#matt murdock x avenger!reader

[ownedbytaylorswift-13]

It’s a Cruel Summer | Matt Murdock x Fem!reader (2/5)

Bad Boy

A/N: I’m so incredibely sorry for not being faster while posting I swear I always say i’m going to but i totally forget 😭😭😭, but anywaysssss, last chapter we learend a little bit about miss y/n stark and this chapter were are saying her day to day life right, like shes a fucking billioner, avenger, supermodel, filanthrophist and miss girls bussy, shes gotta wake up and train and look gorgeouse and meet the love of her life all while saving the world so here we gooooo. thx for reading *kisseshughskisseshugskisseshugs* <333.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated🫶🏼🫶🏼

Pls let me know if you would like to take you off the tag list or add you🫰🏼

TW: age gap (r is like 21 and matt’s like 33-34), bad writing, y/n, over powered reader, pick me girl, rich people, fwb, maybe alcohol/drugs, insensitivity, rich savior, my writting, drama, probably more.

“Good morning Ms.Stark, it’s 5:30 am. You are required on the training floor at 6:00 am.”

I grunted, wishing I hadn’t woken up during the night so I actually would have gotten at least one more hour of sleep. Why did we have to train so early anyways?

I went to my bathroom to try and freshen up a little, I put my hair in a shower cap and took a super quick freezing cold shower, brushed my teeth and changed into more suitable clothing.

I went to the kitchen, Scott and Wanda already going into the elevator.

“Wait! I’m coming!” I said quickly, grabbing a protein bar and going into the elevator.

“Morning,” said Scott, yawning, holding the door open for me.

I hummed in response.

“Hey, Wanda, do you know the training plan for today?” I asked, opening the wrapper of my bar, leaning into the elevator wall. She just looked at me with hate and I swear she almost growled, obviously me talking to her when she had just woken up was equivalent to me stabbing her, I get it though.

“You’re late,” Steve said as I walked out of the elevator.

“Only five minutes, grandpa,” I said walking right past him, blending into the crowd, his look was disapproving.

“Uh, Okay, so today we are doing one on one combat, me and Nat will be supervising, remember you are not allowed to shoot, stab, or harm in any lethal way… you are not allowed suits, weapons of any kind, or powers. Fail to follow rules and you will receive a sanction. I have also already picked your partners ‘cuz you are incapable of getting along” Steve said, Nat stepped forward and turned to us positioning herself beside Steve.

“So this is how It’ll go, one, Scott and Sam. Two, Bucky and Peter. Three Ed and Wanda,” “Venom? Really? I should be able to use my powers!” Nat just gave her a  death stare, Steve made a notion for us to be quiet and Wanda huffed, “Four, Pietro and y/n. Five Vision, Loki, and Thor take turns.” Natasha listed and sounded as grateful as the rest of us to be here. Only some seemed to agree with their partners, everyone else looked like they just smelled shit.

“Let's start with number…um…four, Go!”Said Steve, me and Pietro looked at each other while walking to the mat, everyone walked towards the benches beside.

“Don’t worry draga, I’ll go easy on you,” Pietro said, trying to flirt, like always, after our encounters some time ago, he kept on insisting, but I know it's just routine.

“You want me to go faster?” He said with a thick accent, he was as hot as he was fast.

“No, no this is perfect Pie-ughh, fuck,” I locked my glossy brown eyes with his blue ones and grabbed his face. His pace was lightning, and he didn’t even have to use his special abilities.

“You like that?” He said, smirking already knowing the answer.

“I don’t need you to” I said, coming back to reality.

“Yeah, because you cheat,” He said, getting ready for combat.

“And you don’t?” I said going in already.

We fought dirty, punched, kicked, kneed, elbowed, scratched. It looked like foreplay for a bad “dark themed” porno. We both somehow ended up with knives, breaking more rules with the second, but it was so exciting we didn’t care. We kept threatening until we were standing up, his knife pressed on my throat making me press against him. But I wasn’t defenseless, he had one of my arms restrained, the other had a knife pressed to his side, just below his last rib.

“Come on guys! I said no knives!” “Wait, I want to see where this goes,” Steve and Nat, forever agreeing to disagree.

“Come on babe, let go,” I was breathless, he didn’t budge, not even a twitch, nothing.

“Seems you won’t go down the good way, time to play dirtier,” I pushed the knife in his side hard till I cut him open, and felt drops of his warm blood on my fingertips. Not stab, just cut. He reacted very fast, slashing my jaw. The small cut gave me an advantage, he thought it had been more serious and I played into it. I dropped to the floor, breathing heavily, only a couple of seconds in which Pietro got scared he had actually hurt me badly. He went to kneel next to me and gave me the perfect moment to win. I turned fast and knocked him over with my leg and straddled him with both knives in my hands one in his throat and the other in his chest.

“Dead,” I said, giving him a little smile, I threw the bloody knives and got up stretching my hand to help him.

“You broke several rules, and as I told you you’ll have consequences, you're on mission report duty for the rest of the summer,” He said, firmly.

“Worth it,” I said walking away, smugly.

“Where are you going? Too shy for round too? Or too scared?” He said, making me jump back a little one second he was on the other side of the room and the other he was right in front of me.

“I’m a busy girl Pietro, I can’t stay here all day making you bleed,” I said, sliding past him reaching for the door.

“Whatever,” He said and went back to his place with a swoosh.

“Okay, next up is number…two…Go!” Steve’s voice echoed in my head along with his thoughts on what other punishments to give in case more rules were broken.

I went up to my floor and drank some water. I went to my room and showered, cleaning dried blood off was hard and I did have a busy day today, I was going to Hell’s Kitchen. I’m America's sweetheart, and as the Upper East Side Princess, I need to expand my philanthropism and help. I usually go to hospitals, food pantries, shelters, local businesses, things like that. Today I was going to an orphanage, to be precise Saint Agnes Orphanage, it was a catholic orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen, one of New York’s shadiest. I had gone there a couple of times, the kids were so sweet and religious, super cute, I really liked all of them.

I got dressed and then changed because Vision said “Statistically, the catholics could find it disrespectful to Christ” so I wore pants. What I ended up wearing was actually very cute. It was black high waisted wide leg leather trousers, a silk baby blue bra with lace details and a cream cover up. I wore it with white and blue flowered heels, a black purse, two chains around my neck, one gold and the other white gold. Two rings, one the signature Vivienne Westwood cross and the other a blue eye ball being held by two hands. In my left wrist there was a pearl bracelet, and in my ears black and gold lock-shaped earrings, my hair was down, dark and curly, all the layers tying the look. My makeup was flawless, my eyes were big and glittery, you could see the shadows in my face, sharp dark edges but soft cheeks flushed and plump, long black eyelashes and of course my signature brown red glossy lips. I sourley rather be dead than plain, and I defined owed my life to Rhianna and Charlotte Tilbury.

Happy was driving me today, we both knew I was completely capable of defending and driving myself but I guess he enjoyed babysitting bodyguarding and driving. I had carts full of things I was taking to the orphanage, I knew these kids have had it hard enough, I just want to give them something they’ll enjoy and that they don’t have to share. I know I’m one of them too, I was in an orphanage, I didn’t have anyone until my dad. It was just pure luck, one scandal less and I would have probably called a place like that my home too.

Me and Happy tried to fit everything into the car, there were a lot of things and the trunk along with the last row and part of the second were completely backed up. There was only room for three people. Happy started the car and I wrote the address on the car’s gps.

“I thought we were going to Hell’s Kitchen,” He looked confused.

“Yeah we are,” I said, now also confused.

“That’s Queen’s kid,” He said looking at the address and now just looking at me like I was stupid.

“Yeah I know, but I thought we could pick Peter up today, I think we could really use the help, and I haven’t seen him in a while s-”

“So I’m driving across town and then back?” He finished my sentence.

“Yeah, let’s go, it's getting late” I said smiling at him, he just rolled his eyes, huffed and drove.

“I’m gonna play some music,” I said, connecting my phone and putting my playlist on shuffle.

“I love this one,” I said, turning it up a little. Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift or perfection, call it what you want.

“Don’t be all grumpy,” I said. “The drive’s fast only…thirty minutes,” I said.

“Make it fifty,” He said and kept driving.

“You know I can drive, right? You didn’t have to come,” I said, crossing my legs and arms.

“Too late for that now, we are too far gone,” He drove all the way to Queens with not a single word. He always acted annoyed but I knew he enjoyed this. It reminded him of when I  was a kid and he actually had to drive me around.

“We are here, what now?” He asked me, going to park the car.

“We wait for Peter to come out, I think I’m going to wait outside though, he doesn’t know I’m picking him up,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. I closed the door and pushed my back against the car. I pulled out my phone and looked for Peter’s contact name, but he didn't answer. Soon the bell rang, a lot of mentally illed teens started swarming out, I guess STEM was doing its job. They were all thinking so many different things, I felt so special knowing what Edward Cullen felt like, I could totally be a Cullen, I’m hot enough, and I’m also so mysterious, everyone would be so in love with me and I would also look so pretty glittering in the su-

HONK.

I jumped, Happy brought me back to reality and made me look like a total idiot. He wanted me to look for Peter so we could go, I could hear it in my head. I started walking towards the main entrance with my arms crossed and spotted Peter, he was kind of far and I didn’t want to walk all the way up there. I tried his phone again but he didn’t pick up, he didn’t even check it. I uncrossed my arms and walked with confidence towards him, turning a lot of heads to me, I couldn’t help it, I was magnetizing like the moon, I do kind of blame my Leo moon for that. As I walked, I noticed that Peter looked…embarrassed? Why? It was a strange look on him, he was with his friend Ned who was looking ten times worse than him and this other kid…um… Flash Thompson, I roamed through his head, he was the kid that always gave Peter such a hard time, if he only knew who he really was. Time to play the hot bimbo friend.

“Pete! Hey Peter!” I said walking towards them, channeling Elle Woods and exploding the valley girl in me, I guess growing up in Malibu has its perks.

“Oh my God! Hi!” I said hugging him tight, my back to Flash.

“Y/n? Wha-What are you doing here?” He said a little embarrassed.

“I’m here to pick you up, dummy. We have that thing, remember?” I said pulling away.

“Are you y/n Stark?” Flash asked, still behind me. I turned to him and gave him the most disgusting side eye I could summon out of my being.

“Oh yeah… the thing,” He said, getting the hint.

“Yeah, come on, let's go, we’re running late already,” I said, taking his hand and dragging him with me.

“Peter! Where are you going?! Don’t leave me!” Ned said, reaching out.

“I’m sorry dude, I have a thing,” He said, turning to him and then back to the exit.

“Are you!?” Flash asked, again. I just breathe out a laugh. Peter smiled.

“Thanks for saving me over there, by the way, Flash can be very…” “Don’t worry about it, he’s just a bully but I’m a certified mean girl,” I said, teasing.

“Yeah, whatever,” He said, rolling his eyes a little.

“Why are you here though?” He asked.

“There is a thing, I just didn’t tell you about it, we are going to Saint Agnes,” He looked at me more confused.

“It’s an orphanage,” “I told you, you shouldn’t make jokes about me being an orphan, it’s not cool y/n,” He said, trying to convince me he was annoyed.

“None of that, I’m in the mood to feed my savior complex today and you are going to help, I’m just going to give some things to the kids, brighten up their days a little, I don’t know, I’m the modern Mother Teresa” I said, opening his door. I closed it and got in the car.

“It’s jacked up back here, I barely fit,” He said, trying to not sit on the things.

“Cry about it. Let’s go Happy,” I said, retouching my lips and admiring myself in the mirror. I played with my hair and posed for myself, I’m so pretty it’s annoying, to others not me though.

Me and Peter talked a little, it didn’t take that much to get to the other side of the city, it was actually faster.

“We’re here,” Happy announced, shutting the car off.

“Okay, help me,” I said, getting out.

“Hello, Miss Stark, the kids have been waiting for you, they’re in the temple.” A nun said.

“I know, I’m so sorry, there was a lot of traffic,” I said, giving her an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, they’ve missed you, the kids. Oh, did you need help getting the things out?” She asked nicely.

“Oh no, it’s okay I can manage,” I said going into the temple, happy and Peter behind me.

“Y/n!” A swarm of kids surrounded me, I swore they were going to trip me over.

“Hello sunshines!” I said, matching the excitement. Even though I didn’t love to admit it, these kids had a soft spot in me. I put the things on the floor and picked one of the little kids up, hugged him and put him on my hip. Damian, he was my favorite.

I started setting everything up, organizing and letting them know what everything was. I had brought clothes, food, shoes, supplies, toys, computers, books, hygen products, everything I thought they might need.

“What’s happening?” I heard a man think, Mathew Matt Murdock. He was talking with… father Lanthom, and I guess he realized his confusion.

“She’s the girl that volunteers with the kids, y/n Stark, Ironman’s daughter, she comes around once or twice a month and the kids seem to like her,” Father Lanthom said. Matt hummed in acknowledgement.

“She’s a very nice young lady, you know,” Father Lanthom said as if hinting something. Matt chuckled.

“As you said, she is young, I think 20, and I don’t think the Upper East Side princess is interested,” Matt said. That made me chuckle, which somehow he heard, because he turned his face to me surprised I heard. After all we were too far to listen to the other, second time of the day I felt like the emo vampire.

I spent time with the kids, Peter was so much help. Everyone was wondering how such a small kid could carry such heavy stuff. The day went by rather quickly, and before I knew it it was time to go.

“So we were in Asgard on a bridge made out rainbow! Yeah, Thor was in the palace fighting his sister Hela, when suddenly she made a knife out of magic and Agh! Stabbed Thor in the ey-“

“I’m I think is time to get going Ms. Stark, the kids have to get ready for bed,” A concerned nun said.

The kids cried out for me to keep telling them the story but I reassured them that I would be back as soon as possible and that it was getting late.

“I’ll be back, kids! Don’t worry! Be good!” I said waving at them as they closed the doors.

NEXT CHAPTER >>>

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

Tag List 🏷

@queen-arya22 @originalwitchsworld @lady-justice-thoughts @isa-cabanas @chatoicboy @fancymiraclecoffee @sflame15-blog @mattmurdockmylove @celestialgalaxies @stilesstilinski37 @sgt-morgan @luckyheart-67676 @paradise-forthe-soul @suga-baby-darling​ @victoriatx2 @aspenisuncool @foxybee07 @lhlwhore @readruslit​ @mybelovedjules​ @moonswin​ @mars-quartz​ @romanxffs​ @redheadpixie033​ @bugsbeetlesbats​ @a-court-of-valkyries​

[moonpascal]

i wish there was a way like ao3 to read older fics on here. i know there’s the (last year, last week, 6 month) thing but it’s never accurate. i’m on mobile too so makes it even harder. just want to read season 2/3 steve harrington. or pre-endgame avengers. i need to buy a laptop and hit the space bar for 20 minutes to get to older fics. i also just miss those times too

[sarahghetti]

mcu masterlist

steve rogers

[ one-shots ]

we might fall | 2.9k, angst Steve has to fake his death for a mission, but no one can know outside of the Avengers. This includes the reader.

war of hearts | 2.3k, hurt and comfort Sequel to we might fall.

“This won’t happen again,” he said, reaching for your hand but you pulled it away.

“Can you promise me that?” He hesitated.

long time coming | 2.5k, angst, hurt and comfort Thoughts ran through your mind – what if you didn’t really break free, what if HYDRA was planning to infiltrate the tower through you – what if you hurt him again?

tall and two sugars | 1.4k, fluff There was a quaint little shop that he and Bucky would walk past everyday a lifetime ago and the smell of coffee replaces the one of sweets now, but she’s sweet enough.

cookies and coffee | 0.7k, fluff The team get curious about this little coffee shop that Steve loves so much. Sequel to tall and two sugars, but can be read as a standalone.

family relations | 2.9k, hurt and comfort Howard has a sister, and she has Steve’s heart. Then, seventy years later, she has a nephew named Tony and Steve is fast on his way to becoming his uncle-in-law.

collateral | 2.0k, angst The reader during the events of The Winter Soldier.

damage control | 0.7k, hurt and comfort Sequel to collateral. The reader after the events of The Winter Soldier.

catching up | 2.0k, fluff You’re on Coulson’s team and are dating Steve. Naturally, he’s curious.

countdown | 1.3k, hurt and comfort Soulmate AU. His mom tells him that it was nearly 85 years away, but smiles, saying how magical the moment would be regardless. Steve almost mentions the fact that people barely lived to be seventy-five.

heart hope | 1.3k, hurt and comfort, smut Steve visits the reader before the Civil War.

golden days | 1.1k, hurt and comfort Steve finds Pierce’s former right hand, the reader, after the fall of SHIELD.

salience | 1.7k, fluff, hurt and comfort Your relationship with Steve through the eyes of the rest of the team.

hesitance | 0.8k, hurt and comfort Steve's girlfriend saves his life by killing another person without hesitating and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

connection | 3.6k, hurt and comfort You woke up in an unfamiliar room, dazed and confused. There were dozens of guards outside who’d shoot you on sight and all you had was an earpiece with one voice on the line.

He said his name was Steve, and he promised to get you out of there.

[ drabbles ]

late nights | 0.6k, fluff You and Steve stay up late, only for him to confess something while you're asleep.

reality | 0.2k, hurt and comfort "This is real. You are real."

new objective | 0.9k, fluff "I'm going to be a dad."

"Correction, you're going to be a great dad."

et toi? | 0.2k, fluff French lesson with Steve.

ring toss | 0.2k, fluff Steve is stupidly good at carnival games.

redolent | 0.6k, fluff He’s handed a bottle filled with a thick liquid and Steve has to hide his reaction when the smell hits him, pretending to be hungry when he feels like he might throw up.

bucky barnes

[ one-shots ]

loose ends | 1.2k, angst He picks up a photo on a bookshelf and Bucky sees her face, her smile between him and Steve and-

He’s breaking down a door, she’s screaming. Metal around her throat, nothing more than choked gasps from her mouth

-he does not want this memory back.

even a broken clock | 1.6k, hurt and comfort The scientist barks with laughter as he sees the timer on the severed limb, frozen at 25497:01:23:02. Bucky doesn’t understand.

“We’re doing you a favour, kid.”

And closes the door.

[ drabbles ]

a different kind of love | 0.6k, fluff “Our best friends are that awful ‘cute’ couple that make-out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and “babe” and god they’re awful let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “shit we’re the awful couple now”

make-believe | 0.2k, fluff “I told my sister I have a boyfriend so she’d stop trying to set me up with people but now she’s coming to visit and I’m in too deep I need a fake boyfriend ASAP"

alias | 0.4k, fluff “You give me a different fake name every time you come into starbucks and I just want to know your real name bc ur cute but here I am scrawling 'batman' onto your stupid cappuccino AU”

misunderstandings | 0.6k, fluff Could you write a story where Bucky is your new neighbor and you’ve talked but not much, but he likes you and wants to ask you out. But he hears you talking things like “hey handsome?! I’ve missed you!” and stuff like when you’re home and he assumes you’re dating someone… but what he doesn’t know is that you have a cat?

best of wives | 0.3k, fluff can i request a bucky or steve x reader where they’re not married but he keeps accidentally referring to her as his wife and doesn’t realize hes doing it until someone points it out to him?

tony stark

luxuries | 1.3k, hurt and comfort He’s not ready for this – he’s never been loved, not in the way she loves him.

thor odinson

limited | 0.4k, hurt and comfort "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

matt murdock

exs and ohs | 0.3k, fluff The reader is in the apartment when Elektra breaks in.

[amhrosina]

The Four Times Frank Almost Asks You to Marry Him, and the One Time He Does. (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: I love Frank Castle so much, I just want to cry. I'm currently watching the Astros lose to the Mariners, so here's some soft!frank to make everyone feel better. This is just a reminder that if you get a response from @yourfriendhenrywinter, that's me on my main account! They're linked together so I can't reply to comments as amhrosina atm!

Summary: I feel like the title of this makes the summary self-explanatory. This is four times Frank almost asks you to marry him, and then the one time he actually does it.

