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6ix9inewiturmom · 7 months ago

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Camera Caught- Matt Sturniolo

Summary: you accidentally left some hickeys on matt’s neck and the fans catch it, start making edits, and matt “punishes” you

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (female receiving), P in V, Unprotected sex, praising, slight crying.

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOYY

PSA: I GIVE NO RIGHTS TO COPY MY WORK OR USE MY WORK FOR “INSPIRATION”

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Matt and I’s relationship has been very very private, we've been trying to keep it that way till we both collectively agreed to go public. Matt was down in the garage filming for a Friday video and I was endlessly scrolling on TikTok, I came across this edit of Matt, I didn't think much of it till i saw the comments.

Mattscupsupremacy: THE HICKEY?! WHO IS SHE?? MATTS A FREAKY GAL

Chrissypoohmylover: UHM MATTHEW?? what a freaky man.. she’s one lucky girl to be getting that fire dick

Nickismyqueen: WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT THE FACT HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO COVER IT UP??

Yamother6629: we lost another one girls… Funeral at my place at 6 pm tmr 😔💔

Thefourthtriplet5239: MATT SEEMED SO VANILLA.. who would ever guess that man is kinky?

“No no no” I say panicking out loud and immediately jumping out of bed and running through the house and busting the door open to the garage where Nick, Matt, and Chris are barging into the garage which sends the boys into an immediate panic

“Okay so you can edit this out of the video but it's an emergency,” I say out of breath.

“Girl go the fuck on, you said it’s an emergency, spill let’s go” Nick says snapping his fingers.

“Okay, patience, so I was scrolling through TikTok like normally waiting for you guys to finish filming and I scroll across this Matt edit,” I say trying to find the edit on my phone.

“Y/N how many times do I have to tell you to stop watching edits of me, I'm right here no need to fangirl over me,” Matt says with a sense of cockyness in his voice.

“No no hold on it gets better, so I scroll through the comments cause you know it's funny watching as the 12-year-olds talk about you being their ‘baby’-” start before Chris cut me off

“GET TO THE FUCKING POINT YAPPER,” Chris says throwing his hands in the air

“Says the one who goes on about putting a literal tit milk-drinking infant in the backseat of a car with no car seat. So let's not talk about her yapping” nick defends.

“ANYWAYS, Matt you forgot to cover your hickeys from the other night and everyone knows about it now, cause when you moved out of frame your hoodie must have come down, and there are edits and people calling you ‘vanilla’ whatever the hell that means, and like everyone is wondering who the girl is and I'm like panicking now,” I say with panic in my voice “I know you weren't ready to go public but everyone is like freaking the fuck out” I continue.

“Fuck, I thought the hoodie was a good cover” matt sighs “look its fine well figure it out after I'm done filming just go back inside and calm the hell down” he gives me a quick peck on my forehead and shutting the door of the car.

A couple of minutes later I got a text from matt, normally he does send me the occasional ‘i love you, almost done filming’ message but this one was a little different.

Matty B Rapz 💍

you’re in big trouble for getting us caught

i hope you ain’t tired cause you’re in for a long night

This wasn't out of the normal for Matt to be rough with me but over text? This is new, but I love it. I could feel myself getting soaked at all the possible ways Matt could fuck me, all the positions, thinking of all the ways in which he could make me cum.

After an hour and a half of endless scrolling through TikTok, I can hear the footsteps of Matt through the hallway.

“Hi baby, how was filming?” I say as he walks in the door immediately shutting it and locking it.

“Don't ‘baby’ me, strip,” he says harshly as his eyes darken with lust.

A smirk appeared on my lips, and moved off the bed walking towards him as I placed my phone down on the bedside table and slowly and teasingly removed my pants and shirt leaving me in my light pink lingerie set that I knew drove him insane, the way it hugged my curves, pushed my Brests up with a small delicate flower in the middle, and my underwear that sat and hung onto my hips with another small flower in the middle of it.

“So fucking sexy,” Matt says under his breath causing a light shade of pink to appear on my cheeks.

Matt wraps his arms around my torso and unclips my bra letting my breasts fall and the straps of my bra fall off my arms. He lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on our shared bed as he places a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

I yearn for more of his lips but he pulls away from me and starts trailing light kisses down my jaw and to my neck and sucking harshly on my neck so we have matching marks on my neck and soft moans escaping my lips.

“Since you had to go and get us caught,” he starts before sucking harsher in my neck in a pattern this time. “Everyone's gonna know who you belong to now” he pulls away walking back a couple of steps to admire the marks he left on my neck.

‘M’

His initial was spelled out on my neck.

“And you're not gonna cover that up. Got it?” he spits walking towards me and wrapping his hand around my neck.

“Yes, Matt” I whisper out

“Good fucking girl” he removes his hand from my neck and pushes me down so my back is now on the bed flat.

He lowers his body down, basically on his knees, and he leaves kisses down my stomach before kissing over my clothed pussy and a soft whimper comes out of my lips.

Using his teeth he guides my underwear off my legs and throws them on the floor with a smirk plastered on his face.

His face between my legs was always a sight for sore eyes, never failed to turn me on the way his blue eyes always stared at me through his eyelashes. He places small kisses around my thighs eventually making his way down to my dripping pussy and placing kisses everywhere around it but where I need him the most.

“Matt, please” I plead.

“What are you begging for? Use that filthy mouth of yours and tell me what you want” he says harshly.

“I need your mouth, please” i whine.

He smirks and uses his tongue to move up and down my folds collecting my juices he lets out a groan as the taste of my pussy touches his tongue. His lips attach to my clit sucking harshly on it.

“FUCK MATT” My back arches and my eyes roll back basically seeing my brain.

His tongue explores every inch of me as he keeps a steady gaze on me and how my body reacts to his mouth. His fingers trail into my begging hole that's clenched around the air begging to be fulfilled curling his slim fingers upward reaching a spot I could never reach by myself.

“MATT” I scream out as My thighs close his head in.

“Legs stay open” he mutters through my pussy.

His fingers now moving at a pace that's driving me absolutely insane, his muted moans against my pussy is only turning me on more.

