division. Of course, I would also want to overhaul the budgets, but I believe we could give raises to most staff, and I would require U.B.A. to start an internship program for those trying to enter broadcasting and news.”

“You’ll have to excuse me when I sit here wondering what the catch is,” Cory remarked skeptically.

“There is no catch, Cory. This place is going to die, it’s going to get sold off for parts. But I want to keep it running. I want to build on it. I want it to last another eighty years, and of course, you would be part of that.”

“I don’t buy it. How do I know you won’t just sell us off for parts?”

“Because it’s written into the contract I’ve had drawn up. Unlike my father, I don’t hate you, and I’m not an asshole, and I want to see this place succeed. With you, of course, at the helm.”

Cory squinted at Elenora, his skepticism warring with a glimmer of hope. “Come on, you understand how ridiculous this all sounds, right? You show up on your white horse, offering me salvation. Anyone would have serious questions.”

“My lawyers are sending over the offer at ten. I’m sure you can skim it. Make a list of questions and concerns, and we can discuss them over dinner tonight. Then, when you realize that this is the deal of a lifetime, you can take the offer to the board, and when you inevitably call me to accept, I’m going to make you take me out for drinks to celebrate.”

“You are quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” Cory remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Elenora smiled, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Oh, you can’t even imagine the fun we are going to have together.” With a graceful movement, she rose from the couch. “Well, I know you are a busy man, Cory, so I will leave you to it. See you tonight.”

Cory watched as Elenora retrieved her coffee from the table and exit the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. After a moment, he rose from his seat and moved to his computer, his curiosity piqued. Typing “Elenora McKnight” into the search engine, he delved into a rabbit hole of articles and videos, each unveiling a different facet of the enigmatic woman who had just waltzed into his life.

The first article was a photo of Elenora dressed in khakis and a soiled tank top holding a camera. The headline of the article read, “Heiress helps in re-establishing power after the second Hurricane hits Puerto Rico.” but it was from a few years ago.

The next article showed a picture of Elenora in a dress suit. Her hair tied back in a low bun, and glasses perched on her nose. “Elenora McKnight testifies against Jeffery Epstein.” He knew he shouldn’t, but he clicked on the article. The picture that greeted him now was Elenora sitting on the stand. “Ms McKnight has revealed that while she and two others vacationed in Cancun, Mr. Epstein stalked their whereabouts and, while he was in the area, made advances towards Ms. Knight. When she refused his advances, he cornered her in a private hotel elevator and forced himself on her while he was intoxicated. She was seventeen at the time and, as such as a California citizen was considered underage. While unconfirmed, it is rumored that her father had told Epstein as to his daughter’s whereabouts, in exchange for funding a private business venture. Ms McKnight was believed to have received an undisclosed sum from her family’s estate after revealing to the press what had happened during that time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cory whispered as he ran a hand across his face.

Backing out of the article, Cory took a deep breath and scanned more of the headlines. “Elenora McKnight receives the IPA award for photos taken in Haiti.” That wasn’t her only award, either. He found a few more headlines showcasing a bunch of her work while also assisting in humanitarian aid.

“Elenora McKnight graduates top of her class from the California Institute of the Arts.”

“Elenora McKnight opens her first New York Gallery.”

“Elenora McKnight donates ten million to Planned Parenthood. “

“Elenora McKnight makes it to the top of the list for the highest female net worth.”

“How Elenora McKnight took a tragic story of family betrayal, assault and heartbreak and turned it into a billion-dollar empire which only continues to grow. Come with us as we interview this amazing young woman as part of this year’s. Forbes 30 under 30.”

This link was for a video listed as four years old, and Cory’s curiosity got the better of him. Clicking the link, he leaned back in his seat and watched as Elenora’s smiling face came across the screen. She was standing in the doorway of a home and leaning against the door frame as she stared into the camera. “Well, come on in, guys.” She waved a hand and motioned for the camera to follow.

The next image was of Elenora walking into a modestly sized living room. “So Elenora McKnight, are you ready for our thirty questions for our favorite thirty under thirty guests?”

“I sure am. Wait, does that count as one of the questions?” The interviewer laughed along with Elenora.

“So, is this your home, or are you renting?”

Elenora spread her arms out. “Nope, this is all mine. Restored to its greatness with a few modern touches, ‘cause I’m sorry I still need television, sufficient lighting and running water.”

“So you graduated from the California Institute of the Arts and you have made quite a name in the art community with your photos. Where is the coolest place you have ever taken a photo?”

“Oh, I know the perfect shot to show you!” Elenora moved along through her living room and up a set of stairs. The camera followed Elenora into a loft filled with bookshelves. A large square couch sat in the center of the room and, suspended above, was a large photo of a Tibetan man. He was smiling and holding up a camera, peering through the viewfinder towards the photographer. “This was Dechen. He was my guide at Everest.”

“You climbed Everest?”

With wide eyes, Elenora quickly placed a hand over her face in shame. “No, I only went to base camp. I couldn’t acclimatize and eventually had to call it quits. Don’t tell anyone, but I was scared shitless to climb. It probably would not have made it anyway. Dechen was fantastic, he was a one-of-a-kind person. He even helped me more with this particular piece.” Elenora waved for the camera to follow to the other side of the photo where they were greeted with the smiling face of Elenora who, like Dechen, was behind a camera. “We took these at the same time. It is such a splendid memory.”

“Next question, are these all for show, or have you read them all?”

“I’ve read a good chunk of them. I like to read, but please do not start looking at titles. I’m a sucker for a good romance, and some of these might be a little spicy.”

