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petertingle-yipyip · 2 years

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MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

four - crisis

//side note: florence pugh/yelena isn’t the faceclaim for the reader. i just know her/natasha will have the moves that i want for fight scene gifs so i’m sticking with her gifs//

Tags: @windblownwinston @linkpk88 @emmamarshmellow // masterlist // three // five

Pairing: None Officially (Ft. M. Murdock x Reader / Daredevil x Vigilante!Reader)

Word Count: 8,525

Summary: Inch by inch, things come closer to collision. Y/N can’t hide Exodus forever and Exodus can’t hide from the Devil (or herself) forever either. Decisions have to be made quickly about her allegiances, if she has any.

You had to lay low, avoid as much heat and attention as possible. After Fisk tried to turn the public against you, you managed to save the Devil’s reputation. An interview with one of the officers you had come across on your way out stated that they didn’t find the Man in the Mask, but they did find the dead body of an officer and the Russian. He said that he fought Exodus and barely escaped with his life. A dramatized tale but it got the point across.

Exodus wasn’t a hero, but you always knew that. She was a dangerous vigilante with no limits, but you didn’t want to believe that. She would kill anyone who got in her way. She needed to be stopped.

The next few days in the office were nice, calmer than what you had grown so used to in your mask. Until you saw the newspaper.

“These guys are cowards.” Foggy announced, slamming the paper down. Leaning forward, you saw a grainy, low resolution photo of Exodus and the Devil. The Devil had his grip on your arm and you saw the faintest hint of a blue glow at the bottom corner. “What I wouldn’t give to rip that corny mask right off.”

“And what?” Karen asked.

“Punch him… in the face…” Foggy reasoned.

“Okay, relax.” You chuckled and pushed the paper away. “This looks bad, I admit. But we don’t know what happened for sure.”

“Do I detect admiration, Ms. Y/L/N?” Foggy accused. “For those terrorists?”

“I-“ You groaned and leaned your elbows against the table. You noticed Matt’s fingers stopped their movement along whatever he was reading and seemed to be waiting for your response too. “I don’t admire those two. But I… Look, we’re lawyers, right?”

“Most of us anyway.” Matt commented.

“Low blow, Murdock.” You shook your head and he laughed. “Anyways. We don’t get to decide guilt or innocence based off a story in the paper. That’s not this works.”

“Read it then.” Foggy insisted. You sighed and snatched the paper, scanning the words while Foggy continued his rant.

“Exodus turned on the guy in the mask.” You pretended to read and feigned surprise, though you already knew exactly what would’ve been written. “Killed a couple cops and blew half the city. This just says the guy in the mask was there, not that he had anything to do with it.”

Matt turned to face you, brows furrowed.

You shrugged and glanced between your friends while you tossed the paper away, noticing they were all staring expectantly. You took that moment to survey their emotions. Karen still wasn’t convinced they were bad. Foggy was now firmly against them, maybe disappointed that you weren’t necessarily on his side immediately. Matt’s was the most interesting however… Regret.

You watched Matt’s reaction carefully. His fists tightened for a moment before running his hand over his mouth. He shook his head and muttered something to himself before both hands took up their movements across his page. You couldn’t help but wonder why he cared. Maybe it was just the idea of a supposed hero turning her back on her supposed partner…

But what did Exodus’ story matter to him?

“So it’s all speculation?” Karen gestured to the paper.

“Pretty much… Okay, Foggy, I’m not saying they’re saints.” You admitted. “But they may not be the worst thing to happen to the Kitchen.”

“Why aren’t you two more pissed off?” Foggy asked loudly in disbelief while he threw his hands towards you and Matt.

“Matt, can you-“ You gestured towards Foggy. “Care to weigh in?”

Matt sighed and turned his attention up to your conversation.

“What happened to you and Elena and-“ He turned to you for a moment before facing Foggy again. You let out a small sigh of relief when he didn’t point out you, because then that was a whole other story you had to tell. “Yeah, that pisses me off. But whatever their motives, they shouldn’t be tried and convicted in the press.”

“Hypothetically, if he got caught and needed counsel… Nelson and Murdock would offer to defend him?”

“And her.” You added, a bit too quickly, which drew an inquisitive head tilt from Matt. “Exodus would likely get caught and need help too.”

“Hell no.” Foggy cut in firmly.

“It’d be their rights.” Matt shrugged.

“What about my right to punch him in the melon?”

“You can punch him in the melon.” You nodded. “But you’d have to agree to defend him if you do that.”

“Elena needed twelve stitches.” He continued, as if you were missing his point. “They pulled a piece of glass from my side and those two were blowing up our backyards! And you two wanna just Perry Mason this?”

“I don’t think it matters.” You said with finality, leaning back in your chair. “If the cops catch them, they’re gonna handle it their way and it’ll never even get to an arrest.”

You made a finger gun and pretended to fire it and Foggy and then Karen.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Matt agreed hesitantly.

“We should end the day a bit more peppier, something better than deeply depressing.“ Karen tried as she stood and gathered her things. You offered a lazy chuckle in return as you toyed with your pen.

‘Here’s a high note. Softball!” Foggy announced as he pulled a bat from behind the door frame.

“Oh good lord.” You laughed. “Where did you get that?”

“When are we getting a company team together?” Foggy smiled.

“We have four employees.” Karen reasoned with a giggle.

“At least three of them aren’t blind.” Matt joked.

“Okay, but I have a nasty rise ball.” You added with a grin before Foggy turned to try and subtly ask Karen on a date. You turned to Matt. “You should really see it sometime.” You tried to hold back your smile.

“Did you just make a blind joke?” Matt turned his head toward you with a smile.

“Bet you didn’t see it coming.” You laughed.

“You’re terrible.” He chuckled before leaning in to speak quietly to you. “Are you um- You doing alright? All this Exodus and Mask stuff isn’t bothering you?”

“This just can’t be right.” You said gently and shook your head. “He saved me and she saved all those girls and kids… I don’t get it. I mean, there’s gotta be something this story’s leaving out. Right?”

“Probably on purpose.”

“It’s gonna turn the city against them… How is that fair?”

Matt reached over and took your hand in his before Foggy turned back to you and Matt while blowing a sigh of regret.

“That was smooth.” You nodded.

“Hey. I’m working on it.” He sighed. “You notice her keychain had mace?”

“That’s fair.” You shrugged as Matt answered “Is that a bad thing?”

“You ever worry there’s something she’s not telling us?”

“Everyone has secrets.” Matt answered simply.

“Do you?” Foggy gestured towards you.

“You know I do.” You answered simply.

“Right… The cult you ran off with in college.”

“It wasn’t-“ You tried to argue. “Whatever.” You laughed.

“Y’know, I’d like some.” Foggy teased as he put his jacket on. “Something like Hottie McBurner Phone.”

“Is that what that other phone is for?” You wiggled your brows at Matt. He seemed to have known you were looking at him, because he pushed your face away with a laugh.

“I bet she’s hot, too.” Foggy continued. “Is she?”

Matt groaned and dropped his head to his shoulder as he swiveled his chair towards Foggy. “How would I know?”

“Not this again.” Foggy dropped his head to the table.

“It’s kinda spooky how you just know someone’s pretty.” You commented, wagging your finger like you just had a revelation. Foggy lifted his head and three his arms towards you, as if to say that you said exactly what he was thinking. “Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“I never set off your pretty girl radar.” You scoffed and turned to Matt, mouth open in offense. “I think that’s kinda rude.”

“To be fair.” Matt defended. “I was drunk when we met and Foggy found you first.”

“But I wasn’t pretty enough to get a whole burner phone.” You pressed.

“It’s just for me, actually.” Foggy nodded. “I’m Hottie McBurner Phone.”

“You’re both annoying.” Matt shook his head and you high fived Foggy from across the table.

“Yeah. We do it on purpose.” You nodded.

“We can’t make your life too easy.” Foggy reasoned. “We do it cause we love you, Matt.”

“Aw.” Matt put his hand over his heart. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Good.” You answered with a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re a little softie. It's adorable.” You leaned over and poked his cheek, making him smile.

“Is it getting serious with her? Should I dust off the tux I’ll have to rent?” Foggy teased lightly.

You looked over at Matt with soft eyes that you were thankful he couldn’t see.

“No, it uh.. It didn’t work out.” Matt shook his head and you felt relief blossom in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” Foggy said awkwardly.

“No, it’s okay.” Matt nodded. “Hey, I’m gonna order in and get a jump on this tenement case.”

“Want me to stay?” You offered with a hand on his shoulder.

“No, you sound tired.” His hand came up over yours and he patted it gently.

“Well yeah, I haven’t been sleeping great but I can stay.” You shrugged.

“Something going on?” Foggy asked worriedly.

“Just weird dreams.” You waved him off.

That was a slightly altered answer. Your dreams were out of the ordinary, but they weren’t just weird. They were nightmares. Dreykov was toying with your head. Fisk was toying with you. The Devil was fighting you, beating you until you woke up in a cold sweat.

“Y’know, I took two psych classes, so if you need someone to help you figure it out.” Foggy pointed to himself. “I’m your guy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You chuckled. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.” You stood, patted Matt on the head and then patted Foggy’s head before heading out. As you were closing the door, you heard one last bit of conversation.

“What do you think Y/N’s secrets are?” Foggy asked quietly.

“Not a cult, I know that.” Matt chuckled.

While you took the night off - just walking around the city and punching guys who were mugging old ladies - Matt ran into a familiar figure. When he went to confront Fisk’s money man, he was met by Stick. They went back to his apartment where the conversation went in a direction Matt wasn’t quite expecting and didn’t want to have with him.

“Women are a distraction.” Stick groaned. “Just like furniture… Apartments…”

“What makes you think you can talk about her?” Matt asked tightly.

“You’d be better off without surrounding yourself with all this shit.”

“This is my life.” Matt defended. “And I made this without you. That’s the part that really pisses you off, isn’t it?”

“No, Matty. I’m proud of you and everything you’ve done. But this-” Stick gestured vaguely to everything. “Surrounding yourself with soft stuff isn’t life. You’re a warrior, alright? You know what you gotta do.”

“And what is that?”

“Cut it free, all of it. From the fancy job, the comforts, the woman. You got friends? People you care about?”

“Yeah, three.” Instantly, Matt thought of you first. Then Foggy. Then Karen. And then… Exodus?

“Cut ‘em loose. Break their hearts if you have to.”

“She’s not gonna let me do that.” Matt chuckled when he thought of the way you would probably scold him and simply show up at his apartment. Refuse to leave and threaten to move in so he couldn’t get rid of you. “And I don’t want to.”

“Then they’ll suffer and they’ll die. And it’ll be on you. No matter how good she is, it’s gonna catch up to her.”

“Watch it, Stick.” Matt said firmly.

“What? You care about that Exodus girl? I promise she doesn’t give a damn about you.” Stick chuckled.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Matt scoffed.

Even though she wasn’t the one he was mainly thinking of, he knew Stick was wrong. Exodus had to, on some level that she might not even admit to herself, care about him. Or about the Devil at least. Why else would she take the entire fall for the cop shooting, the bombs, and Anatoly’s death? And clearly, he cared about her on some level too.

“It’s war. If you don’t die, it’s the guy - or girl - next to you.” Stick sighed. “Come with me tonight. Help me take care of the Black Sky and I promise, Wilson Fisk will know the taste of fear when he goes against you because he’ll know you kicked the ass of the guy he’s afraid of.”

“One condition. No killing people.”

You were wandering the docks that night with the hope of clearing you head when the high pitched ping of feedback rang through your implant. You tapped it on and heard a familiar voice speaking to another man, probably older. You glanced around and caught a glimpse of the Devil before you shut off the implant so you could focus. You followed their line of sight and crept around, finding a dozen Yakuza spread out and waiting for a delivery.

“Surprised to see you here.” He commented as he came to your side.

“I didn’t think anything would be going on out here… What are they waiting for?”

“A weapon, something called the Black Sky.”

“Sounds made up.” You shrugged. “But I guess you got this covered. I’m going home.”

“Exodus.”

“Shove it.” You rolled your eyes. You had to duck the swinging barrel of the Yakuza’s gun before you could make another comment. With an annoyed grunt, you slammed your elbow into the back of his knee while swiping your foot to knock him to his back. You dropped your elbow with finality and kicked his unconscious body to the shadows.

“Yeah I’m not doing this.” You said quietly.

“Can I ask you something?” The Devil asked in the same hushed tone.

“No… What kind of weapon are they waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

You tapped the side of your goggles and stared at the crate, trying to see through.

“Your friend up there lied to you, by the way. It’s not a weapon… It’s a kid.” You began to leave. “Unless those are suddenly dangerous.”

“I thought you wanted to see me again.” He called after you. “I heard you that night, when you went to distract those cops.”

“Yeah… I thought so too. It’s better this way, isn’t it?”

“You too?” He scoffed.

You stopped and tilted your head back to stare at the sky. You let out a string of silent curses before turning on your heel and crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” You rolled your eyes, which drew a triumphant half smile that you wanted to slap right off his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“My friend up there said warriors are meant to be alone, that it’s better to cut people off and isolate yourself.”

“You’ve heard what people say about me. I have no loyalty. I have no place in the world. I am nothing but a trained killer… It’s better that you don’t get caught up with me unless you wanna go down in flames while Hell’s Kitchen tears you apart every day. If that’s really what you want, then be my guest. Follow me around and try to convince me that I can be more than this. But at the end of the day, I am always going to be what Dreykov made me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He said simply.

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. Go preach to someone else.” You turned and actually left this time. But every step you took couldn’t take you far enough away from the hurt that he felt, the hurt that was your fault.

The next day, you met up with Matt and walked with him to work. You thought it a bit odd that he didn’t want to let you inside, but you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about it too much. Mentally, you were beat up. Still exhausted and hardly sleeping, not to mention that your heart was hurting due to the distance you had to put between you and the Devil. But you knew your mission ran a different path than his, and for him to succeed, you needed to make yourself scarce. Your body was practically healed, littered with bruises and sore spots that would probably never go away.

“...I should grow my hair out. Matt, Y/N. What’s your take on that?” Foggy turned to you and Matt as you entered. The nervousness leaked from him and practically puddled around his feet while you eyed him carefully. “Mullet? Full pony?”

“No.” You shook your head and shoved your hands in your pockets. “What are you hiding?”

“What?” His voice went high.

“Did you fall again?” Karen asked worriedly.

“No, it’s nothing.” Matt waved his hand. You glanced over and realized that you hadn’t really noticed his new scrapes and bruises. You frowned and facepalmed gently.

Maybe taking a break from Exodus would be a good idea…

“Don't tell us what?”

“Dammit.” Karen grumbled. “You heard that?”

“The guy’s like a bat…” Foggy nodded thoughtfully. “But not blind like a- like a bat… Y’know, just the hearing thing.”

“Bats aren’t blind, Foggy.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Wait, they’re not?”

“No.” You chuckled. “It’s just a myth.”

“Oh.” He beamed. “So we’re good.”

“Karen.” Matt turned to her.

“Hmm?” She tried innocently. Her guilt and nervousness blended together to make an illusion of a fog around her, like she wanted to disappear and not be seen anymore. You blinked a few quick times to clear the image while Matt continued.

“What don’t you want us to know?”

“We’re investigating Union Allied.” She broke easily.

“Remind me to keep you off the witness stand.” Foggy sighed.

“Nope.” You cut in, side-stepping in front of Matt to put yourself in front of Karen and Foggy. “You’re not investigating anything. Either of you.”

Behind you, Matt’s head tilted while his lips pursed in mild confusion. Your sudden interest in the conversation was clear by the quick, purposeful move you had just made but he didn’t quite understand why. You were never one to back down from a fight for as long as Matt knew you but he figured that was something that’s been your preference since long before that. So you deciding to turn one away before it really began was new.

“You guys can’t be doing that.” You continued.

“Why not?” She asked defiantly.

“You signed legal documents and took money, for starters.” You scoffed.

“No, I signed papers saying I wouldn’t go public.” She said pointedly, to the point where your annoyance spiked. You threw your hands up in frustration, a gesture that was meant as sarcastic and pissed off. “And I won’t.”

You tilted your head side to side as you mocked her silently.

“We have someone else lined up for that part.” Foggy added reluctantly.

“What part?” Matt pressed. He grabbed you by both arms and pulled you back to stand beside him.

Being by Matt’s side didn’t calm anything you were feeling, but at least it felt like you weren’t on your own. It was the tag team you two had envisioned from the start, or at least that’s what you thought. The only thing that settled was the rising heat of your skin.

“Breaking the story… Look whoever is behind this, they wanna strongarm people like Elena out of their homes and build condos no one can afford.”

“Mhmm.” You pushed your tongue against your bottom lip as you turned to face Foggy. “And what are you gonna do when these people find out what you’re up to and they wanna strongarm you instead?”

“We’ve already dealt with them.” Foggy shrugged, though his uncertainty was clear to you.

“Excuse me?” Your brows raised wildly.

“The guys who busted up Elena’s apartment.” Karen answered so you turned your head in her direction. “They followed me last night after I left Elena’s.”

“You okay?” Matt asked quickly, drawing a grind of your teeth while you took a few steps away from him. You had to shut down the feeling quickly. It wasn’t the time for petty jealousy.

“Yeah, Foggy was following me.”

“Why?” You turned back to your friend with an expectant expression.

“She was acting funny!” He defended with a shrug.

“This is what I’m talking about.” Matt argued urgently. His honest concern was blasting from him like music from a boombox, vibrating your bones like bass and covering you like a blanket. It was nice, being bombarded with something familiar like that. “There are things out there that are gonna hurt you guys. You can’t be doing this.”

“No, I have already been hurt by those bastards.” Karen argued, drawing an eye roll from you. “You know, I don't care what I signed or how much money they paid me to forget. I don't.”

“Their lawyers will.” You countered smoothly. “That NDA means you do not speak a word to anyone. You may be able to get away with saying something to law enforcement and I’m guessing you already know that, but having someone else ‘break the story’ for you will lead back to you. But you’re too goddamn stubborn to see that!”

“Y/N.” Matt tried, reaching for your arm again.

“Don’t.” You yanked your limb out of his reach and scoffed, walking to the farther corner of the office.

“I'm not just going to stick my head in the sand and let it happen to somebody else because I am scared.” She leaned around the boys to look at you, who was standing with arms crossed and leaned against the wall. “Which I am... A lot.”

“Who else is involved?” Matt asked after a beat of silence.

“Ben Urich, from the Bulletin. Seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Everyone is until they’re not… Prime example is that story about Exodus.”

“Ben’s not like that.” Karen shook her head firmly. “I trust him as much as I trust you or Foggy or Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t trust me.” You mumbled to yourself with an amused smile.

She pushed past the boys to stand with a clear view of you. You lifted your head with a slight challenge in your eyes. Her determination burned brightly and while you appreciated it, you didn’t want to deal with it.

“I know what I’m doing, alright?” She defended. “I’m not a kid.”

“So stop acting like one.” You laughed. “You’re running around picking a fight with people that are a lot bigger and a lot stronger than you. Kids that won’t hesitate to push you on the playground. And what backup do you have, hmm? A pretty good lawyer with a heart of gold-” You gestured to Foggy, who bowed slightly in appreciation making you smile slightly. “-an old reporter who doesn’t need this shit backfiring on him-” You gestured out the door. “And who?”

“You and me.” Matt nodded.

“You’re joking.” You said angrily. “Are you seriously gonna get involved with this? And you expect me to just go along?”

“I’m just saying we have to be smart about this.”

“We?” Foggy chimed in.

“Just saying my ass.” You scoffed. “If it was anyone else, you would’ve been talking us down with everything you could. But since it’s her, you’re throwing yourself on the flames, and for what?”

“They’re gonna do this either way.” He said plainly, as if it was the most logical thing. “If we all come toge-”

Nope.” You said firmly, shaking your head as you pushed yourself off the wall. “I don’t want to be involved.”

“Y/N, we could-” Foggy tried.

“No.” You insisted. “You all wanna get yourself in trouble with this? Fine. You wanna sit here and pray that the Man in the Mask-” You gestured to Karen. “-or Exodus- You threw a hand towards Matt. “-will come and save you and protect you? Fine. But you can count me out.”

“He saved you, didn’t he?” Karen said quickly before slamming her hand over her mouth.

“What did you just say?” You took a step closer.

“Y/N..” Matt tried, stepping towards you with a hand out.

“No, what the hell did you just say?” You pushed Matt aside by his chest while you stared down Karen.

“The Man in the Mask… He saved you not that long ago, right?”

You laughed in annoyance and turned to Matt. “You told her.”

“No, I- I didn’t tell her.” He shook his head.

“I did.” Foggy cut in.

“But how did you know?”

“I was talking to Foggy the other night after you left and-” Matt tried to explain.

“You told Foggy?” You yelled.

“He was worried about you!”

“It wasn’t your story to tell, Matt!”

“Y/N, I-” Foggy tried.

“I can’t believe you.” You scoffed before turning towards Foggy. “I wanted to tell you myself and I swear, I was going to.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting different lately? Why you can’t sleep?” Foggy gently pressed.

“Yeah, I think so… I didn’t wanna say anything to anyone because I didn’t wanna put you guys at risk but I did tell Matt because I showed up at his place covered in stitches… I didn’t realize it had bothered you that much, Foggy. I’m really sorry.”

You hadn’t been noticing much of anything lately. Your work-life balance was completely thrown off and you felt like everything was spinning wildly out of control. Your friends - the two people who had been the first people by your side - should always be your priority. Not the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Not Wilson Fisk. Not even Exodus.

“Where are you going?” Foggy sighed as you reached for the doorknob.

“I need a personal day.” You answered before slamming the door shut behind you.

You paused in the hallway, hand trembling as you leaned against the wall. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths to try and settle your racing pulse. Your anger had been climbing and the sensations tingled down your arms to your fingers, begging for you to swing. You balled your hands into fists and gently hit them against your legs and you felt small waves of heat leaving your fists.

Everything felt like it was spiraling so fast and you just couldn’t catch it. It was only a matter

“Fucking idiots.” You groaned and hurried out the building.

You thought you could simply take a step back from Exodus. You thought it would be easy to leave Fisk to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and never look back, wipe your hands of their mess and be done. You hadn’t heard from Wesley or Fisk since that night the bombs went off. There’s been no retaliation since that night either. You thought you were in the clear, but now your idiotic friend group wanted to go toe to toe with Fisk.

And now you had to make sure they got in and out alive…

That night, you dawned your suit and mask. You had no purpose to be out as Exodus. No real mission. No real reason to be her.

The Russians were gone. The Yakuza weren’t bothering you. Wilson Fisk hadn’t reached out again. You had no leads to go off of. Truthfully, you had nothing to fight for, nothing to fight against. No one to protect.

So instead, you sat on top of Matt’s apartment building with a bottle of liquor. It felt more like home than yours did. You got through about half the bottle as you tried to drown out the repetitive words in your head.

I know you have an instinct that no one understands.

It’s who the Red Room made you… But you get to make your own choices now.

You think you can save these girls and earn forgiveness?

This is what you want people to see you as?

She has no loyalty.

You think you’re different from me? From him? From her?

The Devil’s voice. Fisk’s voice. Vladimir’s voice. And Dreykov’s voice jumped in at one point.

You have no place in the world.

You are nothing.

You are empty.

You belong to me.

It was a cacophony of voices, words that quickly jumbled together and didn’t sound like English anymore. It was building to an increasing pressure in your chest and head, suffocating you and creating a very real lump in your throat that made it hard to breathe.