“close” i breathe out trying not to strain my voice.

“hold it,” he says muttering against me as his nose flicks my clit digging his face deeper into my pussy. He was almost moaning as much as I was, typically he didn't even care if he cums, he gets off at watching me come unglued from his mouth or fingers.

“Please” I repeat pleading with matt.

“No, you're gonna hold it and you're gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be” he lifts his head continuing his pace with his fingers.

His gaze never left me, the way my back arched off the bed and my eyes rolled back just at his fingers was always so amusing to him.

“You always look so beautiful wrapped around my fingers,” he says smirking down at me and taking his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to arch his fingers inside me.

“PL-PLEA- CUM” i mutter unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out” he coos in my ear in a low raspy voice.

The knot in my stomach snaps, and my orgasm hits me like a bus, my legs shake as my cum drips down into his fingers. he removes his fingers licking off my cum from them.

“Face down ass up, I ain't done with you” he says sternly.

I slowly nod turning around and holding myself up by my elbows taunting my ass around in the air. Matt smirks to himself removes his hoodie, and quickly removes his boxers and pants throwing all his clothes somewhere in the room.

I feel the bed dip down from the weight of his knees behind me. He reaches his arm around to my mouth places his hand below my mouth.

“Spit” he says harshly.

I obey spitting in his hand as he uses my spit to rub around the tip of his cock moving his hand up and down to coat his cock.

Matt aligns himself with my entrance and immediately bottoms out letting a loud groan escape his lips as my hips jerk backward and a loud whine leaks from my lips.

“You think you're so fucking innocent huh? Leaving those fucking hickeys on my neck” he spits thrusting harshly into me gripping onto my hair and pushing my head far into the mattress.

“I-im SO-SORRY” I scream into the mattress.

“Oh, you're sorry? If you were sorry you wouldn't be creaming all over my fucking. dick.” he says thirsting harder to annunciate his last two words as his head hangs low to look down at the white rim that's formed around the base of his cock.

“FUCKK” I whine out with tears starting to form in my eyes from the overstimulation. “CANT- CANT-TAKE” I muffle out as his hand pushes my head farther in the bed.

“You wanted this” he grunts “You take it” his hand travels down my body and starts to toy with my sensitive clit.

“OH BABY-” i scream out as my cervix begins to twitch around his cock signaling how close I was.

“Oh you think you're gonna cum soon?” he taunts rubbing faster on my clit as his thrusts begin getting sloppier.

“Pl-pl-please” I whisper yell to him.

“You're so fucking pathetic” he groans out using both hands and pressing my waist down the bed and rolling his hips into me getting deeper and kissing my cervix with his cock.

My legs began to shake and tremble “CLOSE” i choke out. his grip on my waist loosens up as he leans down and kisses my back.

“let it go, baby, let it all out” With that, the knot in my stomach breaks and I squirt all over the bed leaving a wet mess beneath me. “God damn baby you're so fucking sexy” he leaves small kisses on my neck as his thrusts got even sloppier.

“Oh fuck” he buries his head in my neck and groans as his cum begins to shoot out of him filling my hole of his cum.

He softly pulls out of me rolling me over now laying on my back and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” he smiles down at me and I shoot him a small smile back.

He throws on the same pair of sweatpants from earlier and walks softly and carefully to the bathroom wetting a small rag and bringing it back into the room.

“You did amazing, Y/N” he smiles up at me as he carefully runs the warm wash rag down my legs and anywhere else that was covered in cum.

“I am sorry about getting us caught, I know that we didn't want to go public just yet” I softly whisper as he makes his way next to me bringing me into his arms and placing a kiss down on my head.

“Hey, don't worry about it. We'll figure it out in the morning. But for now, just get some sleep," he says, running his fingers through my hair and occasionally kissing my head. We eventually drifted asleep, intertwined with each other.

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A/N PT 2 HI LOVES!! IDK how to feel ab this one but i hope you guys enjoyed it! I hope you're doing amazing!! And have an amazing day/night/evening!!

Xoxo

Gabs 💋

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

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farfromstrange · 2 months ago

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Fictober Day 11: Girl Dad

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Girl Dad (🌼)

Summary: Your daughter likes to have tea parties with her father, and he is more than happy to play along.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, parenthood, slight angst, established relationship, husband!Matt

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: I don't know about you, but I see Matt as a Girl Dad who is more than eager to give his little girl whatever she wants. And yes, she would be just like him.

Read Me On AO3!

The apartment is quiet—too quiet. Normally, you wouldn’t complain about a moment of peace; with a three-year-old around, even a minute to relax would be heaven on earth, but there is something eerie about the silence in the four walls you call home. No laughing, no crying, and no pattering of bare feet along the floorboards. No shouting, ‘Mommy!’ Until you drop everything to pay attention to your very quirky and very eccentric daughter. She’s got that from her father, too.

Silence with a toddler is hardly a good thing when she is far out of your sight. You learned that the hard way the day she got into your makeup and decided to repaint the bathroom. Despite all of the chaos, you have never loved a tiny human more than her.

When you got pregnant, it came as a shock to you—both yourself and Matt. He’s always been Catholic, and you’d been together for years at that point already, but there was something about the thought of having a baby that scared him in more ways than one. The full extent only hit you though when you peed on a stick, and it turned blue.

What if he couldn’t do this, he thought. What if he couldn’t be the father your child needed? What if he was entirely too damaged to be a father? What if the fact he couldn’t see would make it impossible for him to have a relationship with his child? He told you all of that and more. His father was good, but he died, and his mother left him, and he turned into Daredevil because the world is just so full of endless injustice; what good could that possibly do for a child, he thought.

Needless to say, the first time Matt held his daughter, he was terrified. He thought, why on earth would anyone, in good conscience hand him, the man whose fists are scared from countless fights on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, such a small, fragile, and innocent human being?

“Congratulations, Dad,” one of the nurses had said.

Dad. For nine months, he’d heard her little heartbeat in your belly. He’d felt her kick when she was strong enough to do so. It was surreal to him that you were carrying his daughter—his daughter. You were really doing this. Having a family.

Though when the air first filled her tiny lungs and the nurses placed her screaming form on your chest, reality hit him.