He learned much about Elenora in a short amount of time. Her favorite color was pink, favorite flower was the orchid, she freelanced and reported in many of the areas she visited. She had an art gallery, where she showcased her photos as well as featured local youth artists. Elenora seemed to enjoy staying in over going out and she made a few jokes regarding the fact she thought she was born about thirty years too late and that she felt like an old soul. She had learned to knit, enjoyed Gin as her liquor of choice and, as of this video nine months ago, was not seeing anyone.

“Mr. Ellison?” Kyle’s voice sounded from the doorway, dragging Cory’s focus from his computer screen to his assistant. “A courier just dropped this off for you.”

Entering the room, Kyle handed over a large yellow envelope, and Cory opened it to discover the deal that Elenora had talked about. “Can you cancel my afternoon and set up a meeting with the lawyers instead? Tell them I want to meet them about a buy offer.”

“Right away, Sir.”

After Kyle left the room, Cory began flipping through the document. It was simple. He found much of the same stuff they had already talked about. However, there was a clause. Conditionally, Elenora would be hired on as a freelance reporter for the web division. Under salary, but with no obligation to print her articles.

As Cory pondered the terms of the offer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Elenora McKnight was more than just an heiress with a vast fortune. She was a force to be reckoned with, a woman of depth and complexity whose actions spoke volumes about her character. And as he weighed the pros and cons of accepting her proposal, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of working alongside her to breathe new life into U.B.A.

With a determined nod, Cory made up his mind. He would accept Elenora’s offer, not just because it made business sense, but because he believed in her vision for the future of the company. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation for the journey that lay ahead.

For in Elenora McKnight, Cory saw not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a woman who shared his passion for innovation and his commitment to excellence. And as they embarked on this new chapter together, he knew that the possibilities were endless.

With a smile on his face and a renewed sense of purpose in his heart, Cory leaned back in his chair, ready to embrace the adventure that awaited him. And as he closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh, he knew that with Elenora by his side, anything was possible.

[mandowifey]

The Start of Something.

Chapter 1. || Chapter 2

Ellison Oswalt can't remember the last time he had a break this big. A cult survivor who made national news, a secluded compound quartered off from the public eye, an entire town of folks gone over night. This is the opportunity to become the best seller once more, to tell the story of a young woman who survived against the odds.

- + - +

Warnings: Mentions of cult practices, reader is the survivor of extreme trauma as well as sexual assault and ritualistic practices. Reader is afab, and has gone selectively mute as a trauma response. Mentions of blood, traumatic memories, thoughts of anxiety, depression. This is a slow burn, with plot. (It'll be worth it, promise!)

Note: This is an AU, where the events of Sinister did not end with the family dying.

- x - x - x - x - x -

Alaska was on the list of top three locations Tracy wanted to visit, which made it easier convincing the family to uproot despite the recent incident. Sitka was a small town located in the middle of endless forests, mountains and icy lakes. The people there cultivated most of their own food and livestock. Those who were able bodied enough to handle the work manned small fishing vessels during season and that was how they survived long winters. It was a difficult place to grow old, and that was when you weren't a tourist.

"Trevor, Ashley come here for a second."

Ellison came jogging around the moving van, which to everyone's surprise had stayed in tact since renting it nearly 200 miles ago. Wearing his signature cardigan, he leaned and placed a box down on the edge of the truck before looking at his children. So much had changed since Chatford. Ashley didn't smile much, though the cocktail of therapy, child psychiatrists and medications were mostly to blame. Trevor had become much more withdrawn, and Tracy, she said it hadn't been his fault but the way she looked at him spoke otherwise.

He smiles. "I know I already gave you both a pep talk about moving here, but you gotta remember not to wander around anywhere without an adult. There's-"

His pointed gaze fell upon the full sized bed in the corner. It seems Tracy remembered to tell the movers to put it there. Things were different now, and that included their marriage. The only reason they had not finalized the divorce was to keep their children from dealing with any other sort of stress on top of what had already happened. Part of him hoped that this new book would be his gateway into repairing his marriage and family.

"Bears, wolves, and other bad things." Both children said unanimously.

Ellison pushes his lips together, softening his brows. He had not realized how many times he'd given them the 'safety talk'. Satisfied that the children understood, he waved them off and grabbed his box before walking inside. Their home was an older model, a mix of vintage and modern. Some of the wood that came with the original structure had been restored, but the rest had been left untouched. It was not as glamorous as their previous residences but it was the only place they could afford with their strict budget. Stepping around the corridor into his office, he places the box down on the desk and glances.

With a heavy sigh, Ellison walked out of his domicile and resumed bringing in boxes.

---

You were running.

His scream followed you over fallen trees, through the leaves and streams. Dogs barking, their hot breath at your legs. Your lungs were filled with ice, aching with each sharp breath you took. Everything inside you was tired, but giving up meant going back, and you would rather die.

It felt like you might, as you broke through the tree line and the lush woods became a narrow cliff face, nearly 60 feet above white capped rapids. Jumping would certainly result in death, but so would allowing yourself to be caught. Your heart slammed in your ears as rushing winds made you wobble and catch yourself near the edge. You look below, before your eyes drift back to the trees. Four men ran out, two holding foaming dogs on leashes, and two holding torches. Their black and red ceremonial robes ruffling in the wind.

"Y/N," A man with short platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes emerged from the middle of them. His prominent cheek bones making him appear much more ghastly in the low light of the setting sun. The robes he wore mirrored that of a christian reverend. Though instead of white or gold accents, they were red.

"Stay away from me, Joseph." Your voice hardly audible over the wind.

His lips pressed into a thin line and he frowned as he looked at you. Joseph was so clearly disappointed, the look in his eyes made you think he might've almost felt bad. But you knew better. He takes another step towards you, causing you to inch closer to the edge, making him stop.

"Don't you think this is a little bit of an overreaction, hmm?" He rumbles. "Come on darling, what are you going to do, jump? That fall alone is nearly 60 feet. It'd kill you on impact-"

Your bare feet touch the edge of the cold stone, your eyes on fire as you look at him.