You held the bottle between your knees while you pressed your hands against your ears, eyes squeezed shut as tight as you could. You mumbled pleas to yourself to see if you could beg the voices away. You thought your own pathetic whispers could push away the intrusive thoughts but it only held a megaphone to the voices. They seemed to grow louder with every hushed sound you made, merging and melding until they became one singular phrase.

SHE HAS NO LOYALTY.

The words seemed to burn themselves to the back of your eyelids, bright red and bold letters that flashed when you closed your eyes. The letters were accented with red and orange swirls, lacing between the letters and making them dance. The tears leaked through and fell down your face in hot, uneven streams. It fogged your mask and made your nose runny.

You grabbed the bottle and screamed, throwing it towards the metal door leading into the building. You noticed a trail of orange light, almost like smoke, following the bottle until it shattered. The orange glow dissipated as the bottle broke and it was lingering around you. Assuming it was an illusion, you waved your hand through it and it slowly wafted away, though there was a warmth that was left in its place.

“Weird…” You mumbled while you examined your hands, turning them over and bringing them closer to your eyes.

A physical manifestation of your emotions was new. But your emotions had never reached such a peak before. You had never felt anything like that. Before you could attempt to do it on purpose, the door creaked open slowly.

“Hello?” Matt’s familiar voice called out. “Someone up here?”

“Shit.” You breathed and quickly wiped your face with the back of your gloves.

You pushed yourself off the roof and shot your wire at the fire escape on the neighboring building. You slid down the side of the building until your feet hit the ground. From there, you went home. You went to sleep, though with the nightmares you endured, you would’ve been better off staying awake.

The next day, you walked into work late. Matt, Foggy, and Karen were in the conference room talking about the Union Allied issue. You groaned in annoyance and went into Matt’s office instead. You dropped yourself in his chair and blew out a sigh as you spun yourself in a circle. You had to decide quickly if you were going to be petty and still be mad at Matt, or simply let it go.

Three light taps on the doorframe drew your attention so you dropped your head back and from your upside down viewpoint, you saw Matt waiting for your response. You hadn’t made a decision so you weren’t sure where the conversation would go, and based off Matt’s slight hesitations, he didn’t know either.

“Hello, Matthew.” You said as your momentum slowed. “What do you need?”

“Hello, Y/N.” He smiled. “You got a minute?”

“For you?” You tilted your head back and forth as if you were thinking. “I guess. Step into your office.”

He chuckled and shut the door behind him. He came and sat on the corner of his desk. You scooted the chair closer and leaned an elbow on the desk beside him, resting your chin in your palm.

“What’s going on?” You broke the silence when you felt the tension getting thick.

“Why don’t you wanna do the Union Allied thing?” He said plainly.

“You’re gonna look at me and honestly tell me that you do?” You countered simply.

“I think we owe it to Karen.”

“I don’t owe her anything… I barely know her.”

You mentally kicked yourself. That was the Red Room talking, Exodus talking. It was your irritation and feelings of betrayal talking. She was Matt and Foggy’s friend after all, slowly becoming yours as well. Maybe you owed her a little bit.

“You’re missing the point.”

“No, I see your point, Matt.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back in the chair.

“You have a thing for her. You’d do anything she asks and you expect me to be on your side for it. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t think you’d go as low as swooping a girl right out from under your best friend, but hey. What do I know, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You shrugged. “It’s your eyes that went, wasn’t it? Not your ears.”

“Ouch.” He furrowed his brows and nodded slowly. “You feel better? Cause that was completely unnecessary.”

“You’re right… That was uncalled for.” You nodded and rubbed your forehead. “I’m sorry. But no, I don’t feel better.”

“What’s going on with you, Y/N?” He held a hand out for yours.

“You told Foggy, for one.” You said simply, as if that should be obvious. “And now Karen knows and Ben Urich probably knows.”

And it was obvious to Matt. He just wanted to gently push and find out what else was going on.

You sighed slightly before dropping your hand into his when you realized he was still waiting. He gave your arm a slight tug and pulled you to lean forward. He held your hand firmly, thumb grazing the back of your palm slightly.

With Matt, you could drop most of your guards. You allowed yourself to feel everything when Matt was around. Every ounce of joy or excitement or annoyance or anger, unless it got to a point that you would begin influencing those around you. You let your skin ignite under his touch every time. You let your cheeks flush when he made a cheeky comment. You let your stomach twist and your heart jump when he said your name in that low tone, like he was the only one that should be saying your name.

God, you were in deep. And there was no way you were getting out anytime soon.

“I admit that was wrong.” He said honestly. “I didn’t think he would tell Karen, but he was really worried about you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright...” You sighed. “He had to find out eventually. I just wanted it to come from me since it happened to me… But your heart was in the right place so I can’t hold it against you.”

“You could if you wanted to.” He offered with a shrug.

“I don’t have the mental capacity for a grudge against you.” You chuckled slightly. “You’re off the hook, Murdock.”

“That’s not related to why you’re against the Union Allied thing, is it?”

“No.” You breathed and shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He nearly begged.

You practically melted into a puddle and it took all of your control to find words to answer with.

“If it was me…” You said carefully, watching the slow motion of his thumb against your red and irritated knuckles. “If I was the one who wanted to do something so stupid, what would you say?”

“You think I wouldn’t fight for you too?” He asked softly. His other hand came under your chin and tilted your head up. You swallowed hard at the intimate gesture and you saw a slight smirk cross his features.

“I guess I’m not sure…” You said quietly, nearly a whisper. “Would you?”

“Y/N…” He paused to lick his lips, a gesture he often did when he needed to finish piecing his words together. That was always the catch, talking to you. Matt never wanted to say the wrong thing. He wanted every word from him to be perfect, to be exactly what he meant. He never wanted to leave any room for error. “I’d go to Hell and back for you. You could ask me to leave this firm right now and go on some cross-country road trip or whatever other idea you could come up with and I- I would ask when you wanted to leave.”

You chuckled slightly and he grinned. He always loved making you laugh.

“If you wanted to do something this dangerous, I’d be by your side. No matter what.” He continued. “And I know you’re not afraid of anyone, so it’d be more stupid if this is was your idea.”

“You can’t be brave if you’re afraid of nothing.” You smiled softly. “I still get scared sometimes.”

“But you don’t back down.” He said admiringly, lifting your hand to show you your own busted knuckles. “And I think this proves it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” You laughed and pulled your hand away, tucking both arms into your opposing armpits. “Maybe I joined a fight club.”

“A fight club?” Matt laughed.

“Rule number one… We don’t talk about it.”

“Right, of course.” He nodded along with a grin. “Hey… You know I care about you, right?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I know.” You nodded honestly. “I care about you too, Matty.”

“So will you please tell me what else is going on?” He got off the desk and knelt in front of you. He unfolded your arms and took both hands in his, squeezing slightly. “I know you’re keeping something from us, from me. And I know it’s something big.”

“I’m just… tired.” You said carefully. Though it was an honest answer, it was an answer of omission. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

“So let me help you.” He urged gently. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I appreciate you, Matt. And I want to tell you everything but I just-”

“Just what?” He pressed gently. “Don’t trust me?”

“No!” You answered quickly. “I trust you with my life. It’s just- I know that it would change everything between us. I can’t lose you, not again.”

“You won’t lose me.” He said honestly, pulling your hands to put a gentle kiss to your bruised knuckles. You bit back the wince, though he heard the sharp intake of breath. “I’ll always be by your side.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You stood up and gestured for Matt to get up. He stood with you and you hugged him tightly. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you closer to his chest. Your eyes closed tight as you nuzzled against him.

“I’ll tell you everything… Just not yet…”

“Whenever you’re ready, Y/N/N.”

Nothing ever felt safer than when you were in Matt’s arms. He was the bridge that protected you during a rainy day. The calm when the world got too loud. The warmth when life was cold. Matt was your silver lining.

The only thing that drove you apart was a knock on the office door.

“If you guys are plotting something weird together, I swear to God.” Foggy called.

“What do you want?” You asked when you threw the door open.

Foggy leaned in and examined your face while he squinted in suspicion. You raised your brows expectantly and he motioned for you to follow. Reluctantly, you decided you’d help when needed for their Union Allied crusade.

That night, you dawned your suit yet again. But this time, you felt something that you hadn’t felt in at least days. You felt a familiar spark in your chest, a sense of purpose. By helping Karen and Foggy, you had a mission of taking down Wilson Fisk. Your own vendetta against him was solidified the night the bombs went off and you took the full brunt of the public hate. Granted, you did it to save the Devil’s reputation but it all boiled down to blaming one man.

Wilson Fisk.

And you were going to make him regret ever contacting you.

You and the Devil seemed to have the same idea. You two both seemed to catch Ben Urich at the same time. You were curious as to why he went to Ben but you knew better than to ask. Some things were better left to wonder on, simply for the fact of sparing identities.

“Funny seeing you here.” You joked as you two met up in the alley as you waited for Ben. “And here I thought you had bad guys to beat up.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with what I’m up to.” He returned your joke.

“I didn’t but I knew you’d need me.” You nudged him slightly. “Come on. You’re gonna act like you didn’t miss me?”

“You caught me.” He smiled slightly.

“Wow, was that a smile?” You teased and he shook his head, likely rolling his eyes too. “I knew you liked having me around.”

“Maybe a little.” He shrugged. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Same as you, I’m guessing… Hey, do you still have your burner?”

He pulled it from his pocket and you took it from his hand. You dialed the number to your newly acquired burner and saved it before you handed it back.

“Easiest I’ve ever given my number away.” You teased. “I set it as speed dial two, by the way.”

“Does this make us partners?” He joked as he put the phone away.

“It makes it easier to reach each other in case we need help.” You corrected carefully. “We shouldn’t get too comfortable with each other though.”

“You can’t do it all on your own… Neither can I.��

“We’re not doing it alone, but we can’t do it together… There’s our guy.” You pointed down the alley before heading over. “Mr. Urich, can we talk?”

“Holy shit.” He breathed when he faced you.

“You know who we are?”

“Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” He gestured to your partner. “Exodus.” He pointed to you.

“Do you believe what they’re saying?”

“You two been in a lot of wrong places at wrong times… But I’ve heard the other stories too. The Man in the Mask that saves people, and the girl who flips around like a gymnast protecting women and kids mainly… Sounds like there’s more than one side to you two.”

“I didn’t shoot those cops.” You said honestly. “And I didn’t blow all of the Russians.”

“But you blew some?” His brows raised in accusation.

“I take responsibility and accept penalties for one building.” You held a finger up to emphasize your point. “In my defense, it was to end a feud between me and the Russians but it got twisted and used against me.”

“You sure didn’t try to flip it in your favor.” He crossed his arms and shifted on his feet.

“Yeah.” You nodded and placed your hands on your lower back. “I figured if I just took the heat, he wouldn’t have to.”

“So what do you want? You want me to write your side to this?”

“We want to expose the man responsible.” The Devil answered. “He’s tearing this city apart, piece by piece.”

“You got a name?”

“Wilson Fisk.” His name was like bile in your mouth.

“Never heard of him.”

“Cause he doesn’t want you to. He lives in the shadows so no one knows who he is.”

“But you do?”

“He tried to hire me to kill this guy.” You nodded towards the Devil, who offered a slight wave. The gesture almost made you laugh. “Mr. Urich, you-”

“Just Ben is fine.” He cut in.

“Ben, you can change that. You can force Fisk out of hiding.”

“So can a hundred other reporters. Why me?”

“There’s good people who trust you.” The Devil said honestly.

Immediately, you thought of your friends. You thought of how firm Karen stood when she talked about Ben. You pictured how Foggy stood by her side and tried to convince you two to help. You thought of Matt, how kindly he asked you to side with him. The Devil was right.

The best of Hell’s Kitchen trusted Ben Urich, and that was enough for you.

“Which of you dumped that Union Allied guy on my doorstep then?” Ben chuckled.

The Devil raised his hand slightly.

“That girl you saved? She’s a good kid… Still believes you’re a hero, despite everything.” Ben turned to you. “If I say no?”

“We’ll have to stop him some other way.” You answered, carefully watching his reaction to your words.

“There’s something very final about that.”

“I’m not a killer.” The Devil shook his head.

“Hmm… What about you?”

“I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t.” You answered slowly. “And I won’t say I haven’t considered it.”

The Devil groaned beside you and you smacked his chest.

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again, but I do know that death is too easy for a man like him. I want him to rot in a jail cell knowing he lost. I want him to suffer alone and know that we beat him. Besides, a friend of mine told me that I can be more than my past and I get to make my own choices now… I wanna try to do better.”

The Devil’s hand landed your shoulder and gave it a reaffirming squeeze. You could feel through his touch that he was proud of you, that he believed in you. You smiled slightly and reached up to pat his hand in acknowledgement. If anyone was going to help you be more than a trained killer, it was going to be him.

“What do you got?” Ben sighed.

“Bits and pieces… Russians, Triads, Yakuza. They all funnel money through a guy named Leland Owlsley.” The Devil explained.

“The Wall Street guy is the money man Vladimir was talking about?” You piped up and your partner nodded.

“And how’d you get all this?”

“Is that really a question?” You quirked a brow with a knowing look.

“If all you’ve got is what you’ve beaten out of people, I can’t print that without a credible source.” Ben shook his head. “This ‘he said, she said’ shit isn’t gonna put this guy away.”

“I know a good law firm that can do that part if need be.” You added, knowing that Nelson and Murdock would be the most prepared to handle it - and the most protected, thanks to you. “We just need to force him out of the shadows.”

“Drag him into the light and the city will tear him apart.” The Devil confirmed.

“And you’re sure this is the guy at the top?”

“Yeah, without a doubt.” You nodded firmly. “I’d bet my life.”

“You’re betting mine too.” He was silent for a moment while he thought. “Tell me everything you know.”

The next day, you met up with Matt at his apartment.

“How are you not ready? I even stopped for coffee! ” You laughed as you walked in. “Oh, wait! Did you have company? Is she still here?” You teased.

“Ha ha.” He said sarcastically as you pushed the cup into his hand. “I’ll be ready right now in a minute.”

“Y’know, just because you’re your own boss, doesn’t mean you can be late. Because that makes me late and pretty soon, Foggy is gonna start an attendance policy.”

Matt laughed as he fixed his tie and you sat yourself at his table. You held your warm cup in both hands, gently blowing into the opening to cool it when you heard a voice that made your stomach drop. You set down the cup and turned Matt’s computer to face you while the video played.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, one hand balling in a tight fist.

“Hmm?” Matt offered and you simply waved him off, forgetting he couldn’t see it.

“Shush and listen.” You said after a moment.

“...There's some in Hell's Kitchen that don't share this belief. They’ve been among us for quite some time. You've never heard their names, never seen their faces. They’ve stayed in the shadows because people like them - that want to control our city and our lives - fear the light and what it reveals...”

“Is he talking about Exodus and the Man in the Mask?” You looked over to Matt, who was now standing beside you with his hands on his hips.

“He has to be.” Matt answered tensely.

“...No one should have to live in fear of those with no regard for who they injure. In fear of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who has inflicted untold pain and suffering. In fear of Exodus, who has spilled blood on our streets and didn’t think twice. These masked psychopaths, we must show them we will not bow down to their campaign of coercion and intimidation. We must stand up to them...”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You shook your head and felt your anger climbing, focusing itself within your tight fist. Glancing down, you saw red sparks leaking from between your fingers as the heat grew. You forced your hand open and shook the warmth away, shutting off your anger for the time being.

“He has to know someone is on to him.” Matt shook his head, pointing at the computer firmly. “There’s no way a man like him comes into the public without a push.”

“You think he knows about us?”

“No… It’s gotta be about Exodus and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“... I cannot keep living in the shadows, afraid of the light. None of us can. None of us should be forced to. We must do this together. We must resist those who would have us live in fear. My name… is Wilson Fisk. And together, we can make this city a better place.”

Matt leaned over and slammed his computer closed before pacing his living room. You jumped up and stepped in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders.

“It’s okay.” You insisted. “This could work for us.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked tightly.

“If Fisk is worried about Exodus and the Man in the Mask, he won’t be worried about our investigation.” You spoke calmly. You pushed out your calm, hoping it would settle your friend. “If the big kids on the playground are pushing someone else around…”

“They can’t push us...” Matt nodded, letting your collected demeanor balance his hotheadedness. “Okay, okay, I see what you’re saying.”

“Poor choice of words.” You tried to joke, which only earned you a small scowl.

“Trust me, Matt... Just take a breath. This could be good for us. But for now, let’s get to work, yeah?”

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katesbridgerton · 2 years

Note

About mattfoggy prompts, could you do something about Matt having a mental breakdown after season 3, kind of exploding after everything that happened throughout the show and Foggy being there for him, please? I feel like the series showed us Matt's poor mental health and Foggy's worry, but separately. It didn't necessarily give us enough moments with both of those elements together. I don't how if that's your kind of story, if it's not it's totally okay though. 😊

Hi! Thank you so much for sending a mattfoggy prompt 🥺 I hope I don't let you down and you enjoy this one. I'm still watching Season Two, so please forgive me if I wrote something incorrectly.

Chemicals. Gunshot. Orphanage. Stick. Loud. Foggy. College. Elektra. Pain. Foggy. Karen. Daredevil. Fisk. Bruises. Cuts. Claire. Foggy. Frank. Karen. Elektra. Daredevil. A building collapsing. Foggy. Loneliness. Fear. Fisk. Threats. Foggy.

He slides down the wall, containing a screaming in the back of his throat while sitting on the floor. The tears are falling slowly, almost like he's in a movie — one of the many that Foggy has described to him over the years — and it's the worst part of it. When the protagonist is suffering the most, the happy ending usually follows it, but he's almost sure Matthew Murdock will never get one. He closes his eyes, his right fingers immediately go to his left hand, touching his ring finger, the wedding band is there. It has been there since the day he got it.

Matt is not stupid, he knows he's having a panic attack, he has had many of them over the years. A result of his anxiety and depression. He knows. But doing something about it requires a strength that he doesn't have. Not yet.

His senses are not working (again, just like they weren't after he got shot by Castle years ago), he brings his legs close to his chest and hugs them, making himself as small as he can.

Matt remembers so vividly the times he saw the other man hurting because of him, the times he couldn't protect him, the countless times Matt felt lonely without him. He remembers everything and it's just like he's being beaten up. Without the suit. By his own mind.

"Baby?" A pair of warm hands cup his face; Matt is caught by surprise, because he didn’t smell the cologne, didn't hear the steps. But he knows those hands, the ones that have guided him through life, the ones that- he closes his eyes, focusing really hard on the gold that he should be feeling against his left cheek. He isn't. It's not there. He tries to listen to the heartbeats, but he's unable to. He's completely in the dark. "Let's go to the couch, c'mon."

"I can't," move.

Foggy sits in front of him. He rests his hand on Matt's knees.

"We need to address the elephant in the room, you know," Foggy whispers.

"You, not wearing your wedding ring after coming back from a meeting with Marci? That would be great," he tries not to sound childish, bitter, or jealous. He fails.

"No, Matty," Foggy says seriously. "We need to talk about your untreated mental health. You know I'm here. You know I'm always going to be, but I'm not a doctor."

Matt laughs sarcastically and stands up. Foggy stands too. He knows Foggy is going to leave him. Why is Foggy worried? He walks towards the couch and throws himself on it.

"Listen," he breathes. "You know where the door is."

"What the hell are you talking about? Matt, you're self-sabotaging. Can you please tell me why I would leave my husband?"

"Maybe Marci knows."

Foggy takes a seat next to him.

"I fucking broke up with Marci six months before our wedding because you told me how you felt," he picks Matt's left hand. "I put a ring on your finger. I married you. I love you. So I'll ask again: what the hell are you talking about?"

Matt wants to read the room. He still can't. He bites his lower lip and allows Foggy to pull him close. Matt's head is resting on his chest, he's curled up in Foggy's warm embrace. He's feeling awful. But at least now he can listen to Foggy's heart. His husband is not lying. How could he ever doubt him? Because Matt is a piece of shit, that's why.

"Because you're having a panic attack, that's why," Foggy says, and Matt wonders if he said the words out loud. "I know you better than you think. Can you tell me what triggered it? Do you even know?"

"I don't, but by your tone, you do."

"Everything is alright. No problems. You started to think about the old ones. Am I right?"

"Did you change professions?" He tries to joke, but he's still far from being okay, so it sounds more like he's upset about the possibility.

"Am I right?" Foggy insists. Same voice he uses when he's defending a client.

"It was just so much. And I think I never processed all the things. Especially our miscommunication and the times I let you down," he admits, hiding his face on Foggy's shirt. "And you're not wearing your wedding ring."

Foggy laughs softly, before kissing Matt's messy hair.

"Did you lose your super senses?"

"They usually don't work very well when I'm in the middle of a panic attack," Matt says, feeling Foggy's hand on his back, pulling him even closer. Foggy is worried. That's good. Not the part that Foggy is worried. The part where his senses are coming back. "It never happens when I'm in the suit, don't worry. Daredevil doesn't have time for this. Matt apparently does."

"You have to go to therapy."

"And say what? Are you crazy?"

"Matt, again, you have a lot of people who love you. Who are more than willing to help. None of us can give you medical advice. Plus, doctor-patient confidentiality. Like a contract. We can make them sign an NDA if you want. We can find a way, you just need to want."

"The ring?"

"Bathroom counter. Someone was bothering Marci, so I rescued her saying she was my girlfriend. It wouldn’t work with a wedding ring."

"You're a good man, Foggy," he kisses his husband, and Foggy must have felt Matt's neediness and pain because he pulls him to a kiss that makes Matt remember what the stars look like.

Foggy is a very passionate man, but Matt is still surprised when it's directed to him. He shouldn't. They're married. He has savored several kisses like that.

"Come back to me," Foggy says quietly, against his lips. "Let's try not to overthink more than we can today"

Foggy's heart is racing, he's starting to sweat even with the air conditioner on. He's worried about Matt having a panic attack when he's on the streets fighting.

"I'm going to call you straight away if it ever happens, Mr. Nelson-Murdock," Matt promises. "You can trust me. And I'm going to therapy. Maybe Claire knows someone?"

"Maybe she does.”

The city is coming back to him, a child crying on the third floor, a couple fighting on the fourth, the restaurant down the street making french fries.

"No! Not tonight," he hides his face in the crook of Foggy's neck. "Tonight I want to be here. Grounded. Yours. Not Daredevil. Just Matthew Nelson-Murdock with his husband."

"Should I be worried or relieved that you separated yourself from Daredevil two times tonight?"

"You make things easier. You love Matt and Matt-"

"Is Daredevil. Therefore I love that asshole who takes you away from home sometimes and makes you get hurt. But damn, I'm glad that you want to stay here tonight. It's not like I was going to let you leave anyway, but it's good that it's your choice too."

Matt smiles, closing his eyes. The city can wait for him. His mental health can't, and he knows Foggy is going to be by his side every step of the way. He always was. Always going to be.

Foggy Nelson is not only his husband, the man he has been in love with since college, his partner. Foggy is his heaven.

#matt murdock #foggy nelson #mattfoggy #matt x foggy #otp: i don't wanna lose you #daredevil #daredevil fanfic #bea writes

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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Text

A King on a Leash ch2

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn't keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter's life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

warnings: mafia au, murder mention, daddy kink

The low sun cast an orange glow over Peter's angel face. He was just starting to tan and no less beautiful for it. He was beautiful and pale in the winter, sun-kissed and stunning in summer. The diamonds he had worn when Tony came to get him had been beautiful, but they weren't Tony's diamonds and so they lay now at the bottom of the Atlantic. So did Suarez's yacht. Tony was confident that if the gangster had known Peter's name, he would never have laid hands on him. Yet, he wished Peter had left the man alive so he could peel the skin from his hands. The sight of him with his eye burned out and half of his head missing was almost enough to soothe the possessive itch. Almost.