All those fears he’d had at the beginning of your pregnancy bubbled back to the surface. The medical equipment around him was so loud he almost had a panic attack, but you were okay, and the baby was okay, and suddenly, you were asking if he wanted to hold her, too. You, the woman who just gave birth to his daughter, and the first love of his life.

The first time Matt held his daughter, he was terrified, but when his shaky fingers brushed her delicate skin to see her face, it only took a second for him to fall in love.

“Hi,” he’d said. “Uh, I’m your Dad.”

She was looking up at him, he could feel it, and all his fears melted away again.

Grace Murdock. You knew her name before she was even born, but it hit him even more when she was finally here. In a way, she was his saving grace.

That was three years ago. Three magical, chaotic, and sleepless years ago.

Grace was the best thing to ever happen to you after falling in love with her father, but she did inherit his tendency to get into trouble; when neither Grace nor Matt is anywhere to be found, all alarms in your head go off.

You put down the towel and make your way from the kitchen down the hallway.

Faint voices start to reach you the closer you get to your daughter’s bedroom. “More tea, daddy,” you hear Grace say. It’s not a question, it is merely a blatant statement.

Matt hums. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s delicious.”

“No, you dwink it!”

“I am drinking it.”

“No, you’re not. Dwink it.”

You peek through the gap in the door, not sure what to expect, but when you catch your husband sitting at the tiny pink table you got her last Christmas, surrounded by stuffed animals in princess dresses, you have to bite your lip not to laugh. You didn’t expect that.

Matt is draped in one of her blankets, wearing a pink crown that has certainly seen better days. His large frame barely fits on the children’s chair he seems to have been banished to, and he’s holding a teacup about the size of his pinky finger. But what surprises you most is how serious he looks as he takes a ‘sip’ from the imaginary tea to please his little girl.

He’s never going to live that one down.

Grace nods, hands propped up on her hips as her brown hair bounces up and down. She’s the spitting image of her father. “Good job, daddy,” she says.

Matt, sitting there in all his stoic seriousness, sips from his tiny teacup with the same level of focus he’d use in court. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he says.

“You’re a pwetty princess.”

He nods, dead serious. “That’s right. I’m a pretty princess.”

You giggle quietly to yourself. It’s the expression on his face—this mix of pure, unfiltered love for his daughter—that gets you. No matter how silly or extravagant, for Grace, he’d do anything. He’s making memories with her that she will remember long after she’s moved out of the house, and that, to you, is what makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Grace refills his cup with expert precision. “Mommy’s the queen,” she states. “’Cause she’s the boss of you.”

Matt pauses for a split second, his jaw slacking slightly. “Hold on, sweetie. Mommy’s not the boss of me,” he says.

Bless him, you think. He’s so wrong.

“She is,” Grace insists.

“And what am I?” He sounds almost hurt.

“A princess. Duh!”

She goes about pouring tea for her stuffed animals next, not a care in her little world. Matt’s head turns toward you. Of course, he heard you coming.

“You’re lucky she’s not calling you her peasant,” you say, your voice teasing. “You still get to be a pretty princess.”

He chuckles. “You’re the boss.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

Matt shakes his head as if he’s giving in to some long-held truth. “Apparently, I’ve been dethroned,” he says. His smile, though playful, is full of warmth as he turns his attention back to Grace.

“You’re not dethroned,” you clarify, sliding into the room. “You’ve just… been promoted to Princess-in-Chief.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s Pretty-Princess-in-Chief, Mrs. Murdock. Thank you very much.”

You laugh. “Apologies. Pretty Princess-In-Chief, of course.”

Grace notices you then for the first time since you’ve entered, and her face lights up. “Mommy!” she says. “I made tea.”

“For me?” you ask.

“Yes!”

“That’s so sweet.” You let her pull you to one of the tiny plastic chairs. “Thank you, baby.”

Matt instantly leans closer to you, lowering his voice just for you to hear. “You know, I’m not sure how I feel about the hierarchy in this household,” he says.

You snort. “Oh, you’re perfectly fine with it. Besides, you’re still her hero,” you say. “Even if you have to wear a pink crown to get the job done.”

He shakes his head with a sigh that’s far too dramatic to be serious. “Yeah, well… I’ll take whatever title she gives me.”

“And wear a crown,” you add, adjusting the slightly crooked plastic crown on his head. “Suits you, by the way.”

He takes your hand in his. “I’d wear a hundred crowns if it made her happy.”

The love in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. He’s so in love with her it makes you want to cry sometimes because the man who once had been so scared of becoming a father now is the best he could possibly be for his baby girl.

Your lips ghost over his cheek, your kiss a gentle breath against his skin. “I know.”

Grace rushes back over with a stuffed bear and plops it on the table. “Mr. Bear says no kissin’!” she says.

You pull away from him. “Sorry, Your Highness.”

“Very demanding,” Matt murmurs.

From the corner of your eye though, you can see him smirk, and all you can say to that is, “I wonder where she’s got that from.”

Your daughter is completely in her element, pouring more imaginary tea and singing quietly to herself.

This is it, you think. These are the kind of moments that remind you why, despite everything—the sleepless nights, the chaos, and the uncertainty—you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

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#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock #dad!matt #husband!matt #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #lizzi's fictober 2024 #charlie cox

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lucvly · 1 year ago

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girllll please do a smut where matt is on tour the reader is on the phone with him and she starts hearing his heavy breathing and grunts so she stops talking and he says something like “keep talking pretty girl, im so close”

— radio, matt sturniolo. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: smut smut smut. also this is short my bad. not proofread.

a/n: oh my god i saw this and knew i had to get cooking. i’m working on so many reqs rn be patient w me i beg !! sensitive stans dni i bite

at first, matt had begged you to come with him on tour, you two were together almost every day so it wouldn’t be all that different from your usual routine. however, as much as you would’ve loved to join him, you had to stay back home and tend to some important work matters. this meant having him away for almost a whole month.

not having your boyfriend around was painful to say the least. sure, you had work, family and friends to keep you busy, but nothing compared to having his presence right there next to you. of course, you texted every day at almost every hour, and you called each other every night to tell the other about your day and just hear each other’s voice.

on this specific night, matt asked you to call him a bit earlier than usual, which you didn’t mind at all. at the end of the day you got to hear your boyfriend’s voice, but it did seem a bit out of the ordinary.