"-Y/N, my dark goddess, please, seek reason, move from the edge and come with me. I promise you will not receive punishment for your disobedience. Just, step away..." Joseph extends his hand towards you, fingers uncurling as his lips twisted into a smile that never quite reached his eyes. In that moment, you knew what had to be done.

His guttural scream echoed as you let yourself fall.

-

Waking with a gasp, you sat upright in bed and gripped your chest, face and head to check over each inch and ensure everything was still together. Satisfied your body had not split apart, you look around your room and grab the cellphone perched on the edge of the nightstand. 7:45 AM, the usual. Ever since your escape, the nightmares had been relentless. Exhausted could not even begin to describe it. Sleep seemed like a fantasy instead of a possibility.

You decided it was time to start your day, the likelihood of falling back asleep was low. Making your way out of bed, you began the same routine you had done since your liberation three months ago. Shower, teeth, clothes, breakfast. The autonomy if your decisions was still strange. For nearly an entire year you had that right stripped away from you by Joseph. Now he was gone and you could decide when you ate and what you wore. The sensation was still strange, you couldn’t be sure you would ever get used to it.

As you moved around the tiny home, you heard the sound of church bells and felt a pit forming in your stomach. Saint Gale’s had been kind enough to give you housing in the in-law home on the church grounds. To return their kindness you volunteered at the church when you were able, and occasionally at the food kitchen. It wasn’t much, but it helped with the guilt of being supported. The small home was unlisted, and it helped conceal your identity from the public. Within the first three days of freedom, every news outlet and personality wanted to interview you. Everyone wanted the story of the Sitka Satanist Survivor. After denying each and every one, they had dwindled away to nothing as they realized you had vanished from the public eye.

You reminded yourself it was for the best. What happened with Joseph and that cursed place should die with you alone. Not a single soul would believe what had transpired there, and you were fine with that. The acceptance helped you sleep at night sometimes.

Cleaning your coffee mug, you were lost in thought when a familiar prickle made its way up the back of your neck. Your eyes flicked towards the front door, silent. There was a sound of tires crunching in gravel and a car door closing. You drop the mug in the sink and lunge for the knife block, your fingers curling around the handle of one and unsheathing it as you face the door. No one should know you were there. Holding your breath, you listened as soft footsteps trailed to your front door, where someone knocked gently.

A sick sensation began to pool in your stomach, your lungs aching from the lack of oxygen. Your mind swirled with all the possibilities. What if its Joseph? The police said the entire compound was gone by the time they arrived. Gone, not dead. Gone could mean anything. It could mean they were out there, just waiting for you to get complacent. The voice in your head began to whisper. Take the knife, cut your throat, don’t let them in. Don’t open that door. Cut your throat cut your throat cut-

“Hello, my name is Ellison Oswalt, I’m here to talk to Y/N.”

The thoughts abruptly stopped. Your eyes flick to the cornered bookshelf in the living room. Resting on the middle shelf, an old copy of Kentucky Blood. Another writer, someone hoping to capitalize on your experience. Your grip on the knife loosens just enough to alleviate the pain in your fingers. The man being there didn’t anger you, however you were pressed to find out how he found you. Walking to the door, you unlock the bottom lock but leave the chain lock connected. You open it just enough to look out and see him. Standing in his cardigan, he had a satchel over his shoulder and a soft smile on his face. Paranoid, your eyes skim the space behind him, searching for others.

Ellison picked up on your concern. “I’m alone.” He promises. “I’m good friends with the man who runs the church, Gary? I had to search a little to figure out where they moved you to but it’s not public. I hadn’t told anyone either.” He assures, his cerulean eyes catching the morning rays. You stare at him, frustrated that Reverend Morrison would tell anyone where you were.

Since you had not spoke, Ellison continued. “I know you don’t have a great relationship with the media but I want to work with you and tell your story. It’s not every day someone goes through what you did. This is a chance to inspire others, maybe be an awakening for folks. You deserve to be heard.” His words held a lot of passion, you felt compelled to believe him. With a frown, you reach over to put the knife on the counter before looking at him. Perhaps he was right. Maybe if the world learned of what happened to you, you’d find some peace. You doubted heavily he or the public would believe you, but Ellison had a point. It was time to be heard.

Unlatching the chain, you open the door fully to welcome him inside.

For just a moment, you felt hope.

[c0ffinshit]

Then I Saw Her (Ellison Oswalt x Reader) Part Two

Part One

word count: 1,429

warnings: takes place after the events of the movie, smoking, talks about death and condoms, ends with a cliffhanger

It finally happened again. I saw the girl from the bookstore in Seattle again. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked that we saw each other again. Even after I survived that dreaded and frankly fucking terrible house. They made me sign a book deal and, as you might have guessed, another dreaded book tour. This time, at least,  they gave me a paper cup filled with bitter and sad coffee. Which, for Seattle, feels disappointing. The only thing worth noting about the whole day other than seeing her again was the number of people that showed up. People of different backgrounds came to me and asked to sign my shitty book about my trauma. And by all different backgrounds, I mean primarily white women and their bored-looking husbands. When she finally trekked up to me, her eyes seemed to light up the minute we locked eyes. 

"Well, we will meet again." She said, placing the book on the table.

I opened the book for me to sign. Before my pen hit the paper, I noticed the title didn’t match the one I was there to advertise. It was Kentucky Blood, the first book.   

"Yeah, and you’re making me sign the wrong book," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughs, her sweet laugh, and takes the book back, placing it into her navy blue crossbody tote bag. Her hair looked so perfect as she dug around for the other book. My eyes slowly passed along her figure, and the line behind me was slowly getting smaller and smaller as people started to walk out the door and into the busy Seattle streets. Maybe people didn’t come to see me. I didn’t seem to mind, looking back.

"Here’s the right one, sorry." She places the right book on the table, sliding it to me. 

"It's alright, sweetheart, no need to worry." 

Under the yellow light, I could see the embarrassment on her face as I took out my Sharpie. I wanted so badly to ask her who she really was. Is she a morning person or a night person? What’s her favorite movie? 

"So, um," she begins, "this is probably unprofessional, but I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime?" 

The minute I heard her say that, it felt like my heart would explode. 

"Yes, I’ll be free in about an hour. Can we meet outside this bookstore?" 

She looks to the floor, shy. "Yeah, I have something I need to do, but yeah. I’ll meet you here."

A part of me wasn’t surprised that she had a life outside of me, but I wondered what was so important. Maybe she wanted to go home and grab condoms- stop it! 

This girl has been admiring me for god knows how long, and here I am, thinking impurely of her. She probably just needs to get something from the store or maybe her car, totally pure and wholesome, nothing more or less. I may know her name, but that doesn’t mean my mind can wander. I carefully watched her as she winked at me and walked out the door. She would be on my mind for the rest of the day.

___…___

Finally, the day was coming to a close. I stood outside the bookstore, patiently waiting for her to come back. I wanted to apologize to her if I seemed awkward or mean earlier. I didn’t want to offend her. A pack of Marlboro Red sat in my cardigan’s pocket. Suddenly, my mind thought of my now-dead wife. I missed her, sure, but at the same time, I didn’t care. I was about to meet a beautiful girl I’d only known briefly. Her hair felt perfect on her head, and her clothes fit perfectly. It’s what she would’ve wanted. She would’ve wanted me to move on, move to New York, continue my writing, and find a beautiful girl to see often. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark brown car pull up to me. The window rolls down, revealing her in a different, more put-together outfit. This Charming Man by The Smiths played softly in her car, hitting the doors. 

"Hey partner, (Y/N), we met earlier," she said, her voice bubbly.

I was so starstruck, and I hate using that term. Star. Struck.

"Hey," I said. My voice was breathy. Like my words left my mouth with a struggle. "It's Ellison."

She flashes me a smile. "You wanna hop in and take a trip around? Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on kidnapping you. I’m not a murderer or anything."

I shake my head. "Don’t worry, darling. I wasn’t thinking that. But yeah, let’s do some sightseeing."

She unlocked her car and gave me the motion to hop on it. I do, seating myself in the back. I knew if I sat up there with her, I wouldn’t be able to speak. It felt like that movie… I can’t remember the title, but you know the one. She looks at me in the rear view mirror and gives me a disapproving look. My eyebrows furrowed together, wondering what was wrong.

"Why are you back there? You should be up here with me." (Y/N) said, her eyes turning back to the road, still not starting the car. 

"Well, I don’t know. I think I would explode if I looked at you too long."

She giggles, "Come on, I’m not hurting you with my charming good looks. Relax, you’re safe with me."

Relax, you’re safe with me.

When she said that, my heart stopped. It was so flirty and different. Before I could even blink again. I closed the door and sat next to her. 

"See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?" 

I shake my head ‘ no,’ I feel too afraid to speak. I’ll say something stupid and then walk to my hotel alone. God, this girl is so fucking amazing. 

"So, where to go first?" she said, looking over to my lap.

"Anywhere." I plainly said. 

"Alright, I know just the place."

She finally started up the car and pulled away from the bookstore where I sat for hours, hearing the same few words said about my book or me. She passed a few small businesses and street performers before coming to a dirty-looking club. It seemed like a popular place to hang out during the day and into the later hours, judging by the long line waiting to get inside. (Y/N) parked the car and looked at me.

"Are you ready?" she said as she unlocked the doors.

I was scared shitless. Going inside seemed like an okay idea… if I wanted to get stabbed. 

It was reckless. 

My car door swung open, and she grabbed my sweater’s sleeve, dragging me out of the car's warmth. The writing on the wall outside grew enormous as we walked inside. This was it. I was going to die. I am a grown man now getting stared at by a colorful crowd of bikers and women who stared daggers at me. She continues to drag me all the way up to the bar. I look up at the menu. All the drinks are named after obscure Broadway shows or terrible movies. The lights feel like they are going to burn my irises. My eyes lower, looking at the bar itself. She yells for the bartender and looks over at me. She can tell I’m uncomfortable, but I highly doubt she even cares. 

"So, what’s the name of this place? It's very…interesting." I asked politely.  

"Anywhere." She yells, despite the music not being that loud.

"The place is called ‘Anywhere?’" I asked again. Was she being serious or lying to my face?

She nods her head, seemingly pleased by her reply. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. I knew that her taking me here had half a chance of being the best night of my life. All those hopes slip right out of my hand as I look at her again, now chatting with a younger man at the bar. It felt like I wasn’t even there, like a ghost trapped in the empty halls where the ghost’s life had ended. People slowly get up and leave, still looking at me. I want to be angry, wondering when she’ll let me go. Her eyes lean back to me, the younger lad still talking. 

I imagine what the stars look like outside. They sparkle, sure, but the actual stars were few and far between. 

Maybe I was one of those stars. 

Bright, and yet, very few like me.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-one: "The Nighttime Visit"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt surprises you with one of his nightly visits, but he isn't in the red suit this time.

Or You restrain the Devil in your closet and he's forced to listen to you touch yourself.

[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: 5k

a/n: So this is the black suit smupdate I have been teasing for a few months now! I hope you all enjoy and obviously--this is just smut. Reader really wanted to see a restrained Devil go wild. Our next installment I had wrong last time (my brain is a mess) and it was this one, and the one following this will probably be "The Overload." All the installments for this series can be found here. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella2 @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705

It had been a long day for you at the office today. Yet again there had been some breaking political drama happening in the city. Ellison had been on everyone’s ass at The Bulletin trying hard to get ahead of the story which meant you’d come home late and worn out. Currently you were cleaning up after the takeout you’d grabbed on the way home, exhausted and ready to change out of your work clothes and relax. Your phone had finally quieted a bit ago from the news and from work, and you were just looking forward to unwinding on your couch. 

