amateurhourfanfics

[amateurhourfanfics]

[amateurhourfanfics]

i’ll always appreciate shows like the white lotus because fundamentally i love gawking at exorbitantly rich people’s problems like i’m at the zoo. such is life

[amateurhourfanfics]

[amateurhourfanfics]

I’ve just had a gut feeling for years that Azriel and Bryce are mates and I’m not looking forward to being proved wrong.

[amateurhourfanfics]

Give em' Hell ⟢ ⟢ ⟢

… a series (pt 1)

au!Daredevil x fem!reader - a three part series in which you get to know who Daredevil really is behind the mask - by putting him in front of your camera...

Summary: After months of trying to catch the illusive Daredevil on film, you finally meet the newest hero of Hell's Kitchen, and he's not what you expected. (hurt/comfort, fighting bad guys, softy daredevil)

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: 18+ for following series, mild violence, mugging, swearing, brief mention of blood, knife fight, spice to come ;)

Part 1 | Hell’s Kitchen at Night

I know as a woman I shouldn’t be walking home alone at night. Especially in New York City. Especially when I’m carrying a camera that costs more than three months rent in my shitty Hell’s Kitchen apartment. 

The thing is, I don’t really care at the moment. My place is just around the corner and we were on location for almost 14 hours today. All I want to do is go home, and calling a cab would be more work than it’s worth. Plus, I have leftover crab rangoon and chardonnay from last night's post-shoot girl dinner. 

Days like these had become my normal in the past few months, as the city demanded more and more coverage on the elusive Daredevil. When the masked vigilante was first spotted in Hell’s Kitchen, NBC decided they had to have the best coverage of New York's newest hero. 

So, every day my team and I had been running around the city desperately trying to grab footage of Daredevil. Yet somehow, I alone had managed the few shots any news outlet in the area could get. So, NBC dubbed itself as Daredevil’s exclusive news station. Of course that didn’t come with a pay raise, so after each 14 hour day, I limped back to my dingy studio. 

Today, we didn’t get shit. We had an anonymous tip for an armed robbery at the bank up on 57th, meaning that Daredevil was inevitably going to make an appearance. My little on-the-ground team got restless as the hours went on, but I made us stay until sundown just in case. Like most other days, the tip was fake and Daredevil never showed. 

When I notice a group of men cross the street behind me, I tighten my grip on my backpack and walk a little faster. I immediately clock three of them and my heart speeds like every woman’s does when a man walks behind her at night. I tell myself it’s nothing. They’re just walking home like everyone else. It’s nothing. 

But then they speed up. At first I think I’m imagining it, but within a minute they go from a couple blocks behind me to maybe ten feet. I look back and realize they’re all masked. Shit.

As soon as I make eye contact with the dark figure in the front, all three men start running at me. I turn and run away as fast as I can, adrenaline pumping. I dash down a shadowed alleyway in hopes of losing them, but they chase me in and now I’m trapped. 

“What do you want?” I shout, masking the shakiness in my voice.

The men walk forward, backing me into the end of the alley. 

“Can’t be walking around the city with a bag like that, sweetheart,” the one in the front growls. “I know what’s in there. You think the news doesn’t come to Hell’s Kitchen?” He flicks open a long knife at his side.

I fumble in my purse, blindly searching for the pepper spray I always carry on me. Where is it?

He creeps closer. “Drop the bag, sweetheart.” There is no way in Hell I am handing over my camera. None. The adrenaline takes over and I say, “Fuck you.”

He cackles. “This one’s got a little mouth on her. I like that.” Now he’s only feet away and I’m frantically searching for the pepper spray, hands shaking. The man grabs me by the shoulders but I finally find what I’m looking for and discharge it directly into his face. He screams. The others charge at me and now I’m screaming, too, praying someone hears me. I get hit in the face hard and everything is a blur. This is it. This is how I die. One of them has me in a tight grip as I kick and yell and sob. 

A deep voice comes from behind me. “Take your hands off her. Now.”

In my panic, I didn’t notice anyone else approaching. The thief turns me around, pinning me to his chest with a knife at my throat. “Nice costume,” he scoffs. My heart stops when I realize who the voice is coming from.

Daredevil.

The figure slowly comes out of the shadows. “I’m not going to repeat myself,” he grinds out. His suit is barely visible in the dark alleyway, but the devil horns on the mask are undeniable. All three men are now laughing. The one who I pepper sprayed swings my camera bag over his shoulder. I feel a trickle of blood run down my chin from where my lip was split. 

“And if I don’t?” growls the thief, digging his fingers into my arms painfully. I struggle against his grip, careful of the knife that’s still up under my chin.

Daredevil charges. Instinct takes over and I throw my head back into the man’s nose and hear a satisfying crunch. He groans and drops the knife. I bend to grab it but I quickly realize I’m not needed. To my left is a blur of kicks and blocks and punches. One of them slashes Daredevil across the chest, but he’s out cold after a series of blows that would’ve killed a smaller man. The other thief tries to get away with my camera in the chaos, but Daredevil spots him and whips a club at his head. He drops like a stone.

Lastly, Daredevil approaches the man below me who is clutching his face as blood pours from his broken nose. “Please!” he cries as he gets to his feet, “I’ll just go, I didn’t want anything to do–”

He’s silenced with a punch to the head. His body hitting the pavement is the only sound in the alleyway. Then, I can only hear my own heart beat. I’m shaking from the adrenaline and trying to conceptualize what just happened. 

Daredevil walks over to where the man dropped my camera and brings it to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder gently. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, barely out of breath. I take my camera from him in disbelief. 

“I think so. I– You’re–”

“Are you hurt? Other than that lip?”

I’m numb from the shock. “I don’t know. Maybe. No. Just a few bruises.” I blink up at him and look down at the gloved hand that’s still on my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I breathe. “I genuinely don’t know what I would have done.”

He smirks. “I don’t know, you seemed to have things pretty well handled on your own.”

The fog is beginning to clear now and I come to my senses. I need to get off the street and lock my door forever. 

“I should get home.”

I try taking a step and wince. My right ankle hurts like hell and is throbbing from the pressure. I must have twisted it at some point running away. Shit. 

“Do you live around here?” Daredevil asks, his voice soft and low. 

“Just around the corner.”

“I’ll take you.”

I scoff. “I think Daredevil has much better things to do than take me home.”

“I don’t,” he says with confidence. “Let me walk you back at least.”

The thought of being walked home by Daredevil is ridiculous, but my ankle really hurts and if I’m being honest, I’m terrified of being attacked again.

“What about them?” I gesture to the three figures on the ground. Police sirens blare from a couple blocks away, getting closer by the minute. 

“These guys will be out for a while. By the time they realize what’s happening they’ll be in the back of a squad car. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with Daredevil. The Daredevil that I have been trying to get coverage of for months.

“May I?” he asks. I nod. He easily scoops me up under my knees and back. I’m surprised by how gently he holds me against his chest and how small I feel in his arms. 

We stick to the shadows on the way back to my place, staying close to the buildings. Every little noise on the street makes me flinch. I can still feel the cold steel against my throat and that horrible man’s grip on my arms. My heart speeds and I can feel the panic flooding my system again. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. He must be noticing how scared I am somehow. “Just breathe, we’re almost there.” The softness in his voice is so at odds with the violence I’ve seen him commit that it snaps me out of my panic a bit. What's happening right now?

When we get to the front door of my building, I have a hard time unlocking the door with my shaking hand. He silently steadies it with his own and I manage to unlock the door. 

Then, Daredevil carries me into my apartment...

_____________________

PART 2 COMING SOON!!!

[amateurhourfanfics]

The Devil I Know ❖

… a series (ch 1)

au!Matt Murdock x fem OC!reader - a slow burn series following everyone's favorite Hell's Kitchen lawyer.

Summary: Bella is weeks away from graduating law school when a handsome but infuriating young lawyer comes to guest lecture.

Word Count: 900

Warnings: 18+ for following series, fluff, mild swearing, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Hellooooooo this is my first ever fanfic so lmk what everyone thinks! Should I continue the series??? Enjoy :)

___________________

CHAPTER ONE | The Guest Lecturer

Every student in the class was hanging on to Mr. Murdock's every word, but I was totally zoned out.

I had already been through his lecture notes the night before, and I wasn’t as easily impressed by our guest speaker as my peers. It’s always the same old story. A young lawyer comes in to guest lecture a hall full of law students. Everyone either wanted to be him, be with him, or be under him, but I wasn’t impressed. It’s just the TA effect; an average looking guy of average intelligence talks at a class of slightly younger students and becomes 10 times more fuckable. 

It didn’t matter that Matt was annoyingly smart and certainly well above average attractiveness. It still applied. Especially because he seemed to know everyone basically thought he walked on water.

Mr. Murdock always came to class in a crisp suit and a pair of red-tinted glasses. He was tall with a full head of chestnut hair and a smug look on his face like he knew was the smartest person in the room. Even though he was only a few years older than me, he acted like he had a lifetime more experience than we did. It drove me nuts. 

It wasn’t until I heard the words “interviewing for an associate” that I looked up from my laptop. We were only a few weeks out from graduation and I still hadn’t landed a position at any of the major firms in New York. Even though I was graduating summa cum laude, I felt the interviews I had been given were only out of courtesy. I was always being interviewed by old white guys that called me sweetheart and asked what line of work my father was in. Then, I was never called again, just to hear some Chad or Kyle talking in class about how they got the job. Of course, they would never mention that their daddies were golf buddies with one of the partners.

I had always dreamed of working at one of the major firms downtown, but things were starting to look bleak. Though, Nelson & Murdock was a respectable little group that had a lot of room to grow. So finally, Mr. Murdock had my attention.

He continued, “Nelson & Murdock is looking for one junior associate to join our team. Over the past year, our client base has tripled and we need help with paperwork.”

My mind was now turning, quickly thinking up a plan to land this job. God, I needed this job. 

Matt came to the front of the large wooden desk and sat on the edge. “I’ll be honest, it’ll start off as more of a paralegal position, but I promise you’ll get a lot out of it. Plus, my partner is a lot nicer than me so it’ll be a good time,” he grinned.

The whole class laughed, eating up this rare moment of non-stick-up-the-ass Matt. I rolled my eyes. 

When he finally finished his lecture, I hurried up to his desk as everyone else filed out. I usually would never be so bold to ambush him after class, but I was desperate. 

“Mr. Murdock, do you have a minute?”

He was gathering his papers back into his briefcase. “A few, Ms….?

“Walker. Bella Walker. I wanted–”

“Isabella, according to my roster,” he interrupted as he skimmed his hand across a list of students in braille. I cleared my throat and chose to move on.

“...Right. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve really enjoyed your class and have learned so much over the last few weeks. Your lectures are just so interesting and–”

“So interesting that you just played Solitaire for 3 hours straight?”

Fuck. I turned deep red. 

“I– No, I was taking notes, I would never. I didn’t–”

He cut me off. “I’m assuming you’re kissing my ass for an interview?”

I was stunned for a moment at the sheer nerve, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s just another man who doesn’t take me seriously. 

I lifted my chin. “Yes, I am. I’m at the top of this class and I think I deserve an interview,” I said, now stunned by my own nerve. Mr. Murdock finished packing his briefcase in silence. For a few moments, I thought he was just going to ignore me. 

“West 44th Street in Hell’s Kitchen. Tomorrow at 4pm,” he replied. Thank god.

I don’t know what made me say it, but I had to know. “How did you know I was playing Solitaire?”

“I guessed. Didn’t really know until you just admitted it.” He turned from me and started walking towards the exit. “Oh, and Isabella…”

“It’s Bella,” I think. This pompous asshole.

He put on his red-tinted glasses and stopped at the back of the lecture hall.

“I don’t care that you think I’m boring. Doesn’t happen that often. Gives me something to prove.”

Before I could think of anything to say, he left the room, the door slamming behind him.

___________________

CHAPTER TWO COMING SOON!