“hi princess, nick and chris went to target to get some things we need, so i figured we could call a bit earlier.” matt spoke, his voice just as sweet as always, though you could sense a small smile in his voice. “tell me about your day, i wanna hear every detail.”

and that’s how an almost endless rant about your day started. you’d had an incredibly long day, you told him all about how you went to the bookstore in the morning and got some books that you’d been dying for, how you’d gotten some work done after that, then you told him about some meaningless argument you had with your mom.

“it was annoying, but– we’ll get over it.” you let out a soft sigh, laying back on your bed.

“i’m sure you will, baby.” matt’s voice seemed a bit deeper and breathier than usual.

his reply made your brows slightly furrow, normally he’d offer some sort of advice, try to comfort you or distract you but his reply was simply– underwhelming. he was never this quiet when it came to you. what on earth could he possibly be doing that made him go quiet— oh. as if on queue, to pull you out of your thoughts, you heard a shaky breath on the other line, followed by a slick and wet movement.

suddenly all the pieces started to click together in your head. was he jerking off? the thought of it made a small smirk appear on your face. you couldn’t believe him. he didn’t even have the decency to tell you so you could help him or join him? so that’s why he called you a bit earlier when his brothers were out, and that’s why he seemed so off throughout the call.

a part of you just wanted to go ahead and join him, tell him how much you’ve missed him over the past few weeks, how much you’ve been craving his fingers inside of you, or simply how much you’ve missed him inside of you. but the other part of you wanted to see how far he was willing to take this. it was funny enough that he didn’t realize you were already catching onto his situation, teasing him a little wouldn’t hurt.

“what should i do? i’m just, upset. you know?” your voice managed to sound the slightest bit sad, yet a smirk was displayed on your face.

“i– yeah, i mean–” he cut himself off before reconsidering continuing further with an act he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep up with any longer. the slick sounds from the other line had picked up a quicker and swifter speed.

“hm?” you only let out a hum. knowing he was getting off to your voice was incredibly hot, but you wanted to see what would happen if you just– stopped talking. knowing you had full control over him without him even realizing it was simply arousing.

all that could be heard from the phone were soft grunts and heavy breaths, followed by some slick sounds which only made the smirk on your face grow slightly wider.

“fuck– princess, just do me a favor and keep talking for me, yeah? i promise i’ll make it up to you.” his voice was breathy, short pauses with shaky breaths between almost every word.

“care to tell me what’s going on?” you teased, letting out a soft giggle. you were just as turned on as he was, but you wanted to focus on your boyfriend’s pleasure first and foremost because of the short amount of time you had before his brothers came back.

“shit– just keep talking, pretty girl, i’m so close, please.” his breathing was shaky, you could hear the slick and wet sounds getting louder, picking up a quicker speed as a low grunt could be heard over the phone. “god, i miss you. i miss being inside of you.”

“and i miss having you here with me, i wish i could take care of you,” your voice was sweet, and your cheeks started to heat up with the tint of a soft pink color. “i miss you.”

your voice was needy and barely even audible, but those three words were all he needed to reach his release. the pace of the wet sounds managed to quicken even more before a soft “shit–” could be heard over the phone, followed by a slightly louder groan as the slick sounds began to cease.

“you’re the best, you know that?” his voice was almost a whisper. he was clearly tired out, his voice a bit deeper yet softer than usual.

“at least let me join next time,” you joked, playfully rolling your eyes as if he was right there next to you to see it. a small smile was still displayed across your face as you twirled a strand of hair around your finger.

“i will. i promise. next time will be all about you, princess.”

#lucvly #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut

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nicksbestie · 7 months ago

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Inside Your Head - N. Sturniolo

Summary : You had no way to block out the thoughts of others, and one specific person just wouldn't leave your mind.

Warnings : descriptions of migraines, 16+ content (no smut, makeout/suggestive content)

Word Count : 2,300

Pairing : Nick Sturniolo/Male Reader (romantic)

A/N : got this idea from a Pinterest prompt!

You had a splitting migraine.

This wasn’t completely uncommon for you, and you had tried to seek out many ways to keep it from happening again. You’d tried painkillers, endless doctor appointments, sleeping more, drinking tons of water, but nothing had worked. Deep down, you knew nothing would fix it, but you were still holding out a little bit of hope that something would blanket the real reason you could never stop the headaches. You could hear the doctor’s disappointment as you explained everything that you had already tried, and you could hear the hope fade out of them. Except when you said you could hear it, it wasn’t a figure of speech like most people used. You could hear their thoughts, just like everybody else. What a bomb drop, right?

Telepathy really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not by a long shot. Sure, it would be cool sometimes if you could choose when to hear what people were thinking, but in your case, that wasn’t possible. Or if it was, you had no idea how to do that, so you got to hear everything, which sometimes hurt your feelings much more than told you juicy secrets. Or other times, the secrets were just plain depressing. You also got to hear all of the gross thoughts, ranging from illegal things to just disgusting ones. You weren’t unattractive, so you got to hear all of the thoughts about yourself as well, but the only thing that sucked was that they all came from girls, and you swung for the other team, so it didn’t really help you out much.

You had no idea why this had happened to you. You knew what had caused it, but not why it had affected you in this way, and most of the time, it was fucking annoying. You’d been in a traumatic accident as a child, and had suffered a lot of blunt force to your head. You didn’t remember most of it happening. Your only memory was waking up in the hospital to bright lights piercing through your mind, and hundreds of worried voices racing around. Alarm bells didn’t ring for a while, because you were so groggy that you couldn’t tell what was going on. It wasn’t until later that you heard the doctor saying that you didn’t have a high chance of full recovery, wondering why your parents had said anything, when you realized that your doctor’s mouth hadn’t moved. He hadn’t spoken anything out loud.

