#vigilante!reader

[slut4thebroken]

Ruin

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason punishes you after you disobey him.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, knifeplay, blood, cutting, brief use of guns, bondage, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, denial, pain play, sex toys, dacryphilia, hard to soft dom Jay, established relationship.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | For reader’s suit, imagine Black Windows’s but it’s not one whole piece, it’s a top and a bottom but still in the same style. (And yes… part of this was based on a video😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“You disobeyed a direct order!” He seethed, slamming the front door shut. You huffed and turned around to face him with your arms crossed. 

“Well, your order was shit.” You shrugged, making his jaw clench as he exhaled through his nose. 

“If you can’t do what you’re told then you can’t work with me.” 

“You mean work for you.” You narrowed your eyes at him and he scoffed. “Why can’t you just admit that you were wrong for once and I made the right call.” Your voice started to raise again. 

“You could have died! And all because, what? Your pride?” He asked in disbelief. 

“But I didn’t!”

“Because I had to fucking save your ass!” 

You and Jason have always been too similar. A lot of the same things set you off, you’re both too cocky, care too much about your pride and ego. And you can bet that if one starts screaming, the other will too. Your anger fuels his, just like his fuels yours. 

“I’m not one of your little underlings that has to follow your every command, Jason. And if that’s what you think, you need to get your head out of your ass.” Your voice was lower now, but still full of malice. 

“You know what, princess?” He started stalking toward you but you held your ground. “I think you’ve forgotten your place. And I’m going to remind you.”

“Oh fuck off, Todd.” You watched the muscles in his jaw tense. You never call him by his last name unless he’s really pissing you off. Before you could even blink, his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back and moving you closer to him. His breath fanned your lips but you made sure to keep the scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, debating if you should spit in his face or not. Instead, you grabbed a knife from your pants and held it up to his neck. He gave you an unimpressed look and then his gun was under your chin. So you used your second hand to do the same with your own gun. His grip tightened on your hair and you both just stared at each other, having a silent battle for dominance. Despite the fact that you’re both bluffing, you pressed the knife harder against his skin, watching a small bead of blood fall to his collarbone. 

“Everything you do right now I’m going to do ten times worse to you in a few minutes.” He warned, not even flinching at the blade piercing his skin. You stared at him with narrowed eyes, but you could feel your confidence and dominance start to break— the submissive part of you forcing its way up through the cracks. You clenched your jaw and hardened your gaze, willing it to go back down. But Jason already knew. You could tell by the way his lips were slowly curling up into a smirk. 

“Put the knife away, baby.” You ignored the butterflies from the pet name and glared at him. 

“Keep patronizing me and I’ll cut out your vocal cords.” You spat. 

“I’m sure you will, princess.” He smirked and you fucking knew he said it with that tone specifically because of what you just said. You breathed heavily as you seethed, his low laughter only fueling your anger. With a growl, you shoved his chest— you weren’t strong enough to actually move him, but he humored you by moving with the force, letting go of your hair. 

“Keep taunting me, princess and I’ll shoot you.” You pointed the gun at him, clenching your jaw. 

“Oh yeah?” He smirked, clearly entertained by your outburst. He was on you in a second, pushing the gun to the side and forcing the knife out of your hand, making you whimper when he bent your wrist the wrong way. Once he disarmed you, he placed a hand on your neck and quickly pushed you back until you hit the wall with a grunt. 

“You need to learn your fucking place.” He growled, squeezing your neck. 

“You’re supposed to teach me?” You scoffed, adding gasoline to the fire. Instead of reacting with anger like you thought he would, his eyes darkened and he smirked.  

“That’s right, baby. Now get your ass on the bed.” He took a step away from you and pointed his gun at your face. When you didn’t move, he cocked it, making you roll your eyes but start walking. You sat on the bed, looking up at him with a smirk. 

“Take away that gun and what are you? Just a little boy desperate for control.” The second you said it, you knew you fucked up. 

Bad. 

He glared at you for a moment and you held your breath as you waited, then he just chuckled darkly and set the gun on the nightstand. While he was there, he grabbed the handcuffs and vibrator you always keep in the drawer. You put up a fight as he handcuffed you but he overpowered you easily. To immobilize your legs, he just sat on your thighs. 

He dragged the zipper of your suit down at a tortuously slow pace. Once it was unzipped, he pulled a knife from his pants and cut your bra straight down the middle. You shouted a protest, which was ignored as he pushed the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts. 

“So soft.” He muttered absentmindedly as he trailed the tip of the knife over your chest. “So delicate…” He trailed it up to your neck then pressed down in the same place you had cut him. “So fragile.” You hissed when the blade broke the skin but showed no other reaction. 

He removed the knife and leaned down, licking a stripe up your neck, over the cut. You let out a low moan and subconsciously lifted your hands to place in his hair. The chain rattling on the headboard made him pull back with a small smirk. 

He put the tip of the knife back on your neck to continue, going up your jaw, then down your cheek before landing on your bottom lip. Your breath hitched as the skin split under the blade and once he was satisfied with the amount of blood, he removed it and leaned back down to kiss you. 

You moaned into the kiss and he groaned in response, licking his tongue into your mouth, focusing on your lip before sliding inside to meet your own. The kiss was hot and messy and almost aggressive but so entirely Jason. 

He pulled away, but immediately moved to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and dark bruises. He gave one last kiss on the cut on your neck, then sat up again. If all he was planning on doing to punish you was cut you occasionally and kiss you… well that wasn’t much of a punishment at all to be honest. You tried not to smirk at the thought. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” You hinted at the question you wanted to ask instead. 

“Baby, why would I talk dirty to you when I know how much you love it?” He grinned, making you frown. Instead of pouting you tried a different tactic. 

“Sounds like an excuse to be lazy. Is that also why you got the vibrator out?” You smirked, glancing at the toy on the bed. “Careful, Jay. You’re awfully close to becoming a pillow princess.”  

“Keep talking. You’re only making it worse for yourself and more fun for me.” He said smugly. 

“What’s a pillow princess gonna do?” You scoffed, still smirking. You were always terrible at knowing when to keep your mouth shut. He stared at you for a moment, then laughed quietly at your disobedience and moved between your legs. He pulled on the waistband of your pants and underwear, forcing them down your legs until they were at your ankles, where he had to quickly rip your boots off to fully remove them. Then he was back to sitting over your thighs. 

He didn’t even say anything as he picked up the vibrator, immediately turning it on and pressing it against your clit. You let out a choked moan from the sudden stimulation and he started slowly moving it in small circles, still maintaining firm pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut with a long vulgar moan and heard him chuckle quietly. 

“Fuck— Jason.” You said through a breath, feeling yourself already close to the edge. It’s rare that you ever need to use the vibrator so whenever you do, it’s always really intense. You expected him to pull away, to make a remark about how you don’t have permission to come, but he didn’t say or do anything. Not being able to hold it any longer, you fell over the edge, then all stimulation was gone. You let out a choked sob and opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Jason,” You whimpered, giving him the pout that always makes him cave. By now, your ruined orgasm was done and your chest heaved as you watched him. 

“I’m sorry, did you still want this?” He condescended, glancing at the toy then back to you. 

“Fuck you.” You growled, now angry from the lack of pleasurable release. He clicked his tongue and turned it back on, pressing it firmly against your now sensitive clit. You cried out, trying to squirm away from him, but not being able to because of him sitting on your legs. 

“S-stop, Jay— stop,” You whimpered, barely able to handle the overstimulation. He just let out a dark chuckle, making you look at him with watery eyes. 

“No, baby. We’re gonna do this over and over again and I’m only gonna stop once it dies.” He smirked. You let out a strangled whimper and yanked your hands forward, the metal chain rattling loudly on the headboard. 

“Please, I- I’m sorry,” He shushed you and you let your words die off into incoherent babbling. 

“You did this to yourself. You’re a big girl, you can handle the consequences of your own actions.” He condescended. You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Can’t…” Despite your words, you could already feel your second orgasm barreling toward you. After only another moment, the coil in your stomach snapped and you let out a loud moan that turned into a sob when he once again removed the vibrator. 

“Please! Please, I'm sorry!” You cried, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall. “Please, Jay, I won’t do it again. I promise— please,” He brought his hand down hard on your sensitive clit with a loud smack, forcing a broken moan from you.  

“No amount of begging is gonna get you out of this, princess.” 

“Jason,” You whimpered. Your watery puppy dog eyes had no effect on him though. He placed the vibrator back on your clit, making you cry out and yank on the handcuffs again. “Fuck! Jay— Jay, please.” You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut and feeling hot tears start to roll down your temples. 

“God you look so fucking hot like this. Let me see those pretty fuck me eyes.” Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him through wet lashes, bottom lip trembling. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, gaze rapidly moving over your face and the rest of your body. 

“Aren’t you a fuckin sight, huh? Tits out, arms tied to the bed, tears running down that pretty face, and look at how red your little pussy is, baby.” He lifted the vibrator and you let out a heavy breath of relief as your chest heaved. The second you looked down like he said, the toy was back on your clit. Your crying intensified and you continued trying to squirm away from the stimulation. 

“Jay— fuck… Please, Jay.. hurts so bad.” You whimpered, pulling out all the stops to get his mercy. “Please, baby, I’m sorry— I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll listen to you.” 

“I know you will. But I also know it’s going to take more than just this to make your words actually truthful. Right now you’re just saying what I want to hear to get me to stop.” 

“No! No, I- I'm not lying, Jay.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He shrugged, making you let out a sob and pull on the restraints again, your legs trying to kick him off of you. “Throwing a tantrum now?” He asked with raised brows. 

“Fuck— Jay, please. I’m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, baby. You don’t want the gag, do you?” You whined at the threat, bottom lip trembling, and shook your head. “That’s what I thought. So why don’t you shut the fuck up and take your punishment, like a good little girl?” Your third orgasm hit you suddenly, but as soon as your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut, he removed the vibrator, making you release an anguished cry. 

He kept that up for what felt like hours. After the fifth orgasm you could barely talk, but after the seventh, you lost count of how many ones he ruined. When the vibrator finally died, you were both relieved and disappointed. 

“Ready for my cock?” He asked, making your breath hitch. You nodded, not even attempting to speak, and watched him walk over to the closet where most of the sex toys are stored. When he came back with a fleshlight, you whined with a pout. “Relax, I’m still gonna fuck you, princess.” You were too fucked out to try and figure out what that meant. He lined up the end with your hole, making you tense up. 

“What are you doing?” Your words slurred together, heavy with exhaustion. 

“Shh. Just trust me, baby.” He cooed and you couldn’t help but obey, your body relaxing into the bed. You whined when he pushed the toy in, feeling far too sensitive, but also relieved that you were finally full. When he settled between your legs and took out his cock, it finally clicked. 

“Jay,” You whined, watching as he stroked himself slowly. “You said you were gonna fuck me.” 

“I am.” He lined the tip of his cock up with the entrance of the fake pussy and all of your protests died on your tongue when he sunk in, brows scrunched together and mouth open in a silent moan. The toy shifted inside of you, but it wasn’t enough to give you any genuine relief. You let out a strangled sob and pulled on the handcuffs— much softer than before though because of how raw your wrists had gotten. 

“You’re okay.” He cooed, making you shake your head as you cried. “Shh, princess. You can take it, can’t you? For me?” You whined, feeling conflicted. 

“Please… ‘m sorry.” You whimpered. 

“I know, baby. You’ll be okay.” He slowly dragged his cock out, then pushed back in. A strangled sob escaped your lips and he leaned down, muffling your sounds with a kiss. Once you started whining and whimpering instead of crying out and sobbing, he pulled back. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from your face. His hips moved slowly, barely jostling the toy inside you. The only plus to this situation was that you weren’t empty anymore. “Took your punishment so well, baby.” 

“Jay,” Your bottom lip wobbled and he gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek. When you let out a choked sob, he shushed you softly. “Wanna touch you..” You whimpered, feeling more tears fall when you unsuccessfully tried to bring your hands forward again. 

“Yeah?” You nodded, biting your trembling lip. “Okay, sweetheart. Since you’re doing such a good job, you can touch me.” The second your arms were free, you wrapped them around his body, pulling him down into a hug as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. When you placed a soft kiss there, he let out a shaky breath. 

“Fuck— I’m not gonna last much longer.” He grumbled, breathing heavily against your shoulder as his hips sped up. “This is a punishment for me too, baby. It’s nowhere near as good as the real thing.” You wanted to beg him to take this out and use the real thing instead, but you could barely get any words out when he sped up even more. Your walls fluttered around the toy and you got even needier just by listening to his desperate grunts and moans as he rutted into you, chasing his orgasm. “But don’t worry, I’m still gonna give you my come.” He whispered, planting a wet kiss on the side of your neck. You moved a hand to his hair and tugged on the strands lightly as your back arched up into him. 

When he suddenly pulled up, out of your arms, you whined, but it cut off once you saw that he was pulling the toy out of you and off of his cock. He stroked himself quickly, his breathing coming in short pants until he let out a low groan, covering your sore, abused pussy in his release. He rode out his orgasm, then his hand slowed to a stop as he caught his breath. 

“C’mere, princess.” He said softly, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you snuggled into him more. 

“Needy..” You mumbled. When he laughed quietly, the corners of your lips turned up into a small smile. 

“That’s the only bad thing you’re feeling?” He asked again, and you realized now what he meant. 

“Mhm. Still just a little fuzzy.” 

“Good.” He kissed the top of your head again, then started running his fingers through your hair, making your eyes flutter closed as you let out a pleased sigh. The longer you laid here, not distracted by anything, the more your thoughts continued to race. You already felt bad for what you did, but the drop of endorphins, as well as the fact that you just finished a somewhat intense scene, only exacerbated the feeling. 