Tony took off his jacket and laid it over Peter's near bare body. It calmed the fire for now. He would buy him something later, some clothes or jewelry. At least he was covered in hickies, Tony's mark left on his skin. Tony saw them starting to purple across his neck. The sight of them had Tony's body forgetting its age. He shifted in his seat, letting his legs spread as his cock filled out. He should fuck him while he sleeps. Peter would love it. But no, he did have business to handle. The diamonds Suarez had stolen weren't just from any bank, but a bank that stored the belongings of one Wilson Fisk. The diamonds had belonged to his late wife Vanessa.

Vanessa Fisk was probably the only person that her husband ever loved and he loved her dangerously, desperately. Much in the way that Tony loved Peter. It was something that they had come to understand about each other.

It hadn't been easy to convince the families not to punish Peter for killing Octavius. In the end, they understood that Otto had kidnapped Tony and that Peter was only doing his duty as a Stark and as a husband. Not that they were married at the time. He had wanted to lie. To convince them that he was the one who killed Octavius, but he knew that sooner or later the truth would come out and it would only mean greater trouble.

He watched Peter sleep, laid out across the seat. He was genuinely and undeniably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. How lucky he was to have his love, his loyalty, his respect. He would do anything for him.

If he had to burn down the entire city to keep Peter safe, he would. Hell, he would burn down the whole city if Peter asked him nice enough.

It was absolutely terrifying, but he would burn it all, sacrifice any and all of his men all for Peter. Not because he was beautiful, but because he was loyal to the death and he meant it genuinely. He didn't follow Tony out of fear or because of a debt. His love and loyalty were pure and unshakable.

Peter had been offered money, fame, fancy condos. He laughed at it all. What he wanted was Tony. Sure, Peter enjoyed the power, he enjoyed the money. Tony did doubt sometimes that Peter would love him without those things, but for now, the only money or power he wanted was Tony's and that was enough to keep him.

Tony smiled to himself. He remembered before, back when Peter was just a pretty doll on stage, never knowing who was funding his performances, who was sending him such nice gifts. He remembered what a fool he was to think that Peter was someone who should be bought and tricked. Like a stay cat being led to a trap with a can of tuna. He felt cold when he imagined how it could have been. How he could have led Peter to despise him and their relationship by turning it into an obligation. Peter never had a choice in being his, but Tony's choice to show Peter respect made all the difference. Sometimes he pondered what Peter had said when he proposed.

I think you would do anything for me. Even if it meant letting me go.

To this day, Tony wasn't certain if he was right. In his bones he felt sure that he would go to any lengths to keep Peter by his side. Anything at all short of killing him was on the table. At least, Tony believed that Peter would never try to leave him and so he tried not to think about something so painful. At the end of the day, he understood that Peter meant it symbolically. What he meant to say was that he wanted to be Tony's husband. That he didn't feel coerced or obligated. He was smart. He knew what Tony needed to hear. Even if it was a lie. Even if Tony thought that he might just kill them both if Peter tried to walk away.

In a few days, Tony would leave Peter behind at their beach front home to meet with the other family bosses. He needed to make sure there was enough security at the house. No one was allowed in or out when Tony went to a family meeting. Not even Peter. Sometimes he pouted about it, but Peter was undeniably excited by Tony's possessive nature, keeping him locked away like a precious princess in a story. This time though, Tony would be gone a whole weekend. No risks would be taken, no pouting indulged. The time they would be apart would have Tony too on edge. Maybe moving in together was a mistake. It only led him to cling harder to Peter's side.

He sent a text to the man in charge of Peter's security, just to make sure everything was in place. They had spent days vetting candidates to join Peter's security team. They had to be both loyal and clean. Clean in the sense of drugs, but also clean in the sense of debts. If they owed so much as a penny to anyone other than Tony Stark himself, they were off the table. No one with outside loyalties or motivations would be allowed near his little devil. That was what he should call him, the bloodthirsty little thing.

He had another performance coming up soon. Tony had talked to the director of the performance hall and had the opening night moved back a week. The original opening had been the same weekend he was to meet with the families. Everything and everyone was in place. Now he just had to survive leaving his heart behind for two days.

He watched him sleep, his heart. He watched him as the boat sailed along through the water. Peter didn't stir until the boat was docked. Just in case they had been seen, they were borrowing a dock several miles from home. A car waited by the road to pick them up.

Tony stood, casting a shadow over Peter's face. He smiled, opening his eyes in the dimmed light.

"Hello, sailor," he teased.

Tony bent and scooped him up. "Little siren."

Peter laughed. "I suppose I lured at least one man to his death."

Tony hugged him to his chest. He was so light, so thin and delicate. His arms wrapped around his neck. "And did it occur to you at any point, that you might have left Suarez or his men alive?"

Peter blinked. It was endearing, watching the young man realize what he had done. He hadn't thought for a second that he might simply leave them drugged and stranded, tied up. He could have asked Tony for something to slip into their drinks. He could have got Suarez alone and knocked him out. He could have played the game with his charm and some clever words. Instead, Tony had found two bodies floating down the current as they made for his coordinates. Another had been hanged from the side of the ship. No one could say Peter wasn't an effective and terrifying killer. Tony loved it. Because he knew that Peter wasn't cold, wasn't without empathy. The truth was that Tony said 'Get me those diamonds' and Peter's mind became focused on his task and he completed it by whatever means felt easiest, fastest.

If Tony said jump, Peter wouldn't ask how high. He would jump, immediately and without question. Whatever happened next, it would bring him joy to know that he done what Tony had asked. He wasn't the type to waste time.

"Should I have? Left Suarez alive I mean..." He was blushing, shame creeping into his voice.

Tony carried him from the boat, still held snug in his arms. "No, my angel. You did exactly what I wanted you to do. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter to me. If it did, then I would have been more specific."

"Really?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Daddy doesn't lie to you."

Peter smiled. Then he said one of those things... the things were dark and forbidden and made Tony's blood rush south.

"I set him up to die." He whispered in Tony's ear. "I let him think he could have me and when he thought he was going to get what he wanted, I burned his eye out and shot him in the face. Because I know who I belong to."

Tony's jaw clenched. His grip on Peter's body went tight. He stepped off the dock and set Peter on his feet, slamming his back into the wall of the boat house. Peter's eyes glinted with fear or excitement, he wasn't sure. He wasn't thinking either. He just crushed their mouths together, pressing Peter back until he whimpered in pain. His hands grabbed his hips and pulled him up, moaning when their groins pressed together. They could spend a good long time against this boat house, but Tony wouldn't push the graciousness of its owners further. Still he kissed his boy breathless before leading him along up the hill.

Peter pressed into his side, walking like he was drunk. Tony wrapped an around him, made sure his jacket was snug around his shoulders.

The door was opened for them as they reached the car. A guard slid in first then Tony. He helped Peter in and tucked him into his side. Peter gave him a quick kiss before he settled in against him. Tony smiled to himself as the car carried them away.

#starker #marvel #murder #mafia au #daddy k*nk #a king on a leash

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angelaiswriting · 3 years

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The Assistant (15 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(almost official) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina) mentioned

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01 : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ Previously on The Assistant (aka I’m shit at updating): Y/N has moved in with Vladimir and the two have found themselves growing closer. There’s only one problem: Vlad’s old friend Ulyana thinks the two are a couple and has invited them over for dinner to celebrate.

✏️ A/N: y’all. Y’ALL. First off, I just want to apologize, it’s been forever and a month since I updated this; I’m not even sure there are still people reading/that remember this story apart from Alice lol. It took us me 144 pages !!! but it’s finally happening. Enjoy! I literally cried when I wrote the end of this chapter because it was about fucking time!

✏️ Warnings: fluff; and tears, but those were mine as I wrote this lol; Sergei has a doggie!; a smidge of swearing.

✏️ Word-count: 6,060

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: MATCHMAKER

Sitting on the closed toilet seat with the pipe wrench still in his hands, Vladimir could hear Y/N and Ulyana laugh in the living room. He couldn’t make out their words, for their voices were quiet despite their hilarity, and the left-ajar door of the bathroom didn’t help him any.

The most surreal situation I’ve ever experienced, that’s how Y/N had labeled it less than an hour ago, before he helped Lina bring in the tray with the cups of tea. And the more he mulled things over, the more he found himself agreeing. The most surreal situation I’ve ever experienced – and he had lived through plenty of what could be considered ‘weird shit’. Ulyana in general had been a whole exception in his book. Ulyana, with her afternoons spent playing bingo at the daily center for the elderly with all her old-lady friends; Ulyana, with her borscht and her endless words of encouragement and comfort when both he and Tolya had needed them the most.

But also Ulyana, so dead-set on the idea that he was too stiff and needed a gentle touch in his life that she just… mistook Y/N for his woman. As if he needed someone! But it was still a good thing in a way, though, he reasoned as he stood up and moved to stand in front of the sink to stare at his reflection. And probably his brother was right about the fact that he had to open up to her, tell her what he felt – and what he was scared of. And just… try, for once. Make an effort to take his private life into his own hands instead of just wasting it away on cigarettes and underground fights.

As he stood there, hands gripping the sink, wrench abandoned on the counter, he tried to focus on what existed beyond that scar on the right side of his face and all it meant. By now he was convinced that she didn’t see it – not because she didn’t want to, but because she was able to see right through it. She knew about his past, and not just about Utkin, but also about some of the stupid things he had done in his short-lived youth – he had told her about that over vodka, a bit more rarely over coffee. And while he had always had problems with that, he found himself having fewer and fewer now.

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t that bad to pretend he had someone that cared about him, and while that equaled lying to Lina, maybe it was for the greater good?

It came off as a question even in his own mind, but it was one he found himself being willing to put in the time and effort to find an answer to. It was almost stupid, to think that feelings seemed to terrify him to the bone, while he could take a gun pointed at his head any day without batting an eyelash. Because that’s what he did, that’s what the target on his back felt like.

Maybe all he needed was to grow a pair, listen to what Ulyana had always told him, and walk out there a somewhat taken man.

And not taken to the demons in his head, but to someone – a friend, maybe? – that he had learned to respect. In a way, that is; that road still seemed a long one, after all.

When he joined the two women again some twenty minutes or so later, after he had fixed the kitchen cabinet Lina had been too shy to ask him to repair, he found them leafing through an old photo album. Belka – Ulyana’s old, white cat – was snoozing in Y/N’s lap, the tip of her fluffy tail moving up and down every once in a while as she purred at her new friend.

It was a weirdly cozy view, one that seemed to put all the thoughts that were still swarming his mind at ease. He leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, and he just stared for a while, half-present in the moment and half-lost in his own mind. He didn’t miss the moment her head lifted up an inch and her eyes met his, though, and before he could realize anything, he found himself smirking back.

“Ulya is showing me the photographs of her wedding day,” she said when he moved away from the door and really entered the room. Her fingers absentmindedly scratched the cat behind one ear as she maintained eye contact until he sat down at the round table in front of the window to her left.

“Those are a must-see when you step foot into her house.” His was a playful huff as he lit himself a cigarette. They had all gone back to Russian, which meant that Ulyana had gotten to know Y/N faster than he had. “Next thing you know, you’re walking down Soviet memory lane.” And then, when his eyes met Lina’s: “You know I’m joking. Tolya and I have always loved your stories.”

The woman shook her head, but there was a smile on her face that somehow warmed his heart. It meant that it was all back to normal now; that, in her heart, she had forgiven him for disappearing for so long and never, not once, calling to check in on her. “This girl’s bewitched you,” she chuckled, patting Y/N’s knee with her free hand. “I don’t remember when the last time he wasn’t serious was, anymore,” she explained as she leaned back against the couch, giving her guest’s unasked question an answer.

Vladimir scoffed and when his phone beeped on the table with a text from Sergei a moment later, he stood up. “We gotta go now. Work’s calling.”

Ulyana had a look on her face that seemed to complain On a Saturday? but she knew he was a busy man with a demanding job, and so she dropped it. “You’re both invited over tomorrow,” she said instead. “I’ll prepare a nice dinner to celebrate together.” She closed the album of photographs and put it down on the coffee table by the side of the couch.

When she stood up, Belka seemed to catch the hint: she woke up, let out a huffy meow, and jumped down from Y/N’s lap to rub herself against one of Vlad’s legs.

“There’s nothing to celebrate, Lina,” Vladimir was saying as he let the old woman fix the collar of his shirt before engulfing him in a hug.

The way her eyebrows rose when she turned to look at Y/N was almost comical on that round face of hers. “He’s still as stubborn as always, isn’t he?” she whispered in her ear when she hugged her goodbye. When she turned back towards Vladimir, she had her hands on her hips and a firm look in her eyes that he knew he couldn’t escape. “You two will come over for dinner tomorrow night if it kills you! It’s so good to see you finally happy, my boy, and not just alone as always. And if that’s not enough, I haven’t seen you in months! Is this how you treat your old Lina?”

“I can’t believe she managed to convince you.”

He was driving to Sergei’s place when Y/N spoke again. They hadn’t exchanged a word after leaving Ulyana’s apartment and truth be told, he was almost afraid to hear her speak again.

“I can’t believe it either,” he groaned, one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly while his left arm just hung out the rolled-down window.

There were heavy clouds behind the buildings in front of them and it looked like it would start pouring soon. But the slightly chilly air was a blessing after that day’s stuffy heat, so he was ready to face the early-summer bad weather when it would come.

After that exchange, the silence went back to being almost embarrassed. She was looking at him from the corner of her eye – he hadn’t missed it, he was good at noticing things about people, even though probably not as good as he thought he was when it came to her. Whether she was trying to come up with something to say or not, though, he did not know.

His own thoughts were all over the place as well.

He had a little less than one day to come up with an excuse to ring Ulyana up with just so that he could avoid that dinner date she had organized. In his heart he knew she was doing this for him: she and Aleksandr had never had children, and that’s exactly how she had always seen him and his brother ever since they had first rented that apartment on her same floor. We’re all Russians, we have to stick up for each other, she had said once, one of the first times she had insisted they’d come over for dinner. She had taken care of them; and it was remarkable, the way they had let her into their lives, one kind act at a time, in a time when the Siberian wound was still tender and they didn’t know who to trust in this new, foreign land.

Then, a little more than a year and a half ago, when Anatoly had introduced Paulina to her, it had become just Vladimir and Ulyana most of the time. Tolya was busier now – he didn’t only have his job, but there was a woman now and he did things with her, took her places, came up with things just to surprise her for the sake of it… It had been a shock at first because that was someone more similar to the old Anatoly Ranskahov, the one who had lived in Moscow and had danced around a different woman every night – with the only difference that he was now a faithful lover.

“Are you upset?” Her voice tore him out of his mind once again and he turned towards her with a questioning hmm? that prompted her to clarify. “About her thinking that we’re together.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think I am, nyet,” he confessed eventually.

She was staring ahead, not looking at him, but a smile still blossomed on her face at his words. “If I don’t tell you now, I know I’ll never have the guts to.”

But Vladimir was already slowing down to park the car and when Y/N turned her head to see what he was staring at with such a confused expression on his face, the faint smirk on his lips already fading away completely, she knew she wouldn’t be opening her heart any time soon in that car.

“What the fuck?” was what Vlad mumbled as he hastily turned off the engine, pulled on the handbrake, and threw his door open. “What is this?”

Sergei was standing there, a black and brown rottweiler laying at his feet, panting with its tongue almost touching the asphalt in the somewhat stuffy evening air.

“This,” his friend said, slowly, shoving the handle of the leash in the other’s hand before Vlad could come back to himself, “is Sharik. I need you to look after him while I’m gone.”

Vladimir stared down at the dog, and the dog sat up against Seriozha’s legs so that he could stare back at him better. He was a big piece of meat, and he could already picture him drooling all over the couch he had back at home. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” frowned Sergei, dropping the black gym bag from his shoulder to Vlad’s feet. “I told you yesterday, before you and Y/N left the garage. If I need to go out of town for business, I won’t be able to bring him with me. You agreed to look after him for me.”

While his owner spoke, Sharik sniffed at Vladimir’s shin with curiosity, and after a long moment of scrutiny, he lazily wagged his tail in approval.

“You need to take him out in the morning and at night, he loves walks in the park.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure the type of ‘take the dog out’ he was thinking of was the one Sergei had in mind.

“Don’t feed him weird shit. His dry food is in the bag. Don’t give him more than what I wrote down – he loves to beg. And make him play before bed, or he’ll keep you up all night.”

“What?”

“Your apartment complex also has a pool and he enjoys chilling in the water, so if–”

“I won’t be looking after your dog. What?”

Before either of them could speak, Y/N’s What’s going on here? made them turn in her direction. She had gotten out of the car, and while she was still holding onto the door with one hand, Vlad knew she’d soon come forward.

“Solnyshko, hi!”

Vladimir knew he was fucked when Sergei greeted her and hugged her back when she walked up to them. He’d manage to convince her and while she was just a guest in his house, Vlad knew he’d be the one bending his will.

Sharik gave her the same treatment he had reserved for him just moments before, but he sped it up this time, and the wagging in his tail wasn’t as lazy as it had been with him – it was a hard slapping back and forth against his leg that gave him just a slight taste of the dog’s strength.

“Who’s this good boy?” she cooed as the dog sniffed the palm of her hand before giving it a lick and allowing her to pet his head.

In no time, and before he had the chance to register what was going on, Y/N had gone back to the car and, appalled, he had to watch her lead the dog onto the back seats.

As if he had read his mind, Sergei reassured him: “Don’t worry, he doesn’t shed. But you still need to keep him brushed, it relaxes him.”

He stared at the car, kept an eye on Y/N as she put Sergei’s gym bag in the trunk, and then walked back around the car to sit on the passenger seat. She was still caressing the dog, her back turned towards the two men, when Vladimir spoke.

“You know I don’t deal with animals.”

Sergei scoffed. “We deal with much worse. Now, don’t be a brat, I didn’t have to listen to the two of you singing like shit last night just to then not be able to get payback.”

“We didn’t–”

“It’s all cool, Volodya.” Serzh patted his shoulder and grinned at him before turning back to stare at the car his dog had got into. “She’s nice, I don’t mind. It was about time you found someone that would headbutt you every time you headbutted them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about, brother. Sharik is a good matchmaker, who else do you think got Tolik and Paulina together?” he grinned. “But if he is missing even so much as a hair when I come back, we’ll have a problem.”

He scoffed. “A threat? Over a dog?”

“He’s not just some dog, Volodya. He’s my boy.” He stared him down for a moment before turning around. He had already started to walk back towards the building he lived in, when he said one last I’ll call you when Aslan and I have left the state before Vlad turned his back on him.

Just as he had expected, Sharik launched himself onto the couch the second Y/N opened the door of his apartment. The only thing Vladimir could do was watch him run across the entrance corridor, fly mid-air, and then fall heavily onto the clean cushions of his couch half a second later. And to be such a big and heavy dog, he was fast.

“I’m going to kill Sergei,” he muttered but before he could take another step forward, Y/N stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“C’mon, he’s just a dog, Vlad. Don’t be mean. I’ll get him down,” she chuckled and toed her shoes off before walking up to Sharik.

Sometime later, after that dog had finally stopped whining and complaining that he wanted to get on the couch despite said couch’s owner didn’t want to, there was silence again.

The next-door neighbor had knocked on the door not long after they had got home: he had heard the noises, and had felt the need to complain about that sudden surprise, and to poke his nose into business he knew nothing about – There’s a pet fee you’re supposed to pay if you want to keep an animal in here. And then, when Sharik had walked up to the door and nosed his way to stand between Y/N’s legs – Vlad has seen it in the mirror hanging on the wall right at the other end of the room – that very neighbor had found something else to complain about. Its size exceeds the limits allowed in this complex, or some shit like that. He hadn’t heard what she had told the dude; all he knew was that less than five minutes after he had shown up at the door, he had left with his tail between his legs, and so Vlad had managed to go back to staring at the screen of his laptop.

He wasn’t doing anything, really. For once, he didn’t feel like burying his head into his work – everything needed for Aslan and Sergei’s trip to Florida had already been organized, and the last touches for the upcoming shipment could wait until Monday. It was very un-Vladimir-like, to take a whole weekend off, but for once, he wouldn’t complain.

What he ended up thinking about – or, rather, whom –, however, was Ulyana. He had been praying for an excuse to cancel that dinner date for the next day, but he hadn’t expected to be actually presented with one. And although he still had the intention to ring her up and apologize, he still had to pick up the phone. He couldn’t possibly leave Sergei’s dog home alone, now, could he? Or did he want to come back to a destroyed house?

“Shari’s napping.” When he looked up, not even taken by surprise by her sudden appearance in the doorframe of the kitchen, he found her standing there, leaning a shoulder against the wood and staring at him. “What are you up to?”

“Work,” was his quick reply. “Checking that everything is in order and… stuff.”

“‘And stuff’?” She didn’t seem convinced, and she stared at him for a long minute, before dismissing it and sitting opposite him at the small kitchen table. “Anyway, why didn’t you tell me about this favor you had to do for Sergei?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t know I had to look after stupid dog.” And then, when she raised an eyebrow: “A very smart, but spoiled dog. Better?”

“He’s not spoiled. Serzh just really loves him a lot,” she pouted. And when he glared at her, she continued: “This doesn’t matter, though. You have to find a solution for tomorrow night. Call Sergei and ask him how Sharik deals with cats, and then call Ulyana and ask her how Belka deals with dogs. Or something.”

“Why me?”

“Because I asked nicely? Because you got us into this?”

As it turned out a couple of calls later, Sharik was very gentle, almost submissive with cats and animals in general – despite his size, despite his face, and his breed, and the size of his paws big enough to be as big as at least three cat legs put together. And Ulyana had no problem having a dog over either – she had looked after a neighbor’s dog more times than she could count, and Belka was used to napping in her bedroom when another animal was over.

So, not a problem – as Lina had said. Just come over and bring the dog, I’ll have something ready for him too.

His plan to avoid that dinner date had miserably failed, although there was something inside him at the thought of showing up at Lina’s and pretending like he and Y/N were a thing of some sort that just… pulled at some strings he didn’t even know he had inside. And as he watched Y/N fill Sharik’s bowl just as they got ready to eat dinner, he found himself being almost happy that those strings were being pulled, for once in his life.

“So we just take him over to her place?” she asked him when she sat down, a steaming plate with rice and veggies right in front of her.

His diet had taken a turn for the better ever since she had moved in with him – he still had more vodka than was healthy to have hiding pretty much in almost all the cabinets in his apartment, but at least his fridge was full of food his body could actually digest this time.

“That’s what she said,” he grumbled.

They ate in silence after that, and only when he had done the dishes, did she speak again.

“Do you wanna settle for a story?” She was sitting next to him on the couch, with Sharik’s heavy head resting on a knee. The dog was staring at her with adoring eyes as she gently scratched behind his ears.

“A story?”

“Yeah, about how we met. How we ended up together. Ulyana asked a couple vague-ish questions this afternoon, so I think she’ll ask more tomorrow. No?” She glanced at him when he didn’t reply. “Unless you wanna tell her the truth.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he eventually confessed. “I don’t want to lie to her, but if I hear her ask me about ‘my woman’ another time, I’m going to burst.”

He didn’t expect to chuckle with her, but he did. And when they grew silent again, and she went back to staring at the TV screen after a quick Let me think of something, then, he laid his head back against the seatback of the couch, head turned in her direction, and studied the profile of her face. The way the corner of her mouth rose up into a smirk before she giggled at Sharik’s sniffing nose against her bare shin. The way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, slow and regular and almost gentle. And before he knew it, his eyes had dropped closed and he had fallen asleep.

When he woke up sometime later – the clock on his phone signaled just a few minutes after half past eleven –, Y/N and Sharik had already left the room, and he was uncomfortably half sitting, half lying on the couch covered by a pile blanket. The TV was off, and not a sound came from inside the apartment – nor from outside in the corridor.

He briefly wondered whether Y/N had managed to come up with a story in case Ulyana would ask questions, but he barely had the time to walk into his room and sit on his bed, that his ears picked up some snoring.

There, bundled up under his blankets, was sleeping Sharik, who had somehow managed to make himself at home. He even had the audacity of staring at him with an accusatory look in his eyes, the fleabag, when Vladimir turned on the lamp on his bedside table to get a closer look.

“Get off,” he groggily ordered, yanking the covers back with a quick movement of his arm. “Get off my bed, dog.”

But for all he tried, the dog wouldn’t budge. And even when Vladimir picked him up and put him back down onto the living room floor, he barely had the time to close the door of his bedroom – something he hadn’t done since before Utkin – that Sharik was already pushing against it with his nose to slip into the room.

“You are stubborn beast, aren’t you?”

Taking him back to the living room by force didn’t help at all, for the dog wouldn’t stop bugging him. He had managed to lower the door handle twice in the half-hour Vladimir spent trying to get rid of him without… yeah, without actually getting rid of the fucking four-legged light of Sergei’s life.

When it became apparent that he wouldn’t have a good night’s sleep in his goddamn bed that night, was when Sharik almost tripped him over from behind just to then launch himself onto his bed much like he had done that evening with the couch – and the at least other ten times Vlad had tried to kick him out of the room. He laid there, on his bed, curled up like a too-big cat, staring at him with eyebrows that wouldn’t stop going up and down until he huffed out a complaint and went back to sleep.

“I’ll kill you, Sergei,” he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands to try and shoo the annoyance away.

He stood in the hallway for a while, then, eyeing the couch from the other side of the living room while mentally cursing himself. Before fixing the spare room, which he had turned into Y/N’s bedroom as the weeks had gone by, he had had to take care of his brother and by giving him his bed, he had had to get the couch. It was too small for him, and uncomfortable – and the thought that she, too, had had to sleep there for endless days before he got his shit together still stung, in a way. And since it looked like he wouldn’t be able to get Sharik out of his bedroom – nor out of his bed, for that matter –, he was left with only two options to pick from: either the couch or…

He knocked on her door before he had the time to talk himself out of it.

“Is something wrong?” She was scrolling through her phone when she told him to come in. The lamps on both nightstands were on, and it looked like she was still far from falling asleep.

“Dog’s in my bed,” he said, staring at her from across the room. “Couch is…”

“I know,” she chuckled. “Still not the worst couch I’ve slept on, though, don’t worry,” she continued when he made a weird face. “Stay in your half of the bed, and you can sleep here if you want.”

He didn’t sleep that night, however. He laid on his right side, staring at the wall, and she laid on her left, staring at the opposite wall. She had wished him good night at some point, when she had put her phone away and had turned the lights off, and he had answered with a hum. But then, he had just laid there all night, listening in on her soft breathing – and then her soft snoring – and he remained motionless. When he did fall asleep, sometime in the early morning, just before the first light of day peaked in through the curtains, his last thought was that maybe, this wasn’t that bad.

“Through mutual friends, if so one could say,” Y/N replied over celebratory vodka. Ulyana had kept her best questions for the end of the dinner and Vladimir had almost deluded himself into thinking the old woman would never ask. They had come up with a story to tell just in case, but silence would have been better. “I apparently showed up at the garage at the least opportune time.”

“Oh! So was it love at first sight?” Lina was pouring them all a second shot with one hand as the other one rested on Sharik’s head.

Vlad laughed – what an absurd concept, he found himself musing. Love at first sight? With someone as careful as him? And although Y/N kicked his foot under the table to try and silence him, he couldn’t fully erase the smirk from his face. “Nyet,” he chuckled eventually as he wiped away a tear with a knuckle.

“Hell no! He was very rude and stubborn at the beginning,” confessed Y/N, and Vlad was barely able to scoff at her that Lina had turned in his direction with a gaze of steel.

“Very rude?” she inquired, eyes squinting as she frowned. “With this lovely lady?”

“Don’t gang up on me, she was very stubborn too!” he complained. “Still is.”

“One ought to be stubborn if one has to put up with you, my dear Volodya.” Ulyana patted his hand on the table. “Doesn’t give you the right to be rude. I didn’t raise you like that.”

He had been on the verge of pointing out that he had, in fact, been raised by his own mother and not by her, but he didn’t deem it appropriate tonight – nor necessary. Lina didn’t mean any harm, and he knew what she was trying to imply.

“It’s alright, Ulya, he has learned how to tone it down now.” The smile on Y/N’s face seemed sincere, and at that moment, he wouldn’t be able to tell what she was thinking about. “Ever since we moved in together, he’s learned how to behave himself. Most of the time, at least.”

It was Ulyana’s turn to playfully slap Vlad’s forearm and he found it almost weird, to find himself with his back to the wall in front of those two. And not even in a bad way, with all of them drinking vodka together and celebrating a romantic relationship that simply wasn’t there.

What had he become? Lying like that to an old, dear friend… Without thinking twice; without remorse. He sat there in her living room, eating her food, drinking her alcohol, and he kept on adding lies to the fire without being able to stop.

“Hey, she’s not a saint, either! Tell her.”

Y/N laughed, and it somehow took him by surprise, it knocked the wind out of him. He fully turned his head to stare at her, and it almost felt like seeing her for the first time and for the millionth time at the same time. The way she tilted her head back as she laughed; the way her earrings and piercings caught the light of the lighting fixture; even the way her fingers brushed against his, and the way he ended up holding her hand in his. Warm and soft, the skin so smooth that he almost pulled away.

He watched her talk, recount the story of how they met – or a watered-down version of it, with anything too compromising being filtered out. And as she conversed with Ulya, her fingers played with his and his gaze kept on dropping down on his hand, never missing a movement. She had somehow ended up tracing the three-bar cross between his thumb and forefinger – without looking at it, almost as though she had done just that so many times that she had ended up memorizing its placement, its lines. And as she went on talking, her fingers brushed across the Xs on his knuckles, and he had to fight that sudden impulse that pushed him to pull his hand away.

A couple of hours later, when they had finally bid Ulyana goodnight and thanked her for the pleasant dinner she had offered them, he found himself walking his best man’s dog in the park just across the street from her old friend’s apartment building. He watched Sharik sniff here and there, and for a moment he found himself wondering if that was what a normal life felt like – walking the dog at almost eleven in the night, with plastic bags in a pocket in case the dog pooped, arm in arm with a woman.

“You’re quiet,” she said at one point, when they stopped under a tree while Sharik sniffed just a few meters in front of them. “Is everything alright?”

It took him a while to answer. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard her, but because he was afraid of somehow saying the wrong thing as was custom with him. “Da,” he sighed eventually, “just thinking.” He shrugged, but he didn’t make a move to pull away when her hand trailed down his arm and her fingers entwined with his.

“I had a good time tonight. I hope you did too, and that I didn’t push myself too far with that story about… you know, us.”

“It was fine, she bought it.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less bad, though.”

He turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, the thought of how it would be like to do this every night with her crossed his mind. “Eh, I know.” It was quiet for a while after that, but when Sharik steered off the path, he found himself cursing out in Russian. “Come here, you stubborn dog!”

“Don’t be mean, Vlad! He’s just a dog.” She ran after Sharik then, and he watched her take him back by the collar as he fished a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants. He had just lit himself one when she took it from his fingers and put it out against the sole of her high-heeled shoe as she kept her balance with a hand firmly wrapped around his forearm.

“Why did you do that?” It was almost a gasp, half-surprised and half-pissed at a cigarette waisted in such a way.

“I had something to tell you yesterday, in the car.”

“You could’ve done that over shared cigarette!”

“I don’t want to taste cigarettes when I kiss someone, though.”

He almost opened his mouth to retort when her words registered in his brain, and all he could do was stare down into her eyes, not a sound leaving his lips.

“Like that night after the bar, just without drinks. I wanna do this sober.” She had taken a step forward, and they were now standing toe-to-toe. He could almost feel her, even with that short distance separating them – like when she had turned around and had ended up pressing her forehead against his back the night before, with the only difference that they were both awake now. “I want to kiss you again so badly it’s driving me nuts.”

That gasp didn’t leave his lips just because he managed to abruptly inhale quickly at the last second, but her words did make his heart beat faster somehow.

“I kept on telling myself that you’d do it, but you haven’t so far, and I can’t understand if that’s because you still dislike me or –”

He cut her off before she could continue. Her cheeks were burning when he cradled her face between his hands, and her lips were soft against his. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrists. When he pulled her closer, she let him; and when she deepened the kiss, when her tongue brushed against his teeth, he let her.

It was like one of those cliché moments, although it lasted for a couple of seconds at most: his breathing stopped, and the world seemed to stop with it as he kissed her. And then, when everything picked up again – his breathing, his heart, Hell’s Kitchen late-night traffic, Sharik’s tail snapping like a whip against his leg as he stood there – he found himself not wanting to pull away.

She did, though, and she looked up at him out of breath, his hands still cupping her cheeks and her hands still holding on to his wrists. “You’re so stubborn, I swear,” she chuckled. “But if you don’t kiss me again, I’ll go back to being stubborn, too.”

He cackled, and when Sharik pushed against his thigh with his nose, he looked down at him and shook his head. “Maybe Sergei was right, after all,” he mumbled before turning his attention back to Y/N and kissing her again, silencing her question before she had the time to voice it.

This is Sharik :) (pics found on Pinterest eons ago, I don’t remember the links, credits to the owner(s)!)

Comments and inbox are always open for feedback :) pls if you have any ideas you’d like to see in this story, feel free to hit me up, they’d for sure help me out lol since I’m slow AF :’)

TAGS (to be added to or removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi @becs-bunker @gruffle1

The Assistant: @flowers-in-your-hayr

People that might be interested: @kind-wolf @brobachev

#vladimir ranskahov #daredevil #vladimir ranskahov imagine #vladimir daredevil fanfic #vladimir ranskahov x reader #vladimir ranskahov fanfiction #fic series: the assistant #angelaiswriting

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quiet-onset · 4 years

Text

In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure.

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself.

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window.

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun.

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind.

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.”

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost.

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.”

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon.

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up.

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other.

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces.

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded.

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you.

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless.

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only.

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower.

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up.

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday.

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him.

And received no answer.

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery.

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat.

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table.

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say.

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you.

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad.

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy.

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace.

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp.

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could.

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers angst #angsty af #no one ever let me write a single fic this long ever again

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athicfa · 3 years

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Marc Spector: Moon Knight Vol 1 #4 Marc Spector: Moon Knight Vol 1 #5 Spectacular Spider-Man Vol 1 #155 Spectacular Spider-Man Vol 1 #156 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #329 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #330 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #331 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #335 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #337 Marvel Comics Presents Vol 1 #57 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #341 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #342 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #343 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #346 Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #347

Marc Spector: Moon Knight Vol 1 #4

Apparently, at least from reviews and comments I’ve seen online, Moon Knight fans generally hate this run so my expectations are low. I’m only here for Felicia anyway.

this issue exists solely so Felicia Hardy can serve us this look

Marc Spector: Moon Knight Vol 1 #5

yeah that was awful

Spectacular Spider-Man Vol 1 #155

Did they drop the “Peter Parker” tag from the title of this series? Looks like it.

I thought they ended the gang war several issues back? k then

Fe’s just a cameo and the rest of this issue is just Weird

Spectacular Spider-Man Vol 1 #156

oh no have we entered demented redneck territory? dude I’m from Arkansas and this is one of my least favorite tropes EVER. The only acceptable version of the demented redneck trope is in RE7.

primitive existence??? because they live in log cabins and play the banjo??? man fuck you, writers, from the bottom of my primitive southern heart

dude they forgot her sleeve

“I know you Gov’ment men and yORE lies” yeah nvm that’s pretty accurate

If you want to know how to NOT write a southern accent, read this issue. It’s insulting. This isn’t even the south it’s PENNSYLVANIA WHAT ARE THEY DOING

This is bad ED rep too. As if they couldn’t make it worse.

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #329

Tri-Sentinel? Oh this sounds like a bad idea.

MJ doing Queen shit as usual. Prepping for her “Secret Hospital” role. We stan.

AH so we’re in the West Coast Avengers era? Neat.

LOKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why do they write Loki with a cockney accent?

Captain Universe? WHAT IN THE HELL

And here she is, showing up at the end of the issue for a cliffhanger with Flash. Because they really have to make her as vindictive and hateable as they can.

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #330

we start with the Punisher blowing up an ambulance with a rocket launcher so everything is guaranteed to go downhill from this point

Felicia shows up to dinner with Flash and Peter’s going feral but can’t explain to anyone WHY he’s going feral because secret identity and all that jazz

OH MY GOD THAT’S HOW THEY KILL OFF EDDIE? OR AM I BEING SCAMMED WITH A FAKE DEATH AGAIN??? WHAT???????

I love you Aunt May

they break the fourth wall a lot in this and it’s always them going “haha that’s what YOU think Peter but we’re obviously going to make everything worse for you and you should know better you cheeky bastard”

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #331

this is FUCKING AWFUL and I hate it so much

Felicia would NEVER put her hands on MJ like that. This is bullshit. Even if they’re trying to play her as a jealous ex, this is just STUPID. I hate everything about this story so much I’m about to have a fucking aneurysm istg.

oh so I was right Eddie’s fine he just faked his death

now some old lady just randomly slaps MJ WHAT??? second time she’s been physically assaulted in the same issue, and the third time in the past four issues I’ve read. WHAT THE FUCK MAN

they just really hate women I guess

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #335

this is from #332 and I’m not talking about it bc It’s not relevant to Felicia but I just wanna say that this page was pretty cool

Hobgoblin looks genuinely freaky now

Aunt May is precious and needs to be protected at all costs

Flash’s outfit is a fucking crime

mmm Sinister Six is reforming and I couldn’t care less. that was anticlimactic.

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #337

oh no Nathan’s dead. Poor May.

once again Fe’s serving LOOKS while Flash is dressed like the embodiment of glitter in the 80′s

him standing up for her is nice and all but Felicia would have already been throwing hands and handing out free kick vasectomies

Marvel Comics Presents Vol 1 #57

she broke into Versaille and is sleeping in the king’s bedchamber which, y’know, is actually pretty in character so I’m not complaining

Fisk is after her. Again.

that’s it. cute little story. now back to the main event.

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #341

aaaaaand they’re taking Peter’s powers away because they obviously hate him

Felicia looks good. Flash is a neon mess. As always. Guys she would never date a guy that dresses like this I’m sorry but it’s true

MAY YOU SLY DOG I SEE YOU FLIRTING

Felicia being genuinely nice and friendly to MJ, as they should have had it from the start.

Flash is being really sweet and all but dude I still just can’t see it happening between them. He’s too much of a “jock”, to put it as nicely as I can. I know they’re trying to make it turn into a genuine relationship between the two of them but it just. This does not work.

Peter (as Spidey) is in trouble without his powers so Flash and Felicia rush in to help him and MJ is worried about all of them, even Felicia, which was a sweet moment.

“I can’t break your heart if you’re dead” sure Felicia not like you actually just don’t want Peter to die or anything

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #342

they’ve promised me Felicia protecting Peter from the Scorpion this issue and they better give it to me or I might cry

Peter having to cope with not having his powers anymore is genuinely interesting but it’s hard to trust that they’ll do right by him based on how they ALWAYS do shit just to hurt him. And also having it be his choice is just??? Dude I doubt it. That doesn’t feel like a Peter Parker move AT ALL.

they keep having Felicia randomly refer to the Black Cat from a third person perspective and I hate it

she knows something’s wrong and she gets him to fess up to it

“Flash is a good guy and I wouldn’t never hurt him just to get back at you” REALLY MARVEL WHERE WAS THIS ENERGY AT, I DUNNO, THE BEGINNING OF THE ARC???

next day. Scorpion nabs Jameson. Felicia brings Peter’s Spidey suit to him, even though he’s powerless now. Nice that she still has faith in him but this is objectively a very bad decision from both of them.

Fe protecting Peter from Scorpion like they promised me??? FUCK YES

they’re letting her have a lot of nice moments in this fight I’m shocked they’re FINALLY showing her an ounce of respect

she kicked the shit out of Scorpion I LOVE it

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #343

Actually love the dynamic reversal right now. It’s like when Felicia had no powers, except it’s Peter in her shoes now. Still hate how we got here but at least I can enjoy it reading again. For the most part.

AH THERE’S THE FAMOUS PHYSICS-DEFYING PURPLE DRESS

no but seriously she went to borrow jeans from MJ and came back with THIS

more badass Felicia moments so I have been placated. For now.

Why did they draw her with claw feet in one panel though when she’s supposed to have normal boots on lmfaoooo

he fiddles with Dr. Turner’s device and gets his powers back right as Felicia’s getting overwhelmed.

“At least they didn’t break my nose” followed by a cute little cheek rub, as she DESERVES

oof she’s in bad shape

the machine took her powers away somehow so...okay

so she’s gonna quit being the Black Cat? BULLSHIT. She was the Black Cat before she had powers. It’s something she’s NEVER gonna be able to give up, just like Peter can’t quit being Spiderman.

At least Felicia, Peter, and MJ are all on good terms now which is more than I expected from this awful arc.

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #346

VENOM

she wants to come help Peter so I guess she’s NOT giving up the Black Cat completely like they said? Which...okay. But he won’t let her come help anyway because he knows she’ll get trashed by Venom.

Venom feels like a real threat which is great because most of the villain set-ups leading up to this have been lame af

Amazing Spider-Man Vol 1 #347

Venom in the background of this is hella creepy

Felicia and Flash are fighting bc she’s worried sick about Peter and pissed she can’t do anything, so she’s lashing out and refusing to go to some stupid concert with him. And then immediately changes her mind because what is consistency in a character am I right, Marvel?

May and Willie are cute

He had to fake his death to get Venom off his back and you know...I think I kind of like it. It was an unusual finish to a story but it does a good job at painting Venom as an unstoppable force, which will make his eventual defeat way more rewarding than most of the one-and-done villains that show up, get their asses kicked, and then disappear for thirty issues.

#long post tw #[comic commentary]#may or may not read more tonight we'll see

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

“I’ll take care of you.” “It’s rotten work.” “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” + kastle please!!! :)

She’s alive, Frank can tell that much, and she’s probably even feeling better, because he can see a faint crack of glaring blue beneath her eyelashes, the kind of look that means she’d leap right off this goddamn bed right now and power out the door if there weren’t half a dozen armed guards outside and more at six-foot intervals down the hall. When they first brought her in, there were a few idiots wondering if they really needed this level of protection against one woman, but that was before they saw what she did to the Italians. Still cleaning up shell casings and drying blood on club tables, crime scene tapes fluttering for two blocks square. She’s been strapped to the bed, and when the doctor asked Frank if he should be in here alone, he told him he was a goddamn United States Marine. He’s pretty sure he’s seen worse.

(Pretty sure.)

Shit, Frank thinks, rubbing his hand over the buzzed-short back of his head, only slowly growing out. He’s not sure what in the hell he’s doing here, only that someone called up last night and asked if he could run point. Maybe they think he has an insight into how the vigilante’s mind worked, but while he’s been pulled in that direction a few times before, he wanted to at least try to leave the war behind. It came too late to save his marriage. Maria took the kids and left behind divorce papers and moved to Florida, and now Frank sees ‘em every two months, if he’s lucky. It’s not easy to get out of New York, he’s working menial jobs he’s vastly overqualified for and going through the shit of the VA, still doesn’t sleep, wakes and finds his finger itching for a trigger –

Well. Against all that, at least the Punisher is interesting.

Frank has to admit, it’s not often he’s seen a woman go totally apeshit like that. Not that they can’t, just that he’s so often thought of them as being so much fuckin’ smarter than men, don’t get mixed up in their tribal bullshit, their caveman instinct to beat holy hell out of a smaller rival with a stick. But this doesn’t feel like that. He’s skirted close enough to the edge that he knows what it’s like, that burning thirst for revenge, for justice, that can’t be gotten any other way. The nurses won’t go in here. It’s just him, the first thing she’s seeing as she’s waking up. Poor lady, he thinks.

He sits down. He ain’t in a hurry.

“Who are…” Her voice from the bed is suspicious, rusty, worn with tubes. She rattles at the handcuff and finds it solid. “Who the hell are you?”

“Afternoon, ma’am.” Frank puts his hands behind his head and leans back. “Heard you caused a big goddamn mess out there.”

The Punisher tries to sit up. He wonders if she knows that she’s called that, some stupid cop-chatter nickname; he’s impressed the NYPD, which can rarely find its ass with both hands and a flashlight, didn’t just go for Bitch. (Though to be sure, they’re probably saying that too.) When she finds she definitely can’t get free, and he’s sitting there and looking totally unbothered by his proximity to an unhinged madwoman, she says, “What do you want from me?”

“Want to know what that was, for a start.” Frank jerks his thumb at the wall, as if the bodies of the mobsters she torched are stacked behind it.

“Who are you reporting to?” She continues to watch him, slit-eyed and narrow, unyielding and suspicious behind her heavily bruised face. “What do you want? Are you working for Fisk?”

“I was working for Fisk, you’d be dead.” Frank’s curiosity is piqued. Everyone knows Kingpin, but this little blonde woman – no, not little, she’s probably tall as him in bare feet, looks like a Valkyrie – is not the enemy he imagined going after him. “I’m trying to keep your ass out of some very important fires. Those dumb shits out there, they think I’m just here to be some psychological counselor BS. So either you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help, or I leave you here and things are about to get a whole lot worse.”

Despite herself, the Punisher can’t answer that immediately. She knows that when you wake up handcuffed to a hospital bed under heavy guard, your options are rarely good, and she can’t deny she needs allies. (Though what shape that takes, Frank couldn’t say, and he knows that he too is teetering on the brink of something dangerous.) Finally, she says, “What’s your name?”

“Castle. Frank Castle.” Lieutenant still comes out easy, hovers there, but he bites it back. “United States Marine Corps, retired.”

“Retired?” She glances him up and down. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Recently,” Frank says, like it’s her business. “You got a name or what?”

She considers that, chewing her tongue. She has no reason to trust him, but their eyes meet, and it feels a little too meaningful in some way that Frank is not remotely willing to scrutinize further. Finally she says, “Karen. Page.”

“Well, Karen Page, you pissed off a lot of real important men last night.” Frank tries to think where he knows that name. It seemed familiar, for just a moment, and then it flees again. “And they’re not the kind who sit pretty and wring their hands about it.” Before he can bite back the stupidest thing he’s said in his life, and that’s a high standard, he adds, “I could help, you know.”

Karen Page eyes him without a word. Her face is unreadable, blue eyes opaque behind the bruises and the scuffs and the scratches, put up an unholy fight as they were trying to bring her in. She doesn’t need to ask what skills a jarhead would bring to the table, but she definitely could ask why he’s suddenly so interested. “No,” she says at last, flatly. “I work alone.”

“Course.” Frank gets up as if to leave. He doesn’t blame her, wouldn’t trust her as far as he could spit in her position, so he can’t be too surprised she turned him down. But it’s then that he can see the realization cross her face, the fact that if he walks out this door and leaves her to the unmerciful hordes, the cops and the journalists and the doctors and all the assholes on talk radio screaming about how they knew bitches were crazy, she has nobody at all. He stops, waiting. Then he says, “You messed those assholes up good. Impressive.”

It’s a compliment, it couldn’t be anything else in his voice, and she flinches, as if the last thing she wants is any evidence of a kindred spirit. Despite himself, he moves closer. Pulls the sterile white blanket up a notch, makes sure the glass of water is in reach of her uncuffed hand, as she continues to stare at him, her dirty blonde hair tangled on the sterile pillow. “Well,” he says. “Suit yourself.”

Once again, he starts to go. Behind him, Karen says, “Wait.”

Frank stops. He turns.

“Yeah?”

“I – ” She swallows painfully. “Thanks.”

Frank looks at her, isn’t sure what wriggles in his chest, what prods at things he’s kept in a locked chest, all the ideas he’s had and that could render him even more of a public menace than her, though that would be hard at this point. “Look, he says gruffly, feeling it’s his duty, if nothing else, to warn her. “Doing this shit alone, it’s – it’s hard. I’m not gonna ask what it was for, I’m not your goddamn priest, and I’m not gonna judge you for it. But maybe you need – you know. Maybe you could do with help.”

Karen’s mouth twists. She’s heard promises like this before, he understands, heard them and saw them come to nothing. Finally she says, “It’s dirty work.”

“I’m not what you’d call a saint either.” Frank puts on his hat. “You take care now, Miss Page.”

And with that, even as he wonders exactly what he’s leaving here – if it’s not just the work that’s drawn him, if it’s her, if something has been started that can’t be undone, if he’s going home to open the gun safe, to shed this shell like snakeskin, and be the man, the killer, he too has always been – he leaves.

(september prompt list)

#kastle #kastle ff #prompt fills #frank-kastle #ask

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nadisabug · 4 years

Text

First Meetings

Prompt: kinda based off a little idea I had

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Ben Poindexter x female OC

AU: No Fisk (aka not in the show's plot line/universe so spoiler free!)

Warnings: cursing

A/N: I tried to write this in an “x reader” format, but I do not have much experience writing in second person (I am more of a third person kind of gal) so I quick drew up an OC for this. If anyone wants an reader insert or actually wants their own OC in a fic, just let me know in my inbox! I can definitely do either (I need to practice second person at some point). Thank and enjoy!

****

Kira was getting ready for her morning walk with her dog when her phone began to ring. She was currently trying to wrestle Liam in his harness, but the mutt lab was too excited over the prospect of an outing to calm down. She sighed, dropping the harness, and turned to see who it was. If it was another one of those spam calls, she swore she was going to toss her phone out of the building.

Luckily, it wasn't. It was Evelyn, her best friend, which was weird since she was never up this early unless she had a shift, but Kira swore she was off today.

"Hey Evie," she greeted her best friend warmly before setting the phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker. "You're up early."

"Yeah, Clay woke me up on his way to work. Lame, but I thought I could catch you before you head in to the office."

"Oh yeah," she nodded as she reached down to grab the harness again. "I'm not in until nine, so I am taking Liam on a walk." Eve was referring to her job where she worked as a therapist. It was a government job, so she wasn't paid too well, but she got to help a lot of people in need and that is all that really mattered. She got a good mix of clients, from hyperactive children to adult addicts, so no day was ever the same. She had a few regulars though, one of which she was supposed to see today at one. She was on the schedule for new patients until then today.

"Aw, okay I'll make this quick then. I will pick you up after my shift ends at seven. Be dressed nice. Kay?"

"That is a solid no from me. Evelyn, you know I do not want to go on another blind date. The last one turned out so bad!" Kira turned to Liam and told him to sit. The mutt barked and ran off into her bedroom. Kira sighed and gave up on the harness for the time being.

"Oh, come on Kiki. It wasn't that bad," Eve groaned. "And the worst part wasn't even your fault."

Eve had somehow managed to convince her to go to some crazy fancy restaurant to go on a double date with Eve's boyfriend and one of his coworkers. Early into the night, Kira managed to knock a wineglass into her date's lap and then later the waiter accidentally lost their grip on the platter and dumped all of the food onto her date. While the second part definitely was not her fault -the waiter had said something hit their had and made them lose their grip or something- she still felt awful about the wineglass part. The worst part was she didn't remember touching the glass, or feeling the impact that caused it to tip over.

"Eve, I still feel bad about drenching the poor guy."

"Kira, like a little wine mattered once our dinner was all over him. Besides, dinner was free and he gets to go again without the klutz of the century, on the house."

"Eve," Kira groaned.

"It's a different guy who has no idea about your last stunt. There is no reason not to, unless you have finally asked out Mr. Benjamin Poindexter, which would be the only way I would let you out."

Kira was glad that Eve was not there to see her, because her face instantly flushed. Needing a moment to collect herself, she picked up the harness again and called over Liam, pretending to be too preoccupied to answer. Once she felt like the charade had gone on long enough, she finally bit out a tired response. "Uh, and if I say I have?"

"I would call you a liar and a stalker because your dumb ass hasn't said a single word to him. Ever."

Eve technically wasn't wrong. About the talking to Ben part; she never had actually spoken to which honestly was the only abnormality she would admit to. She was used to the tight knit community back home, so the curt nods they shared seemed odd to her at first. Then again, this was Hell's Kitchen. It wasn't like Ben had something against her, it was just normal here for people to ignore each other. So again, it wasn't like it was her fault that she had never spoken to her next door neighbor, that was just the norm here.

But Eve was wrong about the stalker part. Kiara McKinley was not stalking Benjamin Poindexter. She just had a healthy interest in her impossibly attractive next door neighbor. How could she not? With a jawline that could cut glass and a body that rivaled most others, no one could blame her for staring every once in a while, and it wasn't her fault that she just happened to see him relatively often. He would go on a run when she normally walked Liam, he just so happened to go to the same restaurants and coffee shop where Eve worked, and they had almost identical work schedules. Besides, they were neighbors. Of course they would see each other often. Those parts she explained away easily. However, Eve gave her grief about them when Kira learned the problematic man's name.

"I am not a stalker." Liam seemed to sense her attitude and came to a rest at her feet. She quickly slipped the harness under him while he gave her the chance.

"You committed mail fraud to learn his name!"

"I did not! The mail man just mixed our doors up and I gave it back to him! We are neighbors, it's bound to happen." A simple mistake from an over worked postal worker was the proverbial nail in the coffin for Kiara. After she began referring to Ben by name, Eve would not let it drop. That and the fact that she knew he worked at the FBI, also something that also not her fault. He came home in a uniform that had the bold letters plastered across it, it didn't take a genius to guess his occupation.

"Likely story. Just how you seem to see him everywhere and just happen to know where he works." There is was. Kira sighed. "Likely story, but makes more sense if you are totally following him everywhere he goes." Her tone was light, and they both knew she was joking. Besides, stalkers were so uncommon, weren't they?

"This is all besides the point Eve. I am not going." Kira finally managed to get a hold of Liam's leash and made her way to the door, picking up her keys on the way out.

"Well, I wouldn't have to set you up like this if you would just ask your victim out."

"He is not a victim, let alone my victim," Kira groaned and threw open the door. She locked it quickly behind her, fumbling with the keys. "For the last time, I am not stalking Ben!" Because of her frustration, she dropped her keys onto the ground, which was an opening Koda did not hesitate to take. He darted away, the leash slipping through Kira's fingers. Kira cursed and hung up on Eve. She could explain later, she had to catch Liam first.

But when she turned to go after him, she saw that there was no need to rush in the first place. Liam was not making a beeline for the stairwell, he had his paws on the shoulder's of man, happily trying to lick his face. Once Kira processed who the man was, she nearly died on the spot.

"I am so, so sorry," she quickly sputtered, rushing over to grab Liam. "Liam, down boy, down!" She went to grab the leash when she realized that she didn't have to. It was already in Ben's hand.

"No worries," Ben laughed, nervous twinge to his voice, handing the leash over to her. Once his hands were free, he scratched Liam behind the ears with a heart melting grin. Kira was so fucked.

Kira laughed nervously and shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. "Sorry," she repeated for the second time. "He's a really friendly guy. It feels like he wants to go home with everyone except for me sometimes, the way he acts around strangers."

Kira thought that Ben frowned at the last part, but his smile was back before she could really be sure. "I don't know why he'd wanna do that, with an owner like you," Ben said softly, almost as if he was talking to Liam.

"Um, thanks I think?" Kira laughed nervously and tugged Liam away from Ben. Liam finally released Ben and flopped down on the ground next to Kira.

"Sorry, that probably sounds so weird cause I don't know you, well I mean I know you're my neighbor but like I don't know you like that-"

"Hey, it's okay," Kira laughed. Ben was pretty cute when nervous. However, Kira's laid back nature and words must have not reached Ben because he still looked a mess.

"I just meant cause you're pretty."

Wow. Well Kira wasn't expecting that.

Kira looked away from him, her face flushed an practically tomato red. "Uh, wow... thanks... I um..."

"Sorry," Ben groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I did not mean to say that out loud. Or at all. Now it's all weird and all I wanted to say was-"

"Take me to dinner," Kira blurted.

Ben blinked, as if unsure that he heard her right. Kira mustered all of her confidence and smiled at him, looking him right in his eyes. "You wanted to ask me to take you to dinner as an apology for my dog jumping all over you." Kira lifted up the leash as if to remind him that the dog was still there. "You free tonight? I can take you somewhere just so that Liam here doesn't crash the party again. We can talk, actually get to know each other since we do live right next door to each other."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, actually." Ben smiled. "I get off at six."

"I'll see you here at seven then, sound good, Ben?"

Ben's mouth twitched and he cocked an eyebrow. "Ben?"

Kira's stomach dropped. Fuck. Shit fuck shit. "Uh..." She mumbled, immediately losing all the confidence she had before. "I am so sorry, I just the mailman gave me your stuff one day and your name was on it that must sound like such a shitty excuse I swear I am not stalking you or anything..." Kira winced. She said the word before even he could accuse her of it. Great. Fantastic job Kira. Way to go, you get idiot of the year award.

But then something insane happened.

Ben laughed.

"It's okay, I just thought it was weird. I usually go by Dex. That makes sense though, I mean we are next door neighbors."

Kira let out a huge sigh of relief and looked up at him sheepishly. "You don't think I am some sort of creepy stalker?"

Ben laughed. "No of course not."

"So the date's not off?"

"Date?" Ben smirked.

Kira flushed bright red again. "I am just putting my foot in my mouth over and over I am so sorry, I said it was a get to know you dinner now it's all weird-"

"No, it's okay. It can be a date."

Kira squinted up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ben nodded again, still smiling, somehow even brighter than before.

Kira nodded. "Should I call you Dex too?"

"Nah," he waved her off. "I was just thrown off. I think it's cute that you already have a lil stalker nickname for me."

Kira furrowed her eyebrows and puffed out her cheeks. "I though you said you didn't think I was a stalker."

"I don't," Ben grinned and started walking backwards towards the stairwell. "I just think it's fun to tease. I'll see you tonight Kira!" And with that, he was off, presumably to start off his jog.

Kira stepped into the elevator with Liam, she smiling about her new date with her unbelievably cute neighbor. She pulled out her phone to call Eve back, both to explain why she hung up and what just happened, but something stopped her. Then she realized.

She never gave Ben her name.

#uh oh stalker #lmao like she can talk tho #lil stalker girl #i love this idea #of him being a stalker so much that she thinks shes a stalker #ben poindexter #poindexter x oc #ben poindexter x OC #daredevil #ben poindexter x reader #Poindexter x reader #daredevil poindexter #my writing

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altumvidetur · 4 years

Text

MCU Daredevil: MattFoggy Fic Recs

MCU Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I didn’t actually watch season 3 of Daredevil, so my recs are all from before that. I still plan to watch, so please take that into account when interacting with this post!

Fitter. Happier. More Productive., by what_alchemy

Matt tries to let go. He's not too good at it.

through the bookcase, imagining a scene, by returnsandreturns

“He’s back,” Karen says, making Foggy jump and drop his armful of books. She winces and drops down immediately to help him pick them up.

“Matt?” Foggy asks. It’s an optimistic guess—there are a lot of guys who could be back, like the guy who sits in a study carrel and eats peanut butter out of a jar with his hands and Uncomfortable Religious Missionary Guy, who is actually three different guys.

“Yep,” she replies, nodding and widening her eyes when she grins. “He’s flirting with the circulation ladies, which means you’ve got just enough time to steal my shift at the reference desk before he gets there.”

The Constellation of Touch, by what_alchemy

Months after Fisk is put away, nothing's right between the partners at Nelson and Murdock. But Christmas is here, and Matt is still expected at the Nelson house.

you won’t get better till you’re worse, by annperkinsface

The road to forgiveness has a lot of vodka.

my name on your lips, by unnecessary

It starts when Matt and Marci have coffee. Then Foggy and Claire have coffee. Then Claire throws a Christmas party, and really, it isn't like Foggy means to keep almost confessing to Matt, but can anyone really blame him?

I Decided This, by patster223

“I’m contributing yet another lovely sign to our office,” Foggy says, brandishing the finished product with a flourish. Matt can’t see the sign, but he can probably sense the flourish, which is what matters. “It says, ‘It has been ‘0’ days since Matt made an idiotic decision.’”

“Doesn’t seem like it will inspire much trust from our clients.”

What the sign instead inspires: debates, understanding, a patented Murdock-level guilt trip, ice cream celebrations, a kiss, and perhaps even a way to finally move forward.

We Just Lost the Beat, by knight_tracer and lady_ragnell

Matt hears a lot in the city at night, sirens and crime--and the late-night radio show Foggy With a Chance, which sometimes runs a Daredevil Watch if he's been particularly active, but which mostly plays music. He probably shouldn't call in and request a song, but he does it anyway.

I’ll Most Likely Kill You in the Morning, by inkfingers_mcgee

Foggy and Matt never met at school. They cross paths for the first time while working opposite sides of a case, and Matt doesn't leave an impression beyond the superficial: a blind, pro-bono crusader who Foggy will feel really guilty about having to oppose in court one of these days. Seemed like a nice guy, but no one Foggy will worry about a week later.

He has more important things on his mind, like the masked vigilante who keeps cornering him in dark alleys to threaten him for information.

Touch Me, Don’t Feel Me, by fabella

Foggy struggles to navigate a casual sexual relationship with Matt after the events of season two. It's predictably complicated.

Hold Me Fast and Fear Me Not, by lady_ragnell

Something in New York has everyone walking around with iron in their pockets, and it seems like the vigilante they're calling the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is at the center of it all. Foggy knows how to steer clear of that kind of trouble, but when the Devil seeks him out, he ends up in the middle of it with him.

A Janet and Tam Lin AU.

jump, check parachute, by augustbird

Foggy Nelson: good at law, terrible at feelings.

Just Wanna Take Him Home, by lady_ragnell

Foggy mostly takes little old ladies to parties doing escort jobs, which he's fine with.

Getting hired to spend two hours hugging a lawyer is kind of a departure. He should have known it would all get complicated fast.

Daredevils Don’t Drink Decaf, by ChuckleVoodoos

“I really, really want to make a joke about bats and blindness. Will you punch me if I make a joke about bats and blindness?” Matt shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, so we’re Superspud and Blind-As-A-Batman.”

In which Foggy uses his law degree to peddle coffee to unsuspecting caffeine junkies, and Matt is his favorite customer. Who may or may not be Batman.

Say You’ll Still Be By My Side, by lady_ragnell

Bless me, Foggy, for I have sinned.

Eres Mi Grande Avocado, by ChuckleVoodoos

Matt's got this way of speaking in Spanish that's just a little different than his way of speaking in English. In English, all of Matt's words are carefully weighed and measured and cut like crystal. They're precious but planned. With Spanish, the words seem to fall like drops of liquid gold, hot and rich and wild, and it makes Foggy want to gather them to himself and finally be warm.

Gazelle, Lion, Gun, by ChuckleVoodoos

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has got some competition. Sassy sharpshooters do not make good crime-fighting partners, except that they really do.

Dream Catcher, by ChuckleVoodoos

When Matt has nightmares, so does Foggy. Unfortunately, Matt has a lot of nightmares. Even when he's not asleep.

Or: Matt visits Foggy after the bombings, and it doesn't go well.

Red Cross, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy is perfectly happy being a law-abiding physician with a weakness for cupcakes.

No one else seems to understand this.

Rocky Horror Pancake Show, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

The Boxer-Puncher, by one_flying_ace

“Matt, you’re my best friend, but you’re a goddamn idiot sometimes. It’s not about you. I’m not training, I’m not looking to get in a ring or do what you do. I just wanted to know a little more.” He says it fiercely, strongly, right into Matt’s ear like that’ll get it through to him any easier. “It’s not like I’m any good at it,” he adds, which is probably a mistake.

His heartbeat definitely spikes on the lie, because Matt flinches.

if ever joy surrounds you (you have to let it), by KiaraSayre

"I mean, I did think that maybe vigilantism is actually good for you in terms of, like, self-actualization or whatever, but - have you been seeing a therapist or something? Good talks with your priest?"

(Or, it's weird how weird things aren't between Matt and Foggy. Particularly when they're talking about boners.)

That Spin I’m In, by Werelibrarian and poisonivory

"What does that mean?" Matt asks Strange.

"Well, that depends," Strange says, unfolding his legs and letting his feet touch the floor again. Matt gets the distinct impression Strange is hedging. "Are you currently suffering heartbreak?"

Matt very carefully doesn't think about Elektra. Or Karen. Or Foggy. "Let's leave my personal life out of this."

Strange clears his throat. "Yes, well, that option may no longer be on the table."

Matt really hates magic.

How Your Heart Pounds Inside Me, by poisonivory

Hiring a surrogate alpha is supposed to be the simplest way to get through a heat - and Matt doesn't want to risk his heart again, not after the last time. But nothing in Matt's life is ever simple, and when his surrogate turns up again to oppose both Matt Murdock, Attorney-at-Law and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, it's more than just Matt's heart at risk.

Just Our Hands Clasped So Tight, by poisonivory

If there's one thing Foggy Nelson knows about Matt Murdock, it's how tactile he is.

Will You, by poisonivory

Foggy's always joking when he asks Matt to marry him. Matt's always serious when he says yes.

- OR -

Five proposals Foggy forgot, and one Matt makes sure he'll remember.

Stay In My Arms (If You Dare), by poisonivory

The Defenders are the most elite bodyguard agency in the world. When Wilson Fisk's personal attorney Foggy Nelson walks in looking for protection from a mysterious man in black, Matt Murdock is more than happy to take Mr. Nelson's safety in hand. But Nelson's guilt is hard to prove, and Matt may have gotten himself in too deep - especially once someone besides the man in black starts gunning for his client.

I Would Know You by Touch Alone, by unnecessary

It doesn’t matter if Matt has a soulmate, because if he does, it’s not Foggy.

Written for this prompt on the kink meme: “Foggy’s soulmate mark is raised birthmarks that read ‘Matt’ in Braille.”

...Aaaaaand a series within the Spider-Gwen universe:

The Lawyer All the Wickedness, by poisonivory

(Summary by me: in which Foggy is, at turns, angered, baffled and aroused by scumbag defense attorney Matt Murdock.)

#daredevil #mcu #mattfoggy #fic recs #matt murdock #foggy nelson #otp: avocados at law #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it

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fireblaze5555 · 4 years

Text

Fire Away: Chapter 12 (end)

Chapter 12: I’ll Cry to My Grave...Fire Away

Also on A03: Fire Away: Chapter 12

Frank came awake in a panic, his eyes snapping open but he managed to keep his body still. He was still tucked closely to Karen’s back, her hand clutching his to her chest while she snored just the tiniest bit. Neither of them had moved through the night which was a good indication of how exhausted they were. Slowly, Frank let his muscles relax, the dream he had been in fading to the background. He allowed himself a few more minutes before flexing his fingers slowly to release them from her grip and moved gingerly off the cot. Frank froze with one foot on the floor when he heard a quiet protesting noise from Karen, her eyes didn’t open but she tried to grasp at the empty space behind her before he shoulder protested the movement.

“Hey,” he moved quickly to the side of the cot, grabbing her hand and tucking it back up to her chest, stroking a thumb across her knuckles as he did, “I just need to make a couple calls, you can go back to sleep.”

A tired blue eye cracked and looked at him blearily before another sound of protest escaped her. His lips tilted up in a smile, god she was adorable when she wasn’t being reckless and stubborn. Looking over his shoulder at the closest clock he turned back to her.

“It’s 5:30am.”

The next sound she made was one of disgust as she firmly closed her eyes and nestled back into the covers. He laid a tender kiss to her temple and stood, quiet snores resuming before he had made it to the other end of the room.

Picking up his phone, Frank dialed from memory.

“ G’morning sleeping beauty.” David’s exhausted voice was quiet on the other end of the line.

“Get some rest David. I’m up for the day and can take it from here.” There was an affirming grunt from the other end of the line and rustling like the call was about to disconnect but Frank spoke up before he realized what he was doing.

“David?” There was a pause on the other end of the line and he wondered if maybe the other man had already hung up but then there was a loud yawn in his ear. Shaking his head, Frank glanced over his shoulder to where Karen was sleeping peacefully and then turned back to the security monitors he stood in front of.

“Hey, uh..” He was never good at this stuff. “Thank you. I know I’ve been an asshole but I know how hard you worked to help me find and protect her and I….just...thanks.” He finished lamely.

There was thoughtful silence on the other end of the line and just when Frank was certain that David wasn’t going to say anything, he spoke up.

“ You’re welcome. You can make it up to me by coming around more….and bringing her with you, yeah?”

He shouldn’t be surprised at the request but it still blindsides him just a bit, “Uh, yeah. I’ll try.” That didn’t seem like enough. “Yeah, we’ll be in touch.”

“ See that you are or I’ll find you. ” Then the line goes dead.

It was said in such a way that Frank wasn’t entirely sure if it was a joke or a threat. Probably a mix of both.

The next call was to Curtis. Frank was confident in his stitching skills on himself because he didn’t care about another scar or if it healed perfectly but he wanted to make sure Karen’s injury would heal as best as it possibly could. That would require a professional so he gave his friend the abridged version of the previous night and set a time to meet later that afternoon to look her over.

The final call was to Rikers penitentiary.

Frank grabbed one of the many burner phones he possessed, setting his more permanent phone to the side and moved further into the abandoned warehouse, away from Karen. He dialed and waited, requested Wilson Fisk when prompted. His trigger finger tapped against the phone as he paced the dim and dusty room, hoping he wouldn’t have to have David patch him though some other way. But just as he suspected, Fisk had control of the place and didn’t have to go through the usual channels to receive calls. The phone service was his to control so the call went through without the usual vetting.

“ Yes? ” Frank recognized the voice immediately just in that single syllable. The arrogance filling the word set his teeth on edge.

“You should have left her alone.” His own voice was low, the remnants of rage making the words burn.