You didn’t know what to do, so you didn’t say anything, fear still racing through you and pain beginning to follow it as all of the medication in your veins was starting to slowly wear off. You didn’t even want to think about what had happened to you, let alone other people’s thoughts, so you’d never breathed a word about it, even now, ten years later. After all, if you walked up to someone and told them you could hear all of theirs, and everyone else’s, thoughts, who would believe you? You would probably get reported and sent somewhere for acting crazy, so was it really worth the risk? Besides, people wouldn’t want to be near you if they knew that they could never keep a single thing secret from you, even if you really, really, didn’t want to know about it.

So here you were, sitting in your best friend’s bedroom, attempting to hang out and talk with him, but all you could focus on was the stabbing pain in your head from the bedroom on the other side of the wall, the loudest internal screaming and cursing you had ever heard. Matt noticed you rubbing the sides of your head, of course he did, but he also knew you struggled with bad headaches a lot, so he simply cut off all of the large lights in his room, trying to help you stay comfortable. He offered for you to go home if you needed to, but you had just gotten there, and you hadn’t seen each other in weeks, so there was no way you were leaving so soon. They had just gotten back to Boston from three weeks in LA, and you’d missed your friends like crazy.

You just really hoped Nick would stop fucking screaming. You didn’t need to check who was in the room, because everyone’s thoughts were in their own voices, and even if they weren’t, you’d still be able to tell that Nick was the only one coming up with such colorful words. Matt only knew that you had really bad migraines, he didn’t know what caused them, so he had no idea how to help you from here, simply letting you have your space, comfortable silence between the two of you. You could hear his thoughts as well, most of them pitying you for being in pain, and a couple about the video game he was playing. You excused yourself, stealing some of the painkillers in the bathroom cabinet, telling Matt you were going to go say hi to Nick. It wasn’t something that raised any alarms with him because you hadn’t really spoken to Nick since you had gotten there, as he was editing in his room.

You fought the urge to wince as the closer you got to Nick’s door, the louder his voice got, but as you knocked, it suddenly stopped, giving you some moments of relief. You sighed deeply, hearing the thought of “who the fuck is that?” before the door opened just a few seconds later. The smile that spread across Nick’s face was worth every moment of pain as he immediately pulled you into a hug, a happy greeting leaving from his lips. You hugged him back, smiling just as wide, hoping that if you were in here he would stop the yelling, and you really just wanted to be around him. His presence was calming, when he wasn’t losing his mind over an argument or editing a new video.

You liked Nick. A lot, and you couldn’t deny that fact. You’d already tried so many times to pretend like it wasn’t real, that you were kidding yourself, but it hadn’t worked. He didn’t know, obviously, because how could you tell him? He didn’t even know you were gay. Figuring out your sexuality had been a recent development in your life, and thank god nobody could read your thoughts, because it was not pretty. You hadn’t told anyone, and that included all three of the triplets. So part of the reason that you were eager to hang around Nick was just due to the fact that you had a massive crush on him. Sitting down on his bed after finally making it through the doorway, you couldn’t help the fact that the smile didn’t leave your face.

“You seem frustrated, what’s wrong?”

Nick shook his head, smiling and gesturing towards the screens he had been editing on.

“This new video is being a pain in the ass to edit, and I’m about at my limit, even though it’s supposed to go up tomorrow.”

You shrugged, laying down and setting your phone down next to you.

“So do it tomorrow, then.”

He looked at you with an incredulous smile, laying down next to you.

“You’re a terrible influence, my career will go downhill if I listen to you.”

You laughed, stealing his phone and unlocking it before posting stupid pictures on his Close Friends story that he would probably have to delete later. He laughed with you, taking it back from your hands and posting a ridiculous photo on his public story of the two of you, knowing you were a known figure in his fanbase, so it wouldn’t cause too much uproar.

“I’m a wonderful influence, thank you. You’re clearly stressed, so just take a break, you’re allowed to relax for a bit. I think you should just stop for the day and hang out with me, I fucking missed you.”

“I missed you too, how have things been here?”

A conversation panned for the next thirty minutes, both of you talking about the different things you had done while in different states, and thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until you were halfway through a sentence when a thought popped through, and despite it being in Nick’s voice, you had to take a second to figure out if it was your imagination.

“I really want to kiss him right now.”

You had gotten another quarter of the way through your sentence before what you had just heard hit you, and you paused. Nick noticed, because he had been watching your face and listening intently, but if you had been able to see yourself through his eyes, you would’ve only seen your lips. He had really only been focusing on those, admiring the way you could spin and tell a story, while he had his supposedly secret thoughts about being able to do more with your lips than just listen to them speak. When you paused, he did too, looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sorry, just had a brain blank.”

You couldn’t tell him. There was no way that you could just spit that out, but as you continued to tell your story, he unintentionally caused you to stop again.

“He reacted as soon as I thought about kissing him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he could read my mind or something fucking insane like that.”

You covered your shock with a cough, but your cheeks definitely flushed.

He wanted you the same way you wanted him.

But you weren’t going to do anything about it, not right this second, at least. You were going to let it sit for a while, because maybe it was just a fluke, an intrusive thought that he hadn’t pushed to the side just yet. But when yet another one of Nick’s thoughts spun around in your head, you didn’t want to wait any longer.

“He’s blushing, what the fuck, why does he look so pretty when he’s blushing?”

You love to talk, but you swear you had never wrapped up a sentence quicker, just quietly staring at him. He laughed awkwardly, just looking back at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just…”

You trailed off, staring at Nick’s face, a smile still covering yours, but not an awkward one, one of relief, the stress of concealing a crush no longer on your mind.

“You just what?”

Nick still seemed slightly confused, but he had a gentle smile on his face as well, albeit his eyes looking a little concerned. There were a lot of thoughts running around your head, but the main one was: when were you going to get another chance like this? It was that exact question playing on repeat in your mind that caused you to close the small gap between the two of you, gently but firmly pressing your lips against his, one hand holding his. You could hear his mind go completely silent, and you were scared for a moment, wondering if you’d done something wrong, but just as you were about to pull back, Nick’s free hand flew up to cup the side of your face, kissing back, much rougher than your original kiss. This one was full of desperation, longing, the movement of his lips against yours saying everything that his words hadn’t been able to for however long. Pulling back, both of your lips red and gasping in breaths of air, he looked shocked but happiness lit up his eyes.