“Jay, I- I’m sorry.” You started, then cleared your sore throat and spoke a little louder. “I thought I was doing the right thing but I shouldn’t have deviated from the plan and I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for scaring you too.” If the roles were reversed and Jason didn’t follow the plan, then almost died— again— you wouldn’t let him out of your sight for weeks, maybe even months. 

“I’m sorry for yelling.” He said quietly, his own way of accepting your apology. 

“I deserved it.” You smiled. Your heart fluttered when you heard the deep rumble in his chest as he laughed quietly.  

“But hey I mean… if you ever want to go against the plan— in a way that doesn’t almost maim or kill you— I’m not saying it would lead to some pretty hot sex, but…” You giggled into his chest at his words. 

“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that shit again. The ruined orgasms and overstimulation? That was just downright cruel, Jay.” You tried to suppress your laughter and sound stern, but as soon as you heard his chuckle, your serious exterior broke. “And how on earth did you come up with the fleshlight thing?” That part, even though it was torture for you, was almost impressive honestly. 

“I don’t know… I wanted to fuck you, but I didn’t want to fuck you… if that makes any sense.” He said sheepishly. 

“Close enough.” You laughed quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you deviate from the plan.” You said with a smirk. Riding a dildo right next to his cock would probably drive him mad and you were already creating a plan in your head for everything else you could do to him— for all of the ways you could torture him. 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BRUCE WAYNE | BATMAN (generalized canon)

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“Staked Claim” (Bruce Wayne x Gn!Reader)

| Bruce and the Reader take stock of each other’s scars. That’s it, that’s the story.

| SFW, scar examination, poor expressions of emotion, fluff -vigilante!reader

| Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Picture source: Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice 2016 & Zack Snyder's Justice League 2021)

| 800+ words

The barely noticeable weight of the blanket shifts when you move under it. Soft cost-more-than-most-people’s-rent sheets gliding against your skin.

The muscles in your arm ache in tandem with you reaching up to rest your palm flat against the warmth of the owner of the bed you’re in.

“What about this one?”

You watch, genuinely taken for a second, the hairs on his arm stand at the feeling of your breath ghosting across his bicep.

He doesn’t waste a beat before he answers.

“Firefly,” rumbles right after you ask. Of course. Why would he need to think that hard about the marks on his person? They might not actively be on his mind but it’d be hard to forget a memory that’s physically staked its claim on your body.

Firefly made sense though. The scar tissue was as erratically placed as the pyromaniac’s own personality. It also, like many of his scars, has the added bonus of looking twice healed over. Considering Bruce’s clear allergen to sitting idle that doesn’t surprise you.

“Why the sudden interest?”

Laying on your side you shrug with the shoulder not attached to the arm you have braced on the bed. Bruce’s eyes have sparked with a level of interest that you’ve figured out means he’s reading you. Or trying to at least.

“I mean, there’s a lot. Why? You don’t want me to be curious?”

“Most people refrain from asking questions.”

The wry lilt he takes on has you scoffing while you drag your free hand down to his abdomen. The area’s so tense that when you push down the muscles stubbornly refuse to give.

“Most people are scared of hurting your feelings.”

“My feelings?” he grunts.

You sigh out an agreeing “Uh huh,” and press down more incessantly with your fingers. Still no give but you know he gets the message when he forces himself to relax with a heavy exhale. You grin. “Not that I don’t care about your feelings, of course. I just know that if you didn’t want to talk you wouldn’t.”

If you were a different person now would probably be the moment you’d lean in to brush a kiss to the pink tissue left behind from the burn, show Bruce the little bit of kindness he doesn’t often get. As it stands you only hum, hand already moving to the next mark. Already searching for another answer, brown skin stark against Bruce’s deathly pale.

As usual Bruce indulged you.

“You’re looking for yours.”

It’s not a question. You answer him like he’d posed one anyway.

“No,” you say, but when he grabs your hand - hard earned calluses rubbing against your own similarly worn skin - you don’t stop him.

The scarred patch of skin he directs you to is on the other side of his torso, out of sight from your angle, and when your fingers brush up against it you don’t hesitate to laugh. An amused puff of air hits cool skin and Bruce shivers minutely at your warmth.

You croon lowly at him and press a kiss over the spot on his chest your breath hit. Only when he lets out a grumble of a sigh, relaxing just that much more into the bed, do you press more firmly against the knot beneath your fingers.

“This was the poison arrowhead too, wasn’t it?”

Bruce doesn’t even react in any major way, just gives you an exasperated, even slightly amused look.

“If I’m remembering constantly having to reopen the wound to flush it out correctly, then yes.”

Another grin pulls at your lips, you move your head to press another lingering kiss to the side of his neck. It’s not an apology.

“Glad I could make a lasting impression,” you say and Bruce chuckles like that was at all a sane response in the way only someone else who went around the world doing what you both did would understand.

From where his left arm is wrapped around your waist Bruce slides his fingers low and then slides them backwards until the pads of his fingers make contact with a thick line of matted skin. He caresses his physical claim on you with his own brand of tenderness.

It’s your turn to shiver then. You can feel how Bruce smiles against your head; fingers pressing down more firmly on the scar.

“Batarang,” he whispers in your ear. He noses at your hairline and presses a kiss on your temple next and it’s all you can do to keep quiet.

That peace can only last for so long once your gazes meet.

Simultaneously the two of you burst into quiet breathless laughter, curling into each other’s spaces and bodies slotting into one another like you were cut from the same cloth then mercilessly separated but had finally, miraculously, found each other again.

Palm curling almost protectively over that mess of destroyed tissue on his pelvis - your mark - you smile the realist smile you have in months, lungs aching with laughter and a comfortable warmth settling just under your skin.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[strawberryforks]

a fragile peace // red hood x vigilante!reader

summary: fighting crime is hard when the red hood makes (annoying, trailing, helping) you his business

warnings: violence, blood, guns, swearing

word count: 474 (a short one buuuut could become a mini-series if there’s interest)

a/n: requests/asks are open & encouraged!

red hood isn’t your enemy by any means–and you’re grateful for it. you don’t kill and he does so regardless of skill level, you just can’t see that ending well. you weren’t friends though, it was hard to be when he’d rather ruin your fun, attempt to kill (but succeed in maiming) your nemesis, and interrupt everything you did in the suit. being a vigilante (you went by striker) was supposed to be fun. it wasn’t when your mask wearing rival, and occasional reluctant ally, was always up in your business. it wasn’t, when he was always so serious.

he’s aiming a gun at the all but harmless villain lying on the ground–the guy, called himself ruckus, is already bleeding. externally. internally. all over the alleyway. “red hood!” you shout. he drops his chin down and turns his head to the side, looking at you. you can’t tell whether he’s smirking or angry, not with the mask on, but you don’t care. you tackle him to the ground. he throws the gun away like it burnt him. “don’t you ever fucking do that again, striker, i swear.”

you don’t care much, ignoring his words and the anger that bleeds into them. “and let you kill someone on my watch? you’re crazy!”

“that’s not what i’m talking about,” he grits. he pushes you off of him, manoeuvring into a sitting position. you realise then that he’s not smirking, he’s livid. snarling, almost. he glances at the villain who’s pathetically limping away and then to the gun, and back to you. “the safety on that was off. i could’ve shot you.”

“no, you were about to shoot him.” you say, angling your thumb towards the opening of the alleyway.

then red hood is up in your business, in your face. he’s taking small steps forward that you match with large ones backwards. you’re backed into the wall, your back hits first and your head presses back into something softer than bricks. one of red hood’s hands is above your shoulder on the wall and the other is behind your head, like a cushion.

caged in, your breath quickens. you feel wild, like a cornered animal and debate doing something stupid, something so predictable, as striking. red hood drops his head, and looks (you think but then again he’s wearing a mask) directly into your eyes. “i said, don’t you ever do that again.”

“maybe back off once in awhile red—i could’ve handled him.” you hate that your voice wobbles but how the hell are you supposed to be confident when he’s talking to you like that and looking at you in a way that you can’t decide if you hate or love. woah. that thought makes you pause.

he’s still staring at you, glare ever unwavering. “i won’t tackle you when you’re holding a loaded weapon. there. happy?”

he pushes off of the wall, taking a small step back and nods once. “i’ll leave the little criminals to you, i guess. don’t die and make me regret it, striker.”

it’s peace. a fragile one, but you’ll take it for now.

[verybadatwriting]

Just a Little Stab Wound

Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.

Warnings: injuries, blood loss

Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,141

He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.

Need you

Pete

i’m hurt. on way. be ready.

He hurriedly replied,

how hurt?

u there?

Y/n??

When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.

“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.

“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”

Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.

You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop. 

All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.

For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out. 

“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.

Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.

“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured. 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.

“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.

“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.

“You must be delusional from blood loss.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”

A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.

“It’s comfy,” you said.

“Looks good on you,” He replied.

After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.

“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you. 

“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep. 

You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.

Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago. 

He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.” 

“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.

“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.

“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

[petertingle-yipyip]

WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

one - deja vu

tags: n/a two // masterlist // MAD AT GOD (DD CANON)

welcome back to the MAG universe! this time around we are rolling through the Punisher series. i’m so excited to develop her friendship with Frank and see what happens between her and Billy!

Pairing: Billy x Reader (casual), Frank x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5, 728

Summary: Being back in the Kitchen almost immediately pulls her back into a fight. But without Matt, what has she become?

You moved over quickly, using Luke as footing to jump from after he knocked her into a short spin so she faced away from you. You moved in a fluid motion to connect the wires between your wrists as you hooked one leg over her shoulders and jammed the other against her spine. You leaned forward enough to get the wire across her throat before you dropped to land on your feet.

She was quick to flip her sai in her grip and slam it through your thigh. Your leg buckled and she used the chance to free herself, spinning to slam her foot against the side of your head. You fell to your back with a wet thump and you pushed to your elbows, craning your neck to see her weapon skewering your thigh. The red stained tip poked through and any movement sent a sharp pain through your body, eminating deep within your bone. She dared to move closer and you kicked the opposing foot against her chest.

Once that foot landed back on the ground, the pain on the other side made you cry out. You managed to drag yourself to your feet and stood unsteadily, hopping on your good leg to try and maintain balance. You reached awkwardly behind yourself for your staffs, having to connect them quickly and use them as a cane for the moment.

“You’ll die down here with us.” Elektra’s voice taunted you, though she was no where to be seen. “As you should.”

You hobbled in a small circle while you tried to find where the voice was coming from. But there was no one, not even the ghost of footsteps or shuffles to give her away. The rest of your group was gone, as if they never came down with you. Not even the elevator.

Hadn’t they just been there?

The tunnels around you stretched as far as you could see, dripping and collecting small puddles. Your labored breathing filled the silence between drips and you felt something eerily out of place about the whole thing.

“Come on then.” You challenged weakly. A deep breathe before you screamed into the wet darkness. “Come out and kill me!”

“Y/N.” He said calmly and you spun so fast you nearly slipped in the water. But when you glanced down to find your footing, you were in a puddle of blood. All of the water had turned to blood. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head, assuming it was your own mania creeping in, but when you opened them the sight hadn’t changed.

“This is what you wanted.” He used the same eerily calm tone, even as the ground shook beneath your feet.

“You should’ve left.” You said angrily as the drips began to land on your forehead. “You shouldn’t be here, Matt.”

“Then why didn’t you keep him safe?” Elektra appeared at his side, walking around him like a predator taunting her prey. Her fingers trailed along the back of his shoulders.

But even in the dim light, neither of them looked like themselves. They were soaking wet and it looked it was water on their bodies, but it reflected red once it hit the ground. Their skins were tinted blue, cyanotic to match their puffy lips and swollen bodies. Their eyes were hollow, sunken in and hardly even there. Everytime their mouths open, blood spilled. They looked like corpses that had been left at the bottom of the river for months to decay in silence.

“I tried.” You answered but the sound barely registered.

Your eye suddenly stung and when you reached to wipe it, your hand came back with fresh red blood. The scar above your eye, the deep gash your mask left from your fight with Fisk, was now fresh and seeping into your eye. The scar on your cheekbone stained the lower half of your face. Your chest snapped and the cartilage fell loose and the old cracks in your ribs fell open. One by one, old injuries became fresh again and each one felt like a hit to your stamina, to your strength, until you fell back to your knees.

Elektra appeared in front of you now, reaching with a sadistic smile for her sai that still dripped with your blood. You tried to back away but landed against Matt, who moved quickly to pin you to the ground. You struggled against him, but he leaned more of his weight against you and left you flailing and kicking.

“Matt? Matt, what are you doing?” You said in a panic but your own blood filled your mouth.

Elektra twisted the weapon in your leg and you screamed out, a gurggled sound that nearly choked you. You kicked your other foot at her but it moved through her, as if she was never really there.

“You’ll die. Painfully.” She threatened before a second sai appeared in her hands.

She climbed over your body, knees on either side of your ribs as she lined her weapon with the center of your chest. By then you were crying, hair sticking to your face and thrashing your body under her weight. But she didn’t move. Matt didn’t move. Instead, they offered each other wicked smiles before both looking down at you.

“You could’ve saved me, Y/N/N… Why didn’t you?” Matt asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but before your voice could find you, Elektra’s weapon began to press into your chest.

Breaking the skin earned a whine.

Her jamming the heel of her hand against it to break through your sternum drew a groan.

Her slow, intentional pressure against your heart earned a plead.

“I can fix this.” You tried, barely a whisper above the shattering thuds of collapsing rock.