“ Mr. Castle. I am surprised you reached out so soon. My wife informed me of your visit to her last night with Ms. Page. Something I have to admit, I am none too pleased about.” A simmering anger laced the words. “ I’ll admit, I did not anticipate you having an association with Miss Page.”

“That right? You don’t like some dangerous asshole around someone you care about? Not as fun when the tables are turned, huh?” Frank’s voice was harsh and taunting.

“ Karen Page took someone I care about from me. She’s a murderer, Mr. Castle. Isn’t it your job to kill criminals, not protect them?”

Frank’s vision went red quickly but he took a couple of deep breaths through his nose until his focus was back. When he could trust himself to speak again without shouting, his voice was deadly calm, deep and intense with promise. “You don’t say her fucking name. Ever again. You’re really gonna sit there and call her a murderer like you’ve never killed anyone? All high and mighty in your gilded cage. Karen killed that shitbag friend of yours because he didn’t give her a choice. If he were still alive, I would kill him for fun. Drag it out for every hour of pain and torment you have put her through.”

He paused for a moment, measuring his next words. He was more than just the Punisher at this moment, more than Frank Castle. He was a man who had lost everything, including himself. Now though, he had a beautiful unstoppable woman putting his pieces back together. He wasn’t the same man as before but he was slowly starting to see glimpses of him in this new man he was becoming.

“You’ll leave Karen Page alone. That includes her friends. If she loses another minute of sleep because of you, I will make you suffer. You so much as breathe her name and I’ll know. Keep in mind that I’ve found your wife before, I can do it again.” There is a choking noise on the other end of the line, a sure sign that Frank had hit the nerve he was aiming for.

Frank wouldn’t kill Vanessa, as far he knew she hadn’t committed any major crimes. Though if she crossed that line or threatened Karen again, he wouldn’t have a choice because he won’t tolerate any more threats to Karen from a Fisk.

“ What exactly is your involvement with Ms. Page?” Fisk’s voice was filled with barely contained rage.

“That is none of your fucking business. All you need to know is that if she gets hurt and I even suspect it has anything to do with you, I will destroy everything you love. I can show you what it is like to truly lose everything. Are we clear?” There was finality in his tone.

A shuddering breath came through the line before Fisk spoke, “ Yes, we are clear, Mr. Castle. I’m sure we will be seeing each other, once I’m free again.”

“I look fuckin’ forward to it.” He disconnects the line and proceeds to shatter the phone on the ground.

Frank flexed his hands and continued to take deep breaths. Every fiber of his being was screaming to end Fisk, remove the threat completely. If he was still breathing, he was still a danger to Karen. The other man being in prison really did make things more difficult though. Besides, he and Karen had already hashed out that particular issue. Though, if it ended the way it did last time, he may be willing to have the discussion again.

There would be a day of reckoning. It was only a matter of time before Wilson Fisk was released from prison because of some bullshit loophole or another. Then he could finally put that piece of shit in the ground for good.

As much as he didn’t like it, he would leave Fisk alone. For now.

-----

Karen woke to a twinge in her shoulder and the smell of fresh coffee. She sat up with a quiet groan and peered around the small living space, eyes settling on Frank at the small card table that served as a place to eat and plan. His eyes came up from the paper he was reading to settle on her, skimming down her body before stilling at her shoulder.

“‘Morning, Ma’am. It’s 0700, we are going to make a morning person out of you yet.” His voice was raspy and deep and it sent a shiver down her spine. It didn’t help that he also was just in a pair of dark pants, shirt slung over his shoulder, damp from his workout and the resulting shower, no doubt. It wasn’t fair to be that sexy first thing in the morning. Frank stood from the table, striding over to where she sat, disheveled and trying not to be visibly turned on.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Before she could answer, he was pulling back the gauze to inspect the wound for signs of infection.

Karen grunted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. “It feels okay, a little twingy but not killing me.”

He gave a grunt of his own, putting the bandage back in place. “On the way back to your apartment we are going to swing by Curt’s place so he can look it over and make sure I didn’t screw it up.”

She gave him an incredulous look, standing to follow him when he turned back to the table. “Well that’s really encouraging Frank, I wasn’t concerned before but I am a little now.” She gave him a teasing smile as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Who’s Curt?”

For a second he looked startled, like he was surprised she didn’t know who Curt was but then shook his head quickly, “Yeah, sorry, I guess you haven’t met him. He’s a marine buddy of mine, we served together. Best medic around and probably one of the best people too.”

“Okay, I look forward to meeting him then. Make sure you didn’t give me a lame arm or something.” She gave another teasing smile before settling in next to him and sipping her coffee.

After a small breakfast of eggs and toast, easy conversation filling the calm silence, they made little fanfare of packing up the safehouse and loading into the van. Karen tried not to let anxiety creep into her mind at the thought of things going back to normal. With most things, she was looking forward to it but she worried that once she was back to her life and Frank was back to his, this tentative thing they were doing would vanish. She couldn’t let that happen.

Rather than dwell on that particular brand of panic, Karen mused on how it felt to not be on the run for the first time in nearly a month. She felt lighter, like she could draw in a full breath again. Though, she still didn’t entirely trust that there wouldn’t be someone waiting around the next corner for her. Judging by the way Frank was frequently checking the mirrors and eyeing any remotely suspicious vehicles, he didn’t entirely trust the situation either. In the drive across town, no one emerged from the dark corners of the city to threaten her though, so she took it as a good sign.

The burner phone Karen had been using pinged as they eased up to a curb outside of a quaint apartment building somewhere in Brooklyn. She smiled at his lengthy text from Foggy, how relieved he was that this was over, how much he couldn’t wait to have her back in the office and at Josie’s bar, smoking him at pool. His last question though had her covering her mouth with one hand, somewhere between mortified and amused.

“ Also, what the hell did you all do to Matt? He has been in mood today and will not tell me what has him so cranky. He might have deserved whatever it was but if you could apologize or something, for my sake, I would greatly appreciate it!”

Frank caught her movement and leaned slightly to glimpse at the screen, “Nelson get back to ya?”

Karen nodded before snapping the phone closed and raising an eyebrow at him. “According to Foggy, Matt is in a foul mood today. I suppose I am going to owe him an apology.”

Frank scoffed, “Fuck ‘im. I mean, unless you are sorry about what happened last night.” His voice dropped an octave, cocky around the edges but she heard a hint of doubt in there as well.

Well, she really couldn’t be surprised that was his response. With a roll of her eyes, Karen tucked the phone into her bag.

“I’m not sorry about what happened but we probably could have been more considerate of his super-hearing. He already isn’t happy with the fact that we...uh....stayed in contact, I’m sure that was just salt in the wound.”

There wasn’t a response so Karen turned to see Frank with an unreadable look on his face, watching her carefully.

She let a little exasperation bleed into her voice, “If you so much as hint that I’m better off with him, I swear I might have to hurt you. Aren’t you supposed to be introducing me to Curtis or something?”

Without waiting for an answer she swung out of the van and waited for him to follow, coming around the front of the vehicle, wrapping a loose arm around her waist and tugging her in the right direction. He stayed quiet but she saw the tense line in his shoulder relax. One day he was going to understand that Matt had not been a love interest for her for a very long time.

They didn’t say anything as they made their way up the steps, Frank’s hand laying gently on her lower back, Karen trying to ignore the warm feeling the simple action sent coursing through her. She was starting to think she would never get used to Frank’s hands on her.

They came to a stop outside of a door and Frank lifted a hand to knock but hesitated. She watched him for a second and when he didn’t move further, rested a gentle hand on his bicep, concern drawing her brows together.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Her question shook him out of his reverie and with a shake of his head, Frank finished the motion, wrapping his knuckles lightly on the door.

“I’m fine. It’s just... the thought just occurred to me that you ‘n Curt together could be bad news for me.” He glanced at her, his lips giving a wry twist and before she could ask him what he meant, the door was pulled open.

Karen wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see but the man in front of them with a slow smile and kind eyes was not it. He was dressed in a t-shirt and clean dark jeans and regarded them both easily. Finally his eyes settled back on Frank.

“You know Frank, sometime you’re gonna have to call me just cause you wanna hear my sweet voice and not because you need something patched up.” The words were joking but there was a bit of steel in them as well.

Frank gave a little shake of his head before saying matter of factly, “I don’t have much to talk about Curt, you know that.”

Curtis’ face split into a sudden wide smile.

“Well, maybe you will now.” In an instant he turned that blinding smile to Karen with a quick wink which had her smiling at him in return, a light blush creeping up her neck.

“Ah, Christ. ”

Karen’s smile grew when she heard Frank’s muttered distress. He was right, her and Curtis together probably was going to be trouble for him. She was really looking forward to it.

“You must be Karen Page.” Curtis extended out a large warm hand for her to shake.

She took the proffered hand, smile never leaving her face, “That’s right. I wish I could say I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Hoyle.”

They shared a knowing look before he released her hand and ushered them in, “Call me Curt, please. Frank’s told me a lot about you, I mean, in the way Frank does. Lots of denial, muttering how you’re ‘too good’ for him and LOTS of hang dog expressions.”

“Jesus, c’mon Curt.” Frank sounded pained.

Karen tried to hide her smile but only partially succeeded. Curt seemed to take pity on him though, guiding Karen to a seat at his dining room table before pulling Frank into a half hug.

“I’m glad everything went well. This is the best I’ve seen you look in awhile, showing up at my door.” That knowing look came over Curt’s face again as he looked Frank over.

“Well, it’s not me you’re putting back together this time.” Frank gestured to where Karen sat as she gingerly pulled off her jacket in anticipation of her examination. “Took a bullet to her trapezoid, deep graze. Bled a lot but I was able to get stitches in it. Wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck anything up so I thought maybe you could take a look at it.”

Without prompting, Karen tugged down the overly large t-shirt she wore so that it slid over her shoulder and her bandage was visible. Curt watched Frank for a moment, confusion clear on his features and in his voice when he spoke.

“You’ve probably done just as many sutures as I have at this point. You were nearly as good as me back when we were in the corps.”

Frank looked uneasy, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Yeah, well, ‘nearly’ as good isn’t ‘as good’ is it? I just wanted to be sure that she wasn’t gonna scar too bad or lose any mobility because of it.” If Karen knew any better, he almost sounded embarrassed.

Curt continued to stare at Frank in a way that told Karen he could read Frank like a book. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just turned and gave Karen a sweet smile before gently peeling back the bandage and inspecting the damage. He poked a few spots around the wound, asking about her discomfort, had the wound felt hot, what was her pain level now and so on until he finally nodded to himself and dug around in his own medical bag for fresh salve and gauze.

“Looks perfectly fine to me, you did a good job.” He said over his shoulder to Frank and then turned back to Karen, “As long as it stays clean and there is no infection I think you will be as good as new in a few weeks, Miss Page.”

“Just Karen, please. And thank you so much for taking a look at it, the way he was talking I was afraid I might lose my arm at the shoulder or something.” She gave a small laugh as she watched him work at changing her bandages.

Leaning in, Curt began to stage whisper, making sure Frank heard everything he had to say. “That is because our friend back there has a tendency to be a wallowing asshole. So, he thinks because he did the work and it’s on you of all people that it isn’t good enough.” There was a long suffering sigh behind Curt that made him smile at Karen and give her a conspiring wink.

Whispering loudly herself, Karen glanced at Frank as she answered, “I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Curt.”

His smile was blinding as he lifted her shirt back into place. “I think you are right, Karen. Between the two of us, we might actually get him straightened out.”

Frank’s voice jumped in, low and agitated but with no real heat behind the words, “You all know I’m still here, right? You gonna just keep talkin’ shit?”

Washing his hands quickly in the sink, Curt turned and leaned against the counter as he dried his hands with a dishtowel. “Listen, man, you ghost us all the time so we are just bonding a little bit. Besides, it’s nice to meet someone else who can deal with your grumpy ass.”

Karen looked back and forth between them with amusement but there was also a small ache in her chest as she watched the friends talk. It was a glimpse into Frank’s ‘before’ and a realization that she wasn’t the only one missing Frank while he was on his crusade.

Frank looked the slightest bit ashamed, “I didn’t mean to ghost you, just didn’t want you to get mixed up in my bullshit.”

Curt gave a quiet scoff, “Are you gonna stop being a flakey son of a bitch, then?”

Frank shifted from foot to foot, trying not to look uncomfortable and failing, “I’m gonna try.”

Curt shook his head and looked back to Karen, “That doesn’t sound good enough to me, does that sound good enough to you Karen?”

“You know, it really doesn’t.” What sting may have been in her words was negated by the small, warm smile on her lips as she watched Frank. She would never force him into anything but holding him accountable from time to time wouldn’t hurt him either. He saw her look and gave a small smile in return.

“Alright, alright. I think that is about as much as I can take of the two of you together for now. I need to get Karen back to her place so she can get settled back in.” Frank pulled Curt in for another quick hug before helping Karen to her feet and ushering her towards the door. “I really appreciate you looking her over, Curt, I owe ya one.”

Curt watched his friend with amusement as he was very obviously making his way to the door to escape further ribbing from Karen and himself. “You do owe me one. So next time you call me it better not be because someone is bleedin’.”

Frank made a non-committal noise and said over his shoulder, “Anything for you, Curt,” before the door was closing behind him.

Karen bit back a smile the whole way back down to the van, only succumbing to it once they were situated in the vehicle and Frank glanced at her nervously.

“I like Curt. You should give me his number so we can keep in touch.” Her smile turned mischievous.

A huff escaped Frank but he was smiling back, “Christ, I’d never have peace again. Besides, you don’t need me to get his number, you’ll use your P.I. skills and have it before I could get it to you anyway.”

She hummed in agreement but watched his face go serious, concern pinching at the corners of his eyes and his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. Karen felt her stomach drop. Here it comes. The ‘I’m not good for you, I’m too dangerous’ speech again.

He surprised her though or at least thought better of picking that fight again right now and reached over the console to rest a gentle hand on her thigh. “Are you ready to go back to your apartment? If you don’t feel comfortable going back yet...my apartment isn’t exactly the Ritz but you are welcome to stay there for a bit.” His voice was warm and rough, sending a chill down her spine while simultaneously warming her.

Karen took a moment to think about her response, chewing thoughtfully at her lip and stroking his knuckles with an errant thumb while she thought. On one hand, she was desperate to be somewhere familiar, surrounded by her things, a tangible sense of normalcy. The other hand though, had images of someone waiting for her there, to finish off what was started a month ago.

Then there was the image of Frank’s back, walking away to continue his war once she was home and secure.

“Uh....I think my apartment. I can at least see if anyone has been in there. I’m sure the leftovers in my fridge are looking pretty gross at this point too.” She gave a strained laugh and hoped he didn’t pick up on her anxiety. Of course he did, because they don’t miss things with each other. Frank narrowed his eyes at her briefly before giving her thigh a light squeeze and turning to the front to start the van. In a matter of minutes they were headed in the direction of her apartment and Karen felt herself getting more anxious every block they got closer.

Trying to focus on her breathing, Karen drew in long slow breaths through her nose and then let them out just as slowly. She really didn’t want Frank to see her worry, she especially didn’t want to have to explain that she was more worried about seeing him leave once they got there than she was someone waiting there to kill her.

It felt a bit surreal pulling up to her apartment building. Life, it seemed, had carried on like usual. Mrs. Garcia was watering her windowsill of flowers, Mr. Giertz was probably on his second round of speed walking around the block, he gave Karen a jovial wave as he walked by her. How strange it was to see that nothing had changed when her life had been in such turmoil.

Frank stepped up beside Karen with her things slung over his shoulder and waited for her to make the first move. So, with a steadying breath, she made her way to the front door and up the stairs until she was staring at her apartment with the keys hanging limply in her fingers. She kept telling her fingers to move, slide the key in lock and open the door but they refused to obey her. Stop being so dramatic and open the goddamn door. Karen berated herself but still couldn’t seem to move her hand.

For a moment, Frank waited quietly, watching her carefully before he set her things by the door and tenderly took the keys from her numb fingers. Gently, he nudged her to the side, unlocked the door and then pulled the .45 from his waistband.

“Wait here, I’ll make sure everything is clear.” His voice was soft, as soft as Frank’s voice could be at least, and he moved through the door without a sound.

Seeing him disappear into her apartment snapped Karen out of her stupor, like hell she was going to leave him to fight her battles if there is someone there. She moved her stuff from the hallway to just inside the door and crept down the hallway with her own firearm in hand. However, just as she was rounding the corner, Frank was exiting the bedroom, tucking the gun back into the holster at his waist.

He grunted when he saw Karen at the end of the hallway but cracked a proud smile when he saw her armed.

“I thought I told you to wait.” There was a hint of reprimand but mostly resignation in his voice.

“Yeah, well, since when have I ever really listened?” She teased, smiling when he made an affirming sound in the back of his throat.

Slowly she took her eyes off of him and let them trail around her apartment. Aside from being a bit dusty, everything was just as she left it. Her laptop case was haphazardly thrown against the coffee table, the mug she had used for her morning coffee on that crazy day was still on the counter right by the sink and her phone was right where she left it on the kitchen island, broken sim card and all.

Sighing, Karen kicked off her shoes and padded over to the island, grabbing the phone to turn it in her hands. “I guess I’m going to need to get a new SIM card at some point. This isn’t much good to me if I can’t harass people with phone calls.”

Out of the corner of her eye Karen saw Frank jolt a little bit before he moved into the hallway, bringing the bags back with him. He was digging through the side pockets of one when he started to speak. “I almost forgot, David sent this to the safehouse when we were on the way back. I had mentioned that you broke your SIM card before you left. If I had to guess this is probably encrypted.” Finally he produced a small plastic case and handed it to her over the island before leaning down on his elbows.

Karen’s eyes widened in shock when she took the small case and popped it open to reveal a brand new SIM card that was compatible with her phone. Without much thought she slid it into place and pressed the power button on her phone which, miraculously, still had a little battery left.

She was warmed by the gesture and her voice held a bit of wonder when she said, “That was really thoughtful of him. I really am going to owe him one after everything he has done.”

She made a small distressed noise when a flurry of pings and alert noises exploded from her phone, a month’s worth of texts, emails, phone notifications and updates hitting all at once before the phone promptly ran out of battery and died.

“Well, alright then. To the charger.” Karen stepped into her bedroom, reaching for the charge cord on her nightstand, plugging her phone in and leaving it there. She glanced over the room much like she did her living room and kitchen and just the sight of her bed made her achy and tired. Without much thought, Karen shucked off her coat, dropping it to the floor before laying down on top of her comforter, a pleasured sigh echoing through the room.

“Tired?” Frank’s voice startled her eyes open, which she hadn’t realized she closed. He was leaning against the door jamb with his hands tucked in his pockets while he slowly regarded her.

Karen rather liked the look of him in her bedroom.

“Mhm. I felt pretty awake until I looked at my bed and then suddenly I felt the need for a nap. Care to join me?” She gave him an impish smile.

“I should go through the stuff and see about conquering that beast in your fridge you were so worried about.” He kept his voice low but she could sense the slight anxiety lacing his words. He wasn’t sure if he was welcome here, in Karen’s most personal space.

“It wasn’t really a question, Castle. Are you really going to leave a poor injured girl like myself to nap all alone?” She gave a grand sweeping gesture of the room but stopped with a wince when it tweaked her stitches, giving him a stern look when he huffed a laugh, she didn’t miss the slight relief that softened the corners of his eyes before he spoke.

“No, I don’t suppose I can leave you to your own devices for too long without some catastrophe. Let me just make sure everything is secure, I’ll be back in five.” WIth that, he disappeared from view and she could vaguely hear him moving around her apartment, shuffling things here and there and the sound of a window rattling before he was back, sans combat boots and jacket.

It didn’t take long for Frank to settle in behind her, tossing a throw over the both of them and tucking Karen to his chest. If she thought she had been tired before, tucked against Frank’s warmth, in her own bed, surrounded by his scent, she was utterly exhausted now and she drifted off before she knew it was happening.

When Karen woke later, it was to a clamoring in her kitchen and the smell of Thai food. She was disoriented at first, slowly processing that she was in her bedroom and not a small warehouse or condo in the mountains. Then came the disappointment, feeling the empty space at her back where a warm body had been not too long ago. However, the rumbling growl of her stomach negated that disappointment. Pushing herself up with her good arm, Karen sat up and glanced at the clock, 5 o’clock, she had slept longer than intended. Forcing herself to her feet, she teetered into the kitchen to see Frank distributing various different dishes from the Thai place around the corner onto separate plates. He glanced up when he heard her.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a few different things, if you’re hungry.” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

He had killed dozens of people without batting an eye but he was unsure of whether he should have ordered her food for her and raided her cabinets. The man was an anomaly.

“I’m starving and as long as you didn’t get everything at level five spice, I’ll probably like it.” She said around a yawn before taking a seat in front of one of the plates. Frank set a fork on her plate before reaching for his own and for a moment they ate in silence. It was something she really appreciated about Frank, he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It felt surprisingly natural eating dinner with him in her apartment, like they had done it hundred times.

Eventually, after they both got second helpings, Frank spoke up. “So what’s your game plan now that you are back and the situation is dealt with?”

Karen hummed around a mouthful of Pad Thai while she thought. Setting down her fork after she finished that bite, she rested her chin in her palm, leaning on the island.

“I think first thing is going to be going through all of the missed messages on my phone and informing everyone that I am not, in fact, dead. Then, seeing what kind of disarray Matt and Foggy left my desk in. I’ve probably missed a hundred deadlines, meetings and informant sessions, so sorting through all that should be fun. But, I think above all...I’m going to take a really long, really hot bath in my own bathroom.” She finished with an exaggerated sigh.

The corner of Frank’s mouth quirked up as he finished the last of his plate. Then they were watching each other carefully, both sensing the impending conversation.

“What are your plans, Frank?” She asked, her voice quiet.

His eyes held hers for a moment, indecipherable. She glances down at his hand when his trigger finger begins to tap a rhythm on her counter but she looks back up when he starts to speak.

“I ‘spose I’ll start digging into the next mission. There’s an up and coming drug ring I’ve been watching that needs to be exterminated.” He must have seen the leery expression on her face because he fixed her with a stare. “This is what it would be, being with me, you know? I’m not ready to give up the fight, there’s too much shit in this city I gotta clean up. You gotta know that being together wouldn’t be easy, Karen. The work I do, it would put you in danger. There would probably be nights where you’re awake, wondering if I’m still alive. I can’t give you everything you deserve…”

Karen had heard enough, she was so sick of this same tired argument, so, standing abruptly she rounded the kitchen island to stand face to face with him and told him as much.

“Are we really going to do this again Frank? I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you that I want you. All of you. The kind parts, the dangerous parts and the infuriating parts.” She was so frustrated, tired of being scared of him disappearing, tired of repeating herself over and over. She was talking faster and faster, her voice more and more agitated. “I am not going to keep doing this with you. I…”

Karen trailed off as she took in his demeanor, hip resting against the island, arms crossed over his chest and while there was no smile on his lips, his eyes crinkled at the corners, telling her he was trying not to let her see he was amused.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Frank asked calmly, voice full of gravel, “Are you finished?”

Her eyebrows drew together and she wanted to continue her tirade but this is usually the part where he fired back at her with more reasons why he was no good, so she was perplexed by his calm. She gave a stiff nod.

Frank nodded in return as he stepped into her space, wrapping strong arms loosely around her waist. “What I was going to say was....I can’t give you everything you deserve...but I’ll give you everything I can. What’s left of me, it belongs to you.” His eyes were sincere, dark brown and bottomless, full of uncertainty she knew he would always carry with him but just as full of promise.

Unbidden, a few tears fell over her lashes and trailed down her cheeks so Karen swiped at them before swatting at his arm lightly. “You think you could have stopped me before I completely unloaded on you and looked like a tool?”

His answer chuckle was deep in his chest and she felt it through her palm where it rested over his heart. “I like to hear you when you are on a roll like that. Like to hear your conviction.” He kissed a slow line from the base of her neck up to her jaw before he gave her a drugging kiss, slow and intentional.

Karen was trying to process still, she had been prepared to hash it out with him again, plead her case one more time but now she didn’t need to. He had agreed to give them a shot, he wasn’t leaving, never to return and she was overwhelmed and not sure what to do with the knowledge. Until his teeth grazed just under her ear and his strong hands slid tantalizingly over her ribs. She knew what she wanted to do.

She wanted to celebrate.

So, pulling away just enough to grab his belt, Karen pulled Frank through her bedroom door and pushed it closed with a decisive click.

---

In the end, they settled into a rhythm. Frank stayed with Karen most nights unless a job he finished was hotter than he thought. Then he would camp out in a safe house until things blew over. He only forgot to call and tell her once, he wouldn't make that mistake again if he could help it. Karen still investigated dangerous situations but would listen when Frank expressed concern. There were times he insisted on accompanying her if she HAD to get the information.

Frank did most of the cooking and Karen was getting really good at determining when something needed stitches and how to administer them. She knew when she could handle the first aid and when to call Curt. They were both learning when to let things lie and when to press. Both had jagged edges but were learning how to put those pieces together and make a full life.

Karen believed that, even before she knew Frank, before tragedy redefined his life, Frank loved passionately with everything he had. That he had always been incredibly protective of the people he loved, if even a touch on the overprotective side. Never letting the kids too far out of his sight, a gentle hand on Maria’s lower back as they crossed a street, making sure he walked closest to the road during walks, investigating any out of the ordinary bumps in the house during the night. But now, after losing everything, Frank was determined to make sure she was safe at all costs. Karen is fiercely independent so it chafes every once in a while when he panics when she doesn’t answer her phone, when he gently maneuvers her through a construction zone or the time he mean mugged a poor kid for wolf whistling at her so hard she was sure the teenager had a heart attack. But the chafing only lasts a second when she remembers how much he has lost, that he still hasn’t forgiven himself for not protecting his family. Her pride can deal if it means he feels secure, doing everything he can to protect her. Frank knows how capable she is, he knows she doesn’t need someone to hail her cab or stand guard while she does a particularly tough interview but he does it anyway. Besides, after so long of only having herself to rely on, it was nice to be cared for so thoroughly.

Frank knew that Karen would never be satisfied with anything less than the truth and came to accept that she would chase that truth wherever it led, much to his horror on many occasions. He caught glimpses, every now and then, of the Karen from before. Her granite exterior would crack from time to time and he would see the wounded woman she hid from the world and it only made him love her more fiercely. She felt love, sadness and anger with her full being, her heart on her sleeve, always. She was devoted and loyal, everything she had she gave him, no questions asked and he would be lying if he said it didn’t terrify him. However, with one look, a small laugh or a gentle caress, Karen would remind him it was worth it. Sure, she was infuriating sometimes, headstrong and reckless. On more than one occasion, Frank felt like he may pull his hair out, going in circles with her always looking for trouble. They’d fight but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way she pushed back, calling him on his bullshit. He was a naturally combative person, so having a woman who could hold her own against him was a perfect fit. Besides, they always made up in the best of ways, tangled sheets, breathing heavily, little nips and bruises, words of adoration. He really did like making up from their fights.

It wasn’t perfect. Frank still had his demons, his need for the mission. Nightmares would keep him up at night, sometimes about his family, sometimes about Karen. Karen still had her past traumas to deal with and still ran headlong into trouble, little regard for her own safety. They argue, she doesn't always agree with how Frank handles things, he can't make Karen stop running into the dark places of the city, but they were making it work. Together.

#kastle #karen page #frank castle #frank castle and karen page #fanfic #final chapter

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evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 125

Back at the penthouse you freshened up, having to shake off the wilds of the past meeting before getting on the jet to go into what would be yet another most likely frustrating meeting. As you exited the bedroom, changed into a sharp fitted suit and tie (dress to impress … or intimidate, either one), slipping your bag over your shoulder, Tony met you in the front room by the elevators. “Hmn.” A humming approval. “Does this mean we’re still on for tonight?”

Arching a brow, though unable to help your smile, “Why does this mean that?”

“Come on. Slip on a trilby and you look like you’re ready for a night on the town.” At your rather dry look he held up both his hands. “In a good way, I assure you.”

“Yes. I’m very assured.” Leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I have to go.”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he returned with a jingle of car keys. “I know. Can I drive you?”

With Happy having gone ahead to prep the jet, you were thinking about either driving yourself or getting a company car to take you. But… how could you say no to that. “Why so suddenly?” Still, you had to be just a little suspicious.

“I need some air after all that.”

“It’s very airy up here.” Eying him just a little more.

He gave up the ghost with a caught grin. “Sure. But. I thought maybe we could talk, too.”

Giving him a small pat on the chest and another kiss on the cheek, “Okay. But no speeding.” It must have been important. So you couldn’t really deny him. Especially not with the barest hint of anxiety swirling about him.

“It’ll kill me, but you have my word.”

Down in the parking garage he picked out the car that went to the set of keys he’d been jangling at you. Some slick prototype Audi no doubt. You really weren’t so interested in his car collection. The color was nice. And the front seats were comfortable. That’s what really mattered.

Only just pulled out and away from the tower, his hands gripped the wheel before drumming his fingers slightly. “Did you bring the Reactor with you?”

That… that didn’t feel great. “It’s in my purse. Why?”

“Just checking.”

“I was planning on leaving it on the jet. I don’t think bringing weapons into the White House is a great idea.” Everyone could spot it, by now. They knew what it was, when you wore it. Matthew was already jumpy. You didn’t need to make him worse.

“It’s not a weapon, it’s defense. Remember?” Giving you a quick glance out of the corner of his eye with a grin. But both disappeared in the next second. “I think you should at least keep it in your purse.” His eyes were on the road and he was speaking in that pretend-effortlessly casual way of his.

But you knew better, and didn’t take the first thrown bait in order to get to the root of this. “What’s wrong?”

At this he shook his head, fingers up on the wheel for a moment. “I think this is all a little too close for comfort. And certainly- probably- not a coincidence.”

“We haven’t had many of those.” Funny, you were just thinking about this last night. It was like the two of you shared one brain sometimes.

“No we have not.” He cleared his throat, one hand moving around. “Let’s think about this logically. Hill just admitted SHIELD bungled a bunch of stuff- not the least of which was theft of- technically- sensitive United States property. Co-owned by Stark Industries, sure. But. Let’s be real here. I can bring the hammer down while you’re away, but that’s not gonna help anyone. ...no matter how much I want to.” Understanding, it seemed, why you’d walked away from turning into a volcano about SHIELD stealing from you. Even if he was incredibly angry about it. He cleared his throat and moved on, “Anyway. Now we’re on a sudden task force to retrieve it. Right around the exact time Ellis wants a private meeting with you in the White House.”

When he laid it all out like that… yeah. It made sense. And it also made sense why he was in a bit of a quiet tizzy over it. “And here I thought you were about to say you thought Ellis had teamed up with Fisk and they were about to tell me to turn ourselves in.”

“My next point, I’m sure. Because it’s either or. The universe hasn’t been too kind lately, with that sort of stuff.” At a red light he half tilted, gazing at you. “He didn’t say you couldn’t bring anyone, but it’s pretty clear he wants you alone. And I want you safe.”

You tried a brave smile on for him, but it was just shy of painful. “Tony… if the government makes me into a villain-” Then what could you do? What could any of you do?

“Then we unmake. There’s always a way out. But I’m not trying to prepare you for a worst-case scenario. I’m just… trying to look out for you.” The light changed and he was quick to lean on the gas again to get the car moving, eyes going back to the road.

Reaching over, you laid a hand on his thigh. “I appreciate it.” More than words could say. “...I’ll bring the Reactor. But honestly, if I’m about to be taken away in handcuffs I think I should just eat that and then get the lawyers on it. Attacking people in the White House would be exactly the sort of press we wouldn’t need.”

“Fair point. But I still believe in the right to protect yourself.” Grinning, but not really feeling it.

---

He promised to pick you up, too, once you returned home. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a long stay in DC. Maybe a couple of hours, if you were lucky. This much air time for such a small visit didn’t necessarily feel good, nor did you want to spend so much time in the air in order to accomplish so little but… aside taking the suit to the White House’s front steps, this was the only thing you could do.

After a quiet kiss on the private runway, you departed, heading up the jet’s stairs and giving Happy a murmur of gratitude for his help as always. Once the stairs were reloaded and you sat down, you pulled your laptop out of your bag to start working on some other things while you’d be otherwise incapacitated from actual work.

Once the jet was in the air, Happy rose his voice to reach you from the cockpit. You were in one of the much smaller personal jets. Nicer. Comfier. Less consumption. “You want me to come with you?”

This was not an offer of just driving you to and from the White House. He was asking if you wanted, or even felt like you needed him. Or at least somebody by your side. And, as the President had gone out of his way to isolate you… “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” Head of Security. You heard his smile, but there was a wave of gratefulness and pride that thrummed out from him that really made it all worth it.

---

It was actually very nice to have Happy with you, as it seemed somebody had leaked your schedule to the press. They were parked out all along the sidewalk and the White House usual reporters were even waiting for you out front. Since the circle of people who knew you were coming on your side was very small, you had to believe someone on Ellis’ team told someone you’d be arriving. But why?

Happy escorted you from the car and stuck tight by your side, arming people out of the way so you could make it inside. People were shouting the usual nonsense, looking for pictures, soundbites, anything that would give them good reason for no doubt having waited outside for hours. But you gave them nothing. Eyes forward, spine straight, and nothing to say. ...mostly because you had no idea what you were doing here anyway.

Ellis’ executive secretary met you in one of the outer wings, which was nice because there would be less explaining to do about why you couldn’t pass a metal detector check. Something she probably knew- something probably everyone in the White House knew. But you were an invited guest. You’d have no reason to hurt the President. And you’d have nowhere to run if you even did. So…

You tried to press your luck as you approached the west wing. “Why am I here, Delores?” Not the first time you’d spoken with her. Definitely wouldn’t be the last. Acquaintances at best, after these few years of having to more or less work for her boss. Privately or not. She was an older woman, kind but tough. Probably exactly what Ellis needed to run just about everything for him.

Just in front of his door she paused with an apologetic smile, “I don’t exactly know. But. I’m pretty sure you won’t enjoy it.” She was lying, for sure. She knew everything that went on around here. Funny, how women ruled the world that way. Still. She did work for Ellis, and not you.

“Thanks.” As flatly as you could make the word just as she knocked on the door. You made a small motion to Happy for him to wait outside, no doubt not invited in the slightest. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

Just as the door closed behind you, you realized a little too late you’d walked into a trap. ...truly the thing that was a shock was just how surprising this was to you, considering you and Tony had been talking about it before you’d come. President Ellis was sitting behind his desk and standing in front of it was a very decorated officer. Not one you recognized immediately.

“Thank you for coming.” Ellis found his voice just as you stopped short of the opposite side of his desk. “I’d like you to meet General Glenn Talbot.”

Said man in question held his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.” He was about your height, maybe a little taller. Broad shouldered. High cut hair, shaved on the sides, and a thick mustache. You didn’t get the sense he was here to take you away. ...not yet, anyway.

So. Cordial behavior was probably the best idea. You put your hand in his giving him a firm shake. “Thank you. Mind telling me what I’m doing here?” Assuming he was the reason you’d been called here.

At this he grinned. “Right to the point. I like it. Truth be told, you’re somewhat of a legend around the proverbial water cooler. Our relationship has been pretty hot-and-cold, I know.” Speaking of Stark Industries, you supposed. His smile disappeared in the next split second and he turned very serious. “But we’re beyond legends, now. We’re in the middle of an ocean. Sink or swim. And it’s important to know whose side you’re on.”

You tried to refrain from making a face at him, and only slightly succeeded. Your brow arched without your permission, the corner of your lip turning flat. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Does anyone want to hand me a folder so I can get up to speed?” Where was your briefing? What was going on??

Ellis called your attention on the form of your name and looked up. “There’s been a lot of international talking lately. I would have liked more time, but my hands are being forced here. We’re- I’m- tasking you with being the United States’ Enhanced Forces Ambassador.”

A chill crept over your shoulders. “I’m not enhanced, sir.” That was your story and you were sticking to it. And you really hoped now was not the time this was all coming out.

He settled his hands together. “You have a suit that enhances your capabilities. That makes you enhanced. You’re also the most qualified out of your team. So don’t ask me what happens if you refuse.”

This was a very serious threat. Letting you draw assumptions about what might happen to you- to all of you, if you turned this down. And none of it would be pretty. But you found yourself shaking your head. “That’s what you called me here for? To give me some imaginary position?”

Talbot put his attention on you again. “Oh it’s real. And the only reason I’m letting you wing me is because I’ve seen the buried footage of you shouting down Nick Fury in his own building.” At that your face really did screw up. “Now you look me in the eye and tell me you still hold no allegiance to SHIELD.”

“I’m sorry-” Putting your hand up to stop this madness. “Who the hell are you? What is this about? SHIELD is dead. Your people saw to that.” Giving Ellis the side-eye. He was involved as much as anyone in that.

But Talbot reclaimed your gaze as he spoke. “SHIELD’s still running amok. And I’d ask you if you knew where its director was if I wasn’t so sure you’d just lie to me.”

“Nick Fury is dead. You seem to think you’re smart, you should know that.”

“I’m talking about Phil Coulson. And don’t try and tell me he’s dead, too, because we spoke not so long ago.” You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, “Now I’d expect someone in your position to understand the large scale impact SHIELD had. It goes beyond this nation. And other nations have been getting real antsy.”

Your frustrations showed. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“We’re preparing a meeting at the United Nations in a month. Another denouncing of SHIELD. And you are going to stand right by me and smile your prettiest smile and pretend like you’re on our side.”

“Which side is that, sir?” Boiling over now as you crossed your arms. “The one that builds up these momentous groups only to shutter them- label them terrorists- as soon as they stop being of benefit? Get rid of them when they stop being profitable? Or when they get caught holding all your dirty secrets?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to-”

“That makes two of us.”

This Talbot was clearly not used to being talked down to. Or told no. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides and he leaned a little to encroach on your personal space. “Listen up, ma’am. You and your team are getting real cozy up there on that throne. Causing destruction and chaos in the name of justice.”

“Oh, so you think we’re alike, is that it? Isn’t that what the military does?” You held your hand right up to his face to stop him. “Don’t bother. I used to liaison back when Stark Industries pretended it cared about justice as much as you still do. It still all comes down to one thing- the bottom line. And that was something a little greener than justice.”

He went a little red but something snapped his attention and he let go of an amused noise. “Yeah. I remember. You know, Colonel Rhodes has had nothing but nice things to say about you. Then again, you’re good at fooling lots of people.”

You had to hold yourself steady. If the military was investigating you for some ridiculous position as a right arm to keep themselves looking strong, it would make sense that they’d talked to Rhodey. But there was just something sinister in the way he was talking about him. Your silence in easing yourself allowed the opening for him to keep speaking.

“If the Avengers are going to go around taking out threats that the military can’t handle- then they need to live by some rules. And they need to show up when everyone else in the world starts questioning their authority. Or their peacekeeping strategies.” Getting close again he narrowed his eyes as he stared you down. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Barely.” It was extremely unfortunate this had set your heart to pounding. This was an inevitability, you were sure. You just didn’t want to have to deal with it right now. But the fact was… the United States of America had several enhanced individuals under their employ. That they used to enact peace and justice. Even if it meant that came with violence.

The world wouldn’t stay quiet about that for long.

“Your people are about to become the new nuclear arms race. So it pays to have one of the supposed scientists- or ringleaders in your case- sitting by a general’s side while we all pretend we get along. Otherwise-”

“Try threatening me again and see what happens.” Risking your luck. You would not be pushed around. You would not stand while he threw hypotheticals about ripping your team apart. No matter if what he was saying was true. When he balked, “I understand, Mr. Talbot.”

Bristling even harder, “That’s General Talbot to you.”

You ignored him. “It seems like I have no choice but to accept this position. But I’m still unclear about what this has to do with SHIELD.”

“SHIELD hired your people. Brought them together without anyone’s knowledge. Without anyone’s permission, even. Now that they’re in the water, we need to show you belong to us and not them.”

“SHIELD had the government’s permission. Just because you people pretend like that’s not the case doesn’t make it so.” This wasn’t the only thing you had to defend. And on the next breath, “And we don’t belong to anyone.” This was a mistake, and you hated that you took his bait so easily. Panic was not a good color on you.

He seized it with a smirk. “Then that makes you vigilantes. Which makes you criminals. Enhanced or not. We can make a jail cell for everyone on your team. Don’t try me.” He was getting closer, pointing a finger very near to your face. “Because that’s the next stop. You start pissing off America with this superhero bullshit, you can be sure the other nations of the world will fall in line. Goes the other way around, too. Just in case you were curious.” His grin was terrible. “That’s not a threat by the way. That’s just facts.”

But it was. You didn’t want to deal with this now. You didn’t want to face this now. ...and you wouldn’t have to. If you just sat by their side like an obedient dog and barked when they commanded speak.

It was all too true. The Avengers operated in some seriously muddy waters. Ellis allowed it. You assumed it was because you’d helped him. More than he deserved, and never just for him. For the people of his nation, the reason you’d gone to war in New York with aliens. And the reason you’d go on more missions yet to… to do what you had to do. Yes. In the name of that fabled peace and justice.

But what if Ellis revoked his permission? What if America turned its back on you? What if they labeled the Avengers a terrorist organization, just like they had done to SHIELD? What then? What could any of you do?

You had no choice. You had to eat this. For your family.

“When next month are you addressing the United Nations about this? My schedule is dense.” Letting defeat show. It would go just as long of a way in placating this Talbot.

“March 7th.” With your acquiescence, he seemed to slow a little.

“I’ll be there.” Making sure to hold a steady gaze with him. He’d won now. Sure. He had you where he supposedly wanted you. And you’d take that with your head held high.

It worked. He seemed to feel a little uneasy. There was also a strange sense of guilt. “For what it’s worth… SHIELD was good, when it was good. But I think we both know they let themselves get away with a lot. Simply because they knew they could.”

You shifted your stance. “And you think the Avengers are headed down the same road?”

“I questioned it. But less so now.” Holding his hand out again. When you took too long he frowned. “Make no mistake. This is what’s best for everyone.”

Giving him your best dead-eyed stare, “I’m sure you think that.” Ignoring the last chance to shake his hand, no matter how petty that was. Turning to Ellis, “Is that all, sir?”

His lips thinned, pressed tight for a moment and then he nodded. “For now. We’ll follow up before the meeting.”

Adjusting your purse on your shoulder you turned very sharply and headed for the door. Just before you could put your hand on it, Talbot spoke up again. “By the way… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the breaking, entering, and robbing of one of our facilities, would you? We’re missing some sensitive equipment from a vault.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him. “I’m sure I know as much about that as you know about dismantled Stark Industries property illegally being harbored and utilized.” Much as you’d taken a beating, you had to remind these people you still had bite in you. You were not a woman to be trifled with.

Not waiting for whatever stupid thing he was going to say next, you let yourself out of the Oval Office, and Happy immediately got up once he saw you. You remained silent, head down, especially assaulted again by the press once outside. Your nerves were frayed. Your edges were cracked.

And… A deep terrible part of you just felt like crying. Like you’d just been called into the principal's office over you and your friends doing something bad. And now you were in trouble. A lot of trouble.

But that made you weak. You couldn’t break down over this. Barely anything had happened- yet.

A headache was coming on strong as you held every part of yourself back. You could not allow yourself to crumble over this. You had to be strong. For them. Because this was only the first stop. You knew that. You could sit at Talbot’s side in front of the world and play the good puppy, but this wouldn’t stop there. Maybe it would be a year from now- two- five- maybe you’d get lucky and get away with ten.

But it didn’t matter. The world was getting bigger now. And much more dangerous.

Talbot was right. Your group might as well have been seen as the next nuclear bomb.

And eventually some treaties were going to have to be written. To keep you from being used.

---

You sat in silence, the cabin as dark as you could make it. One thought kept circling: would you ever get a fucking break? Was life ever going to be fair? Would it ever just stop being like this? Or was this it. This was all you got. This was what you signed up for. This was what you had to keep doing.

Until it crushed you. Like it was doing now.

Tony met you on the runway, like he promised, after the jet had landed. He looked like he was ready to go out somewhere but his smile evaporated the second he laid eyes on you. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “I just need to go home.”

His frown was heavy. “Yeah. Alright…” Opening your door for you and then closing it carefully after you sat down. You slumped in your seat, eyes lost as you stared ahead. Once he got in he started the car and pulled off the tarmac. “Honey… you gotta give me something. What are we dealing with here?”

He was concerned. For you. Not the team. Not what had happened- but how it had happened, and what it had done to you.

Your body ached for some sort of catharsis. And that was maybe why watery words bubbled out of you before you could rethink them, “We’re never gonna have a life…” Reaching your hands up as the realization dawned, tears leaking from your eyes. You had to cover them. Try and hide your shame.

There were worse things and you were worried about… well…

“What?” It was your sadness that cut through him so suddenly, causing him to hit the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road after.

Your breathing very suddenly was not under control. “I’m sorry- I just-”

Parked, he half reached over, hands gentle at your wrists. “Don’t be sorry- just talk to me- what’s going on? What happened?”

He managed to get one hand away from your face, but the other rubbed at your temple as an incoherent mess escaped you. “We’re stuck in SHIELD’s fever dream- and we’re never gonna stop paying the price for it- we’re never gonna have a life- this is it- this is what it’s always going to be-” Some part of you had been holding out hope. Maybe Ultron would fix this. Maybe it would allow you to be normal.

But there was no normal. And you’d been ignoring that Tony had been getting frustrated and angry over the lack of progress- because if he wasn’t making progress that meant you really were going to have to accept that this superhero fantasy was going to go on forever. And it was only going to get more and more dangerous until one or both of you died.

And not in a good way, either. It would be terrible. You were sure of this. Someone would drag you kicking and screaming to a painful death. All because you wanted to save the world.

Because of this, you weren’t free. You weren’t free to have a life with Tony. To plan. To grow. To do anything but be slave to this and all its facets. All the ways you had to pay for it, all the ways you had to clean up after it-

Tony sat, utterly helpless while you blubbered some of this out to him. A weeping wreck so very quickly. But this had been months in the making, if not years. You’d been fooling yourself, thinking New York had in any way changed things for the better. Or SHIELD going belly-up into the river. Things had only gotten verifiably worse since then. And they’d continue to get sucked into that vortex until the bitter end. And you were realizing, now, it wasn’t just the loss of raising a family together with him. It was the loss of everything with him.

And you were selfish you knew. Because you were crying over the loss of one, or at least a pair of lives. Inconsequential, right? In the grand scheme of things? Billions on this planet. What did one or two matter? You should have been able to put yourself aside for that greater good. It was selfish to be this distraught over finally coming to grips with this.

This was your life. And it was no life at all. It never could be. You’d been foolish, letting yourself get lulled into lofty, unobtainable dreams of marriage. Of being in love. Of just having a normal life.

You were not normal. You never had been. You never would be.

Why did you keep coming back to this? You thought you’d accepted this- that this was your last stop as a person. You’d grieved the loss of an actual future where you weren’t just a weapon to bring peace. Then you’d been fooled into thinking maybe it wouldn’t always be this way. But it would. You needed to just stop lying about it, to stop letting Tony lie to you about it- no matter how good his intentions were.

You both needed to just wake up and come together on this. There was no future for you like this. You’d love each other, and stand by each other. But this would be the thing that would kill you.

Something you’d warned Tony about so very long ago. This was the life he had chosen, and you right after him. There would be no rest. There would be no normal. And in the end you would die living this exact life. With almost nothing to show for it.

But at least… at least you could hope the world would be better off. Because if someone didn’t get something out of your suffering… then there really would be no point at all.

---

Tony was absolutely sure there had never been anything so painful in his entire life than sitting across from the woman he loved while she wept about the loss of her future. Their future. And not just that. Really, it was the loss of freedom. Of choice. Because of a single one they’d stuck to. That they had to.

She saw no future with him where they were happy. No future that was their own. She seemed to think they merely existed to belong to the people. To some notion of justice. Of protection. And that was it. They had no identity beyond fighting for what was right, and fighting around that to keep up pace with everything else.

Ellis and some man named Talbot had apparently threatened her- her and the team, in that meeting. And it had scared her enough to retreat. To go back to believing there was nothing in this life for either of them, but knew that they had to remain prisoners to it regardless. They couldn’t just walk away. She was spiraling now, unable to see past any of it. The man in black and what that meant- the woman before her- SHIELD dying, the aliens- everything being stolen- and now on top of it the government was bearing down hard on her. Threatening her because of them.

So that was it. This was it for them. At least, that’s what she seemed to think. And it was killing her.

Which made it no surprise when he found himself wiping at his own eyes, trying to take a settling breath that hitched in his chest, trying to steady himself so he could be strong for her. She needed someone in her corner. She just needed someone.

He put a hand at the side of her head, directing her closer in the small space of the car, down until she was holding to him, face buried in his shoulder. No one had the right to do this to her. Not to her. No one had the right to make her feel this way. But it wasn’t really a person, Ellis or Talbot be damned. It was a concept. A notion.

...how was he supposed to fight against that?

After he was able to get her to breathe, struggling with her a long few moments, he made up his mind. He let silence sit for a little while before speaking softly. “I need you to take some time off.” And when she started to protest, he threaded his fingers through her hair. Tried to soothe her back off that edge. “You need to take time off. SHIELD and the government- the scepter recon- all of it gets put aside starting now.”

Her head was shaking and protests were starting. “I can’t just-”

“Just the rest of the month.” And when she shifted back and looked up at him, that broken light still reflecting in her eyes, he reached up to cup her cheek in his palm. “Honey, I am begging you.” If he had to, then he would. And it seemed like there was no other way she would budge. “You’re losing yourself here. You’re losing hope.”

She seemed like she might cry again, which was not in any way what he wanted to do to her. Her eyes closed tight. “I’m sorry- I’m overreacting- I’m just-”

“Don’t be sorry. And you’re not. We’re under a lot of pressure, I get that. So should you.” She was careful with everyone else she loved but herself. She stood up for everyone else but never herself. It broke his heart so completely. She deserved so much more than this. ...and it was his fault she couldn’t get it. He held her face in both her hands and as best he could, he assured her, “It’s okay.” And when she searched his eyes, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you. We’re gonna be okay. We’ll get there.”

Reassuring her. The same way she had done for him.

Tony expected her to rebuff him. Maybe to ask how he could possibly know that. But what she did was worse. Because she did the same thing he had, when she’d talked him off a ledge and told him these exact words. He believed her then. And now-

With a lost whimper of a noise she crumbled into him again, holding on to him tight. Maybe, just maybe, believing him. Which might have been worse.

Because he’d just promised the woman he was desperately, endlessly, hopelessly in love with that he would figure this out for them. That they would, that they could, have a future together. Something safe and sustainable. And she’d just… accepted it. Trusted him.

So now. Now he had to figure it out. He had to figure all of this out for her. For them.

And for her? For her he’d do anything. She was lucky he was a genius.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Twenty Five #we're getting pretty heavy here as we lay the groundwork for the Sokovia Accords #it makes me sad #these poor babies just suffer and suffer and suffer #hopefully one day it'll all be worth it

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patolozka · 5 years

Text

On Crowley and Mary Magdalene META

So I was thinking about the whole ‘Crowley could be Mary Magdalene’ concept and I decided to put a few things together. I don’t want to persuade anyone of anything I was just thinking.

This META was written for @a-zira-fell and @azirafuck because they were feeding me with this stuff the last week.

So here is it:

1. Before the GO show aired in May we knew that Crowley wore female clothes at Golgotha from the stills that were shown to us in April. (It was THIS meta by @intersexaziraphale that I read about it). But after the show I think we promptly forget everything about it because there were so many things to think about.

https://intersexaziraphale.tumblr.com/post/184424971273/so-i-realized-that-not-everyone-knows-what-i-do

2. In the show in the crucifixion scene there is this exchange between our duo:

C: Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?

A: Smirk? Me?

C: Well, your lot put him on there.

A: I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley.

C: Oh, I've changed it.

A: Changed what?

C: My name. "Crawl-y" just wasn't really doing it for me. It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish.

A: Well, you were a snake. So, what is it now? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?

C: Crowley.

A: Hmm.

A: Did you, uh... ever meet him?

C: Yes. Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.

A: Why?

C: He's a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited.

C: That has got to hurt. What was it he said that got everyone so upset?

A: "Be kind to each other."

C: Oh, yeah. That'll do it.

In the script there is no bigger change in the exchange and about Crowley there is not much more than that he is wearing black. But we saw how he looked like in the show.

3. Then there is this Neil Gaiman’s tweet

Source: https://vintagefloof.tumblr.com/post/186199778332/confirmation-from-mr-gaiman-on-twitter-today-that

4. And also this meta by @olliaaron about Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s clothing during crucifixion:

https://olliaaron.tumblr.com/post/186239033859/so-i-read-something-about-this-and-heres-an

5. What do we know about Mary Magdalene

· She may have been Jesus’s wife, but we don’t know for sure. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· She is for the first time noticed as one of the women who “ministered to Christ of their substance.” (Luke 8:3) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· She travelled with Jesus as one of his followers and was a witness to his crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. (According to the four canonical gospels) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· Mary as one of the women who travelled with Jesus and helped support his ministry "out of their resources", indicating that she was probably relatively wealthy. (Luke 8:2–3) {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· There is a statement seven demons had been driven out of her (Luke 8:2–3) and that prompted her to became Jesus‘ follower. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· She was one of women who found the sepulchre of Jesus empty (with Salome and Mary the mother of James) and saw the “vision of angels”. (Matthew 28:5). {Eastons Bible Dictionary} The angel told them that Jesus had risen from the dead. Then the risen Jesus himself appeared to the women as they were leaving the tomb and told them to tell the other disciples that he would meet them in Galilee. (Matthew 28:1–10){ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· She hastens to tell Peter and John (John 20:1, 2), and again immediately returns to the sepulchre. There she lingers thoughtfully, weeping at the door of the tomb. {Eastons Bible Dictionary}

· The risen Jesus appears to her but she at first mistook him for the gardener. After she heard him say her name, she recognized him and cried out "Rabbouni!" (which is Aramaic for "teacher"). She tried to touch him, but he told her, "Don't touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my father”. The Gospel of John therefore portrays Mary Magdalene as the first apostle, the apostle sent to the apostles. (John 20:1–10) {CZ Wiki}

· According to Luke 24:1–12 a group of unnamed women went to the tomb and found the stone already rolled away, as in Mark. They went inside and saw two young men dressed in white who told them that Jesus had risen from the dead. Then they went and told the eleven remaining apostles, who dismissed their story as nonsense. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· After the resurrection she returned to Jerusalem. {Eastons Bible Dictionary}

· In apocryphal texts, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a visionary and leader of the early movement whom Jesus loved more than he loved the other disciples. {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· The earliest dialogue between Jesus and Mary Magdalene is probably the Dialogue of the Savior, a badly damaged Gnostic text discovered in the Nag Hammadi library in 1945. In saying 53, the Dialogue even attributes to Mary three aphorisms that are attributed to Jesus in the New Testament: "The wickedness of each day [is sufficient]. Workers deserve their food. Disciples resemble their teachers." The narrator commends Mary stating "she spoke this utterance as a woman who understood everything." {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· In Gospel of Thomas in saying 114: Simon Peter said to them: “Let Mary go forth from among us, for women are not worthy of the life”. Jesus said: “Behold, I shall lead her, that I may make her male, in order that she also may become a living spirit like you males. For every woman who makes herself male shall enter into the kingdom of heaven.“ {ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· In Gospel of Philip: And the companion of the saviour [was] Mary Magdalene. [Christ] loved Mary more than all the disciples, and used to kiss her often on the mouth. The rest of the disciples [were offended by it and expressed disapproval]. They said to him, "Why do you love her more than all of us?" The Saviour answered and said to them, "Why do I not love you like her? When a blind man and one who sees are both together in darkness, they are no different from one another. When the light comes, then he who sees will see the light, and he who is blind will remain in darkness."{ENG Wiki Mary Magdalene}

· The Gospel of Mary: The Gospel of Mary was probably written over a century after the historical Mary Magdalene's death. The gospel does not claim to have been written by her and its author is, in fact, anonymous. Unlike in the Gospel of Thomas, where women can only be saved by becoming men, in the Gospel of Mary, they can be saved just as they are.

Then there is this:

Source: https://azirafuck.tumblr.com/post/186236114966/so-i-was-already-on-board-with-the-whole-crowley

6. How we can see Mary Magdalene in art

As you can see, majority of the paintings pictures Mary Magdalene with red hair and more so some of them even in dark colours.

Source of the pic: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Magdalene

7. Dan Brown

I’m a big fan of Dan Brown and of course I know his ‘Da Vinci Code’ is only a fiction but still…

According to Dan Brown, there was a woman in Jesus‘ life. According to him, Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene. And according to his book Leonardo da Vinci painted Mary Magdalene on ‘The Last Supper’, not John. And you know what hair colour does she have there? Red.

Source: https://cdn.getyourguide.com/img/tour_img-312981-148.jpg

Some pieces from book Da Vinci Code about Mary Magdalene

"The marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene is part of the historical record... Moreover, Jesus as a married man makes infinitely more sense than our standard biblical view of Jesus as a bachelor... If Jesus were not married, at least one of the Bible’s gospels would have mentioned it and offered some explanation for His unnatural state of bachelorhood." (The Da Vinci Code, 245; cf. 244)

“Behold the greatest cover-up in human history... Not only was Jesus Christ married, but He was a father. My dear, Mary Magdalene was the Holy Vessel. She was the chalice that bore the royal bloodline of Jesus Christ” (Code, 249)

“Jesus was the original feminist. He intended for the future of His Church to be in the hands of Mary Magdalene.” (Code, 248)

“The Church, in order to defend itself against the Magdalene’s power, perpetuated her image as a whore and buried evidence of Christ’s marriage to her, thereby defusing any potential claims that Christ had a surviving bloodline and was a mortal prophet.” (Code, 254)

Source: https://www.westmont.edu/~fisk/articles/bruce_fisk_on_the_da_vinci_code.html (it’s a big article about why it all can’t be true, but it has its moments)

And I add one of my favorites:

"Who is she?" Sophie asked.

"That, my dear," Teabing replied, "is Mary Magdalene."

Sophie turned. "The prostitute?"

Teabing drew a short breath, as if the word had injured him personally. "Magdalene was no such thing. That unfortunate misconception is the legacy of a smear campaign launched by the early Church. The Church needed to defame Mary Magdalene in order to cover up her dangerous secret—her role as the Holy Grail." (Da Vinci Code, 205)

8. Gender in Good Omens

We know that angels don’t bother themselves with gender. But to me it looks quite like Crowley was manifesting himself the first four thousands more as a female than as a male.

In the garden of Eden, he is a demon, of course, but still you can see a slit in his clothes. I don’t think Aziraphale has some too. It could be only that his clothes are ragged but still…

In the Noah’s ark he looks more woman then man on the second glance. His long hair, his dress with belt…

At Golgotha it’s most prominent. There you can see he presents himself as a woman.

And after that, only 8 years later, the big change. The short hair, the glasses, all male.

And only other occasion in which we can see Crowley as a female is with Warlock as his nanny. But that is a different story.

9. So let me summarize it.

v Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ follower and travelled with him.

v Crowley knew Jesus, he showed him the world.

v Mary Magdalene was a witness to Jesus’ crucifixion, burial, and resurrection.

v Crowley manifested himself as a woman during Jesus’ life and he was a witness to Jesus’ crucifixion.

v Mary Magdalene was probably wealthy.

v Crowley has no problem with money.

v Mary Magdalene is often pictured as a woman with long, curly, red hair.

v Crowley had for the first four thousand years long, curly, red hair.

v After the crucifixion Mary Magdalene left and went to Jerusalem.

v After the crucifixion Crowley left Palestine and went to Rome.

v Out of Mary Magdalene had been driven seven demons.

v Crowley is a demon.

v Mary Magdalene saw an angel (or two angels) that told her Jesus had risen from the dead.

v Crowley has no problem with seeing angels.

v Jesus said to Mary Magdalene after resurrection: "Don't touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my father”.

v Crowley is demon, that could do it. ¨

v In apocryphal texts, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as a visionary and leader of the early movement.

v Crowley invented many things and was a leader of a sort on Earth.

v Three Jesus’ aphorisms are attributed Mary Magdalene: "The wickedness of each day [is sufficient]. Workers deserve their food. Disciples resemble their teachers." She is also described as: "she spoke this utterance as a woman who understood everything."

v Well, I don’t think like you but I think it’s a pretty good description of Crowley if you ask his co-workers.

v Jesus said he may make Mary Magdalene male to become equal men.

v Crowley changed after his death to male and also changed his name.

v The Gospel of Mary was probably written over a century after the historical Mary Magdalene's death. The gospel does not claim to have been written by her and its author is anonymous.

v Mary Magdalene’s gospel was found in Egypt covered in feathers.

10. So I think Crowley could be Mary Magdalene. Crowley and Jesus could be together. Crowley could be the one painted all the time on all the Mary Magdalene’s pictures.

The idea about Crowley being Mary Magdalene is not mine. It’s all tumblr.

#Good Omens meta #my first meta #Crowley as Mary Magdalene #some thoughts #my meta

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madsthecreator · 4 years

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meeting

She has seen him around the neighborhood, but Dora officially meets the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen when she pays a visit to her friend.

[ao3] [ff.net]

It was not a good day.

Truth be told, was it ever a good day? No, it was not. Dora did not have a splendor life. While her boss did grant her many luxuries...what she did for it was not good. At the end of the day, however, Dora had to do what she had to do. She had not only herself, but her family to think about. If she did not comply with the big man in power, there was no way of telling what would happen.

Dora sighed, the weight of the world ever apparent on her shoulders. It was well into the evening and she was walking alone on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Her parents would have never let her do this, but they weren’t around to tell her that. The thought made Dora shudder. It was better to not think about them like that.

The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were not active tonight, which was strange to the young teenager. Dora was used to seeing this street in a hustle but then again, since the in man dressed in black started to appear, the streets have gotten more quiet. Truth be told, Dora was grateful for the vigilante. It made her life easier. She didn’t have to be as anxious walking in the streets, and she didn’t have to worry about her family being in danger, too.

Family. What wouldn’t you do for them, right? Dora huffed. What family did she have that she cared about? That list was not very long. Her employer had told her to think of him as family, but fuck that. If she could, she would incinerate that fat pig, and everyone else that was associated with him. Well, mostly everyone. If she had to talk to his right hand one more time she would—

Whatever. Tonight wasn’t about him. Tonight, she was going to visit a friend. Sometimes, after her daily duties, Dora would go and visit her friend. He was very nice, but people like their boss took advantage of him. Dora had lost track of how many times she wanted to threaten someone due to how they treated her friend.

Dora didn’t realize how vexed her thoughts had made her until a twitch from her hand made her feel the electric currents coursing through.

“Shit,” Dora swore under her breath as she reached the street that her friend’s shop was at. “Oh, damn. Chill out.” Her friend wasn’t the biggest fan of Dora’s abilities, something that Dora could relate to. (While convenient, her power offered more trouble than what Dora envisioned.) She had to be sure that her powers were under control, as she had a package to deliver to her friend. He would be upset if the Yoo-hoo was ruined in some capacity. That had happened before, and she ended up having to calm him down.

Dora had reached her friend’s workshop when she heard a crash from inside. She had stopped, shoes scuffing along the pavement. Whatever was happening...it was not good. She could feel dread seeping into her.

“Uh oh,” the young teenager whispered to herself. What was going on?

After her short pause, Dora wasted no time as she sprinted to the entrance of the shop. She placed the Yoo-hoo down hastily but carefully near the garage door before running inside.

What Dora saw surprised her: Melvin, her friend, was in a fight with the man in black; the infamous vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen. Dora would recognize Melvin and the vigilante anywhere. She witnessed the man in black holding Melvin in a chokehold, and that made her see red.

No.

On instinct Dora snapped her fingers, made a gesture with her hand, and immediately sent a bright blue lightning bolt past the two men. It hit some of Melvin’s tools, bouncing back and created a bright flash in the room. Dora watched as the man in black let go of Melvin, who fell to the ground. He held his hands to his eyes, and Dora knew that she temporarily blinded him. She grimaced, making a note to herself that she needed to apologize to him after this fight.

The man in black, however, seemed unfazed as he turned to look at Dora, head tilting. Dora couldn’t help but take a step back herself, confused. Why didn’t he react like Melvin did? Nonetheless, Dora was not about to back down. This man came into her friend’s space, uninvited and was hurting him. Dora was not going to let that slide.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Dora told the man in black. As much as she admired his work, those were the rules, and she knew what would happen if her boss found out that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had visited.

The young girl did not give the man in black time to respond, as she sent another lightning bolt his way. He dodged it, and Dora was about to confront him head on until she heard crying.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Melvin sobbed. “Mr. Fisk is gonna be mad.”

Immediately, Dora dropped her fighting stance.

“Oh, God. Melvin,” Dora cried out, running towards her friend. She crouched down beside him. “Melvin, hey. It’s Dora. I’m here, buddy. I’m here.”

“He’s gonna hurt her,” Melvin continued to sob. Dora wasn’t sure if he knew that she was there, but she would continue to talk to him.

“Hey, no, Melvin. I’m not going to let him, okay?” Dora tried to sooth her friend, as she massaged his shoulder. “No one will get to her, I swear on that.” Dora knew that her promise was a bit futile, but she would go down fighting when it came to protecting those she cared for.

“Who—who’s he gonna hurt?”

Dora’s head snapped up as she glared at the man in black. She could feel the electricity course through her veins. She had the urge to send something his way, but she refrained.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dora,” the young teenager snapped. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“This is Melvin Potter’s shop, isn’t it?” the man in black questioned, dodging Dora’s. Dora didn’t bother to point this out, as she felt her blood freeze. She looked back to Melvin, who had seemingly calmed down by this point.

“How—How do you know?” the man asked, slowly sitting up. He looked to Dora. “How does he know?”

“I don’t know, Melvin,” Dora answered, before looking back to the man in black. “How do you know about this place? No one is supposed to know about Melvin.”

“Turk Barrett told me,” the man in black answered. Dora swore under her breath. She was going to have to talk to him later. Great. Just great.

“Who’s Fisk going to hurt?” the man in black questioned again. Dora felt her stature loosen up as she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Dora had to remind herself that he was a man of the people. He wasn’t like Fisk from what she had seen.

Hearing the man’s question, Melvin began to cry again.

“Betsy.”

Cautiously, the man in black knelt down beside Melvin and Dora. Dora was glancing back and forth between the two men, as she attempted to sooth her friend by massaging his arm.

“Who’s—who’s Betsy?” the man in black asked, glancing between Melvin and Dora.

Melvin looked at Dora, as if he needed permission to answer. Dora nodded.

“She’s nice. She helps me when I...” Melvin answered the man in black, sniffling and stammering his words, “...when I get confused…”

“Why would...why would Fisk want to hurt her?” the man in black continued, seemingly lost for words.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Dora answered, repeating her warning from earlier. “Anyone who isn’t Fisk or gained his permission is not allowed to be here.”

“So you do work for Fisk? Both of you?” the man in black asked. Dora couldn’t help but think that all this man ever did was ask questions. Questions, however, often meant that people wanted something. This man wanted something...something from Melvin. As much as Dora wanted to trust the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, she wasn’t going to let him possibly take advantage of Melvin. There were enough people doing that to him.

“I said no, when he asked. Said no, Betsy wouldn’t like it. She wants me to be good. I gotta be good.” Melvin answered, his stuttering still apparent. The man in black was patient, though. He wanted to hear Melvin’s story. Dora could feel Melvin squeeze her hand tightly, but it did not hurt her. She returned the gesture, to let him know that she was there with and for him.

“And you?”

Dora looked directly at the man in black, her face stoic. She swallowed deeply before answering.

“Coercion,” Dora answered simply. “As you can see, I have some unique abilities. Fisk discovered it and forced me to be...an enforcer, I guess. He promised that my family would be safe and secure if I did what he asked.” She glanced up to Melvin, who was seemingly calmed down. “I became friends with Melvin. He’s very sweet once you get to know him, and people take advantage of that.”

Dora didn’t know it, but something about her and her story felt...off to him.

“How...how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

The man in black did not respond for a good minute as he took in their stories.

“I’m so sorry,” the man in black apologized to them both. “Fisk has hurt people that I care about, too. I know what it’s like to worry about them...wanting to keep them safe.”

“He make you work for him, too?” Melvin asked.

“No, I don’t work for Fisk,” the man in black answered. “I want to stop him from hurting anyone else...from hurting Betsy, or your family,” he directed the last bit to Dora. Hearing Betsy’s name, however, made Melvin tear up again. Dora eyed the man in black, wondering what his motive was.

“You could do that?” Melvin asked. “Keep Betsy and Dora’s brother safe?”

“Maybe. Did you make a suit for Fisk?” the man in black questioned, reaching behind him and grabbing the fabric off the table. He showed it to Melvin and Dora. “Did you make a suit lined with this?”

“Made a whole bunch. It keeps him safe. I made some for Dora too,” Melvin answered, nodding his head towards the teenaged girl. The man in black glanced at her before looking back to Melvin.

“Can you make something for me out of this?”

Dora inclined her head. She had a feeling that she knew what the man wanted. By one look at his current outfit, Dora knew that he had to be very careful and precise about his fighting. There was no way his current outfit was protecting him.

“You want a suit a suit like Mr. Fisk?” Melvin asked.

“No, Melvin. He wants something else,” Dora answered. The man in black nodded in agreement.

“I want something very special,” the man in black clarified. “And if you do this for me, I promise to get Fisk out of your life...both of your lives, and to keep your loved ones safe. To keep Betsy safe.”

“You can do that?” Dora asked. It was almost too good to be true. Did this man really mean it? Did he really believe it? Dora wanted to believe him but Fisk...Fisk was a very powerful man.

“With help...I think maybe I can,” the man in black answered.

“What do you want me to make?” Melvin asked. It was silent for a moment before the man in black answered.

“A symbol.”

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Dora immediately said, a small grin forming on her face. The man in black replicated her grin.

“I like it.”

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