“You’re an even better kisser than I thought.”

You softly laughed, staring at him before putting your hand on his face, mirroring yours, and pulling him back in. You’d been daydreaming about this for ages, there was no way you were going to just let it end with only one kiss. You both tried to take control of the kiss, but Nick eventually won, deepening it as he felt you go lax against him. Your mind went completely blank, shutting everything out, lost in the feeling of the man you’d wanted for what felt like forever up against your body. You didn’t process anything happening until you realized Nick was over top of you, only breaking your kiss to breathe before reconnecting the two of you. He finally broke it, a whine leaving your lips as you felt the loss of his. He moved down to leave open kisses on your neck, smiling against you, deep breaths leaving the both of you.

It was a perfect moment, until it wasn’t. The door opened, and you heard a horrified yell coming from the general area of the doorway. It wasn’t until the person spoke that you realized who it was.

“Are you serious?! You told me you were going to come say hi to him, not this!”

You couldn’t do anything but laugh against Nick’s skin, the happiness still coursing through you overwhelming the embarrassment that would come later. Nick turned his head, a glare shooting across the room at his brother.

“Matt, get the fuck out.”

Matt had a hand over his eyes, being as dramatic as he possibly could.

“Ugh. That’s my brother. Gross!”

He slammed the door behind him as he left, not wanting to see a second more. Nick looked back at you, an exasperated smile on his face, pressing a short kiss to your lips before speaking himself.

“Did he know? About you feeling like this?”

“No. I was going to tell him, but he figured it out for himself.”

Nick nodded, before returning to what he had been doing before Matt had walked in, only pausing to say one more thing.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?”

You smiled up at him.

“Absolutely. You read my mind.”

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sparklyskies0 · 3 months ago

Note

bf!matt comforting fem!reader when she had triggered panic attack when she saw her toxic parents calling her (after she went no contact)

LOVE THISSSSS

pairings : bf!matt, struggling!reader

disclaimers/warnings : anxiety, panic attack, toxic parents, abuse(??) etc..

You and Matt sat in the living room, watching a movie. Cuddled up against one another. moments like this was what you cherished most about your relationship. Being in his presence alone was enough to make you feel loved and cared for, and any of your hardships easily seemed unimportant.

This time specifically you needed your one on one time with him more than anything. After finally cutting all ties and contact with your toxic parents and breaking out of the traumatic cycle that was your life with them, you’ve been pretty okay. That’s what you’ve been telling matt. You wanted to believe it because you finally stood up for yourself. Your whole life you felt trapped underneath the roof that was ran by your horrible parents, they corrupted you, made you feel like nothing, you couldn’t possibly fathom how the people who are supposed to give you endless love and care can make you feel like you were worthless and everything was your fault. But as the words ‘we love you, we’ll get better’ continue to get more and more repetitive; you begin to believe it.

Years later you still struggled with letting them back in. Until now. You feel free. They can’t get to you, not anymore.

The sound of the tv blaring throughout the living room was enough to keep the phone call unnoticed until your eyes caught the phone vibrating and shifting on the coffee table in front of you. You lunged forward. Lifting the phone up just enough to see the caller ID.

Recognizing the number by heart you felt a quick chill rush over your body for a quick second.

Your hands shook lightly, as you reluctantly place the phone back down, flipping it over. Matt was so into the movie he didn’t think to glance at the phone himself considering it’s normal for any friends to call you randomly. “who was that?” he spoke up softly

you sat back against the couch, cuddling yourself into him once again. Trying to brush over the call. You haven’t heard from them in so long… the number sent chills down your spine.

you shook your head “no one…”

you speak, your voice low and shaky.

That was all matt needed in order to know something was wrong. He sat up straight. Getting a full look at you “you sure?” you nodded quickly. eager to just get back to the movie. silently praying they won’t call again and it was just probably a butt-dial or something .

But matt paused the TV. He knew you enough to know your triggers, to know when you’re bothered. And you knew he wasn’t going to let up until you’re for sure okay. Before you both knew it, the phone began ringing again. Before you can reach for the phone, matt grabs it off the table. looking at the screen, he looked at you. “you’re parents?…” he asked. His whole demeanor softened.

Protectiveness taking over.

You didn’t even get to respond to him before you get a tear roll down your cheek. you couldn’t bring yourself to even try to keep your composure as the phone kept ringing. The memories flooding back at rapid speed.

knowing that if you answer you’ll probably fall back into the trap, and go back to that dark place that you’ve worked so hard to get out of. But another part of you knew that it was your parents on the line and the sick part of you that is related to them wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone

Your heart began to beat rapidly. You closed your eyes, attempting to calm yourself down. “it’s okay, it’s okay” you heard his soft reassuring voice. His hands on both sides of your shoulders rubbing them in a comforting soothing motion.

Matt’s heart shattered hearing your pleading hyperventilating breaths. He knew he had you, he knew you were going to be okay. But he hates seeing you in this state, again. Like it never ends.

you felt like the walls were closing in. like you were back in your room screaming and crying because your parents made a mistake. you felt like you were being choked. You felt like you were dying.

Matt held you close. Your head nuzzled against his chest, his face buried in the top of your head. His soothing motions haven’t stopped. “you’re okay. im right here, I got you.”

You felt your panic subside slowly, but the walls were still getting closer and closer. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting the feeling and image of your boyfriend holding you close. His reassurance that he’s here creating a picture in your head for you.

He’s always here.

“it’s over. they can’t get to you it’s okay”

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

im so sorry if this is bad lmaoo

need to be comforted by matt like now!!!

please let me know if you like this!!

feel free to request more ❤️

#sturniolo triplets #ᥫ᭡ sparklyskies0 #ᥫ᭡ ❛ xoxo paris ❜⸊ ᥫ᭡#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #panic attack #fluff #blurb #ask p ᥫ᭡

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reachartwork · 2 months ago

Text

Weekend Vacation

Charlie's lungs burned as she sprinted down the endless concrete corridor, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her heavy combat boots pounded against the hard, unforgiving surface with each desperate stride. The dull gunmetal gray walls stretched out before her, featureless and unbroken save for the occasional heavy security door set at seemingly random intervals. Each looked identical to the one before it, stamped with an inscrutable string of letters and numbers, the only landmarks in this monotonous stretch of hallway.