“If you could’ve…” She said lowly, leaning forward to meet your panicked eyes, dripping blood from her lips. “You would’ve already.”

Your eyes went wide at the wet sound of the sai piercing your heart.

———————————————————————————————————————

You shot up in your bed and a hand instantly moved to your cheek. The skin was clear of blood but covered in a layer of sweat. You felt above your brow and found the same. With a small noise of stress, you threw your comforter back and shuffled to the bathroom. A hand was rubbing the center of your chest, haunted by the tip of Elektra’s weapon.

You flipped the light, squinting through it for a minute until your eyes adjusted. You planted both hands against the countertop and leaned in to see the faint lines of scars around your eye. The subtle discolorations that followed the shape of your mask, permanent memories of your time as a vigilante, of that hole deep inside you that you couldn’t quite fill. Quantico had done very little towards that gaping feeling, that hole somewhere too deep for you reach that felt like it would swallow you everyday.

You thought that FBI training, getting away from the Kitchen, would maybe be good for you. It’d be time to breathe, maybe even grieve. But those words didn’t seem to mean anything to you anymore. It just felt like they were adding to that depth, sucking out any remnants of progress you had made.

Maybe coming home wasn’t going to be any better.

You blew out a sigh and splashed your face with cold water, a contrast to the heat that seemed to live in your blood now. You felt warm, everywhere you went. No matter the temperature outside, you were boiling inside. But if someone were to touch your skin, they’d never know.

That was who you were now. Not Y/N. Not even Exodus. You were someone else. Someone with Y/N’s memories and tendencies, with Exodus’ mania and skills, but other things were left unaccounted for. Who’s morals did you maintain? Who’s relationships were important?

Who’s heart beat in your chest? Who’s blood was in your veins?

But if you thought about it too long, Matt’s voice would creep into your thoughts. Random things he had told you throughout the time you knew him. Empty promises he made to Exodus. Honest sentiment he gave to Y/N. The last words you heard him say.

You shoved those thoughts to a deep corner of your mind as you headed back to the living room. The chest in the closet seemed to call out to you. The chest full of boxing memorabilia pertaining to Matt’s father, some of his own collection and some you were able to add for him, one of his bibles, and the false bottom that allowed him to hide his suit.

The suit that would never be there again.

You sighed and shook your head before heading to your bedroom to find clothes for the day. You might as well get ready since you knew your mind wasn’t going to let you sleep again anytime soon.

Wasting as much time as you could, you got ready and headed out into the city. You had been back from Quantico for about a week and you were trying to settle back into the Kitchen, but the nightmare of Midland haunted you every night. It was a little different everytime, sometimes the words they spoke to you changed and once it was Matt that killed you with your own blade, but it always the same premise. The three of you, everything coated in blood, and you died.

It was either your conscious gnawing at you and refusing to let you escape, even in sleep, or it was the universe telling you that death would find you. Either way, it never left your mind.

As you were out, you saw Matt in every face. Everywhere you went, you saw him. You almost called his name a few times until you got a better look and remembered he was dead. It felt like you were losing yourself in the grief, in the hopes that it was all a bad dream. Maybe you were still dreaming?

But then someone bumped your shoulder walking by and you knew you weren’t. Weeks had passed and you still couldn’t fully stomach the fact that he was gone. In your mind, you just wanted him there and he was everywhere but nowhere all at once.

You were wandering your usual streets, fighting through the relentless deja vu, stopping at one of the few lunch spots you missed, and ended up at the only building you thought could help. It was one of the few places you didn’t avoid prior to your time away, and now, maybe it was the only chance to cool the blaze under your skin. To fill the hole.

You walked in with a shaky breath and found Father Lantom outside the confessional, talking to one of the nuns with hushed urgency. But as you approached, he sent the nun away and turned to you with a small but welcoming smile. He gestured to the small, private conversation box and you simply nodded. He stepped inside first and you followed suit into your side about a minute later.

“Good to have you back.” Father Lantom said after a short silence. “How was your training?”

“Good, yeah, it was good.” You answered simply. “Dex said everything went really well so now it’s just waiting for approval or something, I don’t really remember…”

“It was quick.”

“Yeah, it was a specialty.. Accelerated… Accelerated program.” Your eyes fell and you noticed you were wringing your fingers. Since when did you do that? “Look, Father, I don’t know if there’s something I’m supposed to say to start this but…”

“Whatever you need to say, Y/N.” He offered genuinely. “Whenever you’re ready to say it.”

“I keep having this nightmare, Elektra and Matt and me. Under Midland and we all die together… Usually El does it but Matt’s done it too, killed me. And I thought being away would make it easier. But it feels worse… I can’t sleep. I hardly eat. I just feel empty.”

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?”

“When I was younger, when I realized what I was going to have to do in the Red Room. I didn’t feel like a person…”

“Hmm..”

“But then I got out and out of nowhere I meet Matt and suddenly… It was like my heart was beating in my chest for the first time.” You couldn’t fight the sad smile that stretched your lips. “Now, it’s like anytime I think about him, my heart can’t beat. It’s just there, weighing down my chest like a rock.”

“When Matt would first tell me about his night activities, he was so twisted up about some of the things he found.” He spoke carefully, treading a fine line between breaking the seal of confession and finding the details that he hoped would offer you comfort. “Some of the things he had seen, what some people in this town were capable of…”

“People like me?”

“No. He never spoke unkindly about you, even before he knew.”

That seemed to fill the hole a little but the blaze remained.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the type…” You sniffled. “Were you able to help him?”

“What I offered wasn’t the help he needed. I could offer bible verses and quotes to him every day, but he knew them all. He knew the stories and the psalms as easy as he knew his way here.”

“So what’d you say?”

“I told him to listen to his heart, because his had always been good. Angry and hurt, yes, but also good.”

“I’ve never felt this alone.” You spoke, a distance in your voice as you stared at the wood door in front of you. “I’ve been left before, by others and by my own choice. I’ve sabotaged my life to a point where I had to be alone and I’ve sacrificed my lifestyle to protect people around… I don’t want to feel this again.”

“Feeling these kinds of things is what makes us human.”

“Yeah..” You nodded, finding the familiar mental ledge that could take it all away. That could turn it all off so it didn’t matter, that would let Y/N rest. All you had to do… Was give her… A little push. “Maybe that humanity is the issue.”

“Guilt is a good thing.. It’s a soul’s call to action, the innate feeling that something is wrong. The only way to rid yourself of it is to correct your mistakes.”

“Correct my mistakes…” You repeated slowly. “I can’t correct this one… Not the way I’d need to. But I know how to get rid of these feelings.”

“Y/N?” He asked quickly and the concern was palpable in his voice.

“Thanks, Father… It’s been nice catching up.”

And with that, you left the church. You took a deep breathe when you stepped out, the crisp New York air hitting you as soon as you stepped out. There was something freeing in that breath. The heat still blazed with every beat of your stoned heart, leaving a trail of warmth through your veins. The hole still lived in your soul but now you fed it, all the sorrow and despair and loneliness was shoved into the hole. It didn’t fill it by any means, but it satisfied it enough that it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It allowed you to live, and for now that was enough.

The rest of your day was relatively uneventful. You went home for a while and did some reorganzing. You cleaned up some of Matt’s leftover belongings that you were unable to touch before. You even started a pile of things that you figured you should donate. Someone else in the Kitchen could probably use some of those suits.

You took down some photos and put them in the closet with his chest. You even took down that painting from the art gallery you bought. It was the red one Vanessa had showed you. You bought it because you had liked it. It made you think of the Man in the Mask and how turbulent your relationship was but now that he was gone, it was just another token of a dead life. So you shoved it away as well.

You cleaned some of the things you had been neglecting and began to feel like you were actually getting some sort of normalcy back. It wasn’t the normalcy that Matt would’ve wanted for you. You could recognize that, but you never expected to have that anyway. You never had the normalcy he wanted for you when he wasn’t around, so you felt no requirement to find it now that he was gone. And maybe you owed it to his memory to live a real life, live a life of peace, but that was never part of you.

It was later that night when you realized what day it was.

Curtis’ support group for veterans.

You were always welcomed there, ever since you started with Anvil. He never made you talk but the option was always there. And you did, occasionally, if only to shut down one of the other guys. There was a certain respect from Curtis that you didn’t find in other people. He knew you were from an ‘elite covert kill squad’ since childhood but he didn’t ask other questions. He didn’t need to know everything to know that you were lost. It was refreshing and you liked to stay after official sessions to talk about whatever you were thinking or feeling.

But glancing at the time, it was too late for that. So you shrugged it off and decided you’d go next time. At least to say hello to an old friend, the least judgemental one you had left. Instead, you decided you’d go to the bookstore and add to your to-be-read collection while continuing to ignore texts from everyone that knew you.

It wasn’t long until alleged vigilantism found it’s way to you. That next morning, stories of an assault at a construction zone hit your ears. Bodies found under fresh concrete with more blunt force injuries than they should’ve had. Then, estimated to be a few hours later, a hit against a prominent crime family.

It had a familiarity to it that you couldn’t quite place, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. There was the haunt of concern in your bones, as if you worried that there was something left unanswered within you, but Matt took that part with him. When he died, so did that part of you that wanted to do something good. That wanted to help the neighborhood you loved. You liked the fact that someone else was handling it for you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t vaguely set off an old itch that liked to be scratched. An old manic, sadistic, worrisome itch that could easily spiral to a full blown bloodbath.

So instead, you carried on with your day. You went to the grocery store to refill your fridge and your pantry. You bought some new clothes, more fitting for an FBI agent, and got some plastic totes to put away some of Matt’s things. The things you didn’t want to look at but couldn’t quite bring yourself to get rid of.

While you were out, you decided to stop by an old warehouse. You weren’t even sure if he would be there, but it was the only starting point you had. You knocked lightly on the door before heading inside, watching the corners and dark shadows carefully.

“Melvin.” You called out when you saw the vague shape of a man sweeping in the corner. “I just wanna talk.”

“Whoever you are, I don’t talk.” He said sharply, coming into full view with a wrench gripped tightly in his hands. “Just go on back the way you came and this never happened.”

“We had a mutual friend.” You said simply, lifting your head a little. “Our Man in the Mask.”

“Shit.” He breathed, slowly dropping the wrench. “I uh, heard he’s gone… That true?”

“Yeah. Your suit protected him from a lot but couldn’t withstand a falling building.”

“Shit.” He said again.

“Mmm.” You agreed. “I came to ask you for something. A vest. Clean lines, simple build. Something I can wear daily, under my normal clothes.”

“Guess that makes you Exodus, huh?” He broke into a small smile that didn’t last. “Sorry but I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured… Neither do I, not really. Ever since Red went down, I…” You took a deep breath. “I got a good job lined up, just need a little something.”

He sighed heavily and turned to the ceiling before facing you again.

“I’ll do you a favor, just this once cause your friend always kept his word. But don’t expect anything else.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at you.

“One and done.” You nodded.

“Alright.. Ah jeez, okay. Your measurements the same? Red and black still?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You looked at your arms and chest. “And uh, no. No red.”

“C’mon.” He guffawed. “You and Daredevil were partners. You don’t want anything to remember him?”

“Just do whatever.” You shrugged. “How much?”

“It’s on me. I never charged your buddy so… Just gimme a day or two. I’ll get you something nice.”

“I appreciate it.” You offered a smile, though you didn’t quite mean it. “Thanks, Melvin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off. “Don’t ask me for nothing. Alright? I mean it.”

“I get it.” You insisted as you backed towards the door. “Looking forward to it.”

Later that day, not long after you had unloaded all of your groceries, a hard knock sounded at your door. You ignored it, assuming it was just your friends coming to see if you were home yet. Either that, some kids screwing around, or it was just someone from your past coming to kill you. Who exactly was out to get you at that point, you weren’t sure, but there were enough skeletons in your closet that hadn’t fallen out yet. So you went about your business until the door flew open and someone rushed in.

Calmly, you grabbed the gun you tucked between the fridge and wall and turned to face whoever was in your apartment. You gripped it comfortably and cleared your throat, seeing them turn with a sharp gasp. Your brows raised expectantly and Karen’s hands shot up instantly.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.” She breathed before covering a hand to her chest. “How long have you been back?”

“How often do you come into my apartment?” You asked instead, lowering the gun but not putting it down.

“I just-” She tried to explain but her eyes kept falling to the gun. “Can you put that down, please?”

“Don’t trust me anymore?” You raised your brows before tucking the gun into the back of your waistband. “Answer my question.”

“Has he reached out to you?” She asked instead.

“I’m not playing games, Karen. If you have something to tell me, then spit it out and get out of my apartment. If you only came here to fuck around…”

“Frank.” She said quickly. “Frank’s back.”

“Explains the news.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. “What’d he come to you for?”

“Something about some Micro, a guy that came after him recently. Knows who he is, that he’s alive.”

“Micro… This guy have a real name?”

“David Lieberman, NSA analyst that is officially shot dead by Homeland Security a year ago.”

“Only he’s not.” You nodded. “Okay. Where’s Frank now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he going after Lieberman?” You closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead, weighing the pros and cons of you getting involved.

“Probably… But Frank said he’s a- He’s a spook. How would he find him?”

“Well, he wouldn’t go for him directly, but someone that knows him or is relevant to him just might work to draw him out. What other names did you work out?”

“Carson Wolf got the whole story cut, could be something there.”

“Probably.. Name sounds familiar.” You felt the scales tilting back and forth in your brain. “Why did you come and tell me about this?”

“Because I-” She hesitated, as if she had just noticed your reaction. “He doesn’t really seem like he wants me involved.”