(Warnings: vigilante!reader (similar to Black Cat, but not actually Black Cat lol), socialiate!reader, mentions of cuts/blood/bruising - the usual Frank stuff, mentions of grief/death, guns, soft!FrankCastle, a wild Matt Murdock briefly makes an appearance)

The first time Frank almost asked you to marry him was after he’d shown up on your doorstep, beaten and battered to high hell. You’d ushered him in the door, still wiping the sleep from your eyes. It was almost four in the morning, and you had to be up in two hours to get ready for a meeting with your agent, but you didn’t complain to him about it once.  

You did, however, tear him a new one for patrolling without backup. He tried to hide his grin as you stitched a particularly nasty cut up, being so gentle with your hands and so stern with your mouth.  

“Frank, it’s dangerous. I mean,” you shook your head and grabbed another piece of gauze, “you could’ve called, you know? I would’ve met you somewhere. Watched your back. Shot a few guys.” You shot him a pointed look as you focused your attention on a small cut under his jaw.  

“I didn’t want to bother you unless I had to. You have work soon, sweetheart.”  

“I don’t care. Better for me to be tired than for you to be dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

He watched you as you moved from injury to injury, cleaning, patching, and even suturing a few cuts. Your fluidity was graceful and enamoring, something Frank adored about you. How it looked like you flowed from room to room, barely placing your feet on the ground before you were already taking your next step. How you could take out a team of trained gunmen without ever having to touch the ground. And when you turned that graceful attention on him, he was a goner. He had never felt something as gentle as your hands, except maybe your love for him.  

You began to clean up your bathroom counter, scooping empty gauze packages into your trash can. He rose to help you, but your stern gaze had him promptly sitting back down. 

He murmured your name, intent on grasping your full attention so that he could tell you just how much he loved you. How his heart ached for you when you weren’t with him. How your love had burrowed its way into his soul, healing the missing piece of his heart. He would always love Maria and his kids, but he also knew he couldn’t sustain himself on anger and vengeance forever.  

A knock sounded at the door before he could figure out where to begin. You made your way to the door, grabbing your gun off your side table before looking through the peephole. Frank was right behind you, hand resting on your waist, ready to pull you aside if the person at the door meant any harm.  

You sighed, uncocking your gun and opening the door.  

“Hey Devil Man.” You smiled. Frank narrowed his eyes at the man dressed in red.  

“I smelt blood.” You nodded, like Matt’s timing wasn’t completely inconvenient, and opened the door wider, inviting him in.  

“Since the whole gang is here, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”  

You walked into the kitchen, tinkering around for coffee mugs and creamer. Frank continued to glare at Matt, who was grinning wide like a cat.  

“Cockblock,” Frank grumbled, rolling his eyes.  

//

The second time Frank almost asked you to marry him, you were standing over an unconscious Russian mob member, panting because you had just whacked said Russian in the temple with your gun.  

“That’s what I thought you said,” you huffed, stomping away from the guy, who was tied to a chair and missing most of his clothing.  

Frank hadn’t expected you to lash out the way you did. The Russian was going on and on about Maria, Lisa, and Frank Jr., saying they deserved what they got, calling them weak. Frank was beyond letting some mobster rile him up about his past, but it apparently didn’t sit right with you.  

You had stalked towards him, predator stalking prey, and asked him to repeat himself, a little louder so you could hear him. The guy had said three words before you raised the gun and smashed it into the side of his head.  

Frank grinned, watching you stomp around and mumble to yourself. He heard parts of your rant; picked out words like “common decency” and “how dare he”.  

“What’s so funny, big bad punisher?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“’s nothing, sweetheart. I just love you.” He averted his eyes from yours out of habit, but you didn’t mind. Frank’s been betrayed so many times in his life that allowing himself to be vulnerable and trust anyone was a feat, let alone confessing his love for you so openly. You returned his smile, leaning over to poor a bucket of water on the Russian, who came to kicking and sputtering.  

‘Right,’ Frank thought, ‘back to work.”  

//

The third time Frank almost asked you to marry him, he was sitting on the floor of your apartment, watching you answer questions on the morning news. You were pretty well known around New York. Your parents, who were wealthy real estate investors, had left you everything they owned in their will, which skyrocketed your status among New York socialites. If only they knew what you got up to once the sun went down.   

A photo of the two of you holding hands outside of a bar was leaked online, causing all kinds of controversy among the elites. Your relationship with Frank had been kept from the public, which served both of you guys well, but when the photo had been released, your agent demanded that you make a statement, denying any type of relationship with him.  

Frank had walked you to the door that morning, kissing you on your forehead and telling you to do whatever you needed to do. He wouldn’t let elite assholes hurt his feelings or his relationship with you. 

You walked on set confidently; chin held high as you were bombarded with questions about your relationship with the vigilante Frank Castle. You cleared your throat, silencing the questions.  

“I know you have many questions. I wish I could say I cared enough to answer them,” you paused, “My privacy has been violated. A private moment that I was sharing with my partner has been turned into a...a shitshow, really.” Your voice was crisp as it came through the tv speakers. The corners of Frank’s lips turned up. You had just cursed on live television, and that wasn’t even the worst thing you had done yet today. 

“Frank Castle is not a bad man.” Your firm voice boomed across the silent set. “Frank Castle was abandoned by his country. The country that he served, with honor, for eight years. The country that slaughtered his family in broad daylight.” 

Frank swallowed thickly. This was not on the script your agent had sent you. 

“I think most of you don’t even care that I’m dating Frank. You just want a story that will sell papers.” You rolled your eyes. "Anyways, my point is, if any of you went through what Frank went through, you would wish you had the courage to do the same thing he did.” 

The questions started up again, and you sent a sympathetic look towards someone off camera, no doubt your agent who was likely fuming.  

“My relationship is my business, but for those who are wondering,” you slightly paused, making eye contact with the camera, “I’m in love with Frank Castle, and I don’t really care if anyone has a problem with that.” Your voice was soft, flittering through the speakers directly into Frank’s chest.  

He knew that this would likely damage your reputation with the elites, but it was clear that you didn’t care. He let out a hearty laugh, sipping his coffee and getting up to make you breakfast. If he had been able to go with you to the news station, he would probably be on his knee right now, begging for your hand.  

‘Another time, then,” Frank grinned, ‘another time.’ 

//

The fourth time Frank almost asked you to marry him, you were knelt down, knees in the soft ground, cleaning a particularly difficult glob of sap off a gravestone. He was not expecting to find you here, among his family’s graves. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find you cleaning the gravestones.  

Frank had come by to talk to Maria, which always grounded him. He wanted to apologize to his kids for not protecting them when he should have. He also wanted to ask Maria for her forgiveness for loving someone else after her passing. It wasn’t a conflict in his head; he knew that Maria would have wanted him to find happiness, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about how deep his love for you ran.  

He inhaled sharply when he realized what you were doing. Your voice carried down the hill a little bit, hitting him squarely in the heart. You were talking to Maria.  

“Was he always this grumpy?” You asked her, smiling bashfully. “He likes to act tough, but I know he’s a big teddy bear inside.” You wiped the top of the gravestone off, sitting back on your heels to observe your work. Sighing, you leaned back, moving into a crisscross position. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to your family, Maria.” You paused, resting your chin on your hands. “I hope it’s okay that I love him. I really do. He’s...happier than he used to be. When I first met him, I mean.”  

Frank blinked the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Overwhelmingly, and simultaneously, grief and love passed through him like a wave, nearly knocking him over.  

You tilted your head, looking at the two graves next to Marias; Lisa and Frank Jr.’s resting places.  

“Your dad misses you. You probably know that, but I see it in him all the time. The way he lights up when he gets to talk about you guys. I hope he never stops. Weirdly, I feel like I know you, even though we never met.”  

You leaned back, searching through your bag for something. It nearly broke Frank when you pulled out a bouquet of peonies, Maria’s favorite flowers.  

“I’ll take care of him,” you promised, setting the flowers down at the base of Maria’s grave. You ran your fingers over her name, etched beautifully into the stone.  

Frank’s knees almost gave out. He fumbled with the little black box in his pocket, vowing to ask you to marry him as soon as he finished talking to Maria.  

Your phone began to ring, startling both you and Frank. You held the phone between your ear and shoulder and began to pack your things away, chattering to whoever was on the other end of the line about a contract you hadn’t signed.  

Frank was a little ashamed that he hid from you as you made your way towards the exit of the cemetery, but he figured that your conversation with Maria was something you didn’t want him to know about. He was so sure about his decision that it choked him up. He was going to ask you to marry him very soon. That he was sure about.  

When Frank asked you to marry him, you were being coaxed awake by a soft voice, hands wondering over your back and brushing the hair from your eyes.  

“Sweetheart,” Frank’s voice was like honey to your ears, “I’m sorry for waking you, but this is too important to wait until morning.”  

You rubbed your eyes and clicked the lamp closest to you on. Frank was crouched down by your bed with a small smile on his face.  

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” You asked, sitting up and checking him for cuts or bruises. 

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He let out a soft laugh. “I just wanted to ask you to marry me, that’s all.”  

He slowly set an open ring box on your lap. Your eyes went wide, searching his face for deception.  

“What?” You gasped. This was unexpected, to say the least. 

“I don’t think I could take another day without putting a ring on your finger...” he searched for the right words, even though he had been practicing this speech for hours, “I don’t have much to offer you, but I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”  

Your eyes grew teary as you smiled, palming his cheek.  

“Oh, Frankie,” you mumbled, “Of course I’ll marry you, you beautiful, beautiful man.”  

Frank let out a sigh of relief, tension leaving his shoulders, and smiled wide. Your grin matched his.  

He plucked the ring out of the box, grasping your left hand and pushing the ring onto your ring finger. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you and kissing his cheek.  

“I love you so much, Frank,” you mumbled into his shoulder.  

“I love you, Sweetheart.”  

Frank’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as you jumped out of bed, hurriedly running towards the kitchen. 

“Where are you going?” He called after you. 

“I have to call Karen and tell her!” You responded, voice carrying across the apartment. 

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” he said, laughing, “Can’t it wait until later?”

End Note: I love the idea of Frank finding someone who he can trust and fully love after Maria's death. I hope if we ever see him in the MCU again, he'll be happy and healthy :'). Thank you for reading!

Requests are open!

Tag List:

@alexxavicry

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

*after daredevil gets injured in a fight*

Y/N: *holding up three fingers* how many fingers am I holding up?

Spiderman: He’s blind, Y/n

Daredevil: Three

Y/N: *gasps* a witch

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 8

Pairing: Matt Murdock x FemReader

Word Count: 7,600

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: This chapter is a little dark and features the death of an un-named character. Read with caution if that might be triggering.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

You speed up so that you’re at a jog, trying to move as fast as possible while keeping yourself upright, and though you can barely see him, you follow the blurred gray figure up ahead of you that’s moving swiftly. He takes a sharp left and disappears out of sight, so you push your legs as fast as they can go, hoping you don’t fall too far behind and lose track of him altogether. Your legs burn, the muscles straining and aching, but what’s a sore muscle in the grand scheme of things?

If you survive this, you won’t remember the sore legs, the blisters, the cut across your hand; you’ll remember the crumbled buildings, the ruined city blocks, and the fear that was so thick that it was a struggle to breathe.

Will you ever breathe the same again, secure in the knowledge that you’re safe? You’re not sure.

The smoke and dust in the city creates a brown haze, and it settles through the streets like a hot and suffocating blanket. Dodging this way and that, you keep to the side of the buildings as closely as possible, hoping that you’ll avoid being seen by the things still flying overhead, still unable to keep yourself from flinching with every crash and siren that pierces the city. 

You take the same corner Matt had taken, and it doesn’t take perfect vision to see the spilled concrete and rising flames of twisting oranges and reds that crackle and pop from where they burn just half a block down. Stumbling to a stop in the eye of a burning building, your breath hitches on a gasp. Even from the corner, you’re able to feel the heat brushing across your face, and each millisecond you stand still, it only grows in intensity.

It’s not long before you force your feet to take you closer, but you still hesitate longer than you would have liked. You’d been raised with the knowledge that fires were to be left to the professionals, to those with heavy gear and helmets and oxygen masks, but in a city that seems to be consumed by nothing but open flames, the people inside don’t have the luxury to wait for a team of firefighters to show up.

They’ll have to settle for the likes of you; vulnerable, insignificant, and completely overwhelmed.

Your spine does its best to turn to steel even as your fists clench at your side, shoving your panic down ruthlessly, and your tentative steps forward speed up back into a jog. There’s already a few people surrounding the building, digging frantically through the rubble and moving stone, wood, and brick aside to get to those who are trapped inside. It’s subtle, especially with your eyes the way they are, but you notice the second Matt becomes fully aware of your presence, his head shifting to angle towards yours ever so slightly as he helps another man pull away a large piece of stone.

You’re not sure where the other people came from - the streets had seemed deserted as you made your way to the subway station - but you marvel at every single person who has thrown their own fear and caution to the wind and jumped in at the prospect of someone else needing help. Time and time again, the people of New York have risen to another’s defense, banding together in the face of tragedy and destruction.

The scene is horrendous, something out of a twisted nightmare, blurry as it is in your limited eyesight. Brick and stone have toppled off of the building, leaving behind a large, mangled mound to sort through and push away in an effort to have access to pull people out. The front door is hardly visible with too many things blocked up against it for it to be usable. Most startling, however, is the large hole that sits around the second floor of the four story building, leaving an aching wound that surely must look worse from the inside than it does from the street.

Bloodied skin and frantic looks of terror and urgency decorate the faces of those helping to pull the chunks of debris away from the building, throwing their full weight into digging and shoving through the damage. Flames twist and pull, scorch and dance, as they burn the building from the inside out, heedless and apathetic to the sensitive skin and lungs of its occupants.

The horror of the destruction is only outmatched by the screaming.

Each cry scalds across your skin in a blaze hotter than the flames and causes you to flinch backwards, overwhelmed by the devastation and pain that oozes sharply from the wounded street, and for a split second, you consider turning on your heel and running away. You’re not brave, not entirely selfless when it comes to easing someone’s pain at the cost of your own sanity and safety, and you hate the way you hesitate when people are so clearly in need of help.

But one glance of the determination and grit on Matt’s face changes something in you, pulls you into a space that allows you to acknowledge your fear without sacrificing your desire to do good, and your feet are suddenly moving faster towards the rubble before you’ve had a chance to fully think about it.

The city may forgive your cowardice in the face of such dread and horror, but you never would.

Twenty feet in front of you, a small group of men and women shove away more debris, their faces dark with soot, and you immediately run to assist them, wordlessly jumping in and pulling brick and stone away from the door. Someone attempts to scale the large mound of debris, but he only manages to get so far up before his weight shakes some of the stone loose, sending them tumbling down. The person next to you pulls you sharply to the side as a brick flies down in your direction, and you send a brief but startled grimace their way. 

“Help me lift this,” says the woman to your right, her voice strained as she struggles to pull up a large clump of bricks that have stayed together through the strength of the concrete. You don’t hesitate this time, leaning down and sliding your hands underneath the object of ruin. The large cut on your hand protests loudly, but you ignore it, even as it feels like the newly-formed scab has ripped open under the pressure.

“One, two, three, lift,” the woman directs, words changing into a hiss as she begins to rise. The weight in your hands aches, but you struggle through it, putting all your effort into lifting it and walking a few feet to the side before dropping it. It hits the concrete with a crash, the brick finally breaking apart, but you pay it hardly any attention, following the woman back to the small section of the pile she’d been working at.

“This piece next,” you tell her, pointing at another collection of bricks, wiping a drop of sweat off of your forehead with your other arm. It seems the scab had indeed torn quite a bit, as you’d predicted, because blood is trickling down your arm from underneath Matt’s tie that is still wrapped tightly around it. The red stands out, even through the dust that lingers upon your skin, and you’re close enough to see the other woman wince.

“Are you–”

“Doesn’t matter,” you brush her off, already bending down to lift another piece. “Gotta keep going.” She drops the topic quickly, joining you at a crouch, and grunts as the clump slowly raises from the pile.

One by one, the two of you wordlessly move large pieces of brick and concrete to the side, trying to clear a path for people to get to the shattered window of the building where they can help people escape. It’s slow going for the pair of you, your efforts taxing and seemingly little in comparison to the group of men who are able to move faster. The heat around you builds, as do the cries of the people trapped inside, and it only makes you push harder.

“It feels like this isn’t going anywhere,” you remark with a gasp of air. You feel more and more discouraged by the second, the task at hand feeling far too large for your tiny hands. You hated this feeling of helplessness, even as you did everything in your power to help. The two of you shove a large piece to the side, and it falls with a groan and crack as it breaks apart slightly. The woman turns away from you, eyeing the small clearing you’ve made. 

“They’re close to clearing the door, I think,” she says. She bends over and rests her hands on her knees for a split second as she takes in a large gulp of air, but quickly straightens back up and follows you back to the side of the doorway urgently. “It’s helping, the people will be out soon. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

The panic mixed with grit and determination on her face is only matched by yours, and you let it drive you forward.

As if on cue, there’s a sharp cry of relief as the top of the front door is revealed, about a foot of wood paneling finally visible behind the stone that had blocked the exit. The digging continues frantically, and the sight of it refuels you with renewed speed and strength as you move back to another piece of stone the two of you will be able to lift. 

The woman continues to look exhausted during the next two pieces you lift, face drenched with sweat and red with exertion. She’s just above middle-aged, with frail arms and wrinkles exaggerated as she frowns and groans under the weight, and her strength seems to be waning even as she does her best to work through. She’s clearly struggling even as she puts one foot slowly in front of another, and a warning bell sounds in your head. You watch with clouded vision as her form begins to lose its shape, hunching over the slab of concrete you’re moving to the side, and a flash of fear suddenly rips through you.

Her arms shake under the weight, face twisting in pain. “I can’t–”

“Don’t drop it,” you wheeze, walking backwards more quickly. Sweat continues to pour down your face, the heat of the intense labor creating a burn that slides upon your skin as it joins forces with the flames from the building. “We’re almost there.”

She wheezes, her red face rapidly increasing its shade. “I’m gonna–”

“No–” Your eyes widen with horror as her hands begin to slip, her face shifting into one of panic. Your foot is directly below the slab of brick, and instinctively you know there’s no way you can move your foot quickly enough to get out from under the brick, not without jostling her and causing her to drop it quicker. It all seems to go in slow motion, the sliding of the slab through her fingers, the beginning of its descent, and your body freezes in anticipation of the pain, one that will likely bloom viciously from the breaking of your foot.

Your eyes slam quickly shut as you tense up for the impact.

But suddenly, the brick is rising back up, the weight taken on by another force, one that even lessens its own load on you.

Eyes flying open with a gasp, you’re surprised to see Matt’s sweaty face in front of yours, mouth twisted in a frown as he lifts the brick, a quick groan slipping out. His eyes are wide open, the sun hitting them and highlighting them hazel, blindly aimed to the left of your ear as he holds up the brick. 

“Keep walking,” he tells you gruffly, pushing you gently but urgently along as he steps forward and off to the side. The woman steps out of the way quickly, and you catch the look of relief on her face. Your legs, still tense from the fear that had pierced through you, protest with every step, even as he takes the brunt of the weight. It feels like forever, but Matt finally indicates to place the slab down and out of the way, and you follow without question, grateful to let the heaviness of it go, rolling your shoulders as you stand up.

He’s directly in front of you a second later, steadying you and matching your grimace.

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, grabbing your arm and lifting it slightly, seemingly examining the blood he can’t see. “It’s as bad as before.”

You try to bring your hand back to your body, but his grasp slides to your wrist as he all but cradles your palm in his. A loud sigh escapes your lips, though you imagine it could almost be considered a hiss when he puts the slightest bit of pressure over the wound. “Can’t be helped, Matt.”

“No, maybe not,” he responds with a deep frown. His face has a few smudges of dirt on it, and his shirt can hardly be considered white at this point. “But maybe you should think about finding shelter again. I don’t want–”

You hate how tempting it sounds. “Absolutely not.”

He runs an aggravated hand through his hair. “I don’t want you getting hurt any worse.”

The smile on your mouth is as bitter as it tastes. “Everyone here is hurt, too. Including you. It’s not going to stop any of us. There’s still people who need help.”

“Fine,” he says with another frown, this one bordering on a wince, rolling his stiff shoulders before pulling slowly away. “But…just watch it, okay? You’re not helping anyone if you get yourself hurt. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Why do I feel like that’s advice you never follow yourself?”

He snorts, the sound of it abrupt and out of place in a city that’s hardly standing, already moving back towards the entrance of the building that still blazes. “I hardly–”

“Hey buddy!” someone calls out a few feet away, waving in Matt’s direction. It’s the group of men Matt had been working with when you’d arrived, and it catches his attention as soon as the first syllable is out. Matt’s head turns swiftly towards them, tilting in question. “Can you come back over here? We need help with this one.”

Matt’s nodding before the man’s already finished. He throws you one last glance, reaches out to squeeze your uninjured in a subtle goodbye, before running back to the group. His touch is missed the second it’s gone, something about the warmth of his hand acting as soothing heat that almost overpowers the flames behind you. You watch him go, his form tense and seemingly ready for whatever challenge could come his way, choosing to focus on the task at hand rather than the unfamiliar ache in your chest that he leaves behind.

That’s…not something I can focus on right now.

You eye another piece that needs moving. Its removal will help clear an easy path for those trapped to get to the end of the sidewalk and out of the way, so you grit your teeth and look up at the woman to see if she’ll be able to help. She wipes her forehead briskly and pushes a lock of red hair behind her ear, head nodding at the unasked question.

She’s ready to move again after a small breather, and you ground your teeth together to prepare for the same. You turn your back to her as you make your way over, stepping quickly around the littered debris and squaring your shoulders.

But out of nowhere, there’s a loud, piercing cry behind you, the sound nothing but a sheer whine of terror, and you whip your head around just in time to watch a quick flash of color shoot straight into the woman’s chest before she falls to the ground, the scent of burning flesh and sight of a blurred hiss of smoke rising up. 

You stare at her in horror, your own scream bubbling up and leaving your lips before you can help it.

But before you can step towards her, before you can even fully process that she’s gone, the sound of heavy footsteps behind you catch your ear, and an ice-cold chill runs down your spine. Your breath stops in your lungs, your heart beats painfully in your chest, and your skin prickles in dread.

Slowly, you turn around, unable to help yourself.

Its purple, mottled skin stands out amongst the black of the road and the white sidewalk behind it, its posture stiff as it holds the large weapon. From where you are standing just ten away, you can barely see its features beyond the sharp beak-like structure and glowing eyes that observe the group of you with unrestrained hatred and a disturbing amount of glee. 

You wish you hadn’t looked.

All efforts to clear the door have temporarily stopped, each person staring at the alien with blood-drained faces. It holds its weapon close to its chest, claw-like hands wrapped tightly around something that looks like a trigger, and it’s almost like it's deciding who to kill first. 

Swiftly turning your head away from the sight, your eyes land on the remains of the woman that lay carelessly to your side, nothing more than an empty, beaten shell that had once housed a person, and the contents of your stomach roll and speed up through your throat. You barely keep it in as tears blur your vision, a hand rising up to cover your mouth as a scream, this one silent, parts your lips viciously.

While you stare in horror at the broken body to your left, another boom of the weapon rocks the city block, and it's quickly followed by the nightmarish sound of another person falling to the ground. It’s suddenly mass chaos as people begin running and diving behind the rubble, doing their best to protect their bodies as the thing advances. Someone makes a run for it, sprinting across the street in hope of reaching shelter, but there’s another flash of light, a startled scream, and a suddenly lifeless form that slams against the pavement. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” you chant under your breath, making a split decision to run and duck behind a large pile of bricks to your left. It’s futile, you know, but it’s your best shot.

Sure enough, before you can make it, before you can throw yourself down to the ground, an ear-splitting blast sounds from behind you. Your body tenses up, all too aware of what’s coming, waiting for something to tear through your body, and a scream leaves your mouth before you know you’ve opened it.

But the blast doesn’t hit you, it hits the pile of bricks you’d been about to duck behind, as if the being had miscalculated slightly and expected you to be diving to the ground a split second before you actually had. You had been too slow, or him too fast, and it had temporarily saved your life. 

The brick explodes next to you, and you let out the most piercing shriek you’ve ever had slip past your lips as you do your best to cover your face. In your terror and pain you quickly lose your balance, and it’s as if the force of the blast might as well have knocked you down itself. Your head smacks crudely against the concrete, the sound of your skull crashing down nothing but a solid crack, and the sound of your scream rattles your head and ears in a way that’ll haunt you for days to come.

Brick falls down over you as you lie there, each piece nicking you on its way down, and you can do nothing but huddle in on yourself and cry until the dust seems to finally settle. 

Your vision is hazy when your eyes manage to open, and you’re not quite sure if it’s solely because of the eyes that have needed glasses for years, or if it’s because your head had slammed to the concrete with the force of a bat slamming into a baseball thrown by a major league pitcher. You’re facing upwards, and despite the heat of the raging flames around you, there’s a slight chill that brushes your skin as you lay in the shadow of the skyscrapers surrounding you.  

A large form, gleaming from the strange shine of its blotchy skin hanging from solid angles that make up its inhuman frame, steps into your limited field of vision, weapon raised with fingers still on the alien trigger. Your heart stutters, your breathing stops, and dread curls down your spine as you watch it lift its gun again. It seems to relish the look of terror on your face, finding enjoyment in your panic, and there’s nothing human about the way it looks down on you.

There’s a voice somewhere in the distance screaming your name, getting closer and closer with every millisecond, but you’re well aware that the speed of the anguished sound isn’t going to make a difference, the person still too far away to change how your story is about to end.

There’s only one person who could be screaming your name, and you’re grateful that his lack of sight will keep him from the image of your mangled and burned skin.

You look past the being in your face, choosing that your last moments be that of the blue sky behind him. It doesn’t give you any sense of peace, not really, but the blue has inspired poets and musicians and artists for thousands of years, and will do just fine for the last image you’ll ever see.

The monster in front of you lets out a warbled sound that’s both grating and groaning, no doubt communicating to whatever part of his army can hear him, and you brace for the impact. But before it can follow through, before a flash of light can penetrate your body and leave behind a shredded hole of blood and flesh, it just….

…drops.

It crumbles just to your left, the mottled gray form falling to the ground bonelessly, eyes open and mouth still twisted in a snarl. For a second, all you can do is continue to stare at the sky, far too confused to know what’s just happened. The lack of a weapon in your face does not yet ease the fear, bone and muscle immobilized from terror, and your lungs still struggle to push air in and out of your body.

The site is silent for a split second as the group of people stare in disbelief at the fallen alien, but it’s not long before the screaming and sobbing starts again, though it seems to slip past you as your brain threatens to shut off. You feel numb all over, and just for a second, you give into it.

You must drift shortly into unconsciousness because the next thing you know, Matt’s face is hovering directly over yours, his mouth opening on words that take you a few seconds to process.

“--ey, hey, you’re okay,” he says hurriedly when you shift with a groan, and you’re relieved that sound has finally come back to you. He frowns as he runs a hand lightly down the side of your face, fingers grazing over something on your left cheek that burns at the contact. The contact is jarring, and you can’t help the way you flinch as you try to sit up. 

Matt’s face is alarmed at the movement, pressing gently at your shoulder until you lay back down reluctantly. “Woah, hey. Don’t move. You need to stay down for a few.”

“They’ll be back,” you respond with a cough, struggling against the hand that presses lightly into your chest. “We should–”

“I think they’re gone,” he tells you, and you notice the new cut that’s been added to his jawline, “all of them just…it’s like they’re dead.” His voice is absolutely bewildered, his eyes wide, head shifting from side to side as if struggling to comprehend the way the street had suddenly changed. “Whatever they were, they just fell to the ground. It’s the same with the other ones in the area.” 

You don’t ask him how he knows.

The wailing and crying in the background has continued, but you pay it no mind. Your energy is draining rapidly, and you don’t have the ability to focus on much more than the man on his knees next to you.

“I–” you’re unsure of what to say at first, just as perplexed at the sudden death of the aliens. You turn your head slowly to the side, jumping when you remember the being that had fallen next to you, its blank face not seven feet from yours, mouth hanging open lifelessly. From up close you can see every ridge in its armor, every line and splotch in its face, and it’s even more terrifying up close. 

You find it hard to think even as a shudder wracks your body. “Are you sure? I don’t–”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok.” A deep breath surges through your body, the first full gulp of fresh air since you’d fallen, but you cough harshly as the air leaves, barely managing to cover your mouth with your trembling hand. “But I should still-”

A shaky hand gently pushes down on your chest again, the one that had touched you on your cheek just a few seconds ago, and your eyes widen at the bright flash of red that stains his palm. 

Blood. 

His?

No. Yours. 

“Don’t move,” he says, voice a little more firm than last time. It’s got a thin veil of steel behind it, the same one that’s been present the past few hours, something that hints at a far more forceful interior that he perhaps doesn’t let others see. The tone doesn’t startle you, doesn’t stop you, as you’re far too focused on the fact that there’s another reason to get up on your feet. How had you forgotten about the people who needed rescuing? “Just lay here for a second.”

Your tone is incessant. “Let me up. The people in the fire need–”

Matt shakes his head, and the motion is suddenly more fuzzy than it had been just seconds ago. “Everyone got out, everyone’s fine.”

Your eyebrows raise in confusion. “How–”

His blank eyes rake over your face. “You were out of it for a few minutes. I–you hit your head really hard.” He shudders briefly. “I heard it from all the way over there.”

“But–”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he says as gently as he can, though he’s still incredibly blunt, “and you need to go to a hospital.”

For the third time, you move to sit up, but he stops you with a firm shake of your head.

“I’m going to pick you up. You shouldn’t be walking.” An arm reaches underneath your knees, pulling your weight closer to him, and it takes all of two seconds before you’re struggling against him.

“I’m fine,” you argue, pushing him lightly away, though he easily overpowers you. Your head continues to pound, the throb as forceful and abrupt as a loud snare drum, and it takes a second to gather your thoughts. “It’s just my cheek, it’s fine.”

“It’s not just your cheek,” Matt grunts as he finally snakes his arm again under your knees, holding a little tighter this time. He floats in and out of your vision, not because he’s moving, but because you suddenly feel like you’re swaying despite his jerky movements. “You’ve…the crown of your head. You have a gash, it needs stitches. As soon as possible.”

Oh. 

Your mouth parts in immediate shock, and without a word, your hand lifts and runs over your head, the wince on your face sharp and dramatic as the pain that suddenly flares out. Between the sting of the wound and the pounding in your head, it quickly becomes too much, and you’re very suddenly overwhelmed and having even more trouble focusing. 

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, correctly assuming that the pain’s finally hit with full force. He lifts your arms before helping tie them loosely around his neck. You allow the movement easily as if your body has lost its ability to function with the new knowledge of just how hard you must have hit your head. 

Well…that makes sense.

“Maybe,” you begin slowly, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “m-maybe that’s why I feel so…so dizzy?”

Matt hisses in displeasure, something about the slurring of your words triggering his need to move faster. You let an undignified squeak as he pulls you up and straightens his back, and though before you might have wrapped your arms around his neck tighter in a split second of panic, you find your arms suddenly too heavy to move. They flop uselessly to the side as if the muscle is no longer attached to the bone, just a dead weight of torn skin and fingers that tingle.

“Where–where are you t-taking me?” you slur out, and you don’t have the energy to make your voice louder or more clear. He picks up a swift pace, and you’re unable to tell which way he is going, only that he’s walking away from the people he’d helped save from the building. No one calls out to him to return, though the tears and cries left behind are present and haunting, and Matt seems to be single minded as he takes you away from the fire that still burns behind him. “Where–”

“There’s a hospital a few blocks away,” Matt responds immediately, his body randomly jerking you to the side as steps around something. “We can…we should be able to make it there safely now that there’s nothing to stop us.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold in protest, but your body refuses to work with you, especially once Matt seemingly strengthens his hold on you. All semblance of a fight leaves you as exhaustion suddenly hits you heavier this time. “Matt, no. You can’t carry me that far, it’s not–”

“Don’t argue,” he says tightly. “Your head…you’re losing too much blood. And you’ve probably got a concussion. You need a doctor.”

Your eyes flutter shut before snapping open again. “There’s…there’s people who are w-worse off. They-they need to be h-helped fir–” Something inside you abruptly cuts off your ability to speak, tongue feeling too heavy in your mouth before you’re able to finish your sentence. Your head falls backwards, strength rapidly draining from your bruised and tired body, and you hear Matt grunt when he adjusts slightly so that your head is resting on his shoulder as best as it can. Your eyes grow heavy, the lids making a valiant effort to stay lifted even as a sense of darkness beckons you below.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he tells you urgently as he continues to pick up his pace, his steps feeling more and more jarring as he quickly turns a corner. “Stay awake for me.”

You don’t answer, you can’t, and your body continues to do nothing but sag into his. He mumbles something, something you can’t hear, the blurred lines of his lips tilting into a deep frown. 

It’s a lovely mouth, now that you think about it. You wish you’d seen a smile such as his in the life that had existed before today.

Matt continues to move, his voice soft and almost warbled in your ear, and with every step, you feel yourself floating outside of your body, whatever string that ties your spirit to your physical form attempting to snap and separate. It’s nice, almost. The feeling of dread and terror slides away, the throbbing of every inch of your body beginning to dissipate. You’re aware that bells should be ringing in your head, some alarm that tells you that your sudden emotional and physical numbness isn’t a good thing, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Sweetheart,” Matt says with a shake of his arms, trying in vain to wake you up even as you continue to slip away, “you gotta stay with me. Don’t close your eyes, stay with me. I need you to–”

But you don’t hear what he needs. The black catches up to you, forces your eyes shut, and leaves you with nothing more to cling to.

—----

Matt’s heart falls into his stomach when you lose consciousness again, though he had known this was a possibility long before your words started slurring. The thump of your heart is growing weaker by the second, fading with every drop of blood that leaves your body and soaks his shirt, and every step he takes towards the hospital feels far too slow, far too unsteady. 

Despite his fear, despite the way he trembles as your head lulls back and over his arm, Matt’s navigation is on point. He knows exactly what block he’s on, knows exactly how many steps are needed until he’ll get to the corner he’ll turn at, and even while screams and sirens tear through the bruised and beaten city, his sole focus is your safety.

His sole focus is you.

You, who had run in the opposite direction of the crowd to help him, even while people ignored him standing there by himself on that apartment stoop, nothing more than a liability in the face of death. He could have found a way to find shelter on his own, he knows that, but he hadn’t needed to, not with you there, a beacon so bright that he didn’t know how he could have missed it before.

You’d been terrified, blood circulating viciously through your system with every uneven breath and pounding of your heart, but all he could think in that moment was that he had never met someone so selfless, so…fearless.

Matt isn’t fearless now, though. He’s in agony as distress and panic roll through his system relentlessly, a deep and abrasive flaying of his nerves with every second that slips by.

He’s a city boy, born and raised in the underbelly of New York City, a place that lives and breathes tension and apprehension, so in an awful way, the anxiety he’s feeling is familiar. He’s used to it crawling up and down his spine, long before he gained and familiarized himself with his abilities, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Matt vaguely recalls Stick talking about the war and wonders briefly if this was what he’d been talking about, but he quickly dismisses the idea entirely. Stick’s stories had always seemed so human, and there had been no mentions of aliens tearing through the sky and beating the city, his city, into the ground.

The brick of the wall next to him suddenly disappears, indicating that the building has ended and he’s reached the end of the block, and he takes a sharp turn, feet expertly avoiding the stone and brick that lies broken over the sidewalk, no doubt from a building close by that had been devastated by the force of an explosion. The smell of fire still lingers in the air, but he’s all but numb to the world, nothing existing but his feet, his path, and you cradled in his straining arms.

He takes a second to adjust again, hoisting you closer and further up his body, ignoring the slight burn as his arms accept the weight of you in a slightly different position. Like this, your head is now closer up by his, your silken hair brushing lightly his chin, and he can’t help shudder at the feeling. 

His adjustment jostles you enough that it startles out a low moan, one that is filled with a sense of pain that he wishes he could take from you.

“I know,” he mumbles into your hair as his pace picks back up again, following the path that his head has laid out for him, filled with the angles and pressures and temperatures that only his mind is able to process. It’s a clean shot down to the hospital, just three blocks down, and Matt can’t help but press a soft and short kiss to the crown of your head in relief. “I know, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

He walks as fast as he can with you in his arms, and each step is filled with as much relief as fear, because what if…what if he gets you there in one piece, but there’s nothing they can do?

Your heart has slightly evened out, though it’s still weak and slow, and Matt admits that he has done little more than monitor it the whole journey to the hospital, hell, the whole journey since he grabbed your hand. Two hours with you and the sound has been seared into his memory, its pattern just as familiar as the back of his own hand.

It’s only a few more minutes before Matt’s walking briskly through the automatic doors, somehow managing to focus even as the sound of broken cries swarm around him on all sides. He’s walked in through the ambulance bay, he thinks, judging by the lack of furniture for waiting friends and family and a check-in desk. The lights are fluorescent, and he can hear their loud humming, so different from the soft lighting and calmness of a waiting room. There’s so much going on around him, so many people shifting and rushing past him, the wheels of gurneys screeching across the linoleum floor, and he can’t help but be temporarily overwhelmed. 

The scent of blood is so strong it’s sickening, and Matt has to swallow down the taste of copper that floods his senses ruthlessly.

He finds himself floundering for a second, unsure of which way to walk as chaos swells around him on all sides. Your blood is soaking his shirt with every second he wastes stalling there, and it’s finally enough to push forward. He’s hardly taken a step before a man is standing in front of him, his hand outstretched to stop his movement. Matt opens his mouth to protest, unsure of the man’s reasoning and instinctively wanting to keep going, but the man cuts him off.

“I need a gurney over here,” the man calls out sharply, turning his head to the left. He sounds frayed at the edges, too, and Matt can’t help but shudder. “Now!”

Relief floods through his system, and it’s only a brief few seconds before a gurney is wheeled his way. 

“Here, put her down,” says the man urgently, lowering the rails down so that it’s easier for Matt to lean down. He hesitates for just a moment, something in him suddenly unwilling to remove you from his body, and even though he knows he needs to place you on the padding, his heart protests so sharply that it startles him.

I don’t want to let her go.

But Matt pushes the thought aside, finally placing her gently on the gurney, pulling back as the man raises the railings back up and wheels her up against a wall a few yards away. He immediately begins hooking you up to various machines, one monitoring your heart rate, the other your blood pressure. Matt is moved lightly to the side by another pair of hands as a second nurse or doctor steps up, placing an oxygen mask on a face that feels like it’s been permanently scarred with the remains of blood and tears from the day.

“What happened?” the man asks as he begins a quick exam, watching as your stats begin to populate on a screen to the left of your head.

“They…she…” Matt struggles to find the words at first, language failing him for a second as the sound of your body slamming against the pavement echoes through his head. His fists clench uselessly at his side as he tries to focus on the facts of what happened instead of the way it had caused a panic so abrupt that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from it. “She…she fell as she was running. One of those things–it shot at her and missed, but she lost her balance. She must have hit her head on something because she started losing blood and eventually lost consciousness.”

The man continues his exam, not bothering to look up, which causes a strange sense of relief. Matt’s not wearing his glasses, he’s pretty sure he lost them around the time he sprinted to your side when all thought and reason left him, and while it’s the least of his concerns at the moment, he’s still grateful the man has yet to notice that he’s not making eye contact.

He’d promised to tell you everything if the pair of you survived, and he’d stand by that promise gladly, but the idea of someone else questioning his sight made his skin crawl. This was a secret meant only for him and you, now. 

“When was this?” The man pulls Matt out of his head with the question, moving your head from one side to the other to determine the level of damage. He is thorough and almost detached in his examination, brusque and to the point, but Matt detects the tremble in his hand, notes the skin that is likely too pale, and knows the man is trying to remove himself from his own fear in order to focus on those who need him. 

It’s a trait that Matt will become achingly familiar with in years to come.

“How long ago did this happen?”  

“I, uh…probably about ten minutes ago. We were a few blocks away and I had to carry her here,” Matt responds, licking his lips with a nervous tick. “Is she–is she going to be okay?”

“We’re going to have to take her up for a CT,” he responds, pulling out a chart and writing on it, his chicken scratch sliding abrasively on the paper. “I have someone who can do that for her in a few minutes. Can I get her name and date of birth for her paperwork?”

Matt freezes briefly, because of course he doesn’t know your date of birth, and he never got your last name, but to admit that he doesn’t know either implies that he doesn’t know you, and it causes him to lurch in place.

He does know you. He does. 

Maybe the day hadn’t started out that way, but he knows you in a way he doesn’t know anybody else, because what else is there to know about a person other than how they’ll react when push literally comes to shove? He knows that about you now, already knows the kind of person you are, and he hopes he’s shown you equally the kind of man he is and wants to be.

On paper you are a stranger, but his heart knows differently.

So instead, he lies about the information the doctor is requesting and gives the doctor his father’s birthday as her own, simply changing the year so that it’s only a few years younger than himself. The doctor doesn’t notice the lie and simply nods, writing it down quickly.

“First name?”

Matt gives it swiftly. It’s a name that he’ll never be able to forget.

“And last name?”

It’s out his mouth before he can hold it back. “Murdock.” 

He doesn’t know why he says it, but it’s too late to pull it back, so he adjusts his form and does his best to not give away the false statement that had poured from him so easily like wine from a barrel.

“And you are?”

Matt clears his throat. “Matt Murdock.”

“Relation?”

“She’s my wife.” The lie comes out just as smoothly this time because Matt quickly realizes the advantage of the situation. He won’t have to leave you, he’ll be able to stay by your side as you heal, and no one will question it. Watching over you has become his sole focus since the sky first opened up, your strength in the face of your fear nothing short of addicting, like you were a flame that burned only for him, and he isn’t about to leave you now.

Your blood matted hair rests lifelessly on the padding he assumes is white, and something in him is glad he can’t see the red of it staining the sheets, knowing that it’s life leaching out from the gash on your crown.

You’re still as a nurse begins stitching up the back of your head, a thin needle expertly swaying in and out of your flesh as the wound gradually begins to close. His hands hold on to the railing tightly, ears catching the beat of your heart faster than the screen can count it, and he keeps track of every stitch that’s tied off. Slowly, the blood seeping out begins to lessen as the nurse continues her work, and when she walks away, Matt’s overcome with the sudden need to touch you. His hands are dirty with blood and sweat and ash, but he reaches down anyway and pushes a lock of hair behind your ear, resting his forehead against yours in a brief attempt to assure himself of your warmth, before placing a gentle kiss and pulling away.

He’s barely standing up straight before the nurse comes up and informs him they’re ready to take you up for the head scan, and there’s nothing Matt can do except pray while the wheels of the gurney disappear down the hall.

-

[cricket-reader]

Sick Day

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: Matt isn’t very happy when he comes home and discovers that his girlfriend had kept her sickness from him. He makes sure she is well taken care of before they go to bed.

Warnings: language, sickness, pet names, Matt being an overprotective simp, fluffy

Word Count: 960

Prompt: Sickfic, headache, cold/fever, blankets, hot drink (except I changed it to hot soup)

A/N: day 5 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump

Today had been horrible. She awoke to see that Matt had left early to go to work. On top of that, she felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she was burning up. Her nose felt stuffy, and her muscles ached.

She got up and took her temperature to see that she had a fever of 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit. She called into work and made her way over to the couch, not wanting to get the bed all disgusting from her sickness. Matt would still sleep there, after all. He didn’t need to come home to a bed that smelled like sweat and sickness. Whatever the hell “sickness” smelled like.

Matt frowned as he entered his apartment. He could hear the coughing as soon as he entered the complex. He could hear shifting on the couch, telling him his girlfriend was camped out in the living room with some blankets.

“Sweetheart?” Matt questioned, setting down his cane. He heard a groan as he walked over to the couch. “Why didn’t you call me to tell you that you were sick?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” she mumbled, sniffling a bit. “I know you’ve been busy lately.”

“I’m never too busy for you, love. I would have come home earlier if you called.”

She sighed. “I know, and that’s why I didn’t.”

“Well you should have,” he admonished her. She always did this. Her needs were never one of her priorities. She put everyone before her, and it bothered the ever-loving shit out of him. Because Matt knew she deserved the world. No, she deserved more than that. The universe, maybe.

She just huffed in irritation, knowing that there was absolutely no way she was going to win this argument.

“Have you eaten today?” Matt questioned as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. She cursed how well he knew her.

“No, I didn’t wanna get up.”

Matt just shook his head as he got up to make some soup. He glared in her direction when he heard her shift, knowing that she was trying to get up to help him. “Don’t you even try, young lady.” He put a pot on the stove.

“I just wanna help. You’ve been at work all day while I’ve just been sitting on my ass!”

Matt turned his head in her direction and gave her an incredulous look. “You’ve been sick!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“What if I was the one that was sick?”

“That’s different,” she pouted, crossing her arms as she watched him pour a pre-made homemade soup into the warm pot. She blew her nose with a tissue, her nose already red and raw from blowing it so much.

“And how, pray tell, is that different?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s you!”

“Your logic is lacking, hun.”

She just groaned and flopped back onto the couch dramatically. A cold spell made her shiver. She grabbed one of the blankets and furrowed into it. She had been having hot and cold flashes off and on all day. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Turning off the stove when the soup was finished, he put it in a bowl before moving over to the couch. Setting it on the coffee table, he noted that her breathing had slowed; she must have been asleep.

“Sweetheart?” Matt gently shook her awake. He felt horrible for disrupting her, but she needed to get food in her system if she wanted to get better. She groaned, turning to bury herself further into the couch. “Baby, you need to get some food in your body. Then we can cuddle and get some sleep, okay?”

She blinked awake, groggily lifting her hands to rub at her eyes. “Cuddles?”

Matt’s heart melted hearing her soft little voice. It’s moments like that when he falls impossibly deeper in love with his precious girlfriend. He never thinks it’s possible to love her even more, but somehow he does manage. “Anything you want, baby.”

She smiled and took the soup from him. Matt scooted closer to her body and she snuggled against him as she began to blow on the soup.

The soup was hot in her mouth, but it felt good, warming her insides. “Thanks, Matty. You’re the best boyfriend.”

“It helps to have such a great girlfriend,” he flirted with her, loving the skip of her heart whenever he would. She blushed as she lifted another spoonful of soup to her mouth.

When she finished the soup, Matt made her drink some more water. She just huffed in exasperation. “I thought you said after soup I’d get cuddles.”

“Sorry, hun, can’t I just take care of you?”

She shrugged, taking a sip from the glass. “I’m just not really used to it.”

“Which is exactly why I’m making sure you get the best treatment now,” he stated.

“You’re too good for me, Matthew,” she sighed, leaning her head against his torso.

He just chuckled, “I’m pretty sure you got that sentence twisted.”

“Let me win for once, please,” she pouted. Matt sighed and agreed to let her have that one. It was the least he could do after she had asked him so sweetly, after all.

When she finished the tall glass, she set it on the table, making sure to exaggerate the sound of it being empty. “Snuggle time!”

He laughed as he was ambushed by her. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up to bring her to bed. She protested, hating being picked up, but Matt just shushed her as he lied her down. He undressed and crawls in next to her. She burrowed closer to her boyfriend, and he could hear her sigh contentedly, smiling against his warm skin.

She really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

[of-many-fandomss]

Hey, Matt comes back from daredeviling and just wants to go to bed and cuddle up to you, but you have insomnia and turn from side to side that drives Matt crazy.

I just know that Matt loves cuddles more than anyone

—————

Matt sighed exhaustedly, sinking onto the mattress beside you and immediately pulling the covers up to his chin. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right now with the love of his life in his arms, and you were more than happy to comply.

You leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the lips before snuggling into his chest and letting your eyes flutter shut, him doing the exact same thing beside you.

“G’night, sweetheart,” He mumbled tiredly.

This. This was always his favorite part of the day, the thing he could always look forward to. Being cuddled up in bed with you, limbs intertwined and breathing steady. Both of your heartbeats in sync and being able to wrap his arms securely around you-

One of his eyes opened lazily as you rolled onto your side, back now facing his chest.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that you had insomnia, but he decided to disregard that fact and pull you even tighter to his chest in hopes that you both would be able to get a much needed rest.

Just as he felt himself begin to drift off once more, you flipped over onto your stomach with a quiet huff, clearly already sick of trying to find a position to be comfortable enough to hopefully fall asleep in.

Matt let out a tiny grumble at your lack of warmth when his hands accidentally slipped away from you, and he reluctantly rolled himself over so that he could fit his body to match yours so that you wouldn’t have to move.

This time, he could sense when you were just about to turn once more, and he grabbed onto you before you could, cradling your head to his chest and sitting himself up slightly against the headboard.

He paid your questioning gaze that he could feel burning into the side of his face no mind as he began to run his fingers through your hair soothingly, in hopes that it would calm down your surely racing mind.

It only took a moment for you to finally feel the weight of your eyelids as they began to droop at the comforting feeling of Matt’s fingers running over your scalp, and then your breathing evened out.

Matt smiled down at you softly, placing the smallest of kisses in your hair and resting his head on top of yours, finally being able to fall asleep the way he had originally intended.

[the-mighty-jellybean]

The Hound of Hell's Kitchen

Series Summary: "We are only as blind as we want to be." Maya Angelou

Y/N Y/L/N was not prepared to be hindered by how the world viewed her position in society, not even the law was going to define, who she was as a person. Strong, brave and true of heart. The very qualities that make her so attractive to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Pairings: Matt Murdock x Reader

Series Warning: Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst and a little childhood trauma, just to really spice some things up. Strong Language

(18+ Only)

Chapter Five: Family Ties

Chapter Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Claire came back later in the evening, dropping off a measly, singular trash bag of what was left of Y/N's belongings that had indeed been thrown out onto the street.

Y/N looked through it finding, only a few shirts, and trousers, clearly anything of value had either been taken by Mr. Fitzgerald for the overdue rent, or by a passerby on the street.

"Sorry, Y/L/N." Claire squeezed Y/N's shoulder, comfortingly, as Y/N rested her head on the back of the chair, looking to the ceiling as she tries not to cry.

"It's okay, thanks for bringing me this at least." Y/N gives her a sad, yet genuine smile.

Claire bends down to examine Y/N's bandages, before wishing the two of them goodnight, and leaving with a still grumpy looking Luke.

"Why does he not like me?" Y/N pouts, brows furrowing as Luke slams the door a little hard, on his and Claire's way out.

"I don't think its you," Matt shakes his head, finishing another spring roll, "I think he's just a little annoyed that Claire didn't tell anyone you existed."

"That's not her fault, I asked her to keep me a secret, from everyone." Y/N shrugged, “I’m a rare breed, I’ve got no choice but to keep my existence a secret.”

“I understand, we all do,” Matt assured, “your secret will be safe with us.”

Y/N nods slowly, continuing to finish her plate of food, struggling to her feet again, she hobbles towards the kitchen sink.

Matt's eyes widen, and he jumps to his feet to catch up with her, "How many times do I have to tell you; Sit. Down."

Matt's chest rumbles, and it makes Y/N freeze, she doesn't even feel the sensation of the plate slipping out of her hand, but she does here the crash and the smash, as the stained white china, shatters across the stone floor.

The tears spring quickly, and Y/N crumples to her knees as she tries to clear away the broken porcelain.

"I'm sorry-sorry, I'm so sorry." Y/N rambles, she can barely see where she is putting her hands, as the salty tears cloud her vision.

"Stop, stop, it's okay, sweetheart, stop." Matt takes Y/N's shaking hands into his, she fights him for a moment trying to clear up her mess, "Stop."

The command in Matt's tone makes Y/N stop once again, she doesn't look up from the floor and the massive mess she had caused.

"This was my fault, I shouldn't have used that tone, it wasn't necessary." Matt utters, his voice is low and soothing, his scent is strongly of regret and empathy.

Y/N sniffles, using her shoulder to wipe her cheek as her hands were still occupied by Matt's. Matt slowly takes the shattered pieces out of Y/N's hands, gathering up what he can, and throwing it into the trash. Y/N stays frozen to the spot, on her knees, eyes fixed, tears still trickling down her face.

Matt bites his lip for a bit before gathering up all the plates and cutlery and place them next to the sink. He turns the tap on, filling the sink, with water and washing detergent.

Matt then heads back to Y/N and helps her to her feet, "you wanna help me wash up?"

Y/N doesn't really get a chance to answer, before Matt shuffles her to the sink, he lifts her lightly onto his feet, boxing her in with his arms, so she's steady on her feet. He reaches into the sink, Y/N following his hands, she starts to wash up along with the Alpha.

Towards the end of washing up, Y/N felt herself feel a little better, the washing up, relieving some of her earlier anxieties. The tears are almost dry by the time Y/N places the last plate on the drying rack.

"I think we should get you to bed." Matt again is speaking, but he's not asking a question, he's telling Y/N that she's going to bed. However, Y/N didn't mind Matt telling her what to do, she happily let him take her towards his bedroom, and sitting her on the bed.

Y/N frowned and pouted when he turned his back and headed towards the living room.

"Where are you going?" Matt stopped walking glancing over his shoulder, frowning himself when he saw Y/N's unhappy face.

"Going to my cosy couch." Matt jested, gesturing to the sofa, Y/N and himself had just used as a dining room.

"Why?"

"Because you're in my bed."

'Well, then I'll sleep on the couch-ah." Y/N falls back onto the bed, regretting her decision to stand immediately.

"I think not." Matt smirked, heading towards the sofa again.

"I don't want to sleep alone." Y/N finally blurts, making Matt fix to the spot, before slowly spinning to face Y/N again, "Please, don't make me sleep alone."

"If you're sure, sweetheart?' Matt is tentative with his words, but he is already moving back towards Y/N.

"Please."

Matt nods, "Lay down, honey."

Y/N manages to swing her legs onto the bed, whilst tracking Matt as he walks around the other side of the bed, getting under the covers. Shuffling onto her side, Y/N pulls her legs up to her chest as best she can, twitching her lips, as she admires Matt.

He turns the lamp off next to him, turning to face Y/N, letting out a long breath; "usually people close their eyes now."

Y/N tries to bite back the smile, clearing her throat to hide her laugh.

"Sorry." Y/N mumbles, closing her eyes, but peaking one of them open, noticing the way Matt's lips twitch, "How do you even know?"

Matt chuckles loudly, "I can hear your eyelids click every time you blink.

"Okay, ew gross, forget I asked."

---------

"Pwease don't o." Faolan begged, standing in Y/N's way, as she tries to hastily pack her bag.

"I've got no choice, Fe." nudging him to the side softly, he brings his blanket up to his face, rubbing it harshly on his cheek, in hopes to self-soothe.

"ake me wif wu." the little wolf tries the alternative, his big round eyes, glassy with tears, as he watched his big sister pack her small life away.

"I can't take you with me, Faolan . I'm going to have to figure out how I'm going to survive myself, let alone take a 4 year old with me." Y/N shakes her head, she was breaking her own heart with her words, so Gods know how this little man was feeling.

"Pwease." Faolan's voice broke, as he let the tears roll, he tried to wipe some of them with the rag in his small fist, but they were coming too quick for him to catch all of them.

"I'm sorry, Fe," Y/N held him in her arms, squeezing him tight, she stroked his damp cheek with her calloused thumb, taking in every little detail.

She never wanted to forget this little face.

"What if I'm un Omegga?" Felan hiccuped, Y/N stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head.

"That won't happen, Faolan. I promise."

"Ut, what if it does." Y/N could see the panic in the whites of his eyes, the little boy had seen everything that night, he saw an entire pack, turn on a singular member in the space of an hour. His family, becoming torn apart in a singular second.

"I will come for you," Y/N utters determined, "I will come for you, I swear."

-------

Y/N shot awake with a light gasp and a shriek, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets beneath her felt wet, and clung to her body, cold.

Matt felt Y/N shift beside him, and the sleep shattering shriek, and soon he too was wide awake, scrambling to get near Y/N.

"Shh, shhh, you're okay, sweetheart." Matt tries to cradle Y/N to his chest, but she fights him, still in some sleepy distress. "Shh, shh."

"Get away." Y/N tries to struggle, not fully aware of her surroundings, "Get off me."

"It's me, honey, it's me." Matt manages to cup the back of Y/N's neck, placing a small amount of pressure on Y/N's scruff. It makes Y/N go a little rigid, but it gives Matt enough time to push her into his neck, letting her take in his comforting scent.

"That's it, deep breaths," Matt coaches, "Good girl."

Matt's hand slips from Y/N scruff, running down her back, rubbing in soft circles, "That's it, good girl, nice and calm."

Y/N manages to get her breathing back under control, taking in Matt's scent glands with each shaking breath. She clutches at his arm desperate to keep him close, and Matt does nothing but hold her a little tighter, she knew he was there, and that's all she needed.

“Thank you.” Y/N rasps, pressing her forehead into Matt’s neck, she can feel Matt’s chest rumbling gently, the vibrations an Alpha Method to soothe. Y/N had never experienced an Alpha’s comfort rumble, she’d only been on the receiving end of a bark or aggression rumble.

This was nice. To experience comfort from an Alpha, for an Omega, it was like all her Christmas’ had come at once. She’d never felt more secure than in this quiet moment right now.

“It’s okay.” Matt reassured, keeping his hold on Y/N tight and firm, “you wanna talk about what you were dreaming about?”

“Not right now.” Y/N shook her head.

She was about to turn away, to lay back into her side of the bed, happily wrapped up in Matt’s arms, when her ears flickered.

“What’s wrong?” Matt felt Y/N go rigid in his arms, he tries to hold her tighter, but she’s pushing him away, as she struggles to the end of the bed. “What is it?”

Y/N tilts her head from side to side, trying to narrow in on the peculiar yet so familiar sound she can hear outside.

“Do your windows open?” Y/N was already moving towards them whilst she was asking the question. Matt is quick to jump from the bed, wrapping his arm around Y/N waist helping her to the window.

“Yeah hang on.” Matt safely lays Y/N’s hands on the window sill making sure she is secure before he starts to push the windows open. The cool city air makes Y/N shiver slightly, but she grins and bears it as she pushes her face out the window.

Moving her ear closer to the city, they twitch as she tries to hone in on the noise.

Finally she hears it, the sound spiking in her sensitive eardrum.

“What the…” Y/N breathes out in surprise, “there’s no way.”

“What?” Matt asks, concern radiating off his scent fiercely.

“Can’t you hear that?” Y/N is practically hanging out the window as she strains to listen to the noise, Matt has hold of her hips, stopping her from toppling out the penthouse apartment.

“Hear what?”

“Listen, listen hard, hold your breath if you need to.” Y/N instructs, she feels Matt’s chest against her back, she feels it still, as he does as Y/N says holding his breath, he leans into the city air trying to understand what Y/N was hearing.

It takes a second but soon Matt can hear it too.

The noise is faint against the bustle of the city, but Matt can’t deny that it’s there.

“What is that?” Matt asks Y/N quietly, not wanting to startle the Omega who was focused so intently.

“It’s a howl.”

“A howl? Like a wolf howl?” Matt can hear the noise clearer, now that he knew vaguely what he was listening too. It was a high pitch cry, it bounced off building to building before landing in his eardrum.

“That’s…not…possible.” Y/N whispers to herself, her eyes wide, shaking her head from side to side. She places her hands firmly on the window ledge, before Matt realises what Y/N is doing she had slipped out from his grasp, vaulting herself out of the window.

“Y/N!” Matt shouts after her, rushing to the edge.

Y/N isn’t listening to him, she’s already scaling her way down the building side, ignoring the burning pain in her side. Her bandages felt invisible, as she clambered her way in the direction of the howling.

Y/N barely notices the sound of Matt calling and following after her, until he lands next to her on the sidewalk outside his apartment.

“What are you doing?” Matt pants, reaching for Y/N wrist, but he’s not able to catch it, as she takes off running, barefoot down the street.

Chasing after her, he too forgets he is shoeless, but he’s unbothered, desperate to keep up with the distressed Omega.

Y/N's chest burns, as she gasps for breath, but she doesn't stop, spurred on by the howling, which grows louder and louder.

Taking a sharp turn into an industrial estate, her feet slap against the wet concrete, as she slows her pace down, head darting from corner to corner, as she tries to access the area she's found herself in.

Jumping slightly, when Matt places his hand on her shoulder, when he finally catches up with her.

"You can't do that, Y/N." Matt pants, Y/N shrugs his hand off, his scent was mixing with the ones in the area, and it was clouding her senses.

"It's stopped." Y/N's panic is spiking strongly in her scent, "The howling has stopped."

Matt listens too, holding his breath again, so he doesn't distract himself from tracking the noise. Y/N was right the howling had stopped, but there was still unfamiliar sound.

"Sounds like...nails?" Matt questions himself, but Y/N appears to know what he is saying.

"I don't understand...I thought I was the only one in New York." Y/N utters in disbelief, taking slow steps towards the tapping sound.

The noise leads her to an abandoned warehouse, the doors have been torn from their hinges. Y/N gently runs her fingers over the huge gashes, carved in the steel doors.

"What can do something like this?" Matt asks, his hands to examining the gaping wounds in the doors.

"Something like me." Y/N's voice trails off, Matt walks so he's shoulder to shoulder with Y/N, he can sense the change of direction in the air, that flutters over his face.

Furrowing his brow, he sniffs the air, the smell of wet dog and saliva tickles his nose. Concentrating harder, his mind is soon able to build a profile in his head, of what he was now face to face with.

"Y/N? Do you know what this is?" Matt speaks quietly, not wanting to frighten what sits in front of the Alpha and the Omega.

"It's not what, Matt." Y/N scolds, a smile dances across her lisp, "I know who this is."

"Who is it?"

"Hello, baby brother." Y/N speaks strongly, not a trace of worry or anxiety lay in her scent, mainly the smell of concern, yet happiness sprinkled in between her words.

"Baby brother?" Matt tilts his head confused.

"Matt," Y/N gestures her arms in front of her, "Meet Faolan."

The grey wolf jostled its fur to Y/N's words, but it didn't appear to soften its twisted up muzzle, bearing its pearl white teeth, drool rolling off the corners, of it's mouth.

"Faolan?' Y/N spoke softly, tilting her head from side to side, "Faolan it's me, it's okay."

The wolf lowers it's head closer to the ground, Y/N noticed that it's eyes lay on Matt, the wolf's back zig zagged, as it's hackles stood on end.

Stepping in front of Matt, Y/N pushed him gently behind her, making sure to fully block him from the wolf's view.

"It's okay, Faolan, he's a friend." The wolf didn't back down at Y/N's words, thinking on her feet quickly, Y/N remembers a move she'd seen performed by her brothers' when they wanted something from their father. A little like a puppy begging.

Y/N holds her hands out in front of her, her palms facing the floor; locking eyes with Faolan, she begins to slowly sink to her knees. The ground is wet beneath her as her knee lands on the gravel ground. She blinks slowly, her eyes changing from their usual colour to a glowing yellow.

Letting out a shallow whine, Faolan's features soften from the hard glare, to a lighter looks, his teeth are hidden by the skin of his muzzle, which has also flattened out.

The wolf pants a few times before slowly his face begins to change. It begins as a small twitch before morphing into a ripple, which takes over his face. Soon the ripple spreads to small waves across his whole body, his size beginning to reduce.

Eventually the fur turned to skin, the muzzle to a mouth, the paws to hands and feet, nothing was left of the wolf that stood before them, instead a young boy, who darted behind a stack of crates, nothing but a flash of flesh disappearing from view.

It wasn't long, and then the boy was back, this time with a pair of scabby jeans on, a tattered grey t-shirt, pulling on a dirty red hoodie.

"Wow, you've grown." Y/N huffed, standing from her knees, keeping her arms outstretched this time to take her frail looking brother into her arms.

Faolan wrapped her arms around her waist. Y/N didn't care for the pain, which stabbed her in the side, when Faolan squeezed her tight, she was just glad to have this boy in her arms once again.

"Why are you here, Fe?' Y/N asked softly into his hair.

"You said you would come back for me." Faolan voice is small, and weak as he looked, "Why didn't you come back?'

Y/N draws Faolan away from her, but keeps her hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently.

"I did Faolan," Y/N admits, "I went back to the den, a few years ago, but you weren't there, I figured you'd moved on for hunting purposes."

"Why didn't you look for us?" Faolan shrugs Y/N's hands off his shoulders, his brows furrowed in a concoction of confusion and anger.

"I tried, but I lost your scent about 30 miles away from the den, it just went cold." Y/N explained, scenting as strongly as she could, of sincerity.

"I needed you." Faolan whispers, his voice growing shaky, his scent changes strongly to sadness, and heartache. "It's been 11 years."

Y/N places her hand on his cheek, stroking softly with her thumb.

"I'm here now, Fe." Y/N steps forward to embrace her brother in another tight hug, before pulling away once again, "But why are you here now?"

Y/N felt Faolan's body go stiff beneath her, chewing his lip, his scent immediately changing to anxious and fear.

"He came for us Y/N." Faolan managed to choke out.

"Who came for you, who's he?" Y/N's brow furrows scent changing quickly to confusion.

"The hunter, he came for us, Father offered him me because..."

Faolan trialed off but Y/N already knew what he was going to say.

"Because you're an Omega too."

[angelyuji]

what romance trope would they have?

characters: miguel o’hara, matt murdock, father paul hill, peter parker (any live action), natasha romanov, regulus black, harley quinn [all x gn!reader]

warnings: angst... idk... none really lol kinda cute too kinda idk im insecure about my writing

this is non-yandere sawry guys, also when i started this, i started with miguel so his kinda almost ended up being the shortest cuz i got inspiration halfway through lol and also mixed styles of writing for each character becuz the one thing i am not is consistent.

each character is written in order as listed above saur if you're looking for characters near the end of the list, you're gonna have to scroll... sorry

miguel o’hara: unrequited love

miguel had been on a mission on another earth when he had seen you. you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. with one glance, he had felt things he hadn’t felt since… since he lost everything. he came to see you every day, never talking to you, but watching you from a far. he knew better than to disrupt your life, he knew better than to disrupt the timeline. he watched and loved and protected you, like a guardian angel.

“you’ve been watching that screen for a long time.” jessica comments, giving miguel a knowing stare.

“it’s nothing.” he’s short with her. he knew she’d get it, but she would also try to talk some sense into him. he knows that it can’t happen. everything he touches, he ruins.

“miguel. i don’t know what you’re doing, but as your… friend, i know that this isn’t healthy.” jessica places a hand on his shoulder, he brushes her off.

“i’m not doing anything that needs to be worried about. i’ve sent you a mission.” he hears jessica sigh before leaving him alone in solitude.

he felt better knowing that he was protecting you and keeping you safe, but he knew that it would end. even with the sense of foreboding lingering in the back of his mind, he fell deeper and deeper for you. for your kindness, for your beauty, for your silly laughs and stupid jokes. he loves you more and more with every visit. but then he saw it, he saw the end.

“hey parker.” you pull your earth’s peter into a hug, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i love you.” you tangle your hands in peter’s hair as you both kiss, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i know you’ll always protect me, peter.” peter wraps an arm around your waist and you both fly through the city, miguel feels himself shatter.

he watched as you met peter parker, he watched as you fell in love, he watched as you stopped needing him. he knew that it was never meant to be, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

matt murdock: right person, wrong time

you and matt clicked the moment you met. after bumping into you walking out of a coffee shop, he felt sparks the moment you touched. you relentlessly apologizing to him, pressing a handful of napkins to the stain on his shirt. he barely felt the pain, focusing on your touch. with that one moment, everything fell in place. every moment with you felt magical, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, and your quiet moments together, daredevil doesn’t exist, only you and matt. but as your relationship progressed, it was getting harder for matt to keep daredevil a secret: canceling dates, sneaking out in the middle of the night, giving you shitty excuses for his mysterious bruises. he knew you don’t believe him, but he knew you loved him enough to trust that he would tell you the truth in time. he wanted to tell you so bad, but when he wakes up in the morning, hearing your peaceful breathing, your soft skin pressed against his, he holds back. all he wants is to tell you, but he knows that to keep you safe, you must remain oblivious. but he can see the lies weighing on you. he knows you stay up at night waiting for him, he can see the worry ruining your health as you fuss over his injuries. so he let you go. it was hard, letting you sob and scream, fighting the urge to comfort you. he felt his heart shatter as you packed your things. you were the love of his life, but he doesn’t deserve you, not yet.

father paul hill/john pruitt: forbidden love

you were new to the small island, new to the church. you had caught his eye when you had left sunday mass the moment the eucharist had been given. from the corner of his eye, he had seen bev frown as you leave the church. he had put it out of his mind, of course, focusing on mass.

“are you new?” he had seen you walk in with a dog on a weekday, while he was writing his sermon inside the sacristy. with his interest piqued, he walked out. you looked up at his voice and he felt his heart stop. you were beautiful. two paws launched themselves onto his chest and he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. you raced over, frantic.

“oh my god, father, i’m so sorry. i didn’t think anyone was here so i had let go of his leash.” you frantically explain, trying your hardest to pull your big dog off of him. john paul couldn’t help, but laugh as the dog licked at his face.

“it’s fine, (y/n). it’s very… friendly.” he chuckles as you manage to wrestle the dog off of him. once your dog had settled down, you both sat down on a pew near the back. your dog had jumped into both of your laps. “you’re new, right? i saw you at sunday mass, but i hadn’t recognized you.”

“oh, yeah, father. i just moved here. just like you.” you let out a small laugh.

he bumped your shoulder with his, “guess we’ll have to help each other out then.” from that point on, he noticed that you had been coming around the church more often. soon, he was dropping by your house for dinner and wine once the town goes quiet. both of you sit on the couch, watching some movie that you had picked. he enjoyed every movie you pick, loving every interest you have. you set a plate full of pasta in front of paul and poured him a generous amount of wine. paul felt his eyes drift to your face as you watched the movie. he noticed every little detail about you: the way you bit your lip in concentration, the way your hands gripped the couch in suspenseful moments, your eyes welling up and your lips quivering when the scene gets sad. you turn and paul quickly turns away, feeling his face burn. he feels the cold touch of your hand on his cheek. he looks back and you smile, your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips.

“father, w-will you kiss me?” you stammer and he feels his heart stop. you take his silence as rejection and your eyes shine, “i’m so sorry, father paul, i didn’t me-” he presses his lips against yours as he pulls you into his lap. from that moment on, his daily dinners turned to something more secretive, more taboo. he felt like he was betraying everything he had been taught, but how could your touch be sinful if it feels like an angel’s. every wink, every secret smile, every late-night escapade, his heart had never raced like this. he knew that it could never be, his soul would always belong to god, but he lets himself get fooled by his heart. especially if it means he can feel your skin against his every night.

peter parker: friends to lovers

you had been friends with peter since freshman year. you had been with him through everything: every heartbreak, every broken friendship, every death. you gave him a safe haven after spider patrols. you hadn’t thought of peter as anything more of a friend till he saved your life. you had gotten mugged and peter had jumped in, in that moment, you felt something wash over you. you couldn’t place the feeling till you saw him the next day. peter had pulled you into a hug and you felt your stomach flip.

“i’m so glad you’re okay, god (y/n).” he mumbled into your hair.

you feel your heart beat faster, hyper aware of his arms around you. you laugh, trying to sound normal, “thank god spiderman was there.” he pulls away and laughs.

“yeah, yeah. sorry i couldn’t stick around though. you can’t be too careful.” he bumps his shoulder against you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach rage. since then, you became more aware of the quick touches, the secret glances, the subtle flirting. at first, you really thought it was in your head.

“i really don’t think it’s on purpose.” you frown, recounting to your friend about your feelings.

“you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” they look at you, eyebrow raised. you look back, doubtful. they groan, “oh my god, (y/n), you guys have been so weird around each other for like two months now. everyone has noticed. i mean, you remember when we went to go see a movie last week?”

“i’ll buy it for you, don’t worry. go save our seats.” peter smiles at you. “everyone else is also inside, so just save me a seat.”

 “but, i don’t want you to be standing out here alone.” you frown, looking around. the concession area was almost empty as most people were already inside, waiting for their respective movies to start.

“i’ll be okay, what’s a movie without our food.” he winks and gets into the line. he shoos you off. you wait for peter in the theater, your friend sits in his seat.

“hey, peter’s sitting here.” you whisper.

they laugh, “he’ll be fine if he’s away from you for a couple of hours.” peter walks in, hands full with popcorn and icees. he walks over and stops, he gives you a look and you shrug.

“move down, guys.” he calls to the rest of your group. everyone moves down, but your friend stands their ground.

“peter, there’s a lot of seats, pick one.”

“i want to sit next to (y/n).” he shrugs. your friend gives you a shocked look and you shrug again. they roll their eyes and moves down. peter sits down and hands over your things. as the movie went on, you could feel peter’s arm lightly touch yours, his foot bump into yours. at one point, you can feel him staring at you, but when you look over, his eyes are on the movie. your heart raced, but you grabbed his hand and entwine your fingers. he looks over and you can feel your face burn.

“i know it looks like he likes me, but what if he doesn’t? he hasn’t said a word to me since then. like no surprise visits, no texts, nothing.” you groan and lean your head against the table. your friend hums, but doesn’t respond. the next week, peter showed up at your door.

“i need to be honest with you.” peter sighs. you let him in and he steps in, looking around awkwardly. you gesture to the couch and peter sits down. “look, (y/n), i just feel so- i don’t know. i have to say this, but i don’t want to- to ruin what we have, you know?” peter stumbles through his words. you don’t say anything, heart in your throat. you can feel dread, ‘he knows how i feel, he’s uncomfortable. oh my god, i ruined our friendship.’ you feel like throwing up and tears well in your eyes. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? why-” he puts a hand on your arm, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“i’m sorry, peter, i know i must have made you uncomfortable during the movies. god, i don’t even know what came over me. i just really, really, really like you. i-i’m so sorry, peter. i’ve ruined everything.” you break down, and peter gets up and kneels in front of you.

“(y/n), baby, no, please don’t cry.” he pulls you into a hug and you feel worse, how can he comfort you when you’ve messed up your friendship? how can he sit there and treat you like you’re a good friend? “i like you too, that’s-that’s what i wanted to say. i thought…” you pull away, in shock. “i thought i ruined everything, but i guess,” he laughs and looks up at the ceiling, “i guess we’re both kinda stupid, huh.” you sniffle, letting out a mix of a sob and a laugh. he laughs and you notice the tears in his eyes.

“yeah, i guess we are.” you cup his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss.

natasha romanov: office romance

you’ve been working at S.H.E.I.L.D for a 6 months and natasha has had her eyes on you for 6 months. at first it started harmlessly.

“hello agent romanov, i’m (y/n) (l/n).  director fury told me i’d be handling your cases from now on.” you keep a neutral face as you address her, and she smiles.

“good to meet you, agent (l/n). i’m glad to know that my cases are in such good care.” she looks you up and down, you quirk an eyebrow before smiling. you stick a hand out and nat examines your face. she smiles before shaking it, “i think we’ll make a good team.”

you let go of her hand, “i think so too.”

she doesn’t really know when friendly interactions turned flirty. it was so easy to talk to you, easier than the others. you were just so… patient, so understanding. she hadn’t felt this way about someone in a very long time, but it was just so easy with you.

nat trailed her fingertips along your arm, she had pulled up a chair next to you as you sat in your office. “what’s our next case?” you ignore her, but don’t make any effort to move away from her antics. “(l/n).” she whispers into your ear. you look over, eyebrow raised. “case?”

“hmm,” you flip through the stacks of manila folders on your desk. “nothing for this week, so you can go get some beauty sleep, nat.” you smile and turn back to your paperwork.

“maybe you should come over tonight, (l/n).” nat smiles at you, mirth twinkling in her eyes. you look away, smiling wide, and decide to indulge her.

“i don’t think that’s very appropriate, agent romanov, i mean what would people say?” you act as if you said something scandalous. nat bites her cheek to fight a smile before leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

“i don’t know, baby, but i think they’d kill to be me.” she mumbles into your neck, playfully biting you.

regulus black: rivals to lovers

you were the first one to raise your hand, first to make potions right, first to turn your tests in. regulus black hated you. you were a stuck up, know-it-all, whose only purpose for existing was to piss him off. you’d smirk at him when you get the answer before him, when he gets it wrong. and he especially hates that stupid laugh you have when you see that your test scores were higher than his. regulus black hated you. and what makes it worse is that his parents loved you. you were so respectful and good when they were around, hooking your arm with his, smiling and laughing, making his heart beat faster, and his stomach turn. regulus doesn’t really know when that happened. when your stupid face started seeming less stupid and more… pretty. when your ugly laugh was more amusing than annoying. and he doesn’t like thinking about it. you and him? you’ve been enemies since the first year, and even as fifth years, you’ll continue to be his sworn enemy.

“reg?” your angelic irritating voice brought him back from his daydream. he had been sitting under a tree near the whomping willow, reading a book. he looks up to see your face, crouching down in front of him.

“what?” he looks back at his book, you huff and pull his book out of his hands. “(y/n)!”

“listen to me! ...please.” for the first time since he met you, you sounded utterly pathetic. he bites back a gleeful smile.

“fine. you are holding my book hostage, i might as well listen, for its safety of course.” he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the tree.

you sit down onto your knees and laugh and regulus feels like grinning, “of course, for your book’s safety.” you rip a couple blades of grass out of the ground and bookmark his page. he feels his heart jump, but clears his throat. “you know how the parkinson’s are holding another winter gala during the break?” you look at him with your dazzling eyes, he nods, “well, i was wondering if you wanted to go with me… as my date?” he straightens, eyes widening before he narrows them, examining the hopeful look on your face and your wringing hands.

“are you joking with me right now?” he scoffs, leaning back, feeling a twinge of hurt.

“no! no, listen, i’ve really liked you… since maybe the third year? i don’t know, i know we haven’t been the nicest to each other, so i understand if you don’t want-”

“well, i never said that.” he interrupts you, your eyes shine and regulus fights the urge to kiss you. “and i’m fine with putting a pause on our… rivalry.” he rolls his eyes, feeling his face burn in embarrassment. you drop the book onto the ground and toss yourself onto him. regulus starts to shout, but he feels your arms wrap around him.

“thank you, thank you, thank you! i’m so excited!” you hug him tighter and regulus relents quickly, hugging you back. he buries his face into your shoulder, squeezing you against him.

“yeah, yeah, you don’t have to be so excited.”

harley quinn: partners in crime

you met Harley while shoplifting at the jewelry store she was robbing. she had a gun pointed right at you when she paused.

“oh. my. gosh. you are absolutely…” she pauses, tilting your head, before squealing “adorable!!!” she grips your face in her hands, gun still cocked. you feel true fear spreading through your body. “absolutely adorable, we should be friends!” she swings an arm around your shoulder before ordering the jeweler to give her everything. then in one blink, you were in her apartment (lair?) and making out on her couch. you became the planner and she became the plan-ruiner, she did the real action and you were the getaway driver, she brought you the money and you made sure to keep everything off of batman’s radar. even if the plans you make go sideways cause of harley, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get mad. you fell in love. she always made sure to protect you from joker and batman, putting herself on the line when shit hits the fan. she’d never let anyone hurt you, she’d rather be in danger before you.

“angel-cakes! let’s go get some sandwiches from that place near the bank, i’ve been dyinggg for an egg sandwich.” she jumps onto the couch, tossing her legs into your lap.

“you planning on getting some money from the bank?” you start rubbing her feet, as a reflex, eyes still on the t.v.

“no, silly, i just want a sandwich.” she pulls her feet off and twists herself to get her head in your lap. you smile and play with her hair.“alright, let’s go get some sandwiches and some money.” harley shoots up and leaves a big, wet smooch onto your cheek.

[ownedbytaylorswift-13]

It’s a Cruel Summer | Matt Murdock x Fem!reader (1/5)

Fevere Dream

A/N: Hiiii!!!! Sooo this is the first chapter of It’s a Cruel Summer inspired by miss DR TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT’S CRUEL SUMMER. I’m in love with taylor and i’m in love with matt so you get the best of both worlds, i have been loving writting this, i hope i don’t get bored so i can finish. Basically this is just a bunch of back story like miss gurl main character y/n was an eternal and was with druig but then what happened to thena started happening to her and then she was like it’s okay just erase my memories, sho ajak did but ooooohhh surprise she’s a baby now, apperetnly she had the power of energy and well mass=energy and mass cannot be made nor destroyed it can only be transformed, sooo miss y/n while they were errasing her mind took matter from the air and made herself a human baby, ig she wanted to live a normal life, but she actually ended up getting more powers, not overpowered yet but still more, to be more intresting, then druig was all like noooooo, and ajak was like its ok and took her to an orphanage, flashforward tony adopts her, tony gets kidnapped, tony comes back as ironman, the avegers happen, iron 3 happens, the avengers start living together in the tower yayyyy!!! ultron happens, thor and bruce leave :’(( y/n and pietro fuck, y/n and pietro stop fuking, the avengers break up :’’’’’((((((((( y/n and tony fight so now y/n relates to better man and later on my tears richochette :’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’(((((((((((((((((((((, y/n goes to wakanda, y/n leaves wakanda, y/n helps thor, y/n fucks Loki, y/n fights thanos and something I didnlt specifie is that y/n absorbed the stones but after the fight and after she recovered and when dr strange came back she gave them back but what happened was that absorbnig them caused them to explode inside of her (like when Wanda destroyed them) and even tho she braught them back fragments of the stone’s stayed within her(i love being dramatic) at first she thougth everything was normal she did feel like her already existing powers had hightend and sharpened but apart form that nothing, with time she realized that there was something diferent and with her emotions the powers started sparking but in my dr’s story line is more complex becouse the more she uses them the more she awakens this like dark side of hers blahblahblah maybe  ill write about that some other time but for this fic those powers are still suppressed and haven’t fully comes out yet just little sparks here and there anyways um.... ALSO I don’t care if it’s impossible Gamora did not die, she’s alive and fine, the bang brought her back she is ok.....so the avengers get back together, even though theres like a 4 year differece peter and y/n are besties and now y/n wants to fuck matt murdock but also hold him and kiss his hair and baby him and tell him everything will be okay, this takes place in 2019 so I think is after the events of season 3 of daredevil. Also all the flashback are literally that but the last one the one that happens at 3 am thats like a dream of the battel of wakanda like what actaully happened in infinity war. I think thats all for today. im sorry this is so long, thx for reading<33333💋💋💋💋💋

Warnings: age gap (r is like 21 and matt’s like 33-34), bad writing, y/n, over powered reader, pick me girl, rich people, fwb, maybe alcohol/drugs, insensitivity, rich savior, my writting, drama, probably more.

May 21st 1998, 10:30 am

“What just happened?!” Kingo said, getting up confused.

“She’s beautiful,” Said Ajak, turning to him while holding me.

“No…No! NO! This can’t…no,” Druig knew what had happened and he could feel hot tears blurring his vision.

February 8th 1999, 12:27 pm

“Well, I don’t know what I’m gonna tell them but you are a cute baby, so just flutter your eyes a little and you’ll make them fall too” Tony, my adoptive father said while smiling big. He had me in one arm and in the other he had a bag full of baby stuff he for sure was going to need.

“Oh my God! Is that a baby Tony!? Please don’t tell me you stole it or something. We can't afford another scandal!” The strawberry blonde, thin woman said, Pepper.

“I didn’t steal her! I adopted her! She’s mine now and there is nothing you can do about it. Right baby?” He said, while baby me just did some random baby things.

“YOU ADOPTED A BABY!?” Pepper and a big man in a suit said in unison.

“Look what you did! Now she’s crying!”

June 14th 2005, 4:18 pm

“Daddy, can I tell you something crazy?” I said, very entertained with some of the toy tools he had in his workshop.

“Shoot jellybean,” My dad said, not looking up, concentrating deep on his work.

“Sometimes I can hear voices when people are not talking,” The only thing that could be here to the normal ear was just metal hitting the floor.

“Like for example right now you are not talking but I can hear your voice say “WHAT THE FU-”

“Y/N WHAT!?”

February 2nd 2008, 7:12 am

““I said, that’s enough,” said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair. “Hello,

Harry, dear. I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge

on Percy’s chest. “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride.

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs. Weasley, frowning suddenly. “I notice they haven’t made you

two prefects.”

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “It’d take

all the fun out of life.”

Ginny giggled.”

I giggled at George's funny remark too, I had always found him very interesting and a little cu-

“Tony?...Hey, Tony?” The voice of a woman sounded. I didn’t even bother to look up, probably another of my fathers sleepless nights.

“He’s in his workshop, which you don’t have access to” The woman jumped at my voice and turned to me.

“And who are you?” Said the blonde, walking determinedly towards me.

“I’m y/-”

“That information is none of your concern. I’ve got your clothes here, they’ve been dry-cleaned and pressed, and there is a car waiting for you outside that will take you anywhere you’d like to go” said Pepper.

“You must be the famous Pepper Potts” said the blond woman.

“Indeed I am,” said Pepper.

“After all these years, Tony tony still has you picking up the dry-cleaning” Probably the reporter in her, trying to get something out of Pepper.

“I do everything and anything Mr. Stark requires, including occasionally taking out the trash. Will that be all?” Pepper could be so classy when putting people in their place, something I definitely admired.

May 4th 2008, 10:09 am

I knew he was probably sore and injured but I didn't care. I hadn't seen him in months. I ran to him as soon as I saw him and hugged him hard.

“Careful there babe, your daddy is still pretty hurt” “Shut up, Rhodes” My dad said, hugging me just as hard.

May 5th 2010, 1:08 pm

“Come on, y/n/n” Pepper said, going through the glass doors and into the fancy restaurant.

“You know, it’s Europe. Whatever happens in the next 20 minutes, go with it.” My dad said.

“Go with it? Go with what?” Pepper said, knowing my dad's unpredictable and impulsive decisions.

“Mr. Stark?” Natalie, or well, Natasha said. She thought I no one knew but I had her all figured out.

“Hey,” My father said, taking his glasses off.

“How was your flight?” Natasha said, not interested at all.

“It was excellent. Boy, it’s nice to see you.” My father said, a little more flirty than he should. If only he knew who she really was, I could tell him but I also wanted to see where this led.

“We have a photographer from the AMC, if you don't mind.” Natalie said, leading my father and Pepper. After a couple of pictures and handshakes with Elon Musk, Pepper and I where seated at the table waiting for my father to return from wherever he was.

But of course that didn’t happen.

May 3th 2011, 11:56 pm

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” An agent asked.

“Last night,” My father said, smugly.

“Whoa, what's a kid doing here?” A man in a red, blue, striped uniform asked concerned and disapprovingly as I sat down on the big conference table.

“She’s mine and she's going to stay, already approved by Fury.” My father ended the discussion by starting a conversation with someone else. Everyone had a disapproving look but they knew they couldn't do anything about it, just suck it up.

“So, boys, shall we get to work?” Natasha said, sneaking a little smirk to me.

March 17th 2015, 6:38 pm

“There’s fire to the left kid! Go right!” I could hear Steve on the intercom but then I saw Clint with a kid in his arms ready to take the shooting and Pietro running to get there first.

“Clint!” I yelled trying to get there before them. I could take other people's abilities even make them stronger in me, so I concentrated and ran faster than light and in no time I was in front of both Clint and Pietro feeling the hot bullets go through and into me. I could feel them burning and clinging to me, I could feel the blood dripping, I could feel everything and nothing at all I heard yelling and Clint running to me.

“I’m going to be ok.” I said, falling to the ground. I could still register some noises, it all seems slower, maybe it was the constant bleeding, the tiredness, and dehydration, or maybe it was just my mind trying to keep my physical body alive. All I remember feeling next was big strong arms picking me up from the ground.

“I told you to go right kid.” Said the familiar voice, sad and disappointed but still soothing. Strong arms picked me up, this was too big to be Clint, it was Steve. I only rested my hand on  his arm and squeezed lightly, my eyes were heavy and I wanted to close them but I didn’t let myself. I heard voices, Steve’s apologetic one, Clint and Natasha's concerned ones and my fathers angry one.

I think the voices I’m hearing may be thoughts though, they’re too fast and abrupt it doesn’t feel like something someone would say. After more listening I had come to the conclusion that apparently the fight was over, we did it. Ultron’s dead, if he was ever alive.

I felt myself coming more to my senses, maybe I could wake up, maybe I could open my eyes but it all took so much out of me. I knew I had to make sure they knew I was all right. I was in the new compound facility, upstate, I was cold. The bullets were gone, I had completely healed myself but I was exhausted. Clint was there, still worried and a little guilty.

“I told you I was going to be ok,” I said, making him look up from the very interesting floor.

“Don’t you dare scare us like that again, kid”

May 4th 2017, 8:36 pm

“I'm sorry,” my father said, sincerely. I looked up and looked at him confused, what exactly was he apologizing for? The fight? The accords? Everything?

“I’m sorry for everything, I should have  trusted you and your judgment. I jumped to the accords, I didn’t want to lose what we had created this past couple of years. I love you, your my daughter and I don’t want to lose you,” he said coming closer, I hugged him suddenly feeling so sorry and so guilty that we let all of this happen.

“I love you too, dad,” I said, shedding a couple of tears onto his shirt.

“What happened with Steve anyways? Anything it is, I'm sure you can work it out, you always do,” I said, pulling back and walking to the mini fridge, roaming for water.

“I think this time is more complicated than that, kid,” my father said, I could feel his worry and anxiety bubbling up.

“Explain to me, you’re friends, good ones. You’ll fix it. You want something?” I asked, pointing to the mini fridge.

“No thanks,” he said sitting down on the couch.

“So?” I asked, sitting close and facing him.

“I told you it’s complicated,” he said, looking down, thinking about it.

“He lied to me about my mother, he…umm…h-he knew who killed my mother y/n” he said looking up to me.

Fuck, it was written all over my guilty face and he had the power to see right through me. Suddenly his expression changed to deep hurt, like I had just stabbed him multiple times and then slapped him, hard.

“You knew too,” he said, with extreme offense, almost as a whisper getting up from his place.

“W-what…n-no, of-f c-course not” I said, shakily.

“Y/n I don’t want to repeat this one more time, DID YOU KNOW OR DID YOU NOT?!” he said suddenly raising his voice, he never raised his voice at me.

“Dad…d-daddy I swear please, I-I di-“ I said, almost crying, trying to get closer to him. God I fucked up.

“STOP, please stop. I know your incapable and it seems to be the only thing you’re actually fucking decent at but for Gods fucking sake! STOP FUCKING AROUND AND TELL ME IF YOU KNEW ABOUT MY MOTHER!” I couldn’t say anything.

“TELL ME!” He whispered, desperately. I stayed quiet again, letting the tears stream, his eyes mimicking mine.

“YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE! I NAMED YOU AFTER HER, MARIA!  But you don’t deserve

It. YOU DON'T FUCKING DESERVE IT! GO! I don’t want to see you! I fuckking hope Steve takes you in because I won’t! And you bet YOUR LYING ASS THAT ROSS WILL BE LOOKING FOR YOU!  You ruined it y/n. I don’t want you here and I don’t want to see you. GO! GO! Do I have to repeat It again? FUCKING GO!”

June 15th 2017, 4:52 am

“Y/n, I know you are here,” I could hear the voice of general Ross, ever since I left he has been hunting me down and for some reason my abilities have been crashing, my mental state seems to be manifesting and bleeding into my powers, even my healing has become slower. Suddenly men were surrounding me, I fought with my life but it wasn’t enough, I needed my powers, but I didn’t have them.

“Remember, we need her alive,” General Ross, again.

I felt a punch, a hit, a kick. I fought back and consequently felt a bullet in my arm, the pain weighing on me but if I didn’t fight they would get me so I kept going. The pain won over me. I fell down, then I was picked up and taken.

“I want to help you, I’ll be glad to do it if you help me too,” T’achalla said, taking off his black panther mask. I was thoroughly confused, I thought Ross had taken me.

“You’ve heard about Sergeant Barnes, right?”

July 2017

I was staying with the royal family, I was brought in by T’achalla to help Bucky heal and get rid of the winter soldier with my telepathic and empathic powers, but as expected, even for them trouble did not await. T’achalla’s cousin, Erik Killmonger, wanted the throne. I helped them fight and helped heal the heart shaped flowers in the hall of kings that had been burned by Erik. My powers were not at full strength and I still felt exhausted after using them in the minimum but at least they were back.

“We thank you for all you’ve done for Wakanda, Y/n” T'challa’s mother said to me.

“It’s the least I could do to thank you for what you’ve done for me your majesty,”

June 12th 2018

Things had definitely improved, my powers stabilized and were stronger than ever. Wakanda had taught me so much and helped me heal things I didn’t even know were damaged. I also helped Bucky. He was so close to being healed. In the process of it all I became close with Shuri, the princess, she was the most fun person I had ever met. She designed a special suit for me that actually complimented and enhanced my abilities. Apart from not having contact with any of the avengers or my father for over eight months, everything was relatively ok.

I could hear New York’s life pounding in my ears, the rings, the horns, the thoughts, the feelings, perfect and place for someone like me to be overwhelmed, but not a lot of people were like me.

“Can we take a picture with you!?” A couple of girls asked, bringing me back to wherever I was.

“Sure” Thor said, and it looks could kill,  the side eye Loki gave him would already have him six feet under.

Homescreen: 12:58, June 15th 2018

click

I opened my eyes, I was in my room in Wakanda, it all seemed so real, I could swear I was there.

March first, noon. Was it a vision? COULD I SUDDENLY LOOK INTO THE FUTURE?

I didn’t know anything but it was worth following. Thor and Loki, I’m pretty sure Thor told me Loki had died years ago, so that made it even more impossible to be something real but I needed to know.

The next morning I left after saying goodbye to the family and to Bucky. I was going to miss them.

My journey to New York wasn’t that hard, it only took me two days. When I finally got there I realized just how much I had missed New York. I might have grown up in Malibu but this place definitely became my home.

“Thor?” I said, standing in front of him he was looking down at what seemed like a business card, wearing the same I saw him wear in my dream. He looked up and looked at me confused.

“Y/n? It’s you?” He said in his beautiful accent, confusion morphing into a big smile,  damn he looked good.

“Yeah, it’s me,”  I said awkwardly with my hands in my back pockets.

“We’ll come here then!” He said, opening his arms to hug me.

“Ahh, I’ve missed you young Stark, you were much smaller last time” I laughed a little, it had been two whole years, so strange but so familiar to see him.

“Well, good timing! I need you to help me find Loki, I think he might be in this location, come on lady y/n”

We walked for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence, towards 177A Bleecker Street. Thor knocked on the door and suddenly we were transported inside, it was dark and full of what seemed like ancient artifacts.

“Thor Odinson, Y/n Stark,��� A floating figure said, making us turn towards it. He came closer and Thor forward his umbrella.

“God of thunder, You can put the umbrella down” He said, he was quite pretty, the floating man. Thor looked beside him and put the umbrella in a holder and just as he let go of it we were one again teleported to another area, this one was lighter. Thor walked and took a piece of an artifact that either of us had an idea on how to use.

“So, Earth has, uh, wizards now?” He said chuckling,  fiddling and pointing the artifact to the wizard. I just stood there. Thor went to put the artifact back where he found it and ended up knocking them all down. He tried awkwardly to put them back, but just couldn’t do it.

“The preferred term is  “Master of the mystic arts” You can leave that now,”

“All right, wizard, Who are you? Why should I care?” Thor said, fingertips on the table, and his other hand on his hip. I was very entertained to say the least.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, and I have some questions for you. Take a seat.” He said, and one again we were teleported, me and Thor were both sitting down. The doctor offered drinks, Thor took a beer and I took a tea.

“So, I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from other realms…that may be a threat to this world. Your adopted brother Loki, is one of those beings” Dr. Strange said, while Thor chugged down his beer.

“He’s a worthy inclusion,” Thor said and hummed as his beer magically refilled.

“Then why bring him here?” Strange said, forwarding himself.

“We are looking for my father,” Thor said.

“So, if I were to tell you where Odin was…all parties concerned would promptly return to Asgard?” He tried to make the best arrangement possible, Thor agreed.

After a quick discussion of phones, emails, and computers, the tele[porting started again, I felt dizzy. I could hear Thor complain about it and complain about not wanting his hair touched, more teleporting and then a portal that showed green grass and blue skies. Thor called for his hammer, leaving a trail of destruction behind himself as usual.

“I suppose, I’ll need my brother back, '' Thor said, obviously.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” He opened a portal mid air and Loki fell through it, screaming, then slammed against the floor.

“I have been falling for thirty minutes!”

June 2018, Sakaar

“So what now?” I asked, looking at Loki.

“Go to sleep, I don’t know, I’m going to take a shower, but you should probably get some rest,” He said, going into a very strange version of a bathroom. He was being awfully nice, it was almost unsettling. After all he was supposed to be the “bad guy” right? I sat down on the ginormous bed and tried to process everything that had happened in the previous hours, and how it all led to this.

After Loki stood from the ground and got angry at the doctor, he sent us through the portal to avoid more conflict. And there he was Odin, the God of war and death, dying like any other mortal. His son’s watched him fade away as he chanted his love for them, Loki finally got what he wanted but wondered why Odin had treated him like nothing when he claimed for him to be his everything. Gold dust went into the air and the one blue skies turned a deep shade of gray.

Thor was manifesting his rage onto the sky, the brothers almost started another feud right then and there, but they were promptly stopped by the opening of a portal, Hela, their sister, walking through it. She destroyed Thor's hammer, Loki tried sending us back to asgard but she stranded us here. Sakaar, a shithole being run by a maniac, The GrandMaster. Thor was nowhere to be found and me and Loki had to “seduce” the GrandMaster to not kill us, and now we are sharing a room, with one bed, a really big bed, but still just one. He was showering and I was waiting for him to tell me something, what to do, anything. How fucking cliché.

He came back in the room wet, shirtless, with only what looked a lot like a towel but probably was some weird version of it.

“I forgot my things, '' he said, picking them up. He dropped the towel, I turned the other way, blushing. I felt him get into bed, I went under the covers too and could hear his mind racing, he was hurt, confused, and probably clueless to my powers or he would have already guarded his mind to protect himself from me. The thing he had always wanted his father to say came true and he felt worse than without it. Our backs were facing the other and there was space for at least another two people between us, but I could feel him.

“Are you okay?” I said turning towards him, I didn’t know why but I just felt this urge to hold him and tell him it’ll be okay.

“What?” He said, turning his head towards me.

“I-I mean… I just… um, uh, your father just died, I’m just wondering if you're okay?” I said scotting a little closer, he gave an even worse side eye than he had given Thor in my vision.

“He’s not my-” He sighed hard, “I’m fine, and what do you care anyways,” He said, his body now facing the ceiling.

“If you say so” I said, teasingly.

“Yes, I say so,” He said indignant, turning his body to me.

He was closer to me than he thought, we were facing the other, our faces inches apart. A strand of his hair covered his beautiful eyes. Thor was godly but Loki was beautiful, that's what he was. I tucked the strand behind his ear and cupped his jaw and freezing cheek with my hand. He flinched a little but then let himself indulge in the touch, too starved to complain, and confused as to why I was so insistent to get closer to him. And I honestly didn’t know either, there was just something pulling me towards him. I took my chance, I got closer to him, our lips hovering over the other, I could feel his breath, so close but so far away.

I shut my eyes and kissed him, slow, soft, scared that if I did anything too fast he would flee. His very large hand hovered over my waist, cold fingertips ghosting over the skin, creating goosebumps, it all felt electric. He gently slipped his tongue in my mouth eliciting a little sound from my throat, I ran my fingers through his hair and fisted gently. Even though the lack of air could be contributing to my sudden lightheadedness, maybe it was also his electric touch.

I pulled back for the air, panting, relieving the ache in my chest, he attacked my jaw and throat.

“L-Loki”

July 23rd 2018, 4:43pm, New York

I grunted as I opened my eyes, everything hurt. I had absorbed some power from the Tesseract, but I don’t think it was enough, and my state agreed with my suspicion. The portal did get us to New York, with the wizard of Bleecker street just thousands of meters above. We free falled, Hulk, a dead Loki, and me. The ship exploded and Thor couldn’t get in, for all I know he was as dead as his brother. Loki.

“Ugh” I grunted again, still in pain, but I knew I needed to heal Loki before it was too late. I put both my hands on his even colder cheeks and prayed that my magic worked.

“Wake up Loki, please, please, please wake up, I need you to do that for me, wake up,” I begged, letting ym magic flow through him.

He sat up abruptly, and inhaled, panted, startled and confused. The last thing he remembered was him getting choked to death, but he woke up to me stralidding him with my hands on his face teary eyed. I hugged him hard. He balanced himself, one hand on the floor, one wrapping around my back and waist.

“I thought I lost you,” I said, pulling back.

“I’m here, feel me” He said putting my hand on his chest.

July 23rd 2018, 5:21

“Tony Stark. I’m Dr. Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me. Oh, uh, congratulations on the wedding, by the way” Dr. Strange said, walking out of the portal he had made.

“I’m sorry, you giving out tickets to something?” I had definitely missed my fathers humor.

“We need your help, It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe it's at stake” Strange stated.

“And who’s “we”? My father asked.

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce said, standing next to Stephen. It’s an understatement to say my father was speechless

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I ran to hug him, he was taken back. He saw me, for the first time in a year he saw me bloody and dirty, and so different from the girl he had told he didn;t want anymore. I could feel him, all the guilt and pain he had tried to push down all coming undone in that instant.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I so, so sorry, please daddy, I’m so sorry, I” I kept whispering, crying desperately, he hugged me back, letting himself accept it, because he never really stopped loving me in the first place.

July 24th 2018, 2:18pm, Wakanda

He was here, I could feel it. I saw Wanda, I could also feel her, ready to blow a hole in the head of the man she loved and rip her own heart out in the process. Her fingers sparkled.

“STOP!” I yelled, running to her. I knew it was risky, and that I could probably end up killing not only vision, but all of us.

“What are you doing y/n! There's no time! He’s coming!” Wanda said, never lowering her hand.

“Do you trust me? Wanda fast, do you trust me!? Yes or no!?” She nodded, I cupped Vision's face and pressed my thumbs lightly into his temples.  I absorbed the stone and at the same time kept Vision alive with it, by the time I finished he should be okay, and like Bruce said, still Vision. Vision was screaming, holding himself back from stopping me, he could if he wanted to but he knew it was necessary. I finished absorbing it and the force sent Wanda, Vision, and me backwards. I stood up as quick as possible and concentrated, I reintegrated the stone and watched it floating above my hand. Wanda destroyed it while simultaneously holding Thanos back.

It took her a couple of seconds, but it all turned into slow motion, the stone collapsed, fragments flying everywhere with a beautiful orange glow, this time it sent me and Wanda flying back. I hit my back hard, I tried to get up too quickly and failed, I just needed to lay back for a minute. After all it was over, or at least we where too naive to actually believe it was because in an instant, as if all we just did meant nothing Thanos turned back time with the time stone, pushing time through the stone and bringing it back to his hand. I saw Wanda trying to stop him but he threw her hard.

Thanos leveled the stone to the empty spot in the golden gauntlet. I could feel him struggle with all the power but he pushed through, knowing that it would all be over in a couple of  seconds. He went to snap his fingers but he was stopped by Thor, his ax on the chest of the mass murderer.

“You should have gone for the head,” Thanos said, about to snap them again.

“And you should have killed me when you had the chance,” I said, finding the strength in me, or maybe in the stone’s, to keep his hand open, And as I did with Vision absorbed the stones as fast as I could while trying to hold Thanos back with them. He was paralized, I could feel the excruciating pain I was making him feel.

“What are you doing?” He grunted out, desperation in his voice.

“Killing you,” I responded, just before absorbing the stones completely, after that I couldn’t remember anything.

I floated into the air. I was suspended for a couple of seconds, my eyes white and glowing, and the colors of the stones going through my body like circuits, as if they were wiring into me as if my body was deciding to reject or accept this new power. The circuiting and colors stopped going through my body, it all concentrated in my chest for a moment before I collapsed, I became white light, a blast that extended throughout the battle and beyond. It killed everyone on Thanos' side and healed everyone on our side.

After everyone regained consciousness they saw Thanos dead with Thor’s ax on his chest and me nowhere to be found. For a couple of seconds they thought I had died, but there was a small glow forming where I used to stand, a silhouette following and finally me, and my almost lifeless body on the floor. Natasha went to me, putting my head on her lap. I slowly opened my eyes and saw her smiling with teary eyes. Blonde did fit her.

“Hey,” She said, a tear staining my face.

“Hey,”

June 20th 2019, 3:41 am

“You should of gone for the head”

SNAP

I watched the people I love turn into dust. I watched Vision's gray lifeless body with a whole in his head and Wanda beside him, turn to dust. I watched Sam, and Bucky. I felt the world dying.

I jolted up, breathing heavily, the blanket and my hair striking to me uncomfortably. All those dreams, all those memories. They were all real, all familiar. But the last one was an alternative, how things would have mapped out if I hadn't been fast enough, strong enough, good enough. A reminded of how it was mere luck that my family and my world didn’t become mere dust.

I couldn’t sleep anymore, it had become routine. I kept dreaming of past memories and alternate endings that seem too real to ignore. I checked the temperature in my room feeling hot. I went to the kitchen of my shared floor, maybe to get some water.

“Nightmares again?” Wanda said, also having a PhD on sleepless nights.

“You know that's the thing, I don’t know if they're just made up nightmares or real alternatives,” I said, taking a glass from the drying rack as I shivered a little. It was always so cold in the kitchen.

“I don’t think it is worth killing yourself over it, all's well that ends well, right?” She said,

“I guess” No I don’t, I actually wanted to say. No one understands that one false step and we are all dead. I took my water to my bedroom and layed on my bed, sleep and tiredness washing over me. The warm fuzzy feeling of wanting to sleep a little more overcomes me. I did have to get up kind of early so it would be better if I went to sleep right now. It was all going to be okay, I just reassured myself, I went to sleep and thanked my mind for a well deserved rest.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

Tag list 🏷

@queen-arya22 @originalwitchsworld @isa-cabanas @chatoicboy @fancymiraclecoffee @pedropascalfanclub @lady-justice-thoughts​ @sflame15-blog​

[moonpascal]

i just hope when Deadpool 3 comes out later this year, that there’s gonna be more Wolverine/Logan content! And possibly even more when the Wolverine video game comes up (eventually)!

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding. Part 7

Warnings- Fluff, fun, little angst. ----------------------

With Steve and Nat gone, Tony and Matt are left alone with you.

“Daredevil.” “Iron Man.”

Tony glared while Matt smiled unbothered.

“This is getting ridiculous, Murdock,” Tony growled, his voice distorted by the helmet. “And spoil your little hero moment?” Matt's voice was a low rumble.

“I still can't believe you threw a brick at Cap.” Matt smirked, enjoying the banter, “He deserved it.”

“If I knew it would take a brick to knock some sense into our Cap, I would have thrown one myself years ago.” Tony mutters to himself. Matt laughs.

Tony continued to work, his genius mind focused on the task at hand, while unable to resist a witty remark. “You know, I never thought I'd be in a situation where the fate of the city would be in the hands of Daredevil and Y/n sitting on a bomb.”

When Tony didn't get any witty reply from you, he glanced at you, his sharp eyes catching the dejected look on your face. He could tell the aftermath of Steve's outburst was still weighing heavy on you. Tony paused his work, removing his halmet, he turned to you, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” he started, gaining your attention. “You holding up okay kid?”

You nod, chewing your bottom lips, desperately holding onto the tears threatening to spill. Tony’s gaze was filled with concern as he added, “Don't let Cap's hissy fit get to you. He's just a big idiot.”

“I…I don’t know what to do…” you say, your voice a whisper.

Natasha and Steve had been checking the other rooms to see where the wires connected, and during their search, Natasha decided to address the elephant in the room.

“You know…” she started; her tone serious but understanding. “What you did to her back there.”

Steve sighed, guilt weighing heavy on him. “I...” He paused, not knowing how to defend his actions. “I thought she was getting too close to that guy.”

Natasha shook her head, disapproval etched on her face. “You accused her, yelled at her, in the middle of everything. You didn't even give her a chance to explain.”

Steve looked down, his remorse growing with each word. “I know,” he admitted, his voice filled with regret. “I messed up. I overreacted.”

Tony leaned in slightly, looking at you with a kind smile. “He'll get over it, trust me. He's too smitten with you to stay mad for long.”

Matt couldn't help but chime in, knowing full well it would annoy Tony. “You okay?”

Tony glared at Matt, clearly not pleased with his interference. Tony muttered under his breath.

“You stay out of this.”

But Matt, unbothered by Tony's irritation, continued with a playful smirk. He leaned slightly towards you, “I'll throw another brick at Cap if he upsets you again.”

Now that made you laugh. Tony watched with a mix of surprise and disbelief as Matt successfully made you laugh. He couldn't believe that the Daredevil had managed to lighten your mood.

Tony blinked, muttering to Matt, “Did I just see her laugh?” Matt's smirk widened, satisfied with his small victory. He leaned back, feeling pleased with himself. “I have my moments.”

Tony shots a glare at you and you raise your hands in surrender. “Traitor…” he mumbles under his breath. You pout at him, as he gets back to work.

“Thank you…you both.” You sniffle and smile at them. Tony gives your hand a squeeze and Matt gives you that adorable smile.

Tony shook his head, trying to mask his amusement. “I still hate you, you know that, right?” he said to Matt. He narrowed his eyes at Matt, his usual banter with him fuelled by a mix of envy and amusement.

Matt's smirk deepened into a genuine smile. “I know.”

Matt turned his attention to you, that playful, cocky smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, flirting with you just to get under Tony's skin and a good way to distract you. 

“How are you holding up?”

Tony's eyes narrowed, glaring at Matt as he saw the easy, charming way he was interacting with you.

“Just hanging…how are you holding up?”

Matt saw the opportunity to annoy Tony further and he took it with a devilish grin on his face. He directed his attention towards you, speaking playfully and flirtatiously.

“You know, if it weren't for this whole bomb situation, I might have enjoyed having you sit next to me.” Matt turned to you with a charming smile, sensing an opportunity to rile up Tony.

Tony watched the interaction between you and Matt, his eyes narrowed as he heard Matt's playful tone.

“Stop flirting with her, Murdock.” He rolled his eyes, seeing Matt flirting with you. 

Tony muttered under his breath, “I hate him. So much.” But Matt continued, still trying to irk Tony.

“She's something else, isn't she?”

That comment took you off guard and you blushed.

Tony shot a glare at Matt, “Careful there, Daredevil.”

Matt chuckled, amused by Tony's overprotectiveness. “What? Can't I compliment her?”

Tony clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to play it cool. “Don't go getting any ideas.”

Matt pretended to be innocent, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ideas about what?”

Tony was about to reply, just then he noticed, the slight blush on your cheeks, from the playful interaction with Matt. He turned his attention to you with a protective, almost fatherly manner. He had a soft spot for you, always looking out for your well-being.

“He's a flirt, don't listen to anything he says.”

“But...” before you can even finish, you were cut off from Tony’s loud gasp.

Tony was caught off guard by your reaction. He expected you to brush off Matt's flirting, but seeing you trying to explain, surprised him. “Wait...don't tell me..” His voice trailed off, his eyes wide with shock as he braced himself for what he thought he was about to hear.

Matt, never one to miss an opportunity to add fuel to the fire, jumped on the chance to rile up Tony even more. “Oh, did you know? She's actually a big fan of mine.”

“You got to be kidding me?!” you throw your hands in the air, ready for Tony to become dramatic.

Tony looked like his jaw was about to drop to the ground. You facepalmed yourself, getting caught between their banter.

Tony looked at you, then at Matt, then back at you, his mind struggling to process the unexpected plot twist. “She's...a what?”

Matt chuckled, revelling in Tony's astonishment. “Yep. She's a massive fan.”

“He's exaggerating it.” You quickly tell him.

Despite the ongoing seriousness of the bomb situation, Tony couldn't help but slip into his mentor role and scold you like a father figure would.

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh, acting overly hurt and dramatic.

“You...you're a fan of Daredevil? How could you do this to me kid?”

He feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart. Tony, the “responsible adult” figure, played along with an exaggerated, dramatic expression as if he had just discovered something terrible.

Tony with a mix of shock and betrayal, he continued to scold you like a father figure. “I can't believe this! After everything I teached you...I'm your favorite superhero, right? Right?”

“Of course, you are!” you tell him.

Matt chuckled, enjoying the friendly banter between you. You hit him lightly, “This is your fault.” Matt chuckles and gives you an innocent shrug.

Tony, in his typical over-protective manner, feigned shock as he turned to you. His heart was filled with fondness, despite his 'angry' tone.

 “I can't believe you're a fan of this idiot,” he repeated, pointing at Matt. “I thought I taught you better! Have mercy on my poor heart. Young lady we are having a talk after this.”

“What did I get myself into?” you ask yourself and Matt laughs.

“What's your problem with him?” you ask Tony. 

Tony was momentarily taken aback by your question. He looked at Matt with a mix of frustration and back at you with a hint of amusement.

 “What's my problem?” He gestured towards Matt, as if that explained everything.

“Tony!?” you warn him.

“He purposely impressed Pepper!”

Part 6- Part 8

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelix @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian @nekoannie-chan @ashley202 @lovely-geek @redbloodedgurl

[amhrosina]

Jealousy (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: A little Matt Murdock x reader if you squint. Thanks for requesting, nonnie! I didn't know if you wanted smut, but it wasn't requested, so I just added a little baby interaction at the end that sort of alludes to smut after the end of the fic.

Requests are open!

Request: Could you do one where yn is working with Red but he doesn’t know she’s married to Frank until he shows up and when he finds out he confess to yn that he likes her and frank get jealous and overprotective

Summary: Frank overhears Matt asking you out and sets him straight.

Warnings: a teeny baby tiny little bit of barely smut at the end

Hell’s Kitchen was abnormally quiet as you waited for Red to finish his patrol of the area. No sirens, no screaming, not even the occasional gunshot to keep you on your toes. Your night was rapidly approaching an early end. Not that you minded, though. Frank was back home, patiently waiting for you to crawl into bed next to him.  

Even though he always insisted that you don’t worry about him, you knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could hold you in his arms and physically see that you were unharmed. It was the same when the roles were reversed, too. When Frank was the one running around all night, you spent most of the time pacing around the living room, pretending to read a book until he came home. 

Your breath fogged in front of you. The November air was crispy in your lungs, and you couldn’t help but bounce from foot to foot as you did a 360 sweep around the roof. What the hell was taking Red so long? You could’ve circled the entirety of Hell’s Kitchen twice by now.  

The hair on the back of your neck prickled as a light thud sounded behind you. You waited for any indication that told you not to turn around and kick the person's lights out.  

“Hey, Killer.”  

Matt’s voice was gruff, but soft. You instantly relaxed, shoulders dropping in relief as you turned around. 

“What’s up, Red? You find anything?”  

“Nothing important.” He responded, shrugging his shoulders. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Matt’s behavior was alarmingly different than you were used to. Typically, Matt’s demeanor was blunt, sometimes arrogant, and a little bit on the cocky side. Tonight, he was pacing the roof, shrugging his shoulders, and he even looked a little anxious. 

“Red? You good?” 

“Let me take you out to dinner.” 

His words were rushed, pushed together into one breath and said so quickly that you almost missed it altogether. You gaped at him, waiting for him to say something else. The silence between you hung heavy. 

“What?” You finally ask, not knowing what else to say. How were you going to explain to Matt that you couldn’t possibly get dinner with him on account of your VeryBigAndScary husband. 

“Let me take you out,” he began walking towards you, “as Matt, not the Devil. You’re strong and you’re smart and you’re beautiful and I would feel like an idiot if I didn’t at least try to offer myself up to you. Will you let me? Take you out, I mean.”  

You sucked in a breath.  

“Matt, I-” 

A loud chuckle behind you had you whirling around. Matt was immediately defensive, stepping in front of you to shield you from whoever meant harm. You knew that chuckle though, and you knew Matt should probably be running in the opposite direction instead of towards it. 

Frank was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smile dangerous.  

“Frank, this doesn’t concern you.” The softness of Matt’s voice from moments ago was long gone, replaced by the low voice of the Devil. 

Frank’s smile grew wider, and you rolled your eyes. It was like watching a cat taunt the mouse it was 3 seconds away from devouring.  

“It doesn’t concern me, Red? When you’re asking my wife out on a date?” 

You groan and run your hands over your face.  

“What are you doing here, honey?” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“I had a feeling, sweetheart. It’s a good thing I came, too, or else you’d be breaking Red’s heart over here.” 

“Honey? Wife? What the hell is going on here? You two know each other?” Matt’s voice was rapidly rising as he looked between you and Frank.  

You ignore Frank, whose overprotectiveness was starting to grate on your nerves. You were perfectly capable of turning someone down.  

“Matt, uh...” You pause, searching for the right words, “Frank is my husband. We’ve been married for almost three years. Well, technically I’m married to Pete Castiglione, but you know, semantics...” You trailed off, hoping Matt wouldn’t be too angry about your secret. 

“What?” Matt was thoroughly confused, voice rising to a pitch you didn’t know he was capable of. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  

The question was aimed at you, but Frank answered before you could respond.  

“I told her not to. I didn’t want her being tied to me during that legal shit we had to go through last year.” 

“It’s been 9 months since you were pardoned, Frank. What the...what the fuck, guys?” 

Matt sounded genuinely betrayed, but you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of your chest.  

“Matt, I’m so sorry, but once your business with Frank was finished, I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Something like, ‘Oh hey Matt, by the way, I’m married to the guy who chained you to a water tower that one time.’” 

Matt had a small grin on his face now, and you sagged with relief. He wasn’t mad. Frank moved closer to you, pulling your back into his front as he mumbled into your ear, “He deserved it.” 

“I most certainly did not.”  

Frank ran his hand up your arm, following the upwards slope of your shoulder until his fingers rested lightly on your pulse. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a tight hold. You gasped at his forwardness, especially in front of Matt.  

“Red, fuck off, will you?” Frank’s words were thrown in Matt’s direction, who was doing a terrible job at looking like he wasn’t listening. 

“Sorry, Matty.” You mumble, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

Matt let out a tight, “mhm”, before jumping from the ledge and disappearing into the night. 

“That was mean, Frank.” You sigh, resting your head on his chest. 

“He was hitting on you. I think my reaction was pretty tame. I could’ve bashed his head into that brick wall.” 

“He wasn’t hitting on me. He was asking me out. It was...gentlemanly. And quit being jealous.” You swatted at his chest. 

“I’m not allowed to be jealous when a guy asks my wife out on a date?” 

You rolled your eyes, turning to head down the fire escape when Frank’s arms tightened around you. He peppered kisses down your neck, softly nipping at the sweet spot below your ear. His hand trailed down your stomach, stopping just below your waistline where his fingers began to play with the hem of your underwear. 

“Frank,” you gasped, “what if Matt can still hear us?” 

His voice was a low, silky coil in your gut.  

“Let him. Now, stop talking about other men when my hands are so close to your-” 

A loud clash of metal from a few blocks away cut him off. Matt could definitely still hear you. Frank let out a bark of laughter before devouring you whole, and you couldn’t do anything but try to quiet your moans until you were sure Matt couldn’t possibly hear you anymore. 

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv

[farfromstrange]

: ̗̀➛ Blog Navigation

Welcome! My name is Lizzi (she/her), and I’m a professional fangirl, English major, and writer. The following links are supposed to help you with finding your way around my blog. I’ve written a bunch of different works in different fandoms, but I mostly write for Charlie Cox’s characters (with more to be added). Feel free to roam to find whatever your heart desires! And if you ever feel like talking, don’t hesitate to drop an ask into my inbox <3

⤹ LINKS.

-> Tag List Google Form (go ahead and fill it out to be tagged on any future works of mine)

-> All of my works can be found on AO3!

-> I also put together a CARRD with a few resources to inform yourself on what’s currently going on in the world

⤹ TAGS.

#matt murdock x reader || #owen sleater x reader || #michael kinsella x reader -> reader insert fics (mine & others)

#lizzi talks & #lizzi updates -> my thoughts & updates

#fic rec -> fics i highly recommend

#ddba spoilers -> spoilers on Daredevil: Born Again that I post or repost until the show has come out (block it if you don’t want to see it)

⤹ MY WORKS.

Characters I write for include: Matt Murdock, Michael Kinsella, Owen Sleater & sometimes Frank Castle (he can be found in 2 fics, which I currently have linked on my Matt Murdock Masterlist. When I actually start writing for him regularly, I will add a separate list with all of my Frank Castle works, I promise!)

I’m currently not taking any requests! (But that will change again in the future once I’ve worked on all already standing requests)

⤹ MASTERLISTS.

✮⋆˙ Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

✮⋆˙ Michael Kinsella (Kin)

✮⋆˙ Owen Sleater (Boardwalk Empire)

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 4,700

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: none really, just some references to violence, some ableism

Chapter Index

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

It’s a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up.

Sipping your coffee, you lazily walk down the street, following the crowd that moves towards the intersection just a few yards ahead of you. Your feet are killing you in your shoes, which is really nothing new, the back of your heels feeling like nothing but one large blister that's scabbed over and ripped apart all over again with every step you take.

But the weather is warm and your boss is out for the day, so overall you preemptively consider this particular Wednesday a success in terms of surviving the day with minimal frustration. Dragging your tired ass to the coffee shop four blocks over had been a much needed break between meetings that honestly could have been emails, and though you have plenty of more work to do, you're in no rush to get back to the office.

Throngs of people move around you on all sides, and even while your office is located slightly outside of the main hustle and bustle that spreads across the city, the sidewalks still see some decent action. People hold their bags closely to their bodies, yourself included, eager to mind their own business and get lost in the crowd.

It's midafternoon and the sun shines brightly over the city, and though tall and sturdy buildings cast shadows over the streets, it still warms you, bright rays of light occasionally blinding you when your eyes somehow manage to look too close to the sun. It's not quite summer, so the warmth isn't yet the kind that is suffocating and sweltering on your skin, causing clothes and hair to stick to parts of your body that you'd rather they not. 

The blocks of New York are loud, filled with mindless chatter, honking cars, and the occasional passersby that plays loud music out of their backpack. All in all, it's a typical, unsuspecting Wednesday. Your phone rings in your pocket, no doubt your annoying coworker Brenda who probably thinks you've been gone for too long now, so you ignore the buzzing in your purse and instead choose to walk even slower. It's not necessarily the kindest thing to do on a busy sidewalk, but the thought of Brenda's disapproving stare and severe frown as she crosses her arms over her chest makes you want to avoid the office even longer.

With a quick bite of your lip, you decide to double back and essentially make the same journey to and from the coffee shop all over again, savoring the fresh air and lack of boring office gossip spilling from various middle aged women who work on your floor. Your sore feet hate you at the choice, but you push the pain lightly aside if only to hold on to your sanity for just a few minutes longer. You're still a few blocks away and standing on a street corner waiting for the cross signal when there’s a deep rumble and a blinding flash of light.

Startled, coffee dropping in shock and spilling across the bottom of your legs as it falls, you look up sharply. No one seems to know what's happened, faces just as confused and fearful as yours as people pause to aim their sight above, but the screaming starts when things start pouring out from an open slash in the sky.

There is immediate widespread panic, and the sudden change in the tone and pulse of New York City is catastrophic. 

It’s the sense of panic you can choke on. It’s the kind of panic that makes people absolutely mindless as they push and shove and dive around each other, everyone trying to run for cover without any thought for the thousands of other people also trying to run away from the mayhem.

You’re not a native New Yorker, but even you’ve become desensitized by some of the shit going on around you on a fairly regular basis. In what they’ve referred to as the Harlem Horror, a beast they’ve named the Hulk destroys buildings and cars and businesses just 5 miles north of where you live in your tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. Iron Man flies over midtown on a regular basis and no one bats an eye anymore, people simply resuming their journey while the billionaire plays with his toys. A super soldier thought dead for decades runs through Times Square before having a run-in with some official government-looking agency, and people only stop and stare for a few moments before continuing on with their busy lives. In New York City, these things just happen.

But this?

This is nothing like the world’s ever seen before, not in real life at least, and it causes instantaneous mass chaos. 

Terror induced chaos.

You’re no different than anyone else, not really. No different than the people scrambling all around you, dropping their things in a rush to be literally anywhere else. You round a corner, mind frantically trying to decide which way to go, hands shaking, vision hazy and unfocused in your terror. Someone stumbles into you, causing you to crash into a lamp post, and you find yourself clinging to it for dear life as you try to wrap your head around the freefall that New York City has found itself in.

A red and gold figure rushes across the sky, the movement extremely fleeting, and you suppose the form should have been comforting, should have been proof that those who could help were already on the scene, fully aware of what was happening and rushing to stop it. But his appearance does the complete opposite, somehow cementing the fact that this is real, this is happening, and this is not just a figment of your imagination.

People are still pouring by you, screams shrill and piercing, and all it takes is another boom above to force you to move your feet again. With a panicked gulp, your body shifts to the left, deciding instinctively that it's best to follow the crowd, but before you can take another step, something catches your eye.

Something? No. Someone. 

Halfway down the block, a man stands on an apartment building stoop, hands wrapped tightly around a white cane, people racing by without a second glance at him. 

Blind.

Alone.

What strikes you the most is how everything is in a flurry of activity around him, but other than his head whipping around, as if trying to hone in on the things he can't see, he is still. His face is slightly pale, his hair wind-blown, alarm clearly written on his features, but he’s missing the sheer terror that's present on all the other faces that rush by. His head stills and tilts oddly, and it occurs to you briefly that’s listening. 

Which…maybe that is all he really can do, you think. But listening to the screams and horror isn’t going to be enough to help him figure out what exactly is going on, and your eyes can’t help but widen at the thought of how vulnerable he is.

Your heart is pounding and there is a roaring in your ears that feels like it’s never going to go away, but you cannot, in good conscience, leave someone there who might need help. You falter slightly, your sense of preservation telling you to continue going, to take a left and rush in the same direction everyone else is heading with the hope that the crowd will direct you to a store or shelter that seems to be the most reasonable place to find cover. According to the masses that are sprinting past you, the safest place might be west of where you're at. 

But instead of following the crowd that has somehow decided west is the correct way to go, you cross the street and turn right.

It doesn’t take you very long before you’re right in front of him as he had only been half a block up from where you’d been when you first saw him. He’s holding the cane in one hand, the knuckles white, and the glasses sitting across the bridge of his nose offer black lenses. You waste no time in placing a hand on his arm to get his attention, and the man jumps back, startled.

“Hey man,” you say breathlessly as he opens his mouth, your words still managing to be sharp in fear. “We gotta get out of here. Do you need help?”

The man frowns and licks his lips, face increasingly worried but still not necessarily horrified. You suppose the sheer terror everyone is experiencing is coming from having the ability to look up and see the swarm of black streaming down from a hole in the sky. “I, uh…what’s going on? I can hear screaming and people running by.”

“There’s some sort of invasion happening, I don’t know,” you tell him quickly, trying to keep the sheer panic from seeping into your voice. You fail miserably. “Things are like pouring out of the sky. It’s not safe. Do you live here? Maybe we can wait it out inside?”

He shakes his head rapidly, red mouth parted and drawing in shaky breaths. “I just stepped up to get out of people’s way.”

Quickly stepping around him, you push on the door behind him. It’s one that no doubt only opens for those who live in the building and own a key, but you're desperate to have some sort of cover over your head, so you try again anyway. You're unsurprised when it doesn't budge, no matter how hard you shove yourself against it. The man briefly joins in, adding his body weight next to yours, but the results are the same and you hiss in frustration.

Taking a step back from the door, you attempt to catch your breath as the panic still bounces around in your head, intensified as the sound around you continues to roar and rage. Your eyes glance up and down the street before they land on something. Whipping your head back to him, you bite your lip in brief consideration. “Okay, look. There’s a small bookstore literally right across the street and down the block from us, and it might be open. Let’s go there."

You can't run far with him, not without the risk of him tripping and pulling you down with him, images in your head of hands and knees bloodied as you'd try to pull him back up. Nearby shelter is simply the best thing. 

Your hand is shaking as it stretches out towards him, brushing against his arm, and the world briefly stalls and quiets as his lips part in a deep breath. The man's face is still pale, but it hardens, determination settling in on his handsome features, and the world speeds back up.

He takes your hand without question, and for all of three seconds you pull him behind, careful even in your rush to help him down the stairs. But his head suddenly jerks up as he yanks you to an abrupt stop. A large boom echoes above you, followed by a large ball of fire, and suddenly he's the one dragging you behind. 

You hear his cane clatter to the ground, the sound somehow sharp even amongst the chaos around and above you, but all thought of it disappears as you run up the block that is suddenly devoid of other people. 

Before, you might have questioned the way he moves, expertly dodging small bits of debris that are falling from the sky, yanking you this way and that so that nothing hits your head or his, twists and turns no blind man should be able to navigate. But for now you don't honestly care how he's doing what he's doing, you only care about the fact that he's a lifeline in the fire and dust and ash falling around you, and it's a lifeline you're unwilling to let go of.

It feels like hours, but it's only twenty seconds before you’re passing him and ripping open the glass door of the bookstore. There's not a single ounce of hesitation as he wrenches the door handle from your hands and shoves you inside first, his large form pressed against your back as if to somehow block you from the war going on outside. The door is yanked shut violently behind him as he forces you forward, hard enough to rattle the windows of the small shop.

With a loud gasp of breath, you let go of his hand to brace yourself against the wall, vision temporarily whiting out as adrenaline continues to wreak havoc through your veins, each pump of your heart violent and searing in its pursuit to push blood throughout your body. It takes several loud gasping breaths to feel like you can breathe again, to feel like your body has some control over its basic functions, air struggling to sift in and out of your lungs. The panic doesn’t stop, not completely, but the thought of not being alone is a vaguely soothing thought, as if having someone with you made the prospect of the world ending easier to handle.  

Shakily, you lift your head up, noticing for the first time that the bookstore is somehow empty besides you and the man whose hand you had gripped so tightly in yours that you'd be shocked if he didn’t wear bruises in the shape of your fingertips when all is said and done. Perhaps whoever had been in here had thought of somewhere better to run off to, and you'd be very interested in knowing what better might look like, but for now you're not inclined to leave, not when you've managed to at least put a roof over your head as things explode and rattle the streets and buildings around you. 

The lights are either turned off or the power is out, likely the latter, and all that you can see are things that are in the path of the light coming in from the windows. The man standing next to you is cast half in shadows, having stepped further into the shop, and his chest is heaving as rapidly and harshly as yours is. His hands twitch at his sides, knuckles white.

The navy suit he's wearing is absolutely covered in dust, no doubt from weaving his way through a cloud of debris that had fallen overhead as the pair of you bolted for the bookstore. Black glasses are perched on a face that did not appear to have come away completely unscathed either, a small scratch bleeding at his hairline, dark red a vivid contrast to skin that is still too pale. He’d held an arm over your head while you ran, you remember now, this random man protecting you with all that he could manage to in such a terrifying moment, with clearly little regard to his own well-being if it meant he could help someone else. 

You aren’t sure what to do with that, other than be in slight awe that the man who had seemed to vulnerable on that apartment stoop, head whipping around sightlessly and trying to figure out why people were running frantically this way and that, had been the one to protect you during those twenty seconds as you quite literally ran for your lives. 

"What's happening out there?" The man doesn't necessarily sound panicked as his voice rips you out of your head, but it doesn't mean he's calm by any means. You right yourself, pulling away from the wall you'd been leaning on, turning your body to face him more directly and taking in a form that is wired with tension. "I can't…what the fuck?"

The laugh you let out is high pitched and borderline hysterical, the sound piercing as it spears its way into the air. "I don't know. I don't know, man."

"You didn't see anything?"

You run a shaky hand through your hair, noticing suddenly that your fingers were nicked, no doubt a result of the small chunks of wood and concrete that fell from the sky and crash landed on to the streets of New York, but not before tearing your skin in its descent. "Iron Man, I saw Iron Man. He was, uh…he was flying around."

He shakes his head in bewilderment. "That's pretty typical though, I thought."

"Right!" Your voice is almost shrill. "There was this–this huge flash of light and all of the sudden there was a hole in the sky and things were just flying out of it. I've–I’ve never seen anything like it. I happened to glance up and Iron Man was whipping through the air, looking ready to fight those things and I just–"

"Things? Like aliens?”

"Exactly like aliens," you respond, hands starting to shake again, fingers trembling even as you clenched them into a loose fist. "I couldn't see them from so far away, but these things definitely weren't human."

The man gulps loudly, hands lifting from his sides to grasp his hips, and you watch as he starts pacing. He's tense, his body lean and looking ready to jump at any given second, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was prowling the book store like an animal locked in a cage, all senses in tune with the horror rampaging through New York. 

The man had appeared to be blind when you first saw him, but the way he moves confidently throughout the small space, no cane to help him avoid the book shelves and display cases in his way, is…not the most shocking thing you've seen today. You don't know this man. You don't know how much he can actually see or not see, don't know if he's completely blind or if he has some small level of sight, so you push it aside. 

"What do you think we should do?" You ask, trying to calm the tone in your voice, telling yourself you're safe for now at least. You’re not exactly successful, not with the sounds of the fight outside still ringing throughout the shop and even louder in your ears, flinching with each new boom that shakes the building. "I…I don't know what to do from here."

"I'm thinking," he grits out, the sound coming from behind clenched teeth. You don't take the tone personally. He’s not showing it, but you doubt he’s not every inch as afraid as you are. How could he not be? What's happening is seriously unprecedented and seriously fucked up. "When you saw Iron Man, where was he? Where did it look like he was headed?"

You think back on it, forcing your mind to recall the details, though you struggle for a moment as the details themselves are extremely hazy, recalling the way you had glanced up at the sky in terror while you clung to the lamp post. You’d only seen him for a split second, but your attempt to put a few mismatched pieces together manages to be somewhat successful. 

"It looked like he wasn't too far from his tower."

"And is that general direction where the hole in the sky was?"

"Yeah, I think so," you reply with another frown. "Looks like it was right over it."

"And we're on 46th, right?"

You can’t help the way your anxiety peaks at the question, clawing viciously at your throat, thinking of the exact spot you’d been standing when the sky split itself open and let loose a sea of beings intent on destroying the city, forever changing the way you’d view the world. You find a way to answer anyway, though your voice is raspy and halting in its cadence. "46th and 8th, I think. I…I was running so fast, I didn't get a good look. I'm sorry."

The man finally stops pacing and angles his body towards yours, and you notice the frown that's on his face as he immediately begins to shake his head. 

"No," he says, hands still on his hips as a loud sigh escapes him, head tilting down for a quick second. His shoulders deflate, and you watch as a brief flash of what can only be fear rushes through him. "Don't …don't be sorry. I know I was on 46th when you found me. We can work with that."

"Work with–"

He cuts you off,  though not unkindly, mostly just urgent to work through whatever puzzle he’s trying to solve. "Stark Tower is by Grand Central, right? So that's, what? 42nd street? And on the other side of midtown, but not by much."

"That sounds right, yeah," you say with a nod of your head, knowing he can't see it but doing it out of habit anyway. 

"So we're about 4 blocks west, 4 blocks north from the source." He resumes pacing as you watch from your place over by the wall. You can’t help but sag into the solid structure behind you, desperate for something that seems stable in the chaos. Even still, you’re nervous that the wall is offering a false sense of security, nervous that at any moment the building could collapse as increasingly loud noises rain throughout the city. 

He runs a hand down his face, probably unaware that he's smeared just a tiny bit of the blood on his cheek, most likely from a small cut on his palm. Or perhaps he does know and has chosen to not care about something so trivial as his face being dirty. 

"So I think there are really only two options."

Your eyes wander over his form, somehow already aware that you're not going to like what he has to suggest. Sighing, you lean further back against the wall. "And what are they? What are the options?"

"Leave and take our chances out there, maybe try to find somewhere safer, or stay where we at least have some sort of shelter. My natural instinct is to get as far north from here, but it sounds like outside is a mess, and I don't want to necessarily run the risk of being outside and–"

You knew he was going to say something you didn't want to hear.

Unable to listen or focus on the rest of what he's saying, your heart immediately and without warning begins to pound relentlessly in your ears. The thrumming is a raging, dissonant symphony wrecking its way through you, and your lungs seem to sync up with the sound, rapidly expanding and deflating in time with it, but still somehow unable to push air in and out. 

The man is two feet in front of you within an instant, posture betraying his alarm as he listens to you struggle to take a deep breath.

"Woah, hey, calm down," he says, and his hands are on your shoulders before the first syllable leaves his mouth. His lips are tilted in a heavy frown, the look as concerned as it is nervous, and it doesn't help the sudden and rampant anxiety wind down or release you from its bruising hold. "It's fine, it's fine."

"It's not fine," you manage to shriek even as you gasp for breath. "Fuck, I can't…I don't–"

"Deep breath," the man encourages, and you send him a glare, because obviously that's easier said than done. "You're having a panic attack."

"No shit," you wheeze, hands frantically scrambling against the wall behind you for something to hold on to. Nothing is there to grasp, so you blindly reach out in front of you instead. When your fingers finally make contact with something, smooth fabric an extreme juxtaposition to the unevenness of your heart and lungs, you hold on to it for dear life and try to tug it in closer. The man in front of you lets out a strangled noise as something causes him to step forward and further into your space, but he recovers quickly.

"Inhale with me," the man instructs you, moving a hand from your shoulder to just above your breast, and you're too out of it to fight off the sense of borderline indignation at the thought of someone you don't know touching you like that. "In for 5 counts, then out for 8."

You've barely begun trying to match your breathing to his when the words tear themselves from your mouth, the harried declaration of someone absolutely terrified for their life. "I'm not leaving here. Don't make me leave here."

“We might not have a choice tho–”

“I don’t care!”

He pauses, though his hands remain on your shoulder and chest, his face directly in front of yours and streaked with a small amount of blood and dirt, a sharp reminder of a normal day turning to shit. "Okay. Okay, we'll stay."

"And you–"

"I said we'll stay," he says, voice rising above the sound of your gasping breaths, and the words are shockingly gentle for a situation that houses no gentleness of its own. "I'm not leaving you."

"You don't even know me," you all but whine, voice sounding small and insignificant even to your ears. "Why would you–"

"I know you came and tried to help me when everyone else was running by," he tells you, and you'll never be able to describe the way your entire being suddenly linked itself to him in that second, two strangers caught up in a horrifying situation with no choice but to trust and lean on each other as chaos continues to grow outside. "I'll stay with you."

The sentence finally seems to do the trick, and while your breathing still takes a few moments to slow, your chest stops heaving so rapidly. The panic is still there, it's hand still wrapped around your throat, but no longer squeezing. 

When it becomes clear that you've settled down a bit, the man takes a step back, his hands removing themselves from your form, and you quickly realize the thing you had grabbed and held on to for dear life had been his suit jacket. The fabric falls from your fingers as he moves away.

His body near yours had offered a small amount of warmth, though you had been too panicked to recognize it at first, and its sudden removal leaves you feeling chilled. It's late spring, but unlike ten minutes ago, the air around you now feels like it's freezing you from the outside and moving inward quickly. It's the shock, you think, that's slowly leeching the remaining warmth from your system.

The man in front of you doesn't resume pacing, which you had half expected him to do, but instead stays three feet away from you, and you're struck with how he seems to have every ounce of his focus aimed towards you. He can't see you, if his glasses and long-forgotten cane were anything to go by, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like you've never been more exposed in your life.

Having a panic attack in front of someone, no matter the circumstance or reasoning behind it, leaves you feeling a shredded nerve, frayed ends hanging from open skin and on display for everyone to see.

"What's your name?" The question that leaves his mouth is quiet, but despite the roar outside the bookstore, you hear every syllable that falls from his lips. His face is a mixture of light and dark, sunshine filtering in through the windows and pressed against the shadows of the dark, empty bookstore

Just as quietly, echoing the low level of sound he had used for his inquiry, you give it to him, and you watch with something akin to fascination as he mouths it almost silently back to you. You're struck by the fact that you don't think it's ever sounded so…lovely before. 

New York City is in the middle of a goddamn alien invasion, superheroes flying around hundreds of feet above the ground and things exploding left and right, but here you are, completely enraptured by the stranger in front of you who has done nothing more than murmur your name. 

Clearing your throat, ruthlessly attempting to push all thoughts aside that aren't necessarily helpful to the current situation, you open your mouth to ask the same question.

"And you? What's your name?"

"Matthew," he tells you in response, voice sliding over you with a sense of calm you haven't felt since the sky ripped itself apart thousands of feet above you. "My name is Matthew."