An occasional perfectly square window - a gap, really, not filled in with glass or anything translucent besides atmosphere - showed the beautiful surroundings to this vein in the Chicago Tower. Hundreds and hundreds of vertical meters of nothing, the omnipresent black fog-of-war in these higher levels preventing sight of even the nearest walls. They were hanging in a catwalk.

Behind her, the staccato rapport of assault rifle fire echoed off the close confines, punctuated by panicked shouts and the occasional pained scream as her pursuers drew ever closer. Charlie risked a glance over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of dark figures clad in matte black tactical armor as they rounded the corner behind her, their movements preternaturally fluid and precise. Not human - or at least not baseline. Corporate security, maybe, or some new breed of DARPA nightmare. It didn't matter. All that mattered was putting as much distance between herself and them as possible.

Her hand drifted to the polymer grip of the strange, asymmetrical pistol holstered at her hip - a "Needler", Jay had called it when he'd first shown it to her. Looted from some hidden cache deep in the bowels of the Miami Tower a few months back, when they'd been hired on for a deep delve by some corp looking to snatch up artifacts ahead of the feds. It fired razor-sharp ceramic flechettes, propelled by linear induction to hypersonic velocities. Designed to punch through body armor and shred soft tissue. Only a few mags left though - and as much as it pained her to admit it, even mag-dumping the sleek little monster likely wouldn't do more than slow these bastards down.

No, what she needed was to find a way off this level. Get to a place she could hunker down, catch her breath, and wait for her team to circle back around. Speaking of which… Her free hand fumbled at the side of her matte black ballistic helmet, fingers finding the chunky rubber PTT button. "Jay, Mouse - sitrep. Got heavies on my six, could use a hand here."

A burst of gunfire sounded from somewhere behind her - and entirely too close for comfort - the rounds pinging off the concrete far too near her head for her liking. She ducked instinctively, shoulders hunching as she put on an extra burst of speed. "Like real fuckin' soon, guys."

Mouse's nasally tenor crackled over the comm channel, nearly drowned out by a wash of static. "Workin' on it, fearless leader. Had to double back to the checkpoint to snag the long guns. But I think we can cut 'em off if we-" His voice dissolved into a garbled electronic screech, the signal breaking up into indecipherable fragments.

"Mouse? Mouse!" Charlie shouted into her mic, panic rising in her throat. No response. Goddamnit. The levels this high up played merry hell with comm signals on the best of days. Something to do with the artifact radiation, or so the nerd brigade claimed. All Charlie knew is that it meant her team was out there in the Wind somewhere, coming for her. She just had to stay alive long enough for them to reach her.

POST TO r/TowerRunners241391 SubLink: ANALYSIS OF NEW TOWER THREATS StrikeVector42 1.4k points 2 days ago So it seems the Tower Authority has stepped up their game again. I had a run-in with these new security drones (at least I think they're drones) on my last deep delve and let me tell you, they are NO joke. Fast, heavily armored, and equipped with what looked like high-end mil-spec hardware. Managed to drop one with a few mags from my M56A1 and got a closer look before I had to bail. Def not human - no blood, and I could see servos and hydraulics through some of the holes I punched in its armor. Almost like someone kitbashed a Northrup dog-brain into an Ares HOPLITE chassis. Bad news for solos and underequipped teams. Might be time to start packing some heavier ordnance for Tower runs. Thoughts? >ArrowheadActual 671 points 1 day ago Damn, that's some high-end shit. You'd think they'd have better things to spend the budget on than harassing underpaid runners. Although I guess artifact retrieval is big biz for the feds, especially after that Miami fiasco. As for heavier ordnance, I'd say yeah, probably a good call. I've been telling my crew we need to invest in some anti-material rifles or maybe one of those Militech plasma lances. Expensive as hell, but you can't really put a price on not getting vented by some roided-out murder bot. >>TacoTaster 287 points 22 hours ago Oh sure, because a buncha small-time runners can def afford bleeding-edge Militech hardware. Why don't you throw in one of those Mitsubishi drop pods while you're at it, really round out the kit. Nah, the smart play here is avoidance. Stick to the edges, don't get greedy, and be ready to bail at the first sign of trouble. I've been soloing the Austin and Philly Towers for years now and never had a problem I couldn't sprint away from. Although I will say the new sensor suite I picked up last month has been a game-changer for detecting patrols. Maybe see if you can scrounge up one of those before dropping rent money on a plasma lance.

The chatter of automatic weapons fire was growing louder now, echoing through the labyrinthine corridors in a dizzying cacophony that made it impossible to pinpoint its source. They were getting closer. Sweat beaded on Charlie's brow, running into her eyes and blurring her vision as she blinked it away. She could feel her legs starting to tremble with exhaustion, her lungs searing with each ragged breath. She couldn't keep this pace up much longer.

There! Up ahead, set into the endless expanse of cold gray concrete - a door, its matte black surface adorned with the same inscrutable alphanumeric markings as all the others. But unlike the sealed and reinforced security checkpoints she'd been sprinting past, this one looked… different. Older, maybe. And slightly ajar, a slim wedge of impenetrable darkness visible in the gap. Charlie didn't hesitate, throwing herself forward with a final burst of desperate speed and shouldering her way through into the unknown.

((SYNAPNET VC-CHANNEL TRANSCRIPT EXCERPT, SOUTH-CENTRAL GRID 1707-A)) 27634: -that's why I'm telling you there's something seriously wrong here! 09611: All I'm hearing are baseless allegations from someone who doesn't understand the tech. Do you even know how the artifacts work? How CARPA interfaces on a synaptic level with human neural architecture? The risks are minimal and the benefits far outweigh- 27634: The risks? People are DYING, you idiot! Keeling over with seizures or breaking through their regocycles speaking nonsense about the new gods. I saw it myself on my last core delve of the New York Tower. Something's in there… something that reacts to the artifacts. And the feds know it. [USER #09611 - AUTH ACCEPTED - KEYS UPDATED. PERMISSIONS NOMINAL.] 00244: >KEY ACCEPTED. UPLINK SUCCESSFUL.< 09611: What the- How did you get on this frequ- [SIGNAL LOST. CHANNEL REVOKED. HAVE A NICE DAY.]

The room beyond was dark, lit only by the pulsing crimson glow of emergency lighting strips set into the junctures of walls and floor. It was big, far larger than any of the storage rooms or armories Charlie and her crew had raided in the past. More of a cavern, really, its distant walls lost in shadow. The air hung thick and heavy, the cloying stench of ozone and scorched metal assaulting her nostrils.

Towering banks of computer equipment dominated the room's center - server stacks, their matte black chassis roughly the size and shape of refrigerators, all interconnected by dense nests of bundled fiber-optic cabling that pulsed and flickered with streams of data. A command console of some kind was set before them, a horseshoe arc of display screens and input devices that looked like something straight out of a big-budget sci-fi sim.

Charlie approached it warily, senses straining for any hint of movement in the shadows. Nothing. Just the hum of fans and the muted clicking of environmental systems cycling on standby mode. She slid into the console's wraparound crash couch, fingers playing across the nearest display. It blinked to life at her touch, pale green text crawling across the screen. Some kind of debug interface, dense with jargon she couldn't even begin to parse.

"C'mon you bucket of bolts, give me something I can use here…" A few swipes and taps brought up what looked like a master systems display, a wireframe representation of the Chicago Tower with their current position blinking at its summit. And off to one side, tucked away behind layers of sub-menus and flickering holo-glyphs - a communications suite. Her heart leapt. If she could just patch a signal through, boost it enough to punch past the interference-

POST TO r/TowerRunners420692 SubLink: I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING HUGE IceBreakYoself 2.9k points 12 hours ago Guys, this is big. Like, really fucking big. You know that covert data center everyone's been whispering about? The black box site squirreled away somewhere in the upper levels of the Chicago Tower, where all the REALLY juicy experimental tech is supposed to be locked down? I think I just stumbled across it. I'm not gonna say too much (opsec and all that) but it looks like some kind of quantum computing rig hooked into a TITAN-class simulspace, all off-the-books DoE hardware that probably doesn't officially exist. And I found references in the system logs to something called JANUS - no idea what it is but it seems to be the core around which this whole setup is built. I managed to pull a partial schematic before I had to bail (sec was def onto me) but I'll see if I can piece together any more details from my download. TripleTeaTime 1.2k points 5 hours ago Holy shit, for real? I've heard rumors about some hush hush fed project in the upper levels but always assumed it was just undie banter. If you actually found evidence of it… Dude, you'd better be careful. That's the kind of thing certain three letter agencies wouldn't think twice about disappearing you over.

Charlie cursed under her breath as her fingers danced across the terminal's input keys, each command met with a mocking buzz of denial from the system. Unauthorized access, insufficient privileges, blah blah fucking blah. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Nothing ever was, in this business.

Her musing was interrupted by a sudden flurry of movement in her peripheral vision, a dark figure detaching itself from the shadows with liquid grace. No, two- no, three of them, their forms shimmering and indistinct even to her goggles. The sound of their footfalls was swallowed by the room's oppressive hush, muted to a whisper despite the hard composite of the floor plates. Definitely not human. Humanoid, but too many elbows. Guns made for hands with different amounts of joints.

Charlie was moving before the conscious thought had even fully formed, her rifle snapping up to her shoulder as she rolled out of her chair and behind the meager cover of the server stacks. The muzzle flash of her own weapon was blinding in the near-dark as she opened up on full auto, a shredding fusia cyclic rate of fire that chewed divots and craters into the far wall.

She caught a glimpse of dark, lithe forms scattering at her fusillade, splitting up to flank her with impossible speed and agility. Their return fire was immediate and precise, superheated slivers of razored tungsten slicing through the the air around her head like invisible guillotine blades. Charlie ducked back behind the dubious shelter of the servers, breath coming in sharp huffs as she fumbled to slap a fresh mag into her rifle's receiver.

Her hands were shaking, adrenaline turning her movements clumsy and uncoordinated. She could hear the soft, padding footfalls of the cybernetic monstrosities closing in on either side, the muted whine of servos and hydraulics underlying each step. Sweat ran into her goggles. This was bad. This was really goddamn bad.

Pain exploded along her ribs as a burst tore through the server chassis to her left, shredding kevlar and skin alike. Charlie bit back a scream, clutching at her side as warm wetness spilled through her fingers. It wasn't that bad. She'd had worse, right? Except she could already feel the numbness spreading out from the wound, a cold heaviness seeping through her torso. Fuck. Poison? Neurotoxin?

Her vision swam as she struggled to bring her weapon to bear on the flash of movement to her right, finger tightening on the trigger on pure instinct. Her burst went wide, sparks showering down from the ceiling as the rounds tore into cables and conduits. Not enough. Not nearly enough. As the adrenaline began to fade, the pain of her wound reasserted itself with a vengeance, a sickening throb that made her head spin.

One of them was on her then, close enough that she could feel the heat of its mechanisms as it loomed out of the darkness. A vise-like hand clamped down on her wrist, crushing armor and bone with equal ease. Her rifle fell from suddenly limp fingers, clattering to the deck. This was it, then. This was how she died - alone and forgotten, just one more runner who'd pushed her luck too far, four kilometers too high. She should've stayed on the lower floors, where it was safe. The kiddie pool.

She waited for the killing blow, senses hyperattuned to each agonizing instant as if by stretching it out she could postpone the inevitable. But it never came. Instead, there was a shuddering impact, a warbling shriek of tortured metal, and the iron grip on her arm fell away. She collapsed, toppling bonelessly to the hard metal decking.

Somewhere above her, the chatter of automatic fire filled the air, punctuated by warbling shrieks and the crunch of rending metal. Familiar voices shouted in staccato urgency, barking terse commