#james wesley x reader

[maddiedott]

Two Sides of a Coin - Chapter 1

Pairing: James Wesley x Wife!Reader, Matthew Murdock x Wesley!Reader (eventually)

Summary: Married life isn’t always easy

Warnings: fluff, angst, attempted SA (not Wesley or Matthew), mentions of knife, mentions of alcohol, neglectful husband, no use of y/n, awkward spacing of paragraphs.

Word Count: 2849

A/N: Hello! The spacing came out super weird and is being difficult to fix :(. Also, I’m still trying to figure out tumblr so expect a master list eventually, hopefully soon. If someone has tips or can help guide me through links, creating master lists, etc, please DM me! Other than that, please enjoy lovelies <3!

The silence of the room was deafening. It had never bothered you before, it was a normal occurrence for the home you shared with your husband to be empty and cold. You were both very busy people, your husband even more so as he was at beck and call for his boss, but with the distance between you growing and the house having a colder atmosphere, it pained you with each step you took towards the bedroom you shared but now felt more like yours. The sheets which you had left astray across the bed still remained, an indication that your husband had not returned home this morning as his pet peeve was leaving the bed unmade.

It would be a lie to say you were surprised and not disappointed in the lack of his presence within the apartment which now felt like a skeletal remeanant. It was a common occurrence, one you hoped would have changed by the time you had been a couple years married. Something that was full of love and blissful moments turning into fleeting glances and few conversations save for the ‘working late’ texts you would receive more often than you would have liked. It was unfortunately something that you had gotten quite used to, a pattern in your daily life.

Laying your bag down, you stripped yourself of your city stained clothes as you headed into the bathroom. The entire apartment was decorated in sleek whites and charcoal blacks with a few details here and there of your own personal touch (pictures lining the hallway, pink cutlery and kitchen amentries, colorful towels, bathmats, and sheets). You had always been taught color showed a warm and inviting home, it was a sharp contrast from the neutral tones your husband preferred and it took weeks of persuading and begging for him to finally relent and give in to you.

You left a trail of clothes on the marble tiled flooring leading to the bathroom as you shed your clothes. It wasn’t like there would be anyone home to care about the mess while you were in the shower after a long day in the office. The steam that filled the bathroom and escaped into the bedroom allowed your muscles to relax from their taut state they had been in for the long work hours after you read case after case and sat through every lengthy client meeting with your bosses at Donovan and Partners, specifically Benjamin Donovan. It wasn’t honest work, you knew little of what work was actually being done by your boss or even your husband, but you weren’t stupid. It was criminal whatever was involved.

Letting the hot water cascade down your body as you push the wet strands of hair out of your face as you let the water warm your body. After bathing and changing into softer and more comfortable clothes to lounge around in, you picked up the mess left behind from moments earlier. Throwing the worn clothes into the mesh hamper you moved back into the living room to turn the TV on for some white noise as you prepared your food for the night. Normally, you would stop somewhere to get dinner, preferably Chinese, as you were too spent from your day to have the energy to cook something, so the fridge would rarely be stocked with ingredients to make your own food. Your husband had been insist on getting a chef, the less you both would have to worry about upon arriving home (if he ever did) but you fought tooth and nail against it. If you couldn’t do the mundane task of feeding and cooking for yourself, you felt like you would turn into one of those snobby, entitled rich women you see on tv, and you were never one to care for the more lavish things in life.

Whether it was the background noise of the TV or you simply being lost in your thoughts as you made a simple pasta dish for the night, you were oblivious to the sound of the door opening and closing, the the soft thump of a briefcase set on the minimalistic table that stood next to the door. Turning around as you moved to drain the pasta water- after reserving some for the cheesy sauce to add into- you had fortunately caught yourself before you had dropped the pan onto the floor and unavoidably your bare feet.

“Jesus, James!” You gasp out, setting the pan down on the stove before grasping onto your clothed chest where your heart laid. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Your obvious startled state drew an affectionate grin from your husband as he crossed the floor to bring you into his arms and placed his lips to the top of your head in a kiss. Scaring you had obviously amused him.

“I didn’t think I was being so quiet.” He spoke into your hair before pulling away and softly pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You huff quietly, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout at his mocking tone when he moved away from you to investigate what you had been making before he interrupted. Your eyes follow him as he moves, leaning his head over the pan to get a glimpse of the alfredo sauce that rested there, glasses fogging up from the steam released by the sauce which pulled a small laugh from you.

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you said you were working late again?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind you rest your chin atop his shoulder, forcing you to stand on your tippy toes.

“Work finished much smoother than I anticipated.” Came his vague response as he grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred the penne noodles into the sauce.

You hum, softly kissing his suit clad shoulder before moving away from him and hopping onto the counter of the middle island. It was strange to be in the same space as him in such a domestic light when you would rarely see him outside of his work, being his boss’ lap dog and all.

“I thought we agreed to stop sitting on the counter space?” He voiced, tearing your eyes from his back to his face.

Rolling your eyes you slide off, seeing a nod of approval from James as he turns the heat of the stove off and sets the spoon aside on the holder. He turns back to you with a soft smile, his hand reaching for yours and intertwining his fingers with yours, receiving a small squeeze from you.

“I’m going to shower then join you for dinner, hm?” You nodded as he spoke, reluctantly letting go of his hand as he made his way to the bedroom.

You made quick work of setting plates out and piling them full with the chicken alfredo you made, carefully getting two wine glasses out from the cabinet and looking for a good enough wine from the wine fridge installed under the counter. You were never one to care much about brands, ages, or types of wine as long as it was enjoyable, however marrying James meant you would be exposed to the luxury of fancy wines. Pulling out a bottle of Marcel ‘75 Brunello di Montalcino, you read the label before scrunching your nose at the name and placing it on the counter, uncorking and pouring the red liquid into the glasses.

Minutes later the table was set and James emerged from the bedroom, hair wet and in much comfier clothes than his usual suit and tie. Adorned with sweats and a simple white t-shirt he made his way to the table, his hand resting on your lower back and kissing your temple as he passed you to take his seat. You took your place opposite him with a small smile.

“I hope I picked a good wine, I can never remember the rules about wine.” You mentioned, scooting your chair closer towards the table and placing our napkin in your lap.

James picked up the bottle, turning it in his hands until the label came into his view before setting it down and giving you a soft smile.

“It’s a great choice… but it doesn’t quite suit the meal, my dear.” His voice held no tone of condescendence as he set the bottle back down. “But it’s fine. It doesn’t matter to me currently.”

“You are an awful liar.” You grumble, leaning back against your seat with a pout. “There’s too many rules for wine and food.”

He only laughs, his hand resting against the tabletop palm raised in a silent request for yours. You reluctantly grant his request as you lay your hand on top of his open palm. The annoyance and slight embarrassment of your mess up is evident in your features.

“It’s alright, I just wanted to spend time with my wife- right or wrong wine included.” He teases, fingers lacing with yours once more so you couldn’t pull away.

“There it is! I knew you would care!” You cried, earning an amused chuckle from the man sitting across from you.

“Please, just eat then we can watch a movie and cuddle either in bed or on the couch.” He bargained, his hand releasing yours in favor of picking up his fork.

“Fine. But I am picking the movie.”

Dinner passed in idle conversation, vague statements from James about his work and empty complaints from you over yours. It was a means to catch up from the lack of time visited with one another, it was easy to come by and easy to fall into what life was like before work had consumed you both. Now, you both laid on the dark leather couch as your head rested in his lap, his fingers running through your hair as you both paid little mind to whatever rom-com you had put on simply because of the actors that played in it.

-

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, nor did you remember how you got from the couch into the bed and curled under the sheets. The daylight seeping from the floor to ceiling windows flooded the room, waking you up from your deep slumber to an empty and cold bed. It was to be expected really, but it was still disappointing nonetheless.

Slowly you hauled your body off the bed, stretching until you heard a small crack from your back telling you how stiff and tired your muscles are after sleeping throughout the night. You grabbed a white blouse, black blazer and pencil skirt from your closet paired with a pair of black heels and got dressed for the day. Your phone sat on the charger along with a post-it note sticking to the screen. ‘Called into work early, I’ll see you tonight. I love you. - J.W. P.S.- Make the bed before you leave.’

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the note off your phone and read it before sticking it to the nightstand. You do as requested and make the bed prior to grabbing your phone and heading to the kitchen in order to grab a quick breakfast that includes a protein bar and hot black tea as a source of caffeine as coffee never suited your tastebuds, knowing there will be muffins at the office when you arrive you didn’t worry about eating much this early before heading out.

Making sure you lock the door and have all your things you head down to the parking garage where your car was stored. This was another topic that you had to fight your husband over in order to have a sense of humility and not have a driver take you everywhere. Besides, your 2015 Honda Civic which was affectionately named ‘Silva’ was badass.

The drive to your office was short and uneventful, much like your work day as you went into client meeting after client meeting. Between suing, scandals, and even more suing you were able to have an hour lunch which was 45 minutes spent in traffic. By the time you got back you were close to slamming your head into your desk. Thankfully, before your bad mood escalated to a more severe form you were able to clock out for the day.

By the time you left your office and made it to the parking garage the sun was setting. As normal as this occurrence was, what made it different this time was the amount of bodies littering each floor of the garage as the elevator stopped multiple times to let people in. As the elevator door opened to your level you quickly exited the elevator and made it to your car. The drive back home was quick, the traffic dissolving into a less jam packed version of what it was like at your lunch.

However, what made your day even more sour was the chime from your phone that indicated a text from your husband a couple hours later stating he wouldn’t make it home tonight. That was your last straw as you had planned out this elaborate meal that you both would be able to make together. It was your fault really, you knew better than to get your hopes up. So, with your plans foiled and in a sour mood at the turn of events for the evening you made the mistake of going out for take out. And an even worse mistake of walking to the Chinese food place a few blocks down.

Most of the walk was pleasant, it gave you a chance to decompress and clear your thoughts from the bitterness that you were previously exposed to. You got lost in your mind, not paying any attention to the body shadowing every turn and move you made. It was a simple mistake, you were so used to the safety of your daily pattern that you were bound to slip up somehow, somewhere.

As you turned the corner, just before reaching the door of the restaurant you felt a presence behind you and a sharp object poking through your coat and clothes just close enough to feel against your skin.

“Keep walking. Make a scene and I stab you.” The gruff voice huffed, his head turning slightly as his wild eyes looked around the street.

Immediately you nodded along, body tensing as you felt your heart rate begin to rise, adrenaline rushing through your veins from the fear and anxiety. You allowed the assailant to grab your arm, leading you past the door of your destination and further along the streets for a couple agonizing minutes and into an alley once the sidewalk began to get increasingly more deserted.

Perhaps you should have screamed, should have made some sort of scene that would scare the guy away, but instead you fell into obedience. It was something you would do often, you weren’t a fighter, you could barely stand the thought of someone yelling at you before bursting into tears from the sheer feeling it gave you. Maybe that’s why you were so quick to oblige to this stranger.

As he hauled you into the dimly lit alley, he carelessly threw your body towards the brick wall. His eyes ran from your head to your toes then back up again, too slow for your liking as you tried to shrink against the brick wall.

“Strip.” He barked out his command, knife still in hand but not moving.

“Please, don’t do this.” Your voice trembled although you willed it not you, your arms wrapped around yourself for some sort of protection.

“I said-” he thrusted the knife into the air dangerously close to the skin of your neck, grabbing your hair and pulling you towards him, “strip.”

You let out a choked sob, your eyes and throat burning from shame and the sheer fear that caused you to obey this man. Your tears only seemed to spur him on; however, quickly getting tired of your shaking fingers slipping on the buttons of your blouse as you tried your best to unbutton them resulted in him sticking the knife into your clothing before dragging it down and cutting the fabric down the middle.

Fortunately he couldn’t get further in his attempt as he was thrown back against the adjacent wall. Unable to stand any longer, your knees buckled under you as you fell to the floor with a burning sensation as your knees skid against the pavement. You couldn’t focus, not hearing the voices of your assailant nor your savior, not on the crunching of bone or the impact of a fist against flesh. Everything was drowned by the sounds of you sobbing, the feeling of your trembling body and your running thoughts. You were only dragged out of your hyperventilating state as you saw a blurry dark figure crouch down a couple feet from you, head tilted as his voice traveled to your ears over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“Did he hurt you, Miss?”

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Safe in Your Arms

James Wesley x Reader

A/N: Basically I watched Daredevil and my hand slipped. Listened to Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic while writing if y’all want to join in the vibes!

Original Imagine/ Summary Thingy: You’re Vanessa’s niece/nephew and you have a lil crush on Wesley and maybe, just maybe, he has a lil crush on you too. (Originally this was written with a fem!reader, but I changed it around a bit and it should be gender neutral now. But if there are any gendered terms still in there, let me know!)

Warnings: Mentions and discussion of kidnapping, mentions of blood, mentions of insomnia, overwhelming amounts of fluff, Wesley being Soft™️, things get a lil, slightly steamy there for a minute, but nothing sexual!

Word Count: 3620

This wasn’t exactly how you had intended to spend your night. The living room was dark, save for the light of the TV and the ambient, yellow glow from the corner lamp. You were curled up on your sofa, eyes to the TV. Your mind however, was drifting far away from whatever movie was on, and swirling with hazy memories of a dark warehouse and the crooked, smiling men that had taken you there.  

Your apartment’s squeaky wooden floors brought you from your reverie, having only enough time to notice a quiet creak behind you before you heard a familiar, deep voice. 

“What are you doing up?” 

You turned toward the small hallway in your apartment and there you found Wesley in the doorway, dressed in soft-looking pajama pants and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. It was a jarring difference from the suits you were used to seeing him in, but you were happy for it. Something about seeing him in such…normal, unassuming pajamas made your heart flutter and your cheeks warm. You’d expected silk pajamas or something like that, but instead you got soft pants and a band t-shirt and you swore he’d never looked more handsome. You took a moment to entertain the idea of Wesley at a concert, belting “inset song title” at the top of his lungs and made a mental note to ask him if he’d ever seen them live.

“Oh, hey Wes. I uh, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about the warehouse.” You answered quietly, subconsciously rubbing over a bruise on your arm as you spoke. Wesley’s sudden appearance had momentarily pulled you from your thoughts, but that moment was gone and the warehouse once again consumed your thoughts.

You must have been quiet for a while because when you looked back at Wesley, he was watching you with a worried look - brows upturned and everything. So you shook yourself back into reality and asked him the first thing that came to mind, “What’s got you up this late?” 

He was quiet for a moment before speaking - his eyes swept over you as you awaited his response.

“Insomnia. A relatively new development, but nothing I can’t deal with.” Once again, he paused, hesitation lingering in the silence, “Is there…anything I can do to help you?” 

“Um, I think I’m okay. Just scared I guess. Even now that I’m home,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping with your exhale, ”I’m sorry you have to deal with that by the way. It’s gotta suck.” 

“It’s not too bad. Like I said, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Wesley responds, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “What's on your mind? What’s keeping you up?” He asks, stepping closer to the couch, his socks padding softly on the hardwood floor.

“It’s silly stuff,” you start, looking away from him and fiddling with your hands, “Well, I guess it’s not really silly since I did get kidnapped, but I’m just…I’m scared that it’ll happen again. I know Fisk promised my safety, Hell, that’s why you're here” you paused for a brief moment, “But I can’t stop worrying that someone will figure out how to get to me again. I can’t stop thinking about the warehouse; I can’t get the image out of my head. Every time I see the bruises in the mirror I’m back in that chair and I-I don’t ever want to go back there. I mean, I was there for days. They’d come in and taunt me, and they’d laugh when I begged them to stop. Sometimes they’d come in and beat me around just because they could.” You paused to regain your composure with a few shaky breaths, then continued, “I’d never felt so isolated. It was terrifying. I-I don’t wanna be alone like that again.” By the time you’d finished speaking your voice was beginning to tremble, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed Wesley moving until he sat next to you. 

He moved carefully, reaching for your hands once he’d sat down. He looked you right in your eyes and he held your hands softly, as if anything more would cause you to flinch away from him. His voice was firm with sincerity as he spoke your name, “No one will ever get to you again. And you will never have to be alone again. I-,” he caught himself, then let go of a breath, “We will keep you safe.” 

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his hands, “Thank you Wesley.”

“Of course,” he scoots just a little closer to you, running his thumb across the back of your hand, “Would you like some company? Since neither of us are sleeping tonight?” 

“I'd like that. Yeah.” you respond with a small smile, scooting closer yourself. 

Wesley smiles and keeps hold of your hands as he moves to the other end of the couch, only letting go when you can’t reach any further. He settles in the corner and pats the seat next to him.

“C’mere.” 

You don’t think about it. Or what it might mean. Or what he means. You don’t care what’s implied when you all but rush to sit right beside him with a new warmth in your gut. All you think about is how warm he is and how comfy you feel when you lean your head on his shoulder, settling in to watch the rest of whatever movie was on. 

"Thank you for staying with me by the way. It does help after everything." You quietly confess after a moment.

"I'm glad to stay if it means you feel safe." Wesley assured, a gentle warmth in his voice. 

You were quiet for a beat, but eventually spoke up with a quiet huffed laugh,  

“I was worried it might annoy you honestly. I mean, you’re staying here a whole week just to make sure I don’t get kidnapped again. I feel like I’m wasting your time.”  

Wesley turns to you with a concerned, bewildered look, “You are never a waste of my time. Whether it’s being told to stay with you for a week to ensure your safety, or stopping by to say hi while you're working at the pool hall, any time I spend with you is time well spent.” Wesley has this warm smile on his face that’s so sincere you couldn't doubt what he’d said if you wanted to.

You don’t really have any response to that except a small nod, and Wesley is surprised by his own sincerity, so you both turn back to the TV and he smiles when he feels you return your head to rest on his shoulder.

It’s a few minutes later when he oh so sneakily wraps his arm around your shoulder. You can’t help the beam of happiness that surges through you and lands in a smile on your face.

Wesley’s heart is beating erratically. He hopes you can’t hear it as he wraps himself around you. He thinks he’d die if you knew how this closeness makes him tremble. He’d never be able to look at you again if you saw the blush on his face, God you were so warm and soft and holding you was everything in the world. 

“You know, Fisk tore up the city looking for you.” Wesley began unprompted, as if the words just burst from him regardless of whether he wanted them to or not, “The moment Vanessa called saying you were missing - I've never seen him look that scared. He had everyone on his payroll looking for you." 

"Even you?" You queried.

"Yes, even me." He smiled down at you once again, giving your shoulder a small squeeze. 

There was a beat of silence. You smiled at a memory and took hold of Wesley’s hand, interlocking your fingers without really thinking about it.

“You wanna know something Wes?" 

"What?" 

"You're the first thing I remember seeing when I woke up. I was tied to that chair in the warehouse, and you were telling me that everything would be alright. The light above me was so bright, but you kept saying that I was safe. I remember feeling your hand on my face and feeling - believing - that I was safe." You leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb across his palm.

"You smiled a bit when you woke up." Wesley recalled fondly, although the memory had now gleaned a new weight within him. 

“I did.” A knowing smile broke out on your face and it made Wesley weak. Even through the dim lighting in your living room, he could see how bright your eyes were and the happiness held within them. He wanted to hold that smile on your face forever. Just the thought that he was the reason you were smiling like that made him want to jump for joy and tell everyone who would listen: ‘hey I did that! Look at what I did!’

“Hey Wes, can I ask you a question?” 

It took him a second to come back, your voice pulling him back to the present.

“Uh yeah-yeah, sure.” 

You didn’t seem to notice him stumbling over his sentence. You just looked down at your hands as you spoke. “I just-I’ve noticed, since you’ve been here, that you’re always kinda…tense? You seem like you haven’t relaxed at all since I was brought back home. I know you’re still on the job technically, but- y’know- “

The sentence slowly died on your tongue, but Wesley knew what you were asking. He looked away from you, down to his lap as if he would find an answer etched in the weave of his pajama pants. It took him a moment to find his words, and even then, you could hardly hear him. 

“It’s…hard to relax knowing you could still be in danger.” Wesley’s voice was quiet - barely a whisper. He didn’t meet your eyes. His were stuck on the bruise that smudged itself across your forearm. His brows drew together as his thumb came to trace its outline. It seemed his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the warehouse just as you had been before. 

But with a gentle dip of your head and your hand coming to stop his tracing, you catch his eyes and give him a small smile, “If it makes any difference, I always feel safe when you’re around.”  

It took a second for that to sink in. He visibly buffered when he heard what you’d said. 

“You do?” His voice was soft and full of disbelief. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve always got a gun in your back pocket” you laugh a little and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face, “but really, you’ve always felt safe to me. Of course, you’re Fisk’s right hand man so that helps, but aside from that it feels like no matter what happens you’ll always be able to keep me safe. Like you’ll always be there for me. 

He paused, visibly shaken by your response.

“Can I tell you something?” Your name fell off his lips in a quiet whisper, 

“Of course.” You respond, and Wesley can see hope in your eyes.  

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing followed. Instead, he looked at your face. Your beautiful eyes, your soft lips. He couldn't think of anything to say.  

Before he realized it, his hand had reached for your face, and he found himself holding your cheek, his thumb swiping gently across your face. He was in awe. There was something so tender about the soft way you rested your head in his hand. He felt you lean your weight into his hold and he swore his heart melted right there. Something soft and mushy took place in his chest and he never wanted that feeling to go away. He just wanted you, like this, for the rest of time. 

He hadn’t realized that he was leaning into you until your noses brushed together. He pulled back a little, but when he noticed you’d followed him, and that your eyes were closed, he dipped to your lips and kissed you.

He felt your lips move against his and their soft press spurred him on. He let out a heavy, shuddering breath as his hands came to frame your face, both of them cradling your head with adoring gentleness. He kissed you harder, hungry to know the curve of your lips - to memorize it and feel it tingle against his own whenever he thought of you. 

And thinking of you brought him back to reality. He realized all too quick what he was doing and pulled away, regretting it the second he did. He couldn’t look you in the eye. His cheeks flushed, embarrassment set aflame in his gut. 

“I’m sorry. I-I should have asked first. That wasn’t particularly considerate of me, I-“

“Wes,” You cut off his spiraling apology with a small smile and a squeeze of his hand.

His eyes met yours and they were hopeful.

“Kiss me again.”

He gave you an incredulous smile, but didn’t hesitate a moment otherwise. He held the back of your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with the fervor held in a long-pining heart. 

You smiled. You smiled because of him. Again. And he felt it against his lips. He felt your hands lay themselves against his chest, one hand sneaking up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

A soft moan escaped him when you gave his hair a tiny tug, and you couldn’t help but chuckle against his lips. 

You were caught off guard when he pulled away, but when he dipped down to place a kiss on your bruised collarbone, and then the bruise on your arm, the surprise dissipated and your heart melted. He kissed every bruise he could see, mumbling against your skin as he did so.

“I swear this will never happen again. I’ll kiss every bruise away and when they’re gone, I’ll lay kisses where they were so those spots never know pain again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You didn’t know what to say, but when he leaned up, meeting your eyes, you nodded to let him know you understood.  

When every bruise was kissed - some even kissed twice - Wesley leaned back up, held the side of your face once more, and kissed you again.  

He felt so much in that moment. Anger toward your captors who dared to lay their hands on you. Worry for your safety. He wanted to wipe every bruise off your skin as if they were just smudged makeup and help you heal after what happened at the warehouse. And yet, he’d never been happier in his life. He was kissing you. Every ounce of passion he’d ever felt paled in comparison to the bright, shining warmth that was bursting from his chest in this moment. He never wanted to stop touching you. And he never wanted to go another moment without feeling your hands on him. He wanted to feel your hands on his face, his chest, in his hair. He wanted you all around him.  

His lips felt swollen when he pulled away, and yours looked like they might bruise. He’d kissed you hard and you seem to have done the same to him. The both of you took a minute to breathe - watching the heavy breaths expand through each other's chests.  

But after a moment, when you both were breathing normally again, Wesley spoke what he had been thinking.

“I didn’t say it before, but I’m happy that you feel safe when I’m around.” 

You smiled at him and took his hands in yours, “You know what Wes?”

“What?”

“I feel even safer in your arms.” 

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS!

@justalittletomato​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​

[loonylunalovegood77]

Hey just letting those interested know I made a James Wesley Character ai

It's pretty detailed and seems to be the only one so far so have fun :)

[urmom724]

Me looking for James Wesley fics:

[mattmurdockmylove]

Need someone to do a fanfic about Matt Murdock x fem reader and James Wesley x fem reader where she's married to Wesley but when she was young (university/high school like) she dated Matt and broke Matt's hearth because she go to another place, and Matt was (and is) always convinced that she was the love of his life.

Then one day Matt and her reunited again and Matt still love her so much and she does too but she also feel a lot of love for Wesley?

This just pop in my head yesterday and I can't stop thinking about it, so please if someone do this TAG ME!!!

[night-ace]

Masterlist

‣  do not repost/translate/use my work in any way without my permission. [Reblogs are greatly appreciated]

‣  requests are open

‣  total works: 5

writings  ↓

hold me closer [fluff]

summary: wesley cuddles and takes a bubble bath with the reader after a hard day at work.

night terrors [fluff]

summary: wesley wakes up after having a particularly rough nightmare. in his worried state he seeks out your comfort and you make sure to take care of him, reminding him that you're always going to be by his side.

wip [smut] - coming soon

summary: you had been teasing wesley all night, time to face the consequences of your actions.

writings ↓

more than perfect [fluff]

summary: reader is left devastated after a mission gone wrong. obi-wan takes it upon himself to comfort them and ends up staying over for the night, leading to an unexpected confession.

writings ↓

sweet dreams [angst/fluff] 

summary: reader tries to help bucky during a nightmare but he accidentally hurts them.

in the heart of the storm [fluff]

summary: reader is afraid of storms but bucky is there to comfort them.

other ↓

bucky barnes as things my 8y.o brother has said

[bigassmoonchildmain]

i may or may not have started adding to the wesley works 👀

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

organized fanfic with links to chapters, for easier access (ongoing)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

Clash in the Court

The Losing Team

Start Of Something Better... or Worse?

Shadows of the Past

Not Again

Strange Thoughts

Into the Ring

Union Allies

Bitter Company

Innocent Get What They Deserve

Mixing Business

Coffee Delusions

Crack in the Walls

Back when it all made Sense

Karma is a...

Breaking rules is fun (and dangerous)

The Big Call

Unexpected Encounter

Things are about to change

Old Friends, New Beginnings

Jealousy, Jealousy

In the Blood

Smoking Day

Time is a Fragile Thing

King's Right Hand

Chasing Wind in the Dead of Night

Deadly Dance

Chasing Wind in the Dead of Night, pt. 2

World on Fire

I don't want to be a part of this

Grasping the Straws

Better if you Do

Lawyers, Guns and Money, pt. 1

Lawyers, Guns and Money, pt. 2

Man-Eater

Interlude

bad idea, right?

Poisonous Affair

Nelson v Murdock

running away is all I know

Guilty Crimes

Field Day

my world was falling apart

The ones we left behind

not the best lawyer, but a goddamn good criminal

Daredevil

All 'thanks' to the Devil

this might've been just a dream, right?

Another night in Hell's Kitchen

of first dates and men

Bang

[supercap2319]

"This might be a little bit unconventional, sir, but I've always wanted to see what it would be like to blow you while you sit in your chair." Y/N said, standing at attention for James T. Kirk.

Captain Kirk's green eyes narrowed in surprise. He didn't look mad or anything, but he didn't exactly have any emotion either. It was silent between the two of them and Lieutenant Y/N thought he would be kicked off the USS Enterprise.

The Captain smirked and chuckled at Y/N. "That's an insubordinate attitude, Lieutenant. I think I might have to punish you personally in private. For now, I need you to go down to the engine room."

Y/N nods, filled with glee. So the Captain was open to it after all. And with the thoughts of being personally "punished" by the Captain later on, made him half hard. He nodded and walked towards the door. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain Kirk?" He turned to him.

"Don't be late. I expect you in my office in less than one hour."

He nodded and left the room as Kirk smiled to himself.

[targaryenluvs]

— HARRY POTTER

HARRY POTTER

— coming soon!

RON WEASLEY

— coming soon!

HERMIONE GRANGER

— coming soon!

FRED WEASLEY

— skeletons and scares

summary: it’s fred’s mission to scare his girlfriend ever since she told him it was impossible to.

GEORGE WEASLEY

— coming soon!

CEDRIC DIGGORY

— coming soon!

SLYTHERIN BOYS

— enzo, theo, mattheo etc

MARAUDERS ERA

— james, sirius, regulus etc

[mordredisacoolname]

How the daredevil characters would top a gn reader? (Or at least the ones you think would top anyway)

Thank you for requesting! I really hope you enjoy

DAREDEVIL CHARACTERS (MEN) TOPING YOU

GN READER

Characters: Matt Foggy Frank Wesley Dex Ray

CW: N/SFW, smut

MATT- I think Matt will be a soft top. He likes sitting on a couch with you on top of him. Will touch every inch of your body, kissing and biting. Guiding you and talking you through it. Further into the relationship he'll be willing to be more dominant and aggressive, nothing too much as he doesn't want to hurt you, but not so soft either. I can also see him as a sub top, only if you want it, after long days. He just wants to lose control and be taken care of. Will probably cum before you as he's super sensitive but will not stop until you're satisfied.

FOGGY- very goofy, cracks jokes all the time. But is also very intense and intimate. Kisses you pationetely, holding your face in his arms and feeling you up. Starts with slow but hard thrusts and becomes quicker. Will not cum before you.

FRANK- honestly, he's a very romantic man. If you're in a relationship he'll be super careful with you and will spend at least half an hour before entering you, Kissing and feeling you all over. If you're just a one night stand or if you ask him and he's in the mood he'll be aggressive and fuck you till you can't walk. Will not do anything too risky tho, nothing that can harm you. Always cums after you, unless you're giving him a blowjob. Hard and deep thrusts, a lot of grunts and "fuck"s.

WESLEY- oh he's a sub top alright. Likes when you ride him, watching you bouns on him, making pleasant noises and faces. When he's close he'll flip you around and pound into you until you both cum. Likes dirty talk A LOT. Aggressive, likes when you RIDE him, making the bed squick.

DEX- he's either a very submissive top or a very dominant top. I can honestly see him as a bottom but when he's topping there's no in between. Really depends on his mood. If he's doming he'll have no mercy on you, you'll have to agree on a safe word so he known when to stop. Slaps, hair pulling, bites, choking. He's extreme. Honestly can see him being kinda selfish and if he's not in the mood he'll not continue after he finishes and will leave you unsatisfied. If he's being a sub he will want you to ride him senseless, grabbing his shoulders and making a lot of noises.

RAY- he's such a tease. Will literally edge you for hours and laugh about it. But will not cum until you do, he want to pleasure you and puts you before himself. Definition of heart eyes. He thinks you're so beautiful. Seeing you is such a vulnerable position, and so high on pleasure turns him on so much. Wants to look at your face while fucking you to see the good job he's doing. Kind of praise words, calling you good __ (whatever you prefer), telling you how good you're doing.

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

loved your wesley x reader! could I be added to the tag list if you plan on writing more for him?

Certainly! I don’t know how much more I’ll write for him, but I do have a bonus scene I wanted to write for his one-shot that didn’t quite fit into the story, so there’s that to look forward to! 😂

[ashenstardust]

A Cold Day in Hell

I just posted a NSFW fic on my Ao3!

You can read it here.

Summary: You don't know if you can have a relationship with Matthew Murdock while you also work for Kingpin. Matt convinces you otherwise.  Word Count: 4806 Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Mentions of torture, murder.

[urmom724]

Foggy using Matt’s powers would be like:

He would 10/10 use them when he goes out-

Like when he needs a wing man Matt is going out with him whether he likes it or not. 

I think it would go something like this- 

Foggy: *Finishes a conversation with a girl and walks back over to Matt* 

Matt: “Can I go home now?” 

Foggy: “Not until you tell me what she thinks of me.” 

Matt: “Foggy I’m not going to listen in on her conversation.” 

Foggy: “Lunch will be on me this week.” 

Matt: “...She says you smell like onions.” 

[why-do-i-breath]

Alrighty I've decided to write fanfiction on here because I've burnt out on Wattpad and people aren't giving me requests so here's the people I will write for and I'll write anything ( if it's smut it may be a while because I would need to research stuff on it )

Matt Murdock

Foggy Nelson

Benjamin Dex Poindexter

Frank castle

Michael kinsella

Tristan thorn

Owen sleater

Karen page

Bucky Barnes

Henry (eat locals)

Peter Parker ( fluff / angst only)

And if you request a character I will try and research them my best to write them

Please request I'm begging here

[aza-writes]

Blood Red : Chapter 13

The cycle

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE AND PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

Aleksandra's POV

The walk back to my apartment is sweet and slow. Like the walk to the coffee shop, there wasn't much talking, but it is different this time. The silence is softer and more comfortable.

Maverick's fingers keep brushing against mine, each time lingering longer. I quickly glance at him, wondering if he notices what he's doing. His eyes keep looking down at the ground, then up, then at our hands.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Yet, I don't mind.

I move my fingers so they meet his halfway. Maverick's fingers start to curl around mine leading our hands to interlock. It takes me two seconds to realize that he's holding my hand.

He's holding my hand.

Holy shit.

He's actually holding my hand. I feel like I'm in one of the teen movies the Red Room used to be shown in our American Culture class. I'm walking with a boy, after a date, holding hands.

My apartment building comes into view and I'm dreading going home. I want to stay in this moment. Everything feels so so calming and safe. I don't have to worry about anything except for his hand and mine. The fact that this all has to end is the only thing that is making this moment sour, but it isn't enough to ruin it completely.

The doorman to my apartment looks right into my eyes and nods before opening the door for both Maverick and me. The doorman, whose name I have yet to learn, looks down at Maverick's and my hands. He doesn't display what he's thinking on his face, a trait I assume you pick up in his position of seeing all types of people who can afford whatever they want. He keeps his judgments to himself and keeps his face stoic, I can appreciate that.

The elevator doors open slowly, revealing only a young gentleman who hurries off without looking up from his phone. I drop Maverick's hand and walk into the elevator, turning around immediately so I'm able to look at Maverick. I didn't notice that Maverick has a puzzled look on his face until now. I look him in the eyes and give him a small smile, trying to make him feel better, but I'm unsure of what made him upset in the first place. I give Maverick a soft smile, trying to be kind in this situation while simultaneously trying to figure out what I did to make Maverick sad or worried.

Maverick looks back up at me and smiles back. His smile is much wider than mine, showing more teeth. He then follows me into the elevator and stands next to me. As soon as the door shuts, our hands interlock again.

I decide to break the silence, wanting to show my appreciation for tonight and that I do have feelings for him, I'm just unsure of what they are. "Thank you for the nice night and the coffee."

"Of course." He turns his head to look me in the eyes. "Thank you for saying yes."

Maverick's eyes shift away from my eyes to my lips, then back to my eyes. His mouth opens, about to say something but the elevator ding cuts him off, and the doors open to my floor.

He walks me to my apartment, our hands still intertwined, and the walk becomes silent again. I don't mind the silence, it's comforting with him. It's peaceful.

Maverick stands to my side as I unlock my door, letting go of my hand. The way he lets go of my hand is completely different from the way I let go of his. He lowers our hands down together and pulls away his palm, then his fingers while having them linger for a moment, then he gently set his hand back to his side. I, on the other hand, just dropped his. I wouldn't have understood the difference if someone just explained it to me, but feeling how Maverick let go compared to the way I did it just added to the description of him; soft.

"I'm sorry for dropping your hand earlier." I keep my head down and focused on the doorknob. "I didn't mean it like that."

He quickly replies, "Don't worry about it." His voice is sincere. "I know what you meant." I move my eyes to meet his, his eyes show that he means it.

He chuckles to himself softly and shakes his head a bit. I show the confusion on my face as I chuckle with him.

"What is it?" My voice is light, the same way it was at the café.

"Can I kiss you?" He almost doesn't believe the words he's saying as if his mind didn't approve before they came out.

I almost don't believe what he's saying. My mind can't come up with words to reply to him. I don't know what else to do besides nod.

Maverick's smile widens a bit before he brings his left hand to my cheek. He looks into my eyes again before leaning and pulling me a bit closer and kissing me. I've been in this situation before, I know what to do. I've been trained on this. This isn't a movie, it won't end here.

I open my door and slip my tongue into his mouth a bit. Although my actions aren't hesitant, my mind is. I don't want to have sex tonight, but he wants to so I have to.

When my tongue hits Maverick's lips his eyes open and he pulls away.

Fuck, I did something wrong. Did I not slide my tongue in enough? Maybe he's a guy who needs to be in control of the whole situation. Fuck I should have known.

"Hold on," I turn around and start to lock my door back up, wanting to be ready for anything he has planned. "I don't have to go to work for another few hours, we can go anywhere you w-"

"H-hold on." His tone shows that he's shocked about the situation, but it isn't from anger, instead, it's confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Well, you kissed me."

As if a switch has been hit, his cheeks turn bright red. "Y-yeah-yes I did. I did kiss you." His eyes widen again. "Did you not want me to? Shit, I'm so sorry Aleksandra, I didn't mean to force you. I'm so sorry."

I shake my head to get him to stop rambling for one second. "It's my fault. I should've known you wanted to have sex at a hotel or something instead of my apartment. We can go there if you would like."

"Sex?"

"Yes, sex. You kissed me and sex follows kissing."

"I-I don't want to have sex with you tonight."

I can feel the air leave my body. This has never happened before. A strange laugh escapes my lips, I wasn't even aware I was going to do it until after it happened. Shock and relief fill my brain.

"I-I don't mean to be rude but I just wanted to kiss you."

"You just wanted to kiss me? Nothing else?" Tears threaten to escape my eyes. They aren't from sadness. There's so much relief in this situation that I'm unsure of what to do.

"I'm sorry Aleksandra." He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a small cross. "I'm Catholic and I know it's considered unrealistic and old-fashioned now but I want to wait until I'm married. It's something my mother always wanted for me and now that she's gone I want to fulfill every wish she had for me."

His reason didn't matter to me, it's what he's doing that's so important.

He didn't want to have sex with me. He didn't ask me out for my body.

"I'm so sorry. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do and I don't wanna do this tonight. I'm so sorry for confusing you."

The laugh leaves my lips again, and a small smile follows it. "I don't want to have sex tonight either."

"Oh. You don't?"

I shake my head. I'm scared that if I continue to speak that I will end up crying, yet I don't have control over the words coming out of my mouth. They just come. "I've always been taught to have sex with men, I didn't know you could kiss someone without having sex."

Maverick's face drops a bit. Without saying a word, he picks up my hands and just holds them. His thumbs create small circles on the back of my palm. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

My lip starts to quiver. My eyes start to hurt from the strain of holding back my tears for so long.

"I will never make you do something you don't want to. If you ever feel like I'm pressuring you, tell me and I'll stop right away. I don't want to hurt you."

I don't want to hurt you.

No one has ever said that to me in that tone.

He isn't threatening me, he's telling me.

Maverick Lucius doesn't want to hurt me.

I finally get the courage to look into his eyes. They're glossed over with tears, making him look even softer than before. "Thank you." My voice is just above a whisper, if I go any higher my tears will fall without me wanting them to.

The corners of his lips raise as he brought my right hand to them. He places a small kiss on the back of my hand and then gently lowers my hand to my sides.

"I have to go to a meeting with Leland, but I'll call you in the morning." He lets go of my left, keeping my right in his grasp. Although the rest of him appeared soft, his hands are calloused like mine. "I had an amazing time tonight Aleksandra."

"I enjoyed it too." A true, genuine smile grows on my face. I want him to know that I'm happy to be here in this moment with him. I'm happy about going with him tonight. I'm happy right now.

"Goodnight Aleksandra."

"Goodnight Maverick."

He smiles at me one last time before carefully putting my hand down again. I watch him walk into the elevator before turning back to my door and going into my apartment. Maverick was the contrast in my day. Last night was blood, the morning was lying and manipulation and this afternoon was sweat and training, but Maverick was peaceful. I can't help but feel a bit upset that the peace had to end, but the feeling is quickly replaced with excitement for what I was about to do. Because now it's time for the cycle to start over: now it's time for blood.

------

"This doesn't have to be this hard." Wesley's voice echoes throughout the small, empty basement. "Just tell us who you told." A devilish smirk grows on his face as he gestures behind him. "Well, who else you told."

I keep my eyes forward at the man tied to the chair, resisting the urge to look to my right and see the girl lying almost dead on the ground. He'll be dead soon, but for now, he's alive until we get what we want from the rat.

Wesley starts to pace around the man in the chair. I think his name is "We know you said his name, Ernest, just tell us who all you told."

Ernest Basseri, a new and very, very low employee to Mr. Fisk. He washes cars, takes out the trash, and shines shoes and junk. He only knows Mr. Fisk's name because he works at meetings Fisk attends. He had a good thing going; protection, nice pay, a chance to rise in the rankings, and the first pick of apartments and cars, yet he still managed to fuck it up.

Ernest shakes his head no, well kind of. His head is drooped down, neck limp. The movement is very subtle, but it's there.

Wesley straitens up and fixes his tie. "Hm? Nothing? Okay." He looks up at me, that's all it takes.

I turn around and look at the table behind me. An abundance of weapons is sprawled out on the grey foldout table. I run the steps of interrogation through my head. Freezing water, check; hurting someone he cares about, check; hitting him in pressure points, check. Busting his kneecaps is next. Perfect.

I grab the crowbar and twirl it around a bit, earning an eye roll from Wesley but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I won't let him ruin my fun. I get to torture someone the exact way I was taught, Dreykov would be so proud of me.

I move in front of Ernest and turn to the side a bit to get the perfect angle for the most impact. His head is still limp with shallow breaths. A little smirk grows, concealed by my mask. I lift the crowbar with my right hand and immediately bring the curve of the bar down to his right kneecap. His silence was broken as he unleashes a horrifying scream; the kind that horror actors spend their whole lives trying to perfect. My heart skips a beat when I hear it. This is the best part of the job, the screams of terror, the room filled with the smell of blood, red clouding my vision, it's perfect. Wesley's enjoying this too. He has a small smirk similar to mine, but his is from pride instead of lust.

"Come on Ernest." Wesley nods at me again, signaling me to move on to the next part of our plan. "This doesn't have to go on any longer." I grab the poor girl, Ernest's girlfriend, off the floor, and hold her close to my chest. I pull out my knife from its holster and hold it to her throat. "Do you have to put this poor girl through all this pain? Because of you're stupidity, she has to die." The girl tries to yell, scream, fuck she's trying to whisper, but all that she can muster is a small groan. "Unless you tell us who else you told." Wesley pulls Ernest's hair up and leans in close to his ear. "Even if you don't tell us, we'll find them and their punishment will be worse than death." Again, wait a few seconds. Nothing.

I start to move my knife across the girlfriend's throat, I think her name is Maddie. A loud, horrific scream escapes her throat.

"MY ROOMMATE!"

The room goes silent and I pull my knife away slightly, still making contact but not drawing. blood.

Ernest is shaking and his eyes pool with tears. "I-I told my roommate."

"What's his name?" There's a long silence that followed. I can't tell if it's because Ernest is trying to catch his breath or if he decided to become a слабак (wimp.)

Wesley isn't too fond of Ernest's silence either. His impatience growing by the second. "WHAT IS YOUR ROOMMATE'S NAME?"

"N-" Ernest spits out blood. "Nolan Baumann. I-I didn't mean to though, he didn't do anything wrong. It was before I knew the rules." His voice is now fast and frantic, trying to spare his friend's life as well as his own. All Wesley does and write down the name and look at me again.

Nolan Baumann became my task for the night, and I get to make an example out of him.

That means no rules, and no holding back.

I can do whatever I want.

"Thank you Mr. Basseri. That is all." Wesley's voice is calm and relaxed. I never thought I would say this but I fucking love that tone right now. If I was speaking I would do the same thing. False hope is very powerful, it makes this whole situation more enjoyable; for us at least.

"T-that's it? I can go now?"

There it is, the false hope.

Wesley takes long strides as he walks around to face Earnest, letting the hope sit for a moment. It's nice seeing his dead eyes start to light up.

An evil grin takes over Wesley's face. "Go to what? Home? Go to your roommate who you just sold out? Or to the police who will never believe your story?" Wesley lets out a sinister chuckle. "What would you tell them? An infamous Russian assassin beat you up? Better yet, why don't you go back home with your little whore girlfriend, who cheats on you every night, while you hire the most expensive prostitutes and not have to pay them because you work for my employer?" A horrific look is on Ernest's face while Wesley looks like a kid in a candy store. "No, no you may not."

In one swipe, Maddie's throat sprays blood all over Ernest's face and the side of Wesley's jacket. Ernest's screams echo throughout the room as I let Maddie's lifeless body collapse to the ground. My eyes dilate and I take a long, deep breath. I want to giggle like a kid, fuck I almost do.

The smell of her blood takes over my mind, my body itching for more of it. The smell isn't enough right now, I need to taste it, snort it, fucking bathe in it. I need all of it in its glory. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought this moment was a religious experience, that I was meeting God himself.

Wesley displays a sick smile on his face that matches the one under my mask. I imagine he gets the same twisted pleasure from this but he is more psychological, mine is chemical.

I watch Ernest bawling his eyes out. Honestly don't understand why he's so upset about his whore girlfriend, he cheated on her constantly and again, and his girlfriend was a major bitch.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to be at a meeting with my employer. Ernest, you showed promise. You were eager to please, but look where that got you." Wesley fixes his suit and opens the thick, metal door that led to a cement hallway. "Aleksandra, make sure he doesn't say our employer's, name again, and don't be late."

Although Wesley is speaking to me, I keep my back to him. I keep my eyes fixed on Ernest, savoring this moment. I haven't been able to interrogate people like this in so long.

"P-please let me out. Come on, you don't want to do this. You're just a kid." He pleads and pleads, but it won't do anything. He's my job, he brought this on himself.

I don't entertain him with a response, he doesn't deserve it. I take my mask off. I want this idiot to see my face before I kill him. I want him to see my joy in his suffering. I slide the table over in front of Ernest, enjoying the scraping noise that increased the tension. I like playing this out, stretching the fear, breaking Ernest further and further. It's euphoric.

I walk around Ernest's chair getting into position for what I'm going to do.

"Please, please. Aleksandra? Right? T-that's your name?" He pauses, does he think I'll answer? Fuck, he really is an idiot. "Please, I can help you get out! I can save you from Fisk-"

I slam my hands down on the table, halting Ernest's pleas. "We don't say his name." My voice is calm, I don't have a reason to feel anything besides calm. I'm in complete control.

"I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! Please, please help me!" His pleas are weightless, he doesn't deserve help. He broke the rules, now there are consequences.

I grab his jaw and squeeze it together, leading him to open his mouth. His eyes start to water and his body shakes. I hold it open as I grab his tongue out of his mouth and pull it across the table. In a clean, fluid motion, I grab the knife out of my holster and plunge it through his tongue and into the table. Blood spurts out of his mouth and he tries to scream in pain.

This isn't enough though. His tongue will heal, I need more. Fisk needs more. Ernest continues to shake and cry like a fucking baby. I'm over it, why is he crying? He knew what would happen if he said our employer's name. He fucked himself. He brought this on himself. d

He's on my last nerve, so fuck it. Without a second thought, I hold the table down with my hands and kick him backward with my left leg.

Riiiiiiiiipppppppppp

Blood gushes out of his mouth as half of his tongue is laying in front of me on the table while the other half dangles from his mouth. He tries to mumble something, but with his tongue cut off it sounds like a bunch of random noises an infant makes. His hands and legs are tied to the chair leaving him flat on his back thrashing around in the chair.

He looks pathetic, like a turtle laying on its back. I don't know if I should laugh at him or pity him.

His screams and half pleas are starting to get annoying. I walk over and pull his chair up so he's back in a sitting position. His face is red along with his eyes. Blood is flowing out of his mouth.

Blood.

Oh, fuck me.

He doesn't have to live, his death doesn't even have to look like an accident. I can rip him to shreds.

My throat goes dry and my heart rate spikes. I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. His grunts are muffled as I gulp. I take my gloves off and start to pet Ernest's hair. The world goes black and white except for the blood.

The blood.

The red is so vibrant it's hurting my eyes. It's glowing off of his face. I touch it with the tip of my index finger, hold it up to my nose, and smell it. A million sparks fly throughout my body. An insane high takes over my body.

I need more.

I lick the blood off my finger and then off his chin. A pornographic moan escapes my lips as I go back in to lick more blood off of his face. The moan comes from pure pleasure; toe curling, body shaking pleasure. Ernest's screams stop, he half-heartedly tries to back away from me, but he's in my hands, he has nowhere to go. He's losing a lot of blood. He'll pass out; soon enough, he should die from blood loss.

What a fucking waste. Blood loss is the worse type of death, wasting something that could be used in so many ways. So many fucking beautiful ways.

I cup Ernest's face in my hands and stare into his eyes; his glorious bloodshot eyes. He trembles in complete horror; terror radiating off his face.

"You have no idea how much I enjoy this." I can't make my voice louder than a whisper, all of my energy is going into the effort of ripping Ernest to shreds in a second. Not taking over and going against the very thing Wesley, and by that Fisk, ordered me to do. He is here to send a message.

Yes, I can do what I want, but I have to keep his body intact, I have to have something to show others. I have rules to follow, and I intend to follow them.

"What did you think was going to happen when you said his name?" My eyes linger over his body as I sit him upright again. "Did you expect nothing to happen? Did you assume that the warnings were false?" I wipe off a knife from the table filled with weapons that are in every interrogation room. "Hm? Oh right," I pick up my knife from the table in front of Earnest, the tongue is still attached to it. "How rude of me." I pluck his tongue off of my knife and throw it across the room. I may have bloodlust, but I'm not a cannibal. I have some morals.

Ernest starts to let out a familiar whimper. It's the same cry every man does before he dies when he knows that his life is about to end. It's fear mixed with knowledge.

As much as to my dismay, I have to start wrapping this up. I can't be late for the meeting tonight. Unlike Earnest, I still have an employer to impress. I stare at the table filled with every weapon imaginable. Everything I've ever been trained to use was right in front of me. Fisk knew me well, he knew I wouldn't want to be confined to one weapon.

He gave me a choice.

Earnest continues to tremble, his life is in my hands.

And now his death.

I pick up a long, jagged knife and twirl it in my hands. Ernest shakes his head and tries to yell something, probably begging for his life, but the absence of his tongue leaves him to wordless jumbles of noise. He sounds like a babbling infant.

I push him to the ground and straddle him, wanting him to see my eyes as I kill him.

I want to see his eyes as I kill him. I want him to feel the fear of death.

Ernest squirms and shrieks as I raise the knife into the air. His eyes swell with tears and stream out.

And just like that, the flow of tears ceases, the squeals stop, and his blood is officially all mine.

• • • • • •

Masterlists