#daredevil prompt writing spree

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Bucket List or “Oh my Dear Lord”

Matt Murdock x Female Reader 

Request: AH I SAW U WERE TAKING REQUESTS FOR MY BOI MATT AND I HAD TO DO ONE! so what about “Well, looks like I can scratch that from my bucket list” - “Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” and like he’s the (female)reader’s defense attorney but they already know each other? idk lol but tysm in advance, i hope this helps your writers block

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for your request, sweetheart! Here’s some Matt Murdock for you, involving some blood and sexual tension 😈  I’m so very sorry it took me forever. I got a bit carried away there, but I hope this piece lives up to your expectations! Also, look at me, using two prompts from the list, bam bam!  The reader’s family name / surname is given in this story ;)

(May contain mistakes, author’s not a native speaker)

Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!…

The pain was unbearable, striking hard and deep, and everywhere at once. Bitter blasts cut through his bones as he tried to focus on finding the wound. Not with his hands - those would not obey, completely numb and useless. 

It must have been his shoulder, he realised, closing his eyes. He couldn’t keep them shut for long, though - his head was spinning, so much worse than after a dozen shots of that eel booze of Josie’s. 

He opened his eyes and managed to slightly turn his head to the left. The pungent smell of blood left him wincing and swearing under his breath.

It was his goddamn shoulder alright, a jugged piece of glass sticking from right below his collarbone. The ragged tissue around the wound burned, and as seconds passed, the pain amplified, jarring and brutal. Blood oozed down his chest almost lazily, his Daredevil costume soaking it up.

Foggy!… Foggy!…

Matt spit out a curse, feeling the taste of blood on his lips. Excruciating pain shoot through his chest as he tore his phone out of a thigh pocket, hitting the green answer button with his thumb.  

“Now is really not a good time, Foggy,” he huffed, trying to prop himself higher against the cold metal door, leading back inside the building. The sky and the ground changed places as he tried to inhale deeper… He only hoped his lung wasn’t punctured.

“Matt, you need to get to the station. Like right now.”

The panic in Foggy’s voice made Matt’s insides turn clockwise. A lump rose in his throat, urging him to get rid of whatever he ate for dinner earlier. 

“What…?” he forced himself to speak, but only ended up coughing hoarsely, blood rolling over the edge of his lips and dripping down his chin. 

“They’ve got their hands on Woods,” Foggy whispered, dread choking him. “She’s under arrest”. 

Greeting his teeth, Matt growled as he stood up, using his free hand for balance. Unsteady on his feet, still leaning on the door, he gripped that piece of glass and tore it from his body. It fell on the ground with a muffled cry, shattering in pieces. Matt bit down on his lips, keeping the involuntary scream in, hissing in pain. He pressed his free hand to the wound, blood pumping out through his fingers, painting them stark red.

“I’ll get there as fast as I can”, he rasped. “Don’t let her speak with anybody until then. Not a goddamn soul”. 

“Understood,” Foggy swallowed frantically, as if he were drowning. “Please, hurry!…”

Dropping the call, Matt kicked the door with all the force that was left in him, pain and rage sending his heart and brain in the overdrive. The sound of his boot hitting the metal resonated in his head like a bell’s tolling in an empty church. 

…Goddammit, Y/N! He told you to run!

†††

The smell of barbecue chips and cigarette smoke intensified as soon as he stepped into the precinct. Gripping his cane so hard his fingers hurt, Matt made his way down to the reception desk, his stroll a little too quick and confident for a blind guy. He turned a couple of heads on his way, but it came to show that a hard expression of silent, barely contained fury was the best deterrent to stupid questions. 

As soon as he spotted Murdock, Brett sighed and pushed his way towards him through the crowded corridor. 

“Why, dear Lord, why when something happens, you three are always involved?” Brett grumbled, planting himself in Matt’s way. 

Should this have been another time and setting, Matt would probably choke out a muffled laugh; but all he could think of right now was getting to the interrogation room, and seeing with his own eyes that Y/N was unharmed.

“Where is she?” he cut to the chase unceremoniously, cocking his head to a side. 

Brett raised his eyebrows at his tone, but refrained from commenting it. 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he muttered, his hands diving in the pockets of his uniform. “You and Nelson are here so much, you probably know the entire place like the back of your hand by now”, he stepped aside, clearing the way down the corridor. “I told Hoffman he won’t get a word out of Y/N Woodsley’s mouth as long as her usual pair of lawyers is involved”. 

Matt gritted his teeth, but said nothing, hurrying down the dim corridor instead.   

“…Are you insane?!” He had heard the indistinct screaming from outside the station, but only now, up close, it seemed to really speak to the thunderstorm raging inside of his chest. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!…”

“Well I couldn’t just stand there, Foggy, could I? That psycho with a badge has almost put a hole through his head!…”

Anger rang through Y/N’s voice like bullets falling on the ground. Matt could hear her heart beating double time, sensed the faint aroma of her sweat, mixed with blood and the remnants of her neroli perfume. She wasn’t afraid. She was pissed, mad out of her mind, as she slapped her hand against the entrance door, before pressing her forehead against it. 

“Whoever that guy is, he saved Karen’s life!…” she murmured. “I don’t regret shit, and I’d do it all over again”. 

As soon as Matt heard her move sufficiently far from the entrance, he inhaled deeply, the inside of his chest burning up like a fuming volcano. All he wanted to do was scream, but he was pretty sure he’d end up vomiting all over the place because of the escalating pain, hitting his body in waves. 

As soon as he opened the door, the room fell scary silent. Foggy’s rugged, infuriated breathing and a small drop of sweat rolling in between Y/N’s breasts was all he was able to catch, before her quiet voice filled his ears. 

“I swear, Matt, I can explain.”

His lips stretched out into a thin line, he made his way to the chair next to Foggy’s.

“…if I had a dime every time I heard that”, he whispered, disappointment lacing every word. He sank down into the uncomfortable chair, painfully slow and careful. He could hear - more like sense, really - Y/N bit on her bottom lip nervously, and Matt knew her eyes were glowing with guilt. 

While all he could think of was she could have been dead right now, and it would have been all my fault. 

“I was out with Karen and my good friend Jessica - we were at Josie’s to down a couple of beers.. Argh!…” submerged by the need to hide her face, Y/N rubbed her hands on her forehead, leaning down on the table with her elbows. Her nail must have scratched a cut that went from her temple to her eyebrow, a sharp breath escaping her lips. “I was tired and a little pissed at my editor for blacklisting my article on the Russians, and I wasn’t having fun. Felt like peeing on everyone’s parade, so when the clock struck midnight I decided to call it a night”.

She paused, trying to search her best friends’ faces, staring sternly at her. Rolling her eyes at their judging you expressions, she combed her fingers through her hair, pushing those messy strands to a side.

“I took the corner of 51th and 11th, when I heard some commotion at the docks. I marched straight towards Hudson… The alcohol making me fearless, I don’t know… I spotted three police cars outside that whitewashed building at the Piers 92/94, the old industrial glass warehouse, you know?… Everything seemed calm, and I felt stupid just standing there in the middle of the road, so I turned around and stumbled towards the park… But then I heard a window shattering. It was…” 

She paused, swallowing, trying to keep the undertones of awe and excitement in her voice at bay.  The notes that Matt hated with every fiber of his beaten and bruised body. 

“It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. He just jumped through the window on the second floor, landed on his goddamn feet like a cheetah, bullets wheezing all around him, like some kind of a deadly rainstorm… I just…” she stuttered. “I just couldn’t look away.”

“Gooddamn it, Woods…” Foggy groaned, burying his face in his hands in a fit of despair. “Sorry, Matt”, he peaked at Murdock through his fingers.

“Can you imagine the kind of story that could be?” Y/N brushed his exclamation away impatiently. “I was close enough to take photos, I could have caught the Devil in action, it could be all over the news the next day, especially if I pulled all the information I collected on that shady warehouse in these past few weeks!” As Y/N’s confidence grew, Matt’s heart was shrinking into a tiny nubbin. “This could be my chance to prove that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was on our side all along!…”

“What happened next?” Murdock interrupted drily, clutching his fists under the table.

Y/N sighed, her puffed-out chest falling down. She shot a glance at the camera in the right corner of the room.

“It’s okay, Woods, it’s off”, Murdock spoke a little impatiently, sensing her discomfort. “Please, go on”.

Y/N just stared at him in disbelief for a moment, probably thinking something along the lines of well damn, Murdock, for a blind guy you sure are insightful. 

He almost chuckled. If only you knew, princess. 

“Not what, who,” she growled quietly, suppressing her anger, seeping through the pores of her soft skin. “Detective Hoffman happened. He dashed out of the building like the goddamn place was on fire… He stopped by the cars, his gun loaded and ready. He didn’t shoot to stop or injure, he shot to kill, I know what I saw. It was a miracle the Devil actually managed to dodge his goddamn bullets!”

“No kidding,” Foggy snapped, and Matt instantly felt his gaze, burning holes in his head. “And then what? You just thought, hey, I better join the party before they run out of ammunition! Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun!”

“No,” Y/N challenged, the waves of anger she emanated hitting Matt like an avalanche. “I watched for as long as I could, until eight more dirty cops emerged from the building, attacking the Devil like a bunch of hell hounds! I had to do something before they made sure the man could never walk the Earth again! He put up quite a fight there, but when I saw Hoffman thrust a goddamn shard of glass the size of my arm through his chest…”

“Say what?!” Foggy boomed, nothing short of a nuclear bomb. He stared at Matt open-mouthed. “Jesus Christ! But how the fudge…?”

“What Foggy is trying to say here,” Matt cut in, kicking his best friend under the table to shut him up - Nelson gasped at the impact. “Is how the fudge did you think you could help him?… You could have ended up in a body bag, Woods, not in this interrogation room!…”

All-consuming silence settled over the three of them - Foggy was still nursing his leg, while Matt found himself involuntary soaking up the desperation with which Y/N was defending him, the Daredevil, without knowing who he was. He would rather die of glass and bullets than put her in danger, and he hated himself for having had involved her in this. 

And at the same time, sensing her warmth, her resolute desire to make Foggy and him understand that she cared for the Devil, and that they ought to, too, all he wanted to do was to just let go. To stop hating himself because of what he wanted. To absorb her determination, to accept her care, to savour it!… 

Nothing so wrong had ever felt so right, and his thoughts… They were tearing him apart.

“I fired a warning shot at Hoffman,” Y/N murmured, her lips barely moving. “The bullet must have scratched his thigh… Distracted him for long enough, so that the Devil could take the upper hand…”

Matt heard Y/N heartbeat, loud and clear. Nice and slow, it showed that she wasn’t afraid. His own heart, however… Murdock felt it bash against the walls of his ribcage so loud, he was sure both Foggy and Y/N could hear.

“He screamed at me to run, when he saw me… He was furious - not that someone decided to interrupt his little kick-ass session, but because it was me.”

“That’s bull, Woods!” Foggy exclaimed, sounding like a man desperately catching at straws. “Just listen to yourself! How would the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen know who you are?…”

Unblinking, Y/N stared at him for a solid minute, crossing her hands on her chest. Blood thumped in Murdock’s ears, his forehead dotted with crystal beads of sweat - the pain in the shoulder never ceased, and just when he thought he could handle no more, Y/N’s lips slowly parted, releasing, it seemed, his greatest fear. 

“He called me by my name, Foggy.”

As soon as the words filled the air around the three of them, like bonfire smoke, the time seemed to dissolve into itself, shapeless and inconsequential. Matt lost his breath, the realisation brought to light suffocating him.

“He must have recognised you from the Bulletin or something,” Foggy muttered in response to Y/N’s confession, throwing Murdock a lifeline. Matt nodded at him gratefully, his throat tight. “Now, if you ran just like he told you to, why the hell are we here? How did you end up in police custody?…”

Y/N let out a deep sigh, dropping her head in between her hands on the table. 

“They caught up with me on the corner of 12th and 46th”, she said. “And no, before you ask, I didn’t have that gun on me,” watching the question forming itself on Matt’s and Foggy’s faces, she beat them to it. “I… discarded it”. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Matt considered the situation for a moment. Hoffman, or one of his lapdogs must have seen her run; it did not help that he willingly gave them her name, in his outburst of anger and panic. But unless they had tangible proof that she was the one firing that warning shot, they didn’t have jack on her. Even a testimony of an eyewitness would not be enough to prove she was involved in that mess he so carelessly created. 

It was all his goddamn fault!…

“Okay…” Foggy drawled out, thinking out loud. “That means the only thing they have on you…”

“…are words,” Matt finished for him, his head turned in Y/N’s direction. “Possibly an eyewitness, but with that alone they won’t be able to prove anything - the night is dark, and I hear the street lamps at the docks are rotten”. 

Y/N worried her bottom lip with her teeth, listening to him intently. 

“Then why and on what grounds are they detaining me?” she finally asked, sounding like she already knew the answer. 

Foggy and Matt exchanged heavy glances. 

“They can keep you in custody at least for the next 24 hours, and trust me, they are going to try and push the bail option off the table”, Foggy reasoned, his eyes switching between Y/N and Matt. “They think you know who the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is”, he added, his voice barely perceptible.

“Do you?…” Matt urged under his breath without missing a beat, leaning closer to Y/N. A waft of his spicy perfume washed over her, mixed with a salty, metallic odour that she couldn’t quite place. She lost her train of thought for a moment, watching her reflection in his glasses, his eyes hidden behind their usual red armour. When she really thought about it, she could count the times she had basked in their hazel glow on one hand. 

With a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple, Matt swallowed, his face unreadable. 

“Um… hello, Matt, have you met me?” Y/N gave Murdock a sceptical look, her voice dropping a couple of octaves. She threw her hair back, instinctively moving towards him. “I’m a journalist, I don’t keep secrets. My job is to uncover them. Especially ones of this caliber”.

Bittersweet relief rolled over Matthew in a cool wave, spreading from his feet to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t help but chuckle at Y/N’s uncannily fitting choice of words. She was right, of course; revealed, this secret would shoot to kill, far more dangerous than a loaded gun. 

“Here’s what happens next,” Matt interlaced his fingers, joining his hands together on the table. “We’re going to have a word with Hoffman, and then we’re posting bail. Unless they have other ways to track down Daredevil so they can bring him to court, chances are you won’t even have to face the jury.”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered under her breath, absentmindedly feeling for the cut on her forehead with her fingertips. Both Matt and Foggy were already getting on their feet. “At least I can scratch that from my bucket list…”

“Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” Foggy mused, staring at Y/N in disbelief. 

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks lightly with her fingertips. 

“Not getting arrested, Foggy, this isn’t my first rodeo,” she released an impatient breath. “Getting in trouble for helping Daredevil. Now that’s something I’d write down in my journal if I’d had one,” Matt heard her smile, her voice englobing him like a cashmere blanket. “Thank you for taking care of me, you both. You really don’t have to post bail, though…”

Matt’s body grew stiff. He leaned on the table separating them, with his hands biting into the wood. 

“We know for sure that Hoffman’s on Fisk’s payroll, Woods. And he won’t stop at anything - and I mean anything - to make you talk. I could never…” he stuttered, biting on his bottom lip hard, the eyes behind his glasses drilling a hole a couple of inches above Y/N’s head. “We’re posting bail”, he declared assertively. “Fight me.” 

Tense silence surrounded Matt and Y/N, as they just gazed at each other, the air around them buzzing with emotion and intent. Something was happening between the two, something mysterious and possibly life-changing, their bodies speaking in a language only they could understand. Y/N brushed her fingers against her lips - Matt rolled his tongue against the inside of his right cheek - and Foggy suddenly felt wrong trying to decipher whatever they were conjuring up, without as much as a touch. 

Clearing his throat, Foggy motioned towards the door. 

“I’m going to speak to Hoffman and start the paperwork. We should be all out of here in couple of hours, tops”. 

“And then we’re walking you home”, Matt pushed away from the table. Y/N sighed, half-opening her lips, and his entire body seemed to react to the nearly imperceptible sound: his skin shivered and his heart picked up some.

“Okay,” she said, her voice even, still looking at him. “I suppose I owe you this much”. 

†††

The rain was falling thickly as the three of them made their way out of the stuffy police station; the sky was still dark, with an occasional flash of lightening splitting it in two, three, four uneven cobalt blue parts. Crackles of thunder rolled across rooftops to the pattering of hefty raindrops, resonating in Matt’s feverish mind. 

Pain still gnawing at the corners of his mind, he realised he had never done such hard thinking as he did now, falling a bit behind Foggy and Y/N. Something was off, he could sense it. Ever since that tense moment they shared in the interrogation room, Woods had been unusually quiet, compliant and overall so unlike herself, agreeing to do just as Foggy and him told her, without even trying to put up a fight. At first, he thought that maybe she was tired - she, too, had a hell of a night, he had to remind himself. But then he sensed her stare from across the room as he talked to Hoffman - a stare that left his skin burning, his body vibrating under those restless interrogative eyes. 

Both Foggy and Y/N stopped just outside the heavy doors, waiting for him to catch up. Just as Matt stepped outside, he allowed himself a deep breath, despite the pain in his chest. The air seemed charged with electricity, and the humidity pressed down, suffocating him… Y/N’s eyes settled on his face, and he felt her hand wrap around his wrist. Still watching him closely, she interlaced their fingers. Her fingertips danced over his maimed knuckles… His breath hitched. Swallowing hard, Matt slid his hand out of her grip, adjusting the collar of his shirt. 

Good God! Had she figured it out?…

He was a goddamn mess, wasn’t he?

“As much fun as this had been,” Foggy spoke, pretending not to have noticed his best friends’ antics. “I’ve got to go. If I leave now, there might still be a chance for me to enjoy my night of mind-blowing sex and cuddling with Marci”. 

Y/N chuckled at his words. Matt barely raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, don’t let us stop you,” he said, notes of accusation tingling in every sound. 

He heard Foggy let out an exasperated breath, his heart beating faster than normal, and realised he was in this alone. 

Not that Matt could blame him. He was the only one responsible for this mess and it was up to him to deal with the consequences. 

“See you tomorrow, Fog,” Matt added, patting his best friend on a shoulder. Clearing his throat, Foggy gave Y/N and him one last look before darting to the nearest waiting taxi. 

“Stay safe, and vigilant, both of you.”

And just like that, Matt found himself alone with Y/N, in the very situation he dreaded from the minute he dropped Foggy’s call earlier that night. 

“You don’t have to walk me home”, Y/N spoke calmly, stepping out into the rain like this was the last thing that bothered her. “I’m sure you have better things to do”. 

The words felt like a slap, but Matt refused to acknowledge whatever meaning she’d put into them. He followed her into the rain, not batting an eyelid.

“I’m walking you home, Woods,” he sounded serene as he spoke; maybe a little too serene, but it was too late to do anything about it. “Don’t make me break my promise”. 

“Fine,” she shrugged, stretching her hand out to him. Water rolled down her face, soaking her trench, the smell of her neroli perfume intensifying as Matt stepped closer to her. She took him gently by the elbow, leading him down the glowing, wet street. 

The night was silent, save for a siren roaring a couple of blocks ahead. His body stiffened as he first heard its wailing sound; it took a soft squeeze of Y/N’s hand to get his head back in the game. He needed to win. So that his secret identity remained secret, and Woods remained oblivious to his late night shenanigans. 

“How are you holding up?” Matt ventured, mindlessly falling in line with Y/N’s steady pace. He felt her shrug as her hand slid higher up his bicep, creating friction. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore her soft breaths, interrupted by the whispering sound of rain crushing against her damp skin, small drops rolling down the curve of her breasts…

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice smooth and soft, like velvet. “I am more worried about Daredevil, he got hit pretty deep with that shard of glass…”

With his breath hitching, Matt noticed a change in her heart’s rhythm - it slowed down, but it thumped louder now, wilder. 

“I’m… Well, the night is a blur now, you know?… But there’s one detail that bothers me, I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it…”

“What is it?” Matt turned cold with irrational fear, suddenly realising they weren’t walking anymore. 

Wherever they were, this wasn’t Y/N’s block - it just didn’t smell like it. 

Concentrating, Matt caught a whiff of Indian spices through the tantalising veil of the neroli perfume… That neroli perfume, dear Lord, it was driving him insane, pushing his thoughts in all the wrong directions… Smelled like gas, too, there must have been a gas station within a 30-metres radius… And camomile detergent…

And then it hit him - it’s her who walked him home. They stood just beside his building, but why did she…?

Y/N’s hands landed on his shoulders, cutting his flow of thoughts short - she stood facing him now. So achingly close, it felt like there were not much of that buzzing hot air between her soul and his. Before he could remember how to breathe, Y/N’s fingertips caressed his his cheeks, moving smoothly up until she reached the wet cold metal of his glasses, pulling them away from his face. Matt looked steadily at her lips, his eyelashes begging for her touch. 

“The moment I fired that gun,” she whispered, water rolling down her lips and chin. “I swear I saw Daredevil flinch, he dipped his head a little to a side… His deep red mouth moved, and I could swear I saw those lips before…”

Her fingers moved across the skin on her chest, breaking water patterns… Just like she was breaking his will, pushing him to surrender.

Matt groaned barely audibly, his brain electrified. Helpless and intoxicated, with her scent sending him in a heady trance, he let his hands find their home on her waist, his touch gentle, worshipful.

His cane fell on the ground, and neither of them noticed.

“…He turned his head my way and it was like he saw me. And the next thing I know…” 

Matt’s body was hard, pushing against her soft breasts. He didn’t want to leave marks, but he couldn’t let go of her. Rain hit her cheekbones, and the water splashed against his nose and lips. He was losing it. Losing control.

“And the next thing I know, he screams - Run,” she dipped her head, her breath burning the skin on his neck. Matt crushed a groan in his throat, grabbing her arms, holding her in place.

“Run, Woods, run!”

The wind held its breath. A stillness fell over the street. The silence got torn apart by a low rumble of thunder. 

It felt like the ground underneath Matt’s feet was crumbling, and the walls he had spent so much time building around himself tumbling to the ground. Like he just stood there, breathless, holding up the roof, so that the weight of the truth didn’t crush his life-outside-Daredevil-duties, the life he fought so hard to hold on to. The life in which Y/N loved and trusted him.

He really blew it, didn’t he? A single second, a fleeting-moment kind of realisation, a mind-numbing moment of fear… All it took for his life to go down in flames of hell. 

Everything stopped. His heart came to a screeching halt. 

“Y/N, please,” he muttered, licking the water from his bottom lip. “Please, just let me…”

Her lips obliterated his every thought, swallowing the words off his mouth. Matt’s brain was instantly on fire - but her lips were cold, and the cool relief spread in waves all over his body, soothing all the parts of him that’d been on fire for too long.

From then on, everything accelerated, happening in a flash. Y/N pushed her fingers through his mane of damp hair, Matt groaned, his head falling back. Their bodies were aligned, her nipples cold against his chest…  

Y/N lips were Matt’s salvation and his torment. Exhaling frantically into his mouth, Y/N bit on his bottom lip, letting him feel her teeth, her need, her gratitude… She let him name it. 

“Oh my… dear Lord,” Matt growled, the feeling of diving headfirst into an erupting volcano with her, finally kicking his common sense into submission. With a jerk of his bruised body, he hoisted Y/N up, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist. Kissing her mad, kissing her senseless, he made his way up the porch and into the building, the door slamming shut behind them. 

The explosions of thunder continued to drown Hell’s Kitchen in the most deafening racket; but even its uproars could not hide the sounds made by two lovers, moving against each other, feeling each other… Loving each other like they’d never loved before.   

See the list of the prompts here & request the hell outta them 😈

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Daredevil Prompt Writing Spree

Long story short, I’ve been going through a rough writer’s block while simultaneously discovering Matthew Murdock’s - aka Daredevil’s - the-world-is-on-fire universe. I’m absolutely fascinated with Matt Murdock and I thought why  not make the best of it.

PLEASE, SEND ME REQUESTS CONTAINING PROMPTS WITH OUR BOY MATTHEW, HELP THE STRUGGLING WRITER OUT 😈 Here are some dialogue prompts that I pulled from my favorite stories / Goodreads / Google search - but you can also send me any prompts you want, and I’ll try my best to make the story unfold.

- “His ass is grass.” - “I’m late, I’m fucking late.” - “What the hell are you doing?” - “Drinking this place out of business. Wanna join?” - “If I had a dime every time I heard that....” - “I’m (name). And you are?” - “Not interested.” - “Isn’t there someone else you can torture?” - “Nope, not until four.” - “You retired from a superhero to a rehab group leader?” - “I like her” - “It was nice to meet you. Let’s never meet again.” - “Oh the stories I could tell you.” - “Can I come in?” - “Tell him no.” - “But he says it might be a good idea to...” - “Then tell him no twice!” - “Let me introduce you to something called the point. You are clearly missing it.” - “And? What are you going to do about it?” - “Mark me down as scared and horny.” - “Well, looks like I can scratch that from my bucket list” - “Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” - “What do you mean he’s gone?” - “Would you stop that? You’re scaring people!” - “One day you’ll thank me for kidnapping you” - “Don’t you know who I am?” - “What, like I’m supposed to care?” - “Should we tell her/him we already know?” - “Now, where would be the fun in that?” - “You didn't.” - “Oh but I did. So very much did.” - “If Karma won’t hit you, I swear I fucking will.” - “Aren’t you going to stop him?” - “Who, me? That ship has sailed ages ago.”

Thank you in advance for spamming me with prompts 😈