As you were filling a glass with water at your kitchen sink, you overheard the familiar knock at your window. You didn’t even bother to look–who else would be at your window but Matt?

“It’s unlocked,” you called back, turning off the faucet.

The slide of your window was loud in your quiet apartment as you heard Matt climbing in through it. You turned towards your counter, pulling your phone from the charger as you took a sip from your cup.

“You want some water, Matt?” you called back towards him, slipping your phone into your pocket. “It had to be hot in that suit tonight. I’m sure you could–”

Your sentence immediately died in your throat, the words hanging in the air as you turned over your shoulder to glance at Matt. He was standing in the middle of your living room with a devilish smirk pulling up one corner of his lips. But he wasn’t in the red suit you were expecting, the one he always went out in. He was dressed fully in that tight black suit, that black mask covering everything but his smirking, smug mouth. Your heart instantly pounded harder in your chest at the sight, your teeth grinding together as your hand gripped the glass of water you were holding. 

His head tilted a bit to the side as you slowly turned towards him, his smirk only growing wider. Probably because he was zeroed in on what your body was doing at the unexpected sight of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen standing in your apartment. 

“Do I look like I’m hot in this suit, sweetheart?” his deep, gravely voice asked you.

Swallowing hard, you stood there in your kitchen entirely speechless. Only a brief gasp left your lips, your mind unable to form a coherent thought. It was absolutely ridiculous what Matt in that suit did to you, but yet here you were, no longer exhausted but incredibly aroused. Clearly sensing as much, Matt chuckled as he continued to study you behind the mask.

Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and tried to recover. “What–what are you doing out in that suit?” you asked. “Did uh, did something happen to the red one?”

“No,” he answered.

Matt began to slowly stalk his way through the living room towards where you still stood frozen in the kitchen. Your eyes scanned over every inch of him as he moved–from the muscles in his very defined arms, to the definition of his abs through that flimsy material, to that sliver of skin on his stomach where his shirt currently didn’t quite meet the top of his pants. And then your eyes traveled lower, taking in the noticeable muscles of his thighs under those dark pants with each step he took towards you before your eyes shamelessly lingered on one place in particular. 

Blowing out a sharp breath through your nose, you forced your gaze back up to Matt’s masked face when he finally came to a stop in front of you. His gloved hand reached out, gingerly pulling the glass of water out of your hand before setting it onto the counter behind you, all the while his focus never leaving you before him. Somehow that intense focus was only further turning you on.

“Then why’re you in the black suit?” you asked, your voice more breathless than you’d have liked.

Matt huffed out an amused breath, his gloved hand coming up to cup your chin gently. His thumb lightly ran over your bottom lip as he tilted your face further up towards his. You swore your heart was going to give out with how hard it was hammering inside of you now.

“For you,” he murmured.

Lips parting in surprise, you stared up at him in confusion. “Wh–what?” you asked.

“Because I know how much you enjoyed it the first time,” he answered. His mouth twisted into an amused grin now, the smugness of him briefly disappearing. “And I seem to recall you mentioning wanting to tie the Devil up on Christmas night.” He shrugged a shoulder lightly. “And I feel like I owe you the chance to do what you want after…the time I did.”

“Matt,” you chided, your eyes narrowing at him.

“I want you to feel comfortable with me,” he said softly. “And I wanted to find a way to make it up to you.”

“Matt,” you said, tone firmer.

He grinned, laughing lightly. “Would you rather I leave?” he teased.

Your mouth clamped shut and you instantly quieted. Because no, you definitely wanted to have sex with him in the black suit again. It wasn’t like the opportunities to do so were endless.

“I thought so,” he replied, that smug smirk back on his mouth. “So,” he continued, his tone coy, “I’m assuming you still have those silk wrist ropes lying around here somewhere, don’t you?”

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips at the question. You did, in fact. They were in your nightstand next to the flogger Marci had gotten you for secret Santa. 

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Well sweetheart,” Matt said, his gloved hands rising up in the space between the pair of you as his head tilted further to the side. “Do you want to tie up the Devil tonight? Because now’s your chance.”

“I–” you paused, blinking quickly a few times as his offer registered in your mind. “You’re–you’re serious?”

He nodded silently, his hands still raised before you. You swallowed hard, attention shifting down towards them. The thought of restraining the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. Not that you hadn’t thought about it since he’d tied you to the headboard on Christmas night with them and had his fun, because you’d certainly had a few ideas since then. But it was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen you'd be tying up, not Matt.

“Clock’s ticking, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes flying up to Matt’s masked face instantly. It wasn’t Matt who’d spoken that time, either, but rather the Devil. His lips pulled up slowly at one corner, the sight causing an ache to form between your thighs. 

“They’re in the bedroom,” you whispered.

Matt turned to the side, moving out of your way as he gestured towards your room with a jut of his chin. “Lead the way,” he replied.

Slowly you took a few steps forward, noticing the way his head began tracking your movement. When you’d exited the kitchen, you could feel his presence just at your back, following behind you towards your bedroom. The hair on the back of your neck was prickling with excitement and you wondered if Matt could somehow pick up on that, too.

“They’re in the nightstand,” you told him, making your way over towards it.

He let out a low hum behind you as you bent down, opening the bottom drawer. You reached in, moving a few items out of the way before the crimson silk wrist ropes came into view. Briefly you remembered the night he’d used them on you, your hands restrained above your head as he appreciated the lingerie you’d surprised him with. 

Fuck, that had been a good night.

You pulled them out, closing the drawer and turning back around to face Matt. What you found behind you surprised you, your breath hitching in your throat. He was on his knees on the floor of your bedroom, his hands raised up, ready and waiting for you to attach the wrist ropes. His masked face was turned up towards you, the smug smirk entirely gone.

You hesitated beside your nightstand though, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth as you nervously chewed it. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, noticing your hesitation.

“I uh, I don’t know?” you replied awkwardly. 

“You don’t know?” he repeated curiously. “You mean you’re overthinking?”

“Yeah, most likely,” you admitted.

He waved you over with one of his hands. Silently you crossed the room, fingers fidgeting with the wrist ropes. His gloved hands slowly reached out, encircling your wrists and stopping your fidgeting. 

“It’s just us, sweetheart,” he murmured, one of his thumbs stroking your wrist. “Don’t overthink anything. Because I’m guessing you’ve thought about this before?”

Tongue slipping out between your lips, you nodded as heat flooded your cheeks. “Yeah,” you admitted softly.

Matt’s lips curled into a grin. “And what’d you think about?” he asked, tone low and sultry.

Truthfully what you had thought about was probably not what he’d expected. You had wanted to watch him restrained while you drove the Devil into an absolute wild frenzy. You wanted to watch as he helplessly became further worked up, unable to actually do anything about it. 

And you did have an idea on how to accomplish that.

Your eyes darted towards your bedroom closet, your mind working things out. If you shoved the clothes aside, you probably could restrain his hands along the metal bar in the closet. It seemed fairly sturdy. Your thighs pressed together as you thought about something he’d told you once, long ago when you’d first gone to Fogwell’s with him. It was what you’d thought about doing to drive him wild if you’d ever had a chance to restrain the Devil.

“Mmm, someone’s thinking about something,” Matt purred.

“Maybe,” you whispered, gaze falling back on Matt.

“You can do whatever you want to me, sweetheart,” he told you.

Swallowing hard, your fingers tightened around the wrist ropes. “You sure?” you asked him.

“I’ll stop you if I need to,” he replied, a mischievous grin forming on his lips under the black mask. “But now you have me curious about what’s going on in your pretty little head.”

“Well,” you began slowly, “I don’t exactly have a headboard that I could attach these around like last time so…how do you feel about being restrained in the closet?” you asked him.

His head canted to the side. “You want to shut me in the closet? Do I annoy you that much?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the light laugh. “No,” you answered. “Not shut you in there, just…maybe restrain your hands over the bar?” 

Matt rose back up onto his feet, that mischievous grin still spread on his lips. You watched as he headed towards your closet and slid the door all the way back. Afterwards he glanced over his shoulder at you, waiting expectantly. You made your way over beside him, reaching into the closet and shoving your hanging clothes all the way to one side, freeing up an open area. When you turned back to look at Matt, he was already holding out his wrists to you.

Carefully you slipped the wrist rope onto his left wrist, tightening the rope. Pulling his arm up, you raised it above his head and tossed the bit of rope over the closet bar. Before you even asked, Matt was already offering you his right hand. You slipped the other loop of the rope around his wrist, watching as he tugged it downwards until both of his wrists were firmly restrained in the ropes, his hands only able to reach his ears. 

“Is that–is that okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, a hint of amusement in his tone, “I’ve certainly endured far worse than silk ropes.”

  Your eyes dropped down to the cocky smirk that was currently on his lips after he’d spoken. Right hand reaching up, your fingertips just lightly swept the length of his stubbled chin, just below his plush, pink lips. The corner of his mouth only drew up further at your touch.

“Finally couldn’t resist?” he teased. 

Something else was slowly taking over you now–your lust for Matt, especially in that goddamn black suit, but also that desire you often had to wipe the cocky smirk from his lips. It wasn’t often when you’d managed to do so in the past, but like hell if it didn’t feel exhilarating when you did. 

“You’re always so smug, Matty,” you murmured, fingers still tracing just below his bottom lip. 

He huffed out a laugh, that smirk still present on his mouth. “Because I can tell what I’m doing to you, sweet girl,” he purred.

Eyes narrowing at his self-satisfied teasing, your fingers dropped down to grip his chin firmly. You pulled his mouth towards yours for a kiss, but not one filled with the searing intensity you felt building inside of you. Instead, your mouth connected to his ever so gently, your lips just barely touching to his for a moment. And then you pulled away, noticing how his mouth chased after yours, the smirk now missing from his lips as you backed out of his reach. 

“Should I find out,” you began, releasing his chin from your grip, your fingers trailing down the length of his neck slowly, “what I can do to you?”

You felt the hard swallow of his throat underneath your fingertips, a pleased smile drawing onto your own mouth. Both of your hands landed flat on his chest, fingers splayed wide as you pressed them against Matt’s firm pectorals. Only that thin material of his shirt kept your skin from touching his, something you knew he was extremely aware of right now. 

"And how's that, sweetheart?" he asked breathily. 

"I seem to remember you once telling me," you answered slowly, hands exploring the muscled plane of his torso as you spoke, "you thought it was sexy to know I was touching myself while thinking of you."

A sharp exhale blew out of Matt's nose behind the mask. You caught the way his lips had pressed tight together at your words. Biting your lip, you were thrilled to see his reaction because it only confirmed your suspicion of how difficult this was going to be for him.

"Do you really want to know what I thought about if I ever had the Devil restrained?" you asked. 

"Yes," he answered instantly.

Leaning in towards Matt, your mouth beside his ear under that black mask, you whispered, "I wondered just how difficult it would be for you to listen to me touch myself while you couldn't do anything."

A grunt fell out of Matt at your words, his hands pulling the silk rope taut as you leaned back. The corner of his lips twitched, the muscles jumping in his cheeks. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you pointed out gently, running the back of your knuckles lightly over the exposed part of his jaw, “and you’re already so tense.”

“So you’re just going to tease me?” he asked, that deep gravelly tone of the Devil breaking loose. “That’s what you want, sweetheart?”

“What I want is to know how much you want me ,” you answered, your hand lowering from his face. “That’s what I want. And you did say I could do whatever I wanted with you. So–” you continued, hands grabbing onto the hem of your blouse, “–does that still stand?”

There was another sharp exhalation from Matt, the sound raising goosebumps along your arms. Eventually he finally answered, his voice barely audible.

“Yes.”

Lifting your shirt up over your head, you discarded it onto the floor somewhere behind you. Matt’s head instantly shifted in the direction, clearly very aware of the fact that you were disrobing in front of him. Your hands reached around to unclasp your bra before you intentionally took your time sliding the straps down your arms, enjoying the way Matt’s jaw clenched as you did. Eyes still focused on him, you tossed that off to the side next. Your hands lowered afterwards, unbuttoning your dress pants before you slowly undid the zipper. You were shimmying out of them in front of Matt, listening to the sound of his breath coming in sharper and harder as you did. 

“Doing alright there, baby?” you asked. 

“You’re already fucking wet ,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I can smell you.”

“Yeah?” you asked coyly. "That's just what you do to me, Matty."

Another rough grunt fell out of him as you slipped your fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs. Before you, Matt’s head snapped to the side as he released a loud, almost pained groan. You grinned triumphantly before you discarded the last bit of your clothing to the side. 

“Fuck,” he hissed out. “I just want to taste you. Smell so good, sweetie.”

Running your hand down your stomach, the tips of your fingers paused just over your clit. You could feel the way your cunt was already throbbing with need at the sight of Matt dressed in that black suit getting worked up. The bulge growing in those tight, dark pants was impossible to ignore. With your gaze lingering on his steadily growing erection, the pad of your middle finger slowly started to lightly circle over the sensitive bud. Matt’s hands roughly yanked against the wrist ropes in response, his face snapping in your direction again as you expelled the softest sigh.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he whined, clearly picking up on what your finger was doing. "Your body is–is screaming at me."

“Mmm,” you hummed out, watching his chest heave. "There's just something about that black suit," you murmured, fingers switching focus to glide through the dampness between your folds for a moment. "It just drives me crazy."

His hands tugged at the ropes, something like a growl rumbling out of him. Your heart leapt in your chest at the sight of him in your closet–he was certainly struggling having to listen to everything your body was doing. You almost felt bad, but you knew you'd eventually let him loose to fuck you. For now, you were going to enjoy that feral side of him temporarily restrained in your closet. 

Slowly, you slipped a finger inside of yourself, the wet sound audible even to your own ears as you gradually pumped your finger in and out. Matt's head abruptly fell back over his shoulders, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as a sharp exhale blew roughly out of his nose. When you gasped at the sight of him, your finger working inside of you, Matt muttered a string of curses.

“Just let me just–just taste you,” he begged, his head rolling back forward a second later. “Please, sweetheart?”

Sliding your finger back out of yourself, you slowly shook your head. He actually whimpered as he registered the movement.

“That would defeat the purpose,” you answered, your own breath coming in faster.

Pressing the pad of your middle finger against your clit with a firmer pressure than before, your tongue slipped out between your lips as your eyes rose, taking in the sight of the way Matt’s abdominal muscles visibly twitched underneath that thin black fabric. That bare patch of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his pants had grown a bit larger with his hands both raised above his head. You fought the urge to drop to your knees and run your tongue along that sliver of skin. 

He was so fucking perfect. And he was yours.

A faint moan fell out of you, your eyes partially closing as that familiar warm wash of pleasure filled you. Taking a step closer to Matt, your left hand darted forward, slipping underneath the fabric of his black shirt. He immediately emitted a whine as your nails scratched their way along his chest, dragging up and down the length of it. All the while, the pad of your middle finger on your right hand never ceased its movement, vigorously rubbing your clit.

“Matty,” you whimpered, dizzy from pleasure.

“Shit– sweetheart,” he groaned, hands tugging roughly against the closet bar. “Let me help. Please.”

Your eyes closed, your mind focusing solely on the way Matt’s ragged breaths beside you were drawing you closer towards your climax. He was panting heavily, his hot breath washing over your bare chest and hardening your nipples further with each exhale. It felt so fucking good–everything felt so fucking good right now, especially after the day you’d had.

“No,” he said sharply.

Your eyes flew back open at his voice, landing on his masked face. He seemed to be focused on your body, his tongue sliding along his lower lip as he quickly shook his head.

“No,” he said again more firmly. “I want to make you cum.”

Your nails dug into his chest. “You are, baby,” you whispered, feeling that peak of your orgasm approaching. “You’re the reason, Matty. Always make me feel so good.”

“Let me fuck you,” he pleaded, hands yanking against the bar again. “Please.”

“Not yet,” you breathed out.

A snarl tore out of Matt in response, the sound clearly coming from the Devil this time. His teeth grit together as he tugged at his restraints a bit more sharply, a groan coming from the closet bar. He looked desperate and wild beneath that black mask now, and that only had your finger working yourself faster. You were so fucking close and it was driving him crazy .

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t you cum unless it's on my cock, sweet girl.”

Your eyes snapped shut at the term of endearment he only ever used sexually, a whine tearing out of you this time. He’d done that on purpose. 

“Since when are you–” you broke off on a soft moan, one that had him pulling at his restraints again, “–the one in charge here?”

“Please,” he begged breathlessly.

His tone had your eyes flying back open. Your cunt immediately clenched at the sight of Matt’s hips rocking forward, a bulge straining at the fabric of his pants. His mouth looked like it was twisted in a grimace, a series of whines beginning to fall out of him. 

Your mouth went slack at the sight, pleasure slowly building at the base of your spine. You were right on the edge of your climax. He was a goddamn mess before you in that black suit and all because he wanted to fuck you. 

“Matt,” you moaned.

That was precisely when Matt lost it.

He tore at his restraints, a loud noise instantly echoing through your apartment and startling you, your finger stopping in its place against yourself. The closet rod and all of your clothing fell to the floor in a loud clatter of noise and mess, the sound mingling with Matt’s animalistic grunts. You stood there stunned as he knelt down, quickly slipping the restraints off the end of the rod. When he rose back up to his feet, his hands were still bound together, but the Devil was no longer restrained in your closet. 

He didn’t even hesitate. He marched straight to you and roughly grabbed your face in both of his hands before aggressively smashing his mouth to yours. His teeth snapped at your bottom lip, gnawing at the soft flesh. You couldn’t fight the moan that escaped you.

Resting his masked forehead against yours, his breath ragged and loud, he begged, “Let me fuck you. Please? I can’t–can’t take this need for you any longer.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded slowly, your forehead brushing against his.

“Okay,” you breathed out.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him with you towards your bed. He followed eagerly behind you, quickly undoing his pants with his bound hands the moment you released your hold on them. He hissed out a breath when he finally freed his hardened cock, shoving his pants and boxers down to his thighs soon after. His masked face returned to focus on you, your heart jumping in your chest at the sight of him. Immediately after you turned to face the bed. 

“How do you–”

“Just fuck me, Matty,” you ordered, bending over the bed and pressing your ass back into him. “Make me cum if you want to help so bad.”

One of his hands landed on your ass with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. His cock swiped back and forth along your folds, gathering the slickness of you on the head of him. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around your bedroom at the feel of it. Seconds later he was lining up the tip of his cock with your entrance before he abruptly plunged inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, hands fisting your sheets as your cunt adjusted to his cock finally filling you. 

“Fuck, yes,” you whimpered.

Both of his hands still managing to grip your hips despite the silk ropes binding them together, you felt him begin to fuck you with a rapidly increasing pace. Your eyes rolled back, your eyelids dropping closed as you fisted the sheets tighter in your hands. 

“Your body drives me fucking wild, sweet girl,” Matt growled out behind you. “Can’t–can’t handle the teasing.”

Shifting your head along the bed, you glanced back at him. You couldn’t fight the way your cunt tightened around his cock at the sight of the man in black fucking you over the side of your bed. It was still hard to believe that man was your Matt Murdock, too.

“Now you know how I feel,” you murmured. “You’re always a damn tease.”

A particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting you just right and you moaned out loudly, your mind going blank to everything but the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Right there, baby,” you begged him, squirming your hips against him for more.

Behind you, Matt was grunting and breathing heavily himself, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he followed your request. You could tell he was getting close by the increasingly jerky motion of his own hips. He’d already been quite worked up with what had happened before he’d broken your closet, you knew it wouldn’t take much more for him to cum after that.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress, you focused on the way he looked dressed all in that clinging black fabric. His mouth was still the only part of his face you could see and his lips were pulled back in something like a snarl as he continued to savagely fuck you. Seconds later you gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up your spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of you and as your eyes closed, white still managed to flash across your vision. A loud, breathy cry flew out of your lips as you came hard on Matt’s cock. He continued to fuck you through it, his pace becoming even more sloppy as he neared his own climax.

With your cunt fluttering around him, Matt soon released a loud moan of his own as he slammed his cock particularly deep inside of you. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you immediately after, his hips giving a few more quick, sharp thrusts into you. Eventually his pace slowed and he came to a stop, his hands gently running along your lower back in an affectionate caress. 

You felt weightless and lightheaded when he slipped his cock out of you, somehow managing to crawl up onto your bed before you collapsed onto the mattress in a breathless heap. Rolling onto your back, a blissed out smile on your face, you waved a hand at Matt.

“Come here, let me get those off of you,” you called over to him.

Pulling his pants and boxers back up quickly, Matt climbed up onto the bed, making his way towards you on his knees. You sat up, meeting him halfway on the bed before reaching out and loosening the ropes on his wrists, soon sliding each loop off of him. You tossed the silk rope off the side of the bed behind Matt before leaning up and kissing him. When you pulled away, he had one hand already dragging the black mask from his face.

His hair was a sweaty, mussed mess on his head, and there was a very obvious sheen of sweat glistening along his forehead. But you smiled when you saw the love-drunk smile lighting up his flushed face, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. His arms encircled your waist before he pulled you down to the bed with him. You giggled, curling up against his chest as he held you in his arms, still trying to catch his breath.

“I still can’t believe what this suit does to you,” he panted out.

“Well I can’t believe what me touching myself does to you ,” you teased. “You broke my closet, Matt.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head along your sheets as his eyes focused along your chin. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry,” he apologized, a sheepish smile on his lips now. “I’ll uh, I’ll help you fix that.”

“I should hope so,” you replied with a grin. “Don’t think my landlord would be too thrilled with me if I moved out next month and left a broken closet behind.”

Matt’s head instantly darted up from the bed, his eyes wide as he scanned your face. “You’re–you’re moving in next month?” he asked, his excitement barely contained.

Your grin grew into a wide smile, one that was threatening to overtake your face. “Yeah, I talked with my landlord already. Got everything situated for my last month here,” you answered. “So I’m really going to need that closet fixed.”

A bright smile lit up Matt’s entire face as he beamed down at you, his arms tightening their hold around your waist. “You have no idea how excited I am for you to finally move in, sweetheart,” he gushed. “I’ve been–been wanting this for months .”

“Well,” you said, eyes lovingly memorizing the happiness etched along his face, “only one more month to wait now, Matty.”