“So you want me to go run into a fight I know nothing about?” You dropped your hand against your leg with a smack and opened your eyes. “Don’t you think if Frank wanted my help, he would’ve came to me himself?”

“Maybe he didn’t know where to find you.” She offered, clearly searching for anything to convince you.

“Or maybe he didn’t care enough to find me.” You countered with a shrug. But seeing the desperation in her eyes, feeling the plead in her bones, you sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it… I’ll look into Lieberman, maybe there’s a wife or siblings or something. And this Wolf guy, I think I heard his name around Quantico so I guess I can pull some strings in that direction.”

“Thank you.” She let out a sharp exhale, as if she had been holding her breath for your response. “Have you told Foggy you’re back?”

“No.” You turned away to busy yourself in your kitchen. “Haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you.” She tried gently. You noticed the hesitation in her words and realized she was walking on eggshells, completely unsure of how stable you were. “Or at least hear from you.”

“The last conversation we had was an argument.” You admitted, though your voice lacked the remorse it should’ve had and it was too late to add it in now. “And he flinched away from me… He told me that if I wanted to get myself killed, I was more than welcome to as long as I didn’t try to blame anyone other than myself for it.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence, like she was chomping at the air while she tried to find a response. Finally, her voice found her and it was the same response you expected.

“He had to have still been in shock.”

“He had more than enough time to get over it.”

“I know he wouldn’t say that to you and mean it.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, just like Matt never would’ve said half of what he said to me during the Castle trial, right?” Your brows raised in accusation and you saw her expression drop. “Yeah, sometimes pain or shock bring out what people really mean.”

“Y/N-”

“Doesn’t matter.” You cut in firmly. “Next time you see Frank, ask him if he wants my help. In the meantime, I’ll poke around and start building some intel.”

“Thanks.” She forced a tight smile. “And I’ll talk to Foggy, if you want me to.”

You simply shrugged.

“He’s one of your best friends, isn’t he?” She asked gently, scared for what your answer would be.

“Most of the people I’ve called friends have grown to hate me for one reason or another… I guess I always knew I’d add Foggy to that list one of these days.” You answered flatly.

“C’mon, Y/N.” She tried again.

“Better that than dead… You can go now.”

With a small gesture of defeat, she left. And you wondered if you were going to regret getting involved.

Some quick research into Lieberman showed he did leave a family behind, a wife and two kids. You had no intentions of hurting them but should there be a need, you had blackmail material. He was allegedly shot dead by Homeland after resisting arrest. There was nothing about why he was wanted by Homeland, nor was there anything about his career. But he was NSA, so there should’ve been something other than a passing mention.

That all just meant someone wanted it to go away, and that someone was likely this Carson Wolf character.

You thought about going over to the address you could find for Sarah Lieberman but you assumed Frank would’ve been there already. And two unfamiliar visitors in one day would’ve triggered some sort of concern in the wife, who you had to assume was helping hide her undead husband until you knew otherwise. Instead, you wrote down the address and looked into Carson Wolf. You found that he was one of the higher ups at Homeland Security. It was an interesting connection that you’d have to poke at later.

With a little digging, you also found some information on the construction site incident. There was a feature on the company’s webpage about a new employee, which was asterisked as inactive the day after the bodies were found. There was no picture on the page but you could only assume that Pete Castiglione was the one and only, Frank Castle.

You decided to get out of the house and headed out to get something to drink. You passed by Josie’s and thought about going in. But when you reached the door, you were hit with one of many memories of you and Matt in that place so you had to pass. You passed other bars as you wandered and none really seemed inviting. Eventually, your feet grew tired of aimlessly moving so you settled on a bar you had been to with Billy a few times. Low and behold, Billy was already there.

You felt his eyes following you as you passed by, taking a seat at the bar a few seats down. You ordered your drink and when it came out, you spun the liquid around the glass, listening vaguely to Billy talking about his service and Frank.

The woman kept asking questions pertaining to Frank and their conversation held your interest. Without making it obvious, you noted what she was asking.

Did he get dirty? Could he have been involved in drugs over there?

But why ask questions about a dead man? Who was she?

The gears in your brain were turning when you heard Billy’s question.

“So you’re single?” He asked, clear flirting in his tone. Your head cocked slightly and your brow raised, noticing he was already looking at you for a reaction. He laughed and tilted his bottle towards you but you simply smiled and shook your head.

He went back to his flirting and you rolled your eyes slightly at his next remark. But you did hear a name.

Special Agent Madani.

You could tell she was either going to be one hell of an obstacle or one hell of an ally.

You watched her leave and then decided to slide into her seat.

“Billy Russo, always the player.” You teased with a sly smile and he grinned. “How’ve you been? Lonely?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” He said happily. “And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, Quantico was fun but I got bored.” You shrugged playfully. “Knew everything they wanted to teach me.”

“Yeah, I bet you did..” He nodded, never dropping that sly smile. “Bet you made one hell of an impression too.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do… Y’know, I missed you.”

“You did not.” You scoffed lightly, gesturing to the bartender for a second drink. “Judging by your latest visitor.”

“Ah, I see what this is.” He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“In your dreams, Russo.” You rolled your eyes with an amused smile. “Who was that anyways? She was asking a lot of questions…”

“Dinah Madani.” He answered simply. “Homeland agent that brought a team through Anvil earlier.”

“Homeland, huh?” You turned towards the door even though she was long gone. “Interesting…”

“Why?”

When you didn’t answer, he reached for your chin and turned your face towards him.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” His eyes darted between yours as he tried to figure you out, but you knew he never would. Not in any way that would mean anything.

“Just curious why a Homeland agent is asking about a dead man is all…” You shrugged. “And it’s a pattern.”

“Oh, it’s a pattern.” He said with a nod, acting as if it explained everything. “What does the pattern tell you?”

“That you like women in power.” You answered plainly. “Me, now in the FBI and everything else I’ve done. Madani, in Homeland with what I would assume is solid standing. Next thing you know, you’re gonna bed a senator.”

“I’ll still come back to my best girl.” He smiled, tapping under your chin with a click of his tongue.

“Yeah, like there was any competition.” You chuckled.

“When’d you get back?” He nodded towards you, decidingly dropping your previous conversation topic.

“Week ago. I thought about coming by, decided not to.” A slight shrug of your shoulder.

“Why not?” He almost sounded hurt.

“Just tired. Needed sound time to settle in.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly and raised his brows. “How about we spend some quality time tonight then, hmm? You got any other plans?”

“Hmm.” The corner of your mouth lifted to a small smile. “I’ll have to check my schedule, Mr. Russo.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back, wagging his finger at you with an amused smirk of his own. “I missed hearing you say that, pretty lady.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded and sipped your drink.

You spent a little while longer drinking with Billy, catching up and teasing each other playfully. It was almost enough for you to forget what you had been asked earlier that night, to involve yourself in Frank’s latest crusade that he likely expected to cover on his own. Finding Frank would’ve been easy enough if you had a general direction to go in, but where could be? Would he be going after Micro or would he be taunting Micro to go after him again?

If this guy was as much a spook as Karen’s been led to believe, it wouldn’t be easy to draw him out. But knowing Frank, he would find a way to pull him out of his hidey-hole. Which meant you could follow your own leads tonight and potentially meet him, or you could worry about it tomorrow and waste a night with an old fling.

Billy was tempting… And Frank would be fine for one more night, wherever he was.

[intriq]

𓆩♡𓆪 dumbass [in denial]

content warnings: blood, injuries, mentions of knives, stabbing, violence, swearing, my shitty attempt at writing flirting

once again i am so fucking sorry if this is so non canon following that it pains you to look at

anyways im hoping i did jason justice and that this wasn't stupid or cringey at all, without majorly breaking jason's character.

song wrote to: GMFU - odetari & 6arelyhuman

theme: hurt/comfort, fluff [mayb]

Request by Apollo!

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎You and Jason often worked together.

Quite often, really. Ever since your start as a vigilante, you somehow had just found each other and started working together.

Jason was an ass, yes, but he was probably only tolerable because of his shitty personality because he was not shitty in appearance. Would you ever tell him you found him attractive, or had a thing for him?

No goddamn way.

You two often bickered and fought, hurling insult after insult after each other. But you two were still friends.

People often made remarks about how your interactions with Jason seemed to be borderline flirting, but you always scoffed at that. Jason? Flirting?

In what universe?

There was no way in hell that Jason would ever see you in that light. Much less flirt with you. He didn't seem to have a bone in his body that could stand being even just the tiniest bit nice to people.

However, today was one such day that you and Jason just so happened to not be working together. A rare occurrence, but sometimes you preferred the silence instead of Jason's incessant need to argue all the time.

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So far your patrol had gone smoothly, with Gotham being just a little more quiet than it usually was. But that was fine, it just meant you had to sit in silence for the next few hours you were patrolling.

You push yourself off the ledge of the building with one foot, leaping over the gap that marked an alley below you. And you land on the other rooftop with ease, landing with as much grace as you could muster. You did wobble, of course, but nothing too bad.

You continue this routine, leaping and landing between rooftops of various buildings. Sometimes you jump into the balconies of some poor fellow when you didn't quite time your jump correctly, but it was nothing more than startling some poor sleeping person in the middle of the night.

But after a few minutes, right as you were thinking of ending your patrol, you were surprised.

Well, surprised wasn't quite the right word to describe what happened. Ambushed was.

You'd been mid-leap when the attack came, colliding with the back of your knee just as you were pushing yourself off the ledge of another building.

The force of the impact had caused your knee to crumple, which sends you plummeting downward. And when you land, you don't land right.

You land face-first into the pavement, instantly knocking all the air from your lungs as pain instantly blooms across your entire body.

Your stunned for a moment, vision swimming from just the force of the fall before you attempt to push yourself up by your palms.

Only for the sound of someone landing behind you to resound with a dull thud, and when the footsteps stop just at your side, you don't get a moment to prepare yourself.

Because in that same moment your being hit over and over again. On your back, your legs, everywhere. You manage to roll over onto your back at some point, manage to land a kick right on your attackers knee to make them grunt in pain.

Your body is burning, muscles in agony as you force yourself to your feet. You force your body to respond to what you want it to do as you start fighting back, and your opponent just decides to say "fuck it" with the weapon because it was only slowing them down.

Slowing them down as in because it seemed to be just some metal pipe that took a lot of force to even hit you as hard as it did.

So suddenly your in a fist fight with some criminal who you recognize to be some sort of low level thug for this new criminal organization trying to form in Gotham.

You dodge some hits, but you wind up taking more hits than your dodging because the pain has your mind reeling, even as you try to focus.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

You weren't even sure just how long it took for that dumb fight to be over, because at one point more of the guy's buddies showed up. One had a knife, which cut you up pretty bad. You'd been stabbed a few times too, and were definitely in bad shape.

But you couldn't exactly go to a hospital, because it doesn't matter if there's laws for patient-doctor confidentiality, your identity would still get leaked to the press, and you wouldn't be able to have a normal life outside of being a vigilante.

So as your hand clutches at your side, growing warm with your blood that pools out of the deep gash there. Something that you were pretty sure was going to need stitches.

Your muttering curses under your breath, words that none would probably even dare to speak around their mother with as much confidence or attitude as you were. Your trying to think of just somewhere you can go to, because you definitely would not last long enough to get back to your apartment.

And the only person who is close by is Jason.

So you just say fuck it, he'll be a douchebag about you getting hurt on patrol, but he'd still patch you up. You hope.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

You practically stumble and hurt yourself worse when you land on Jason's apartment balcony, causing you to get winded as that burning pain shoots up your spine from the gash in your side being stretched with your movements.

The light turns on from behind the curtain of the sliding glass door in front of you, signaling that Jason had heard your painful landing on his balcony.

Somehow your still standing upright, until he opens his sliding glass door.

"The fu⎯ baby? The fuck happened to you?" Jason's eyes go wide the moment he sees the way your standing. Notices the way your clutching at your side, and how your costume is ripped and torn.

He takes special notice that the fact there's blood dripping from the side your clutching desperately at, because his eyes linger there.

"Nice to see you too, dumbass." You manage to get out, before pretty much just losing all strength you had to stand.

Jason does catch you⎯ for once.

"How the hell did this happen?" Jason asks, practically dragging your body inside his apartment. He rests you in the first seat closest to his balcony, which is his couch.

You let out a hiss of pain from the movement, and Jason just mutters something. You don't quite make it out, though.

"Got ambushed on patrol. Fuckers from that new group of wanna-be hotshot villains." You manage to groan out, chest practically heaving as you nearly pant from the pain that leaves a white-hot sting in every muscle of your body.

Jason's swearing under his breath, a string of curses that you can't quite make out either as he disappears for a few minutes before coming back. You didn't know whether to be surprised or honored he brought his entire first-aid kit to you.

Your eyes flutter, tempted to close them in just hopes it'd ease the pain. But you quickly open them again after a moment.

Jason's back in front of you again, and if you weren't in pain you'd make some smart-ass comment about him kneeling on the floor in front of you.

For once, Jason is weirdly quiet. Super quiet, as he's got some sort of wet towel in one of his hands to wipe some of the smeared blood off you. And in normal Jason fashion, he's not being gentle at all as he wipes the blood off.

Which only makes you wince, body jolting away. "For once in your fucking life, Jason, be a little gentle."

"Simply get a higher pain tolerance, fuckwad." Jason quips back, continuing to wipe the blood away, mostly from around the gash in your side that your still desperately holding. But he does take the hint and isn't as rough.

Now that most of your blood was wiped away from the cuts and bruises on your skin, Jason had a clearer view of the damage.

And boy, was there a lot of damage.

Jason sets the blood-soaked towel down somewhere to his side on the floor, still on his knees in front of the couch he'd just unceremoniously dumped you on.

The expression on his face isn't one you've seen before, so you don't really know what he could be thinking, nor what he's feeling. You just know his brows are furrowed, same way they get when he's frustrated or angry.

You don't even realize Jason had started cleaning the gash in your side until you feel the sting from the betadine Jason was using to clean the wound. Yea, it stung. But you didn't have the greatest tolerance for pain, especially not when you were exhausted.

So you writhe in pain, one hand practically gripping the couch cushions for dear life as you clench your jaw. Jason pauses for a moment when you do this, glancing up at your face with that same emotionless expression.

You weren't even sure just when that gash had stopped bleeding, though. Not that you could remember for just how long you'd been bleeding before you'd managed to get to Jason's apartment.

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Eventually most of your worser wounds were cleaned and stitched up, which just meant wrapping a bandage around the ones that needed it.

Of course, you had a bit of your energy back. Enough to be the smartass you usually were, but still just downright exhausted.

Jason was in the middle of wrapping up your stomach, shirt lifted just high enough to allow him to-do so, his hands brushing against the bruises on your stomach every now and then. Which didn't really feel pleasant, but that wouldn't stop the words that immediately fell from your lips. "If I didn't know better, Jason, I'd say you'd just want a really bad excuse to touch me." Once again, the smartass you returns. In all your flirty and teasing glory.

Jason's eyes narrow as he glares at you. He'd never been a fan of your remarks, as flirty and teasing as they were. It was what sparked most of your arguments, anyway.

"Shut the fuck up before I make you,"

That's all you get out of Jason in reply just moments later.

Before you can make a snarky remark back, Jason's already finished wrapping the bandage around your stomach, quickly gathering the supplies from his first-aid kit and bustling away. Leaving you alone for a few minutes before he returns empty handed.

"You were an idiot. Do you not keep track of your surroundings anymore?"

You roll your eyes at Jason's remark. "Oh, please. Don't scold me like your Bruce or something. You don't got the right to."

Jason forces himself to take a deep breath when you say that. You always knew how easily to push his buttons by simply just the mention of Bruce.

"Still. I could have been finding your dead body on my damn balcony, you idiot."

You only let out a tired laugh, though for only a moment as your laughter causes your side to ache. "I'm breathing right now, aren't I? Stop worrying so much."

Jason just clenches his jaw and remains silent, instead opting to just drop the subject. How else was he to convey that he was, for lack of a better word, worried about the sight of your bloody and bruised body suddenly slumping into his arms, on the one night he wasn't on patrol with you?

He didn't really quite understand why he was like that. Why he reacted like so. Maybe it was because you were his close friend, someone he didn't think was quite as intolerable as the others.

Perhaps that was it.

It was definitely just that reason, right?

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[lunadei]

Exile - Marc Spector

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!vigilante-reader, Steven Grant x F!vigilante-Reader

Warnings: gunshot wound, fighting. 

Premise: You and Marc share a mutual dislike for each other - or so you think. That is until a particularly nasty fight leaves you at his mercy. 

an: Hey guys! This is my first Moon Knight fic - and fair warning, it isn’t perfectly canon. Just a fun little blurb I had on my mind. Please enjoy all the enemies to lovers clichés here as much as I do. 

From the moment you unintentionally stepped - or perhaps more accurately, punched, into Marc Spector’s life, you both walked a thin line. Your paths had crossed rather unceremoniously during a minor street brawl, though Marc loved to remind you that fighting three men single-handily was hardly minor. You loathed to admit when you were over your head. And, much to the Moon Knight’s dismay, you would rather get pummeled than accept assistance.

Still, in all fairness, you had it handled. 

As you prefer to tell the story, his arrival proved an unfortunate distraction which cost you several broken ribs and a nasty concussion. No injury had ever prevented you from kicking ass previously, but Marc and his magic armor beat you to the punch. The average damsel would have been grateful to be ‘saved’ by the Moon Knight. However, it quickly became clear to Marc that you were no damsel in distress. 

“Why the hell would you do that? I had it under control.” The venom you managed to summon despite your injuries was astounding. Had Marc been any other man, he may have cowered before you. He could practically feel Steven shrinking back as it was. 

“Hell of a way to say ‘thank you,’ princess,” Marc scoffed, his anger partially sheathed by his mask. 

“Excuse me, princess?” 

Marc would later admit that you had a hell of a left hook. 

Perhaps your animosity toward Marc extended from many years of being a lone vigilante, unused to sharing your territory with another - though you would hardly call him a vigilante. Hell, he wouldn’t even call himself such. After several escapades, during which you found yourselves inevitably face-to-face time after time, you had reluctantly became familiar with Marc. And you despised his self-assured, reckless bravado. You wanted nothing to do with the Moon Knight, knowing he spelt nothing but trouble for your image. That soon changed after you were introduced to Steven. 

Steven was everything you adored about society - he reminded you of why you chose this life to begin with. Steven was the first to remove his mask after finding you perched upon the Landmark Pinnacle one moonlit night, gushing about what a big fan he was. Though he would make the occasional appearance during your midnight watch, time was always limited before Marc would resume control. You had made it quite clear to Marc that you preferred his alter-ego’s company. He had made it quite clear that you could shove it. 

It seemed you were doomed to repeat this cliché cycle: fighting for justice, butting heads with Marc when he intervened, always choosing to teeter on the cusp of enemies rather than work together. That was until the night you made a minor miscalculation as to your abilities. 

Well, minor being you brought your fists to a gun fight. And needless to say, you were not as swift as as the barrage of bullets - not quite, anyway. 

Your armored suit presented an unexpected weakness, allowing a bullet to pierce through your hip. Perhaps some Egyptian God had been looking after you that night, as it deflected off your right rib and exited next to your right clavicle - by some fortunate avoiding any major arteries. You had barely made it out of the fight before collapsing in a nearby alley. Crimson stained the cobblestone street, the copper smell lingering in your nose as your eyes rapidly fluttered. You’d be damned if you allowed yourself to bleed out here, nameless and easily defeated. 

“Jesus, Y/N, can you hear me?” Marc, it’s Marc, your brain briefly registered. His voice, while usually vexing, was a welcome reprieve from your thoughts of mortality. 

“Oh, hey Marc, fancy seeing you here,” you choked out, sputtering at the effort required to speak. You watched as kneeled beside you, eyes raking down your form in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

Jesus, you thought, bleeding out was making you delirious. 

“Oh my god, Y/N, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.” Steven. You grabbed onto his pristine white suit, rapidly shaking your head despite the tremors of pain. 

“No, no hospitals. Rule number one of being a vigilante, Steven.” A gloved hand pressed to your hip, staining the fabric red. His panic became increasingly evident as he took note of your wounds. 

“Listen, my flat is a few blocks away. Get me there - I have supplies.” You heaved a shaky sigh, fighting to maintain consciousness. 

“Right, right, yeah, okay, flat, got it.” Trembling arms slid beneath your torso and legs, grasping your limp body against his firm chest. 

“And, Steven?”  Steven, bless his heart, lacked the same trauma skills as his counterpart. You recognized this rather reluctantly, pressing a hand against his cheek apologetically. “I’m going to need Marc, unfortunately. Don’t let him let me bleed out, yeah?” 

Blissfully unaware of the trip back to your flat, you awoke to Marc’s small slaps to your cheek. His voice felt far away as you slipped in and out of consciousness, a sight which, though he would never admit it, frightened Marc. 

“C’mon, Y/N, wake up. Don’t make me explain your dead body to your landlord.” A chuckle escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you noticed was the feeling of Marc’s calloused hands pressed against the bare flesh of your hip. You shifted slightly, taking in your living room. A trail of blood was smeared from your doorway to the couch. 

“God damn it, I’m never going to get these stains out.” It was Marc’s turn to chuckle. He was intently focused on stitching your entrance wound, which he had apparently cleaned while you were unconscious. You groaned at the sensation, shifting your body in discomfort against the couch. 

Upon feeling the fabric against your bare back, it was then that you realized you were shirtless. Heat travelled from your neck to your cheeks, the blush nearly matching the crimson stains smeared on your figure. You rationalized that you were only flustered because of the blood loss. 

“I would apologize about your shirt, but considering I’m saving your life again, I didn’t think you’d care.” Turning your head towards Marc, you saw a smirk grace his lips as he met your gaze. The bastard was amused, mocking your discomfort. 

“Oh, brilliant. I hardly care about the man I positively despise stitching me up.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. The gesture was completely childish. For a moment, the usual malice you extended toward him felt wrong, like a cheap façade. 

“Ah, there she is.” He briefly paused his handiwork. “If it weren’t for me you’d be dead on the streets, princess. But you’re welcome to stich yourself up if you hate me so much.” 

You couldn’t help but remark, “I could probably do a better job.” Marc raised his hands in mock surrender, preparing to stand, and you instantly regretted stroking your own ego. 

“Be my guest, I have work to finish now that you’re not on your death bed.” He made a show of turning away, just slowly enough to allow you to change your mind. Your pride would never have allowed you to ask for his assistance previously, stubbornly preferring to bleed out than admit defeat. However, something had shifted tonight. You once again convinced yourself that it was just delirium, nothing more. 

“Wait, Marc-” you grasped his wrist, pulling him back to the floor. “Please, don’t go.” Oh, the blood loss had definitely unveiled a level of vulnerability you weren’t aware existed within you. Marc glanced at you, not masking his shock, noting your wide eyes and trembling hand. He spared you his usual biting retort, instead nodding and resumed tending to your wounds. 

You watched him concentrate, gaze raking over the apparent softness of usually sharp features. Brown curls tumbled over his forehead, accenting his tanned features in a way you were rarely privy to. Supple lips were relaxed and parted in concentration, so different from the usual grimace they held. You weren’t blind, you knew Marc was attractive. But you had never allowed yourself to dwell on that thought before, never allowed your gaze to sample every inch of his features as though he were fine art. It made your stomach twist, the previously dissipated heat now spreading throughout your entire body - pooling in your lower abdomen. 

Fuck, you were so screwed. 

“Marc,” your voice was a breathless whisper, pathetic, you thought granted your usual composure. He glanced up at you, brows furrowing at your twisted expression. Cliché as it was, you felt yourself swimming in his brown eyes, further degrading your rational mind. With a strange fondness you had never extended toward him before, you could imagine waking up to those eyes, getting lost in them every morning - 

“Y/N?” 

Snapped out of your trance, uncertain and reaching for the right words, you had merely intended to thank him. “Thank you, Marc Spector,” you breathed against his lips. When had you gotten so close? But he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. 

“Wow, someone alert the press. Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.” His remark lacked it’s usual snark, sounding nearly as wrecked as you - though you supposed your judgement could be clouded by the blood loss. 

“Shut up,” you huffed, lips nearly brushing his own at the movement. 

“Make me, princess.” With a vigor you didn’t know you possessed, you threaded your hand into his disheveled curls, pulling him a fraction closer. Your lips connected perfectly, like two halves of one whole, causing you to contemplate why you hadn’t done this sooner. His kiss grew desperate, hungry, as though he was a starving man waiting to devour you. And god, you wanted more. 

Your hips bucked into the air of their own accord, causing a pained groan to escape your lips. Marc reluctantly pulled away from you as you chased his lips, tears prickling your eyes as you attempted to ignore the burn in your side. 

“Don’t stop,” you implored, begged. You hadn’t even thought yourself capable of begging, lest of all to him. 

“Y/N, you’re hurt. You need to rest, I need to go -” Before he could retreat, you pressed your lips against his once more, desperate, searching. 

“I can take it,” the breathy confession elicited a strained moan from Marc, and god, the things you would do to hear that sound again. 

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” It was your turn to smirk, nipping at his mouth with renewed energy. Strong arms encompassed your figure once more, gently lifting you to your bedroom, careful not to disturb your stitches. Slipping from your lust-fueled haze, it momentarily occurred to you that your injuries would not allow for this to extend further. 

“God, the things I want to do to you,” his voice slipped into a deep growl, the vibrations against your neck causing your body to spasm. 

“Then do them,” you insisted, all common sense having slipped your mind. With surprising control, Marc removed himself from your grasp, looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Fondness? 

His hand briefly trailed over your hip. The touch, though featherlight, caused a burning ache to travel through you. Marc cocked his head with a frown, having already proven his point. 

“Not now, not like this.” He paused, licking his lips as his eyes roamed your figure with a desire so intense it nearly made you forget the agony completely. “When I have you, and I will, I don’t want you to feel anything but me.” 

You’re not sure when you finally slipped from consciousness, when you stopped feeling Marc’s hands brush through your tangled locks. That night you dreamt of white cloaks and brown eyes more piercing than the moon, with the sweet smell of jasmine and spice engulfing your senses.  

[axolotlinjammies]

Vigilante!Y/N

Okay I have zero regrets doodling this Y/N again.

This Y/N is mostly based on @naffeclipse fic Sleuth Jesters! I beg of you to please read it!!

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Could you do a Jason Toddx fem!!superhero!!x reader

Where they are in some sort of mission and they are in a abandoned lab and so the reader finds a weird chemical and doesn’t know what it is and it is sex pollen and you can go from there

Thanks

Took me a few days to get to. Wouldn't recommend working in a tourist destination during the school holidays. But, here we go.

Experimental.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, chocking, ass play, rough, binding, spitting, breaking desks, Vigilante Reader (Fulcrum), shitty after-care, multiple Os, masks stay on.

1,500 Wds.

Vigilante!ReaderxTheRedHood

"Why are we here again?"

"Is this not your idea of a fun night out?"

"Red…" you stare at him through your mask.

"Ivy gave the building to the city for their affordable housing project. So we're just making sure all the dangerous shit is gone before construction starts next week."

"It literally looks like a makeshift lab. Isn't all this stuff dangerous?"

"Probably," he says, making his way past you and into the main area where all the tech seems to be.

"What are we doing with it?"

"Just unplug everything. Knowing them, they'll donate all this." he waves at the various machines. "to the university. We just gotta make sure no one's going to hurt themselves on a rose thorn or anything."

"Seems like busy work. I thought we'd be fighting crime."

"Yeah? We can fight if you want? Keep ya on your toes and all that." The Red Hood says, taking off his helmet. Your not surprised that there's another mask under the helmet, though you do wonder how that could possibly be comfortable. He ignores your shock, placing the helmet on the desk.

"Nah, your heart isn't in it." 

You're just about done wrapping cords and covering the machines in plastic when you spot something under one of the desks, "this drugs? Wanna get high?" You ask, picking up the swirling pink vial.

"What?" The Red hood turns, his eyes going wide as he sees what's in your hand, "Fulcrum be careful that's-" he rushes towards you as the vial slips between your gloves and plunges onto the ground smashing into a million pieces. The pink dust drifts up, disappearing into the air.

"What was that?" You stare down at your feet, the Red Hood's hand just inches from where the glass shattered, "I didn't get any on you, did I?"

"Shit. Shit, knew I shouldn't have taken the helmet off," he panics, standing up and taking your face in his hand, "did you breathe any of it in?"

"I don't know?"

"Fulcrum. Listen," his fingers are so soft on your cheek, and he's so tall. Shit, what is that smell? It's like fireworks and fresh buttery popcorn. You want to eat the smell from his skin.

"Wow, you know I never noticed how sharp your cheekbones were before."

"Fuck. You breathed it didn't you?"

"Maybe, I feel kinda… hot? Like every pulse of my blood is tingling down to my.." You unzip your uniform to try and get some air in your lungs, your hands moving to fan your face.

"To where?" he grabs you hands. His eyes travel down your body, observing how tightly the jumpsuit fits you, hugging every single curve and pushing your tits up out the top. The delicate taste of new books and fresh coffee lingering in his nose as he notices how long your eyelashes are, how they caress your delicate mask. He wonders what your eyes look like under there, if they're as pretty as the rest of you.

"Everywhere," you smirk, bringing yourself onto your tip toes so you can put your hands up and around his neck, "I ah-" you stare into the whites of his domino mask, "I don't know why I'm," you push your body closer to his, feeling the hard armor that lay between you, "i- please tell me to stop."

"I won't," His fingers grip at your face pulling your lips to hiss and the fire inside him burning all the way down to his cock as he grinds it into your stomach. The animal inside grows with every second. His hands a mind all its own as he palm at your ass, before picking you up. Your hands finding their way between your bodies to rip at his belt. 

"Fuck, please," You pant, finally managing to slip the buckle open and palm at his thickness between you. 

"Get this off," He moans into your neck, "quickly," his lips trace a line down your shoulder. "Takin too long, Fulcrum. I need you now," he growls, unzips you with a yank, your arms still caught in the material and he frees your pussy, "you always go commando in your suit?" He asks licking his way down your torso and pushing you back into an empty desk.

"Yes, feels better." You yelp as he flips you onto your tummy, your arms pinned behind you in the jumpsuit. "Please fuck me," his cock already seeping into your pussy.

"Fuuucck," he growls as he plunges into you, a tiny piece of relief from the burning inferno comes from your pulsing cunt surrounding him. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts like a wild dog, too lost in trying to find relief as you moan for him. 

"More, I need more,"

"Fuck, not right now,"

"Red, please, please, Red, please," you buck back into him. You hear a sucking sound before his thick thumb is thrust into your ass.

"Better?" His voice wild and full of lust, "fuck I can feel myself inside you." He starts to shake, "feels so fuckin good."

"Yes, so good." You grind back into him, your holes full, "fuck I'm getting…" you feel the light building inside as you pulse around his thick cock. Your hands grasping behind you to try and find some kind of purchase as you writhe underneath him.

"Fuck.." your convulsing pussy has him in a vice as he tries to pulls out, instead his cum floods. You and he feels a tiny bit of relief as he pulls out. "Get your arms out," he demands, stepping back.

"Why isn't it going away?" You plead, wondering just how much more of this you can take. 

"Because I'm not done," he growls, fisting his still hard cock. "turn around."

You're only onto your side when he pushes you back into the desk and his cock is stretching you out again. The old desk rattles and shakes with how hard he's fucking you. Your hands grip onto the collar of his jacket so hard, you just need him, need him like you need the air in your lungs.

Wrapping your legs around him you bring him in, your hand pulling him down until your mouths are as messy as your pussy. Desperate pleasure is the only thing on your mind as you chase the high. 

"Open your mouth," he squeezes at your cheeks, "good," his spit hangs from his tongue as it drips into your mouth, "dirty girl, swallow it," you gulp down his saliva, the wetness relieving some of the dryness in your throat.

"Close again, so fucking close, baby." He bites into your breast.

"Me too, me too fuck Red, I-" you lose your mind, letting go underneath him until your legs start to cramp around him.

"You still feel it?" He asks, his voice a little more normal now. He can feel it dimming even if he's still hard, just one more he thinks. Fuck, he wants to fuck you all night. Your pretty little cunt takes him so well. Those pretty, insane moans your making for him, he wants his heads clogged full of them forever.

"Yes," you mostly lie, "like a fire in my tummy that won't go out," but you can feel the effects of whatever that was wearing off. But you want him to stretch you out on him indefinitely. 

"Make room for me," he climbs up onto the desk with you, the wood creaking underneath. "Give me those legs."

"Jesus," you moan as you lift your legs over his shoulders, his huge cock plunges in deeper than before. His hand strong wraps around your throat, "can't breathe." You mouth at him, a dazed fog starts to fill your head, while you stare into the whites of his mask and cling to his arms.

"I know baby," he pants as he starts to slowly fuck into you. "I'm breathtaking." The desk creaks underneath you, the wood starting to rattle as he pounds into you.

"Red,"

"Fuckin perfect," he ignores you, the desk shifts again before the legs give way and with a splat your both fucking into the ruins of this old ass piece of furniture.

His fingers find their way into your ass, pumping into the tight hole in rhythm with his cock, "so fucking full," you moan as his tongue slides into your mouth. 

"Red," you moan into his mouth feeling the last of the dust wearing off and you just enjoy the feeling, your hands grip into his hair keeping his face close as you grind up and press your clit into his pelvis. "So fuckin good."

"So fucking tight," he growls, speeding up and biting down on your lip

This time when you cum, relief fills your blood and you can feel your thoughts float to the surface as you both come down from the high and are left a heaping, sweaty mess on the shards of the desk.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his hands drifting over where he was gripping your neck, "you don't have splinters or anything?"

"Yeah, I think I'm ok. Are you?"

"Better than ok. But I think we need to find some water." He kisses your cheek before standing and righting his pants. "Found a tap that works," he beams, rinsing out a beaker before filling it with water and bringing it over to where you're trying to get your jumpsuit back on.

"No one can know about that," you say as you stroke your fingers through his hair.

"Agreed, Nightwing would never let me live it down."

"But Red?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I would like to do it again."

"Ivy's pollen?"

"No," you smack into his armor, hurting your hand more than him.

"I think we could arrange that."

[letsmcfreackingloseit]

Y/n: No f u Eclipse, there will be no childmurder 2-night!

So anyway- long time no see~! I have now read @naffeclipse‘s whole Sleuth Jesters saga and love it and have some ideas and doodles I want to share!

Let’s start with this depiction of a scene that happened in chapter 7: What’s Due and Dead. Yes this is exactly what happned- no I’m not exaggerating maybe a little. I just could not stop cackling when this thought popped into my head, so here it is in reality! 

I used @sinnabee‘s mob boss Eclipse design (because it’s *chef’s kiss!*), this lovely detective AU belongs to @starlightcloudbaby and the story is of course made by @naffeclipse! Hope y’all like my shenanigans~!

[thebigbadbatswife]

Dance With Me

Pairing - Selina Kyle x F!Vigilante!Reader

Summary - Dragged to a nightclub by your friends, you find yourself at the bar drinking to try and forget someone you can’t have. There you meet Selina Kyle who promises to help you do just that.

Warnings - 18+ Content, Shameless Smut, Hook-Up, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Bisexual!Reader, Dirty Dancing, Bathroom Sex

Word Count - 2.8k

The music in the club was loud, vibrating throughout your entire body and making it almost impossible for you to think. You hadn’t wanted to come out tonight, at least not as a civilian, but your friends had more or less dragged you out of the door. They meant well. They always did. They had wanted you to get out there and finally meet someone, telling you that you had been single for long enough. What they didn’t know was that you had already met someone and that the only thing stopping you from being with her was the damn law.

Throughout the night several men and a couple of women had approached you and offered to buy you a drink, but you had turned all of them down. They had all been attractive and if it wasn’ for the turmoil you were in you would have certainly been open to taking one of them home. Instead, all you could think of was how soft Catwoman’s lips were, how her muscular body had felt pressing into yours as her fingers had made you feel so good. It had been weeks since you had last crossed paths with her and your body yearned for her touch.

Your friends had left you at the bar. They had wanted to go dancing with the guys that they had met. You couldn’t care less, all of your focus was on drinking, hoping that the alcohol would drown out all of your thoughts of her. Not that it was helping. All you wanted was to leave the club, grab your suit and go out on patrol, but with the amount of alcohol coursing through your veins you knew that wasn’t a good idea. It would be a very good way to get either seriously injured or killed. So you were better off staying here, drinking and hoping that you would somehow find a way to move on.

You brought your glass to your lips, frowning when you found that it was empty. You were about to call the bartender over for another drink when she placed a glass in front of you and gestured to a woman at the end of the bar. She had long, wavy black hair and wore a black low cut top with a matching mini skirt and heels. She saw you looking and winked, a smirk playing on her red painted lips.

“Return to sender, like the other ones?” the bartender asked you.

You shook your head. “No. I’ll accept this one,” you replied, reaching for the glass. If you wanted to move on, you needed to put some effort into doing so and you decided that this would be your first step. Finally accepting a drink from someone who wanted to buy you one. It was the same drink that you had been drinking all night; she must have been watching you for a while. The bartender nodded and left you to attend to other customers.

As you sipped on the drink, savouring the taste and deciding to slow down your intake as you didn’t want to be stumbling home, you felt someone come up to the bar next to you. You didn’t have to turn your head to know that it was the woman who had brought you the drink.

“Now, the only reason I can think that a beautiful woman like you is drinking as much as you are is because someone’s broken your heart,” she said.

You let out a bitter laugh. “I imagine that a broken heart would be a lot easier to get over.”

“So it’s someone that you can’t have.”

You nodded. “Our lives are far too different for it to ever work out.”

You didn’t know why you were so freely spilling your love life to a complete stranger. It was likely the alcohol, but you felt like you could say anything without fear of any judgement… Okay, it was definitely the alcohol.

“I went through something like that a few years ago. It sucks when you know it’ll never work out no matter how much you might want it to.”

You almost couldn’t believe what she was saying. How could a woman as stunning as her not be able to have the person she wanted? Before you could say anything, she set her empty glass down onto the bar surface and spoke again.

“Fortunately for you that means I know exactly how to help you get over them. Come on.” She pushed away from the bar and began to move toward the dance floor.

You didn’t understand it. She didn’t even know you. Hell you had no idea what her name was. Why was she so interested in helping you try and forget the one person who had plagued your thoughts for months on end? The best way to find out was to follow her. So you set the glass down and did exactly that. As soon as you were close enough, she grabbed hold of you and pulled you with her.

“I don’t get it,” you shouted over the music.

“Don’t get what?”

“Why are you so interested in helping me? I don’t even know your name!”

She laughed loudly. “I’m Selina and I hate seeing gorgeous women sad.”

First beautiful, now gorgeous. You could feel your cheeks heating up. You weren’t used to people complimenting you, let alone from a woman that was so beautiful you wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she Aphrodite.

“And you are?”

You gave her your name and she repeated it. You really liked the way it sounded on her tongue. “Dance with me,” she encouraged you.

Selina was captivating as she danced, her hips swaying in time to the beat. You wanted to dance with her, to feel her body against yours, but you hesitated. You weren’t big on dancing because you didn’t think that you were very good at it. At the same time you didn’t want to back out now. So, you did your best to dance with her and move in time with the beat. She giggled and shook her head.

“You’re thinking too much, gorgeous.” Her hands settled on your hips and she got you to move with her. “Ignore everyone else, let go and have some fun.”

With the mixture of the alcohol in her veins and her encouragement, you did manage to let go.

“That’s it,” she purred.

Selina moved her body closer to yours, practically grinding against you. Your confidence was certainly starting to grow by the minute as your hands settled onto her waist. Your bodies were so close together you could feel the heat coming off of hers.

In the low light of the club you could see the sweat beading on her skin and feel her hot breath fanning across your skin. Her lips suddenly brushed against your neck, making your breathing hith and your body tense. She pulled away, giving you some space, in case that she had accidentally made you uncomfortable or you weren’t ready for anything more than some racey dancing.

The last thing that you wanted was space.

She had wanted to help get over the woman tormenting your thoughts and it definitely seemed to be working.

You pulled her even closer to you and pressed your lips against her, hoping that you had read her intentions correctly. She kissed you back eagerly, sending excitement and heat rushing through you. You continued dancing with each other, sharing kisses here and there. Each kiss was making you want more and more.

A gasp left your lips when you felt one of her hands pressed up against your cunt, feeling you through your jeans. It was dark enough and your bodies were so close together that you doubted that anyone could see what she was doing. Still, a thrill ran up your spine at the thought of someone potentially spotting the two of you.

Mischief glinted in Selina’s eyes and an unspoken question hung in the area. You nodded, answering it.

Before you knew it, she was dragging you off of the dance floor. She led you through the club and pulled you into the nearest bathroom, where she pushed you up against the wall. The tiles were cold, sending goosebumps across your skin and making your nipples hard.

Running your hands through her hair, you kissed her hungrily. As your tongues explored each other’s mouths, she continued to rub you through your jeans. Your hips bucked, your body eager to finally have someone other than yourself finally touching you. She chuckled, her eyes shining with amusement.

“Eager, aren’t we,” she stated, applying more pressure to make you gasp. “How long has it been since somebody last touched you, baby?”

“Few weeks,” you replied, somehow keeping your voice steady.

She didn’t say anything, just hummed in response as her head ducked down and started to kiss your neck. As her lips attacked your neck, her hand slid between your bodies and popped open the button on your jeans. Her hand slipped into your underwear. Your body jolted slightly as her fingers easily slid through your lower lips. She smirked against your skin at the knowledge of how wet you were already. The way she had grinded against your body had really worked you up.

“My, you’re absolutely dripping. I’d better take care of you then, hmm?” Her voice was like honey, sickeningly sweet and impossible to resist.

“What if someone walks in?” you asked, eyeing the door over her shoulder. You didn’t fancy getting arrested for public indecency.

She agreed with you as she removed her hand from your underwear. Grabbing hold of your wrist, she pulled you into the end cubicle and locked the door. It was rather cramped with the two of you in the cubicle, but that just meant that her body had to stay pressed up against yours; which you didn’t mind at all.

Her hand quickly returned to its place inside of your panties. Two of her fingers parted your lower lips once again and slid upwards to your clit. You moaned softly as she started to rub it. Her other hand was preoccupied with fondling your breast through your shirt while her lips returned to kissing your neck. You ran your fingers through her hair again while your free hand slid down her back, to her ass, which you squeezed earning you a gasp from her.

Selina’s fingers moved away from your clit, making you whine at the loss of pressure. You didn’t mourn for long as her fingers pushed inside of you. She easily located your g-spot, making your head rest back against the bathroom tiles as you took a shuddering breath.

“Fuck!” you gasped. Your walls squeezed her fingers as she massaged that sweet spot deep inside of you, stimulating every nerve in your body, making your back arch. Even though the music of the club, which you could still feel thrumming through the walls, would likely drown out your moans, you still fought to keep them quiet. You really didn’t want to risk it.

Though the alcohol and her fingers were turning your brain to complete mush, you didn’t want to be selfish. You hated selfish lovers and that was the last thing you wanted to be. You wanted Selina to feel as good as she was making you feel. The position and lack of space made it awkward, but you did your best. You moved your hand from her ass and to the front where you lifted her mini skirt. She shifted her position and stopped toying with your nipples to help you. With her skirt out of the way, your fingers trailed up her smooth, muscular thigh, before finally reaching her thong. It was your turn to smirk as you found it absolutely soaked.

Hooking your fingers underneath her thong, you moved it to the side and out of your way. Covering your digits in her slick, you glided them through her lower lips to her clit, rubbing tight circles against the engorged nub. Her breathing stuttered and the grip she had on your hips tightened. A moan breached her lips as you experimented with pressures and speeds, figuring out what she liked the most.

Keeping quiet was becoming almost impossible so you began to kiss again.

With your bodies pressed together and your tongues in each other’s mouths, swallowing down your moans, every breath was becoming harder. You didn’t care for oxygen right now. Not when your body was feeling so hot as she brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. Eventually your need to breathe won out and you were forced to break the kiss. Untangling your fingers from her hair, you used your hand to cover your mouth, muffling a moan that would have given you away had anyone been in the bathroom.

Your orgasm came suddenly, taking you by surprise as your body shook and writhed against her. Selina came soon after you, burying her face in the juncture between your neck and shoulder in an attempt to silence her own satisfied sounds.

You collapsed against the wall and she collapsed against you. Your legs were shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. You were sure that you looked a mess, covered in lipstick with sweat making your skin shiny. Once you were both able to stand without any support she moved away from you and focused on fixing her skirt. Selina didn’t look much better than you imagined yourself to look. Her skin was flushed, her hair messy and she barely had any lipstick legs on her lips. What lipstick she did still have on was smeared around her lips rather than on them. She was still one of the most stunning women you had laid eyes on.

You were about to say something when she examined her fingers, that you now realised were still glistening with your release. Keeping hold of your gaze, she lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. Damn, just when you thought she couldn’t get any hotter than she already was.

“Delicious,” she purred. She leaned in once more to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. “You’d better cleaned up,” she told you as she unlocked the cubicle door and left. “Can’t go out there looking like that!” Her tone was lighthearted and playful, making you smile. It wasn’t long before you heard the tap running.

You looked at your own fingers that were still covered with her slick. You raised them to your mouth and licked them. The taste was salty and tangy and you suddenly wished that she had dragged you to a hotel instead of the bathroom.

After your jeans were finally done back up , you exited the cubicle yourself. As expected, Selina was at the sink, still in the process of making herself decent again. She looked at you in the mirror and winked. That was when you finally saw yourself. Your mouth, neck and even your top had red lipstick smeared everywhere.

“Damn, I’m a mess,” you chuckled as you approached the sinks. You pulled some paper towels out of the nearby dispenser and wet them so you could start wiping the lipstick off.

“Come here,” she suddenly said, taking the wet paper towels from your hand and wiped at the spot you had missed on your jaw.

“Do you help all of your hookups clean up?” you asked.

“Only the ones I wouldn’t mind seeing again,” she replied.

“We’re going to be seeing each other again?” You wouldn’t lie. You really liked the idea of seeing her again.

“Definitely.” She pulled away and checked you over. “There, all done.”

As she discarded the paper towels, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your face and neck were now all clean of any lipstick. The same, however, couldn’t be said for your top, which still had lipstick on it. You weren’t bothered by it. You were sure it would come out in the wash.

“You should really put a passcode on your phone.”

You spun around as your hand flew to the pocket of your jeans that you usually kept your phone. “When did you—?”

“While I was cleaning the lipstick from your jaw,” she interrupted you as she handed your phone back. “I was adding my number,” she explained. Before you could reply, she kissed your cheek. “I’ll be waiting for that call.” And, once again, before you could reply, she was gone.

You turned your phone on and the screen opened up onto your new contact. You smiled at the note she had left on the contact telling you not to leave her waiting.

Maybe moving on wasn’t as difficult as you had previously thought.

[slut4thebroken]

Jonathan Crane x vigilante!reader coworkers to lovers to enemies ?? 🤔 I mayhaps.. might’ve started writing somethin…..🫣

[mikodrawnnarratives]

REDRAWING IS DONE, aside from minor adjustments and going back to shade where I've forgotten bits

Man I loved drawing y/n's hair like this

time for fully drawing the next section's story boards and planning out more of the NEXT next sections storyboards

[astyrial]

web boy mcu!peter parker x gn!vigilante!reader (fluff/rivals) synopsis: spiderman tries to stop you word count: 792 warnings: fighting, assault, blood masterlist | requests are open

    your fist collides with an older man's chin, a vine wrapping around his upper body as he falls backwards. you turn around to see his co-worker of sorts. the man holds his hands up, his baseball bat now pointing towards the sky. you lean forward a little, your face calm and collected, "how about you make this easy for me... where is she?" 

  "what are you talking about?" his head shakes, his foot taking a step back as you take a few steps towards him.

  you purse your lips, your eyes narrowing in his direction, "you don't know? how about the girl you knocked upside the head with that bat? does that ring a bell or did the message not come through?"

  he shakes his head again, the bat falling from his hand and hitting against the path. "that girl? she's just down the way, behind a pile of rocks," he points towards a few rock formations not too far from you. 

  you tilt your head, an eyebrow raised in speculation. instead of just leaving him to his own, you take another step forward; your fingers quickly touch his jacket and vines run along his legs. they climb up until they're sticking his arms to his body, his body falling over into the nearby grass. 

  once satisfied that he doesn't leave, you turn around and run towards the rock formations. the first formation doesn't have anyone there, as well as the second. you reach the last one and see a young woman laying on the ground. she has a bit of red running down her hair. her clothes are slightly bloodied as well.

  you open your palm against the ground, a large leaf spawns, allowing you something to cover the wound. you set it against the bleeding spot, along with a vine that wraps around her forehead to hold it there. you hold one arm under her shoulder and the other below her knees. 

  "what do you think you're doing?" a masculine voice echos from above you, a shadow blocking the street light.

  you let go of the girl, quickly turning around to see a figure crouching on the large rock. a fighting stance instantly overtakes you. when the light reflects a little, you can finally see that it is the neighborhood 'friendly' spiderman. "what do you want web boy?" 

  "web boy? haven't heard that one before," he jumps high into the sky, flipping over you until he lands a few feet away. 

  you roll your eyes, your hands reaching down to pick up the girl again. the two of you had only interacted a couple times, but you knew his reputation of working with the avengers. he definitely wasn't a threat. something hits your hand, your fingers sticking to your palm.

  "what are you doing?" you question, your hand flexing against the webbing. 

  "stopping you, obviously? the avengers don't know who are you, i don't know who you are," he then fwips another thing of webbing against against your shoe and the grass. 

  you sigh, your eyes closing for a second. without moving, the ground begins to shake, as if an earthquake is starting. pebbles hit against the path and your eyes open with a slight green hue suddenly rising. "you don't need to know who i am," a vine shoots out of the ground, wrapping itself around spiderman's forearm. 

  you slip your feet from your shoes, figuring you needed a new pair anyway... you lower to the ground, letting a plant tear the webbing from your hand. "see you around web boy, maybe next time you won't attack someone trying to help," you pick up the younger woman, making sure to keep her held tightly in your arms.

  "if you wanna help, why don't you consider the avengers, it's better than working alone," spiderman calls out after you as you start walking down the path. 

  you turn around, shaking your head, "depends on who you are. now, make sure not to tear any plants, they hold grudges. oh, and maybe alert the police, the perpetrators are just down that way."

  spiderman's lenses widen in confusion as you run off in the direction of the closest hospital. he pulls his arm from the plant, only for another vine to wind upwards and grapple onto his leg. it slithers up until it  is holding both legs to each other; his upper body weight toppling him over.

  he grumbles, "karen, can you not tell anyone about this unless i can't free myself?"

  "okay peter! would you like me to do something to help?" her voice rings through his mask, more chipper than he was hoping to listen to. 

  "maybe play some music, i don't know how long it'll be until i'm free."

[americancowgirl19]

Stumbling Along the Edge

Summary: You lose something close to you and it pushes you over the edge, but you have two people who care about you and pull you back in.

Warnings: depression, this shit gets dark, doing vigilante activities drunk, some fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral 

Pairings: Frank Castle x Gender Neutral Reader x Matt Murdock

Word Count: 2906

A/n:

Masterlist

It was all too much. There were too many emotions swirling in your chest and too many thoughts crowding your mind. You felt as if everything was overloading. It was simply - yet so complicatedly - too much.

It first started with the constant fighting between you and your lovers, Matthew Murdock and Frank Castle. If you were being honest with yourself, you had no idea why the three of you thought this relationship would even work. It started out as casual sex, mind-blowing sex but still just sex - and then somewhere in the pillow talk the three of you thought that being something more than just each other's release would work.

How could the three of you be so naive? Matt is a devout Catholic with a firm no killing rule that Frank gave zero shits about. Not only did Frank refuse to hold back his violent slaughters he had the emotional baggage of someone who lost their entire family. He had days where he would let you and Matt close and others where the guilt of moving on would cause him to push you both away.

The two of them alone had a lot of shit to work out but the relationship wasn't just them; it was all three of you. You were no saint either and carried your own baggage. You had no problem putting a bullet in someone's head. Sometimes the situation called for it. You weren't gung-ho like Frank but when push came to shove you pulled the trigger.

You were also a private person. It was hard to be open and let them into your personal life. Only when your relationship miraculously lasted three months did you begin to tell them about your family. By then you practically knew everything about Matt and Frank. As brash as Frank is, when it comes to you and Matt, he’s an open book. He’ll grumble about a lot of things, but he’ll tell both of you anything you want to know. Matt doesn’t always wait for either of you to ask about his life, he likes to share. He doesn’t always share the more... traumatic details openly but he’s certainly more open than you are.

The killings, you keeping your life private, and all of your other differences were starting to put a strain on the relationship. Lately it felt as if you were arguing more often than not. The sex was always rough and angry. You were always down for some rough sex but the lack of gentle touches and whispers of sweet nothings afterword’s were taking it’s tole on you.

On top of your relationship problems were your work problems. Your job had started out swimmingly. You loved it and looked forward to every day. That is until new managers were promoted, you being constantly looked over, and the assholes they hired to take the place of those that were promoted instead of you. Now the job you loved is now the one you loathed. Every morning you debated on whether you wanted to stay in bed and say fuck you to the world or man up and go to work.

But what pushed you over the edge was the news you got today. Your mother had called and told you your grandma passed. Your grandma was hands down the sweetest woman to walk the Earth. She was sweet and innocent. She had lived through so much shit; the depression, the second world war and every war to follow, but she swears the worst thing she lived through is the death of her husband. Your grandpa has been dead for years and you can see the pain in her eyes every time she would talk about him. She missed him dearly.

The only silver lining in this situation is your hope that she made it into the Heaven she believed so much in and is not enjoying a hot cup of coffee in a rocking chair right beside your grandpa. You hope they’re both young and with family that passed before them waiting patiently for the rest to join.

You imagine that all the family in Heaven is together enjoying a big BBQ. You know they’re bullshitting, drinking their poison and smoking their fat stogies. When both of your grandparents were alive, they had BBQs regularly. Now, you were lucky if your family came together for Christmas.

The news of your grandma’s death was a harsh blow to your shitty month. It was the icing on you shit cake.

With how estranged your nearly ten-month relationship is becoming you didn’t know if you were welcome with Frank and Matt. You didn’t want to add another problem to the list. They knew of your closeness with your grandma, it was one of the few things you had chosen to disclose to them. You didn’t want to tell them about what had happened and risk them turning you away. 

The three of you haven’t talked in a couple of days. You feared that it was simply over, just like that. Even though the three of you seemed to argue like cats and dogs you cared for both of them deeply. You wanted to find comfort in them. You wanted them to hold you and put the rest of the world on pause. But you were afraid to reach out. You were afraid the relationship was just too broken.

Everything was too much. There was so much anger and sorrow, so much anxiety and pain. You felt as if you were suffocating. So, with as much strength as you could muster, you shoved everything down. You became numb.

For the first time since the beginning of your relationship you go back to your apartment. The three of you normally gravitate to Matt’s place. His apartment just had a feeling of home to it. Even when the three of you were so angry at each other and refused to talk, you found yourself sleeping under the same roof. During those times you hardly shared a bed, but you were always in the same vicinity. 

Tonight, however, you couldn’t handle it. You needed to be alone just as much as you needed them to wrap you in their arms and never let go. You didn’t know what you needed and trying to figure it out just brought on another level of anxiety.

Without realizing it, you finish your bottle of Vodka and move onto the Tequila. At some point you begin to wonder if you’re feeling too numb. You become overwhelmed with the need to feeling something... anything. Allowing your emotions to resurface was too scary for you to face. That left one option.

You take a few more swigs of your Whiskey and finish slipping into your nightly outfit. You fumble with buckling your thigh holsters before stumbling to the window. You pull on your mask and slip into the night. 

Within seconds you’re soaked in the pouring rain, but you don’t bother to even notice. Your mind is hazy, and your steps are uncertain. You walk along the rooftop and when you almost slip off you just laugh.

Commotion in the ally below catches your attention. There’s a mugging happening. Instinct tells you to go help and you try. You kick into gear and try to gracefully enter the situation.

When you’re sober your as quiet as your lovers. Nobody hears you coming unless you want them too. You move through the shadow’s unseen until the proper moment. Your aim is deadly, and your fighting skills are new level of violent.

You’re not sober. Tonight, you’re three sheets to the wind and anything but graceful and deadly. Instead of scaling down the fire escape you fall. The mugging pauses at the commotion and they all watch your body fall flight after flight until you hit the ground.

Your almost positive you’ve broken something, and it nearly sobers you. You were believed to be dead until you let out a long groan and try to push yourself upward. One of the muggers leaves the poor victim to their partner to see what you’re doing.

“Leave ‘er ‘lone,” You slur, swaying on your feet. The mugger laughs at you.

“What the hell are you gonna do, pal? Vomit on me?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Well, now that you mention it...” You mumble bringing your first to your mouth. He instantly steps back to avoid you if you do vomit. There’s a tense moment before you let out a sigh. “We’re good,” You assure him. “But Imma need you to get your buddy and leave,” you tell him, your finger gesturing to the other guy.

“Oh, we’ll leave,” He nods pointing a knife at you. “After he’s doing getting her money and I’m gone getting yours,” You look at the knife wondering how he has three hands.

“Money?” You mumble as his words click in your mind. “Well, shiiiit...” You laugh patting yourself down. “I’ll help you look... I’m broke as fuck,” You mumble checking yourself out. “Oh, what’s this?” You ask quietly. In a flash you try to pull your gun out, but it gets caught in the holster. “This was cooler in my head,” You say out loud.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, lowering the knife in utter confusion.

“Ah!” You shout, successfully pulling the gun out. You instantly point it at him. “Get your buddy and leave,” You threaten.

“You’re not even aiming at me, bro,” The man in front of you says.

“I’m aiming at someone,” You mutter. “Wanna find out which one of you it is?” You ask before pulling the trigger. The bullet whizzes past the man in front of you and somehow hits his partner.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” He shouts.

“Ha! Told you I was aiming at someone!” You shout, smirking proudly.

“You’re dead,” The man snarls stepping towards you. He doesn’t get two steps before a thick looking stick flies out of the shadows and into his head.

“Ah shit, you’re fucked now ma dude,” You laugh as Daredevil, and Punisher emerge from the shadows.

“I’ve got them, go make sure that lady is alright,” The Devil mutters to the Punisher. They both walk in separate directions. You watch Frank drag the man Matt knocked out away from you two.

“Anyone ever tell you that you look very sexy in red leather?” You ask flirtatiously.

“You do all the time, sweetheart,” he says, giving you a cautious smile. “Why don’t you put the gun away?” He suggests softly. You hum and look down.

“Oh, yeah,” You whisper holstering the weapon. Once it’s away Matt moves even closer to you. He raises his hand and lights brushes his fingers against your cheek.

“What’re you doing out here, baby?” Matt asks, his other hand slipping around your waist. You let him pull you close using him to keep yourself steady. Matt sighs smelling your salty tears, tears you don’t remember shedding, and the overwhelming scent of alcohol.

“They alright?” Frank asks Matt knowing you were too out of it to answer yourself. Even he could smell the alcohol. Matt takes a moment to listen to you.

“They have severe bruising on their side and back, a couple of fracture ribs but nothing is broken,” Matt tells him.

“Alright, honey, time to go home,” Frank swoops you off of your feet. You whine feeling the bruises Matt was talking about. Frank kisses your head in a silent apology.

You weren’t far from Matt’s place, so the journey didn’t take long. By the time you returned you were shivering in Frank’s arms and completely exhausted. Together, Matt and Frank undress you. Frank helps you into the shower while Matt works on getting some food prepared for you.

“What the hell were you doing out there tonight?” Frank asks. There’s obviously anger in his voice, but he keeps his tone quiet. “You could have gotten yourself killed... or someone else,”

“Killing doesn’t bother you,” You whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. Frank breathes in deeply and holds you close.

“No, but if you had hurt someone innocent or killed someone it would have bothered you in the morning... I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” He whispers, gently petting your head. “I... care about you. You’re important... important to me and Red... Why were you out there like this? Why didn’t you come home?”

“I did go home,” You whisper. Frank shakes his head.

“This is home, honey... Right here, in my arms. That’s home. Home’s with me and Frank,”

“Still?” You mumble.

“Always,” He responds, kissing the top of your head. “I know thing haven’t been easy and maybe they never will be but that’s just who we are. We’re all too strong headed and we all need a challenge. That’s why we work because we push each other... And yeah, it’s been a little rougher these last few weeks but Red and I, we ain’t goin nowhere,” He promises you.

Your hands claw at his back becoming desperate to keep him as close as possible. Frank was hardly ever this open, it was usually Matt pulling the three of you back together. Somehow, with it being Frank, made his words seem more real and true.

One second, you’re desperately holding onto Frank and the next you’re releasing heart wrenching sobs. All the emotions you’ve been feeling come crashing to the surface.

“That’s it, baby,” Frank whispers. “I’ve got you,” He promises. 

Soon, Matt is slipping into the shower and pressing himself against your back. He’s gentle, not wanting to aggravate your bruising, but firm enough for you to use him to ground yourself. 

One of Frank’s hands is petting your head while the other is rubbing your shoulder. Matt’s hands gently glide up and down your hips and upper thighs. He leans his head above Frank’s arm and lightly kisses your neck. He whispers in one ear, Frank whispering in the other.

By the time the three of you step out of the shower you’re all pruney and your skin is slightly irritated from the heat of the shower. Matt pats your body down with a soft towel while Frank grabs some comfortable clothes for all of you. When he comes back into the bathroom, he has a t-shirt and grey sweatpants on. He hands Matt his own pjs before focusing on you.

He guides your legs into the holes of your underwear and guides them up. He does the same with a pair of his black sweatpants before standing back onto his feet. He pulls the drawstring to help keep the pants on your hips before lifting your arms. He slips Matt’s sweatshirt on your upper body.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get some food in you,” Matt whispers, leading you into the kitchen. Frank sits at one of the chairs first before pulling you onto his lap. The actions brings the first smile of the night to your lips. The sight helps Frank relax and he kisses your cheek.

Matt sets a light snack in front of you. You don’t bother rejecting it knowing he would feed you himself if he had too. 

Once you had some food and water in your system your boys took you to the bed. They kept a small nightlight on in the corner knowing it helped to not be consumed by the darkness during nights like these.

You laid between the two of them. You were on your back with your head resting on Frank’s outstretched bicep. Matt was cuddled into your side low enough to where you could thread your fingers through his hair. The action helped soothe both of you.

When you didn’t come home both of them had gotten worried. Were you finally done with them? Were things just too difficult? Yeah, things have been intense the past month, they both could admit to that, but they didn’t mean to drive you so far away. They could see, especially after tonight, that even though being open with each other could be hard it was necessary.

They almost lost you. Something had happened to push you over the edge and the tenseness between all of them was so great you didn’t feel comfortable enough to confide in them. This couldn’t happen again. You terrified them tonight. When Matt heard the gunshot go off a couple of blocks down, they knew it had to be you. When they realized you were not only shooting but drunk as well? Something was terribly wrong.

They got lucky tonight. They were able to reach you before something irreversible happened. Now you were safe. You were in bed with them. You were with them, and you were safe. They felt like they had to keep reminding themselves that you were there with them.

In the morning you would explain to them what happened tonight. You would tell them about your grandma and just how much you loathed your job. You would spill everything to them because they deserved the truth. They needed to know everything about you. You wanted them to know.

For tonight, you just wanted to be with them. You wanted to listen to Frank’s quiet snores and feel Matt’s soft hair. You just wanted to be in the present with two of the most important people to you. Tomorrow you could face the music but tonight you just wanted them.

[devilish-mirage]

Can't Remember to Forget You

Marc Spector x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings; none

Summary; No matter how long time has passed Marc can't seem to forget you and you feel the exact same thing.

Word count; 700+

A/n; I was scrolling through tiktok and stumbled across this trend, I just had to write them.

Masterlist

Marc was out of breath, the thugs were getting more and more out hand. He wasn't supposed to be this exhausted but it was because Khonshu just had to be called by Anubis to the underworld for whatever reason there is.

He didn't understand nor did he want to, the only thing he cared is that when the moon God isn't on earth the suit did not work as efficient as it usually does.

"Marc, Behind you!" Steven voice rings on his ears, he snaps his head and saw someone throw a dagger straight at him, he can only bet his reflexes were quick enough to catch it.

But before it reaches him the dagger was hit by another object, "why do I always find you in these kind of situations?"

There you were, standing confidently with the unconscious bodies littering around your feet, your lips tugged to a smirk. He can feel the world stops when he saw you, looking as pretty as the day he left.

Marc didn't have that much time to adore you before a flash of panic flashed before his eyes.

You missed one bastard, all because he was on the verge of death. The wound that Marc caused him earlier was fatal but he's still strong enough to use a gun, that bastard was a few feet away behind you, with a crazed smirk he point the gun to the back of your head.

"I'm taking you with me."

Marc reached towards you and pulls you into his embrace, flipping your body so that he can flaunt his cape to shield the bullet that targeted you.

"Bastard."

He growled, looking back and throw his crescent darts, hitting straight into that man's forehead. He was frantically breathing, trying to call himself down by taking deep long breaths, not caring on how you both can feel each other's heartbeat because of how close you were.

He then looked into your eyes, his mask unrevealing, showing his face and that beautiful chocolate toned eyes of his.

"You alright?"

You didn't answer him, you were distracted by how he look so worried and partially because you were lost in his eyes, those same eyes that would look at you with so much passion and adoration no matter what you do, the very same eyes that would express his most inner darkest feeling without him saying them because he know you would always feel it by looking at his eyes.

"I'm good, yeah."

He flickered his eyes down to your lips, the same lips that he used to pampered with kisses, that same soft lips that he would kiss passionately after every fight.

The both of you unconsciously leans closer, it was like instinct, like magnets that were attracted to the other end, you were drawn to him as he did to you. Eyes looking back to back from each other's and lips, you parted your lips at him, it drives him insane so he leans closer, basically inhaling each other's breath.

And then you heard the obnoxiously loud sirens coming closer, snapping the both of you from your trance.

"It's this way!" he heard the voices coming closer so he looked back and indeed saw the cops coming closer by the seconds.

"Fuck- we should-" he was cut off when he looked back at you, well, the place you were once in.

"You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, Moon Knight."

The Moonlight shines brightly, Illuminating your figure more as you stands there. You were so damn pretty it's distracting him.

You have successfully slipped from his embrace and dangle the ancient artifact that he was supposed to steal from these guys, with a smirk painting that damned soft lips of yours.

"Give it back." you shake your head, gripping the artifact harder in your hand.

"It was fun, I predict that we'll be seeing each other more in the future."

You bowed at him, head tilting slightly upwards as you hold your stomach with one hand and stretch the other to the side, smiling wildly at him before running away.

"Marc, who was that?" Steven voice pulled him out of his daydream. He cursed under his breath before taking off, leaving the confused cops behind.

"No one important."

Oh, he'll be seeing you more alright. He didn't even realized the smile on his face as he jumped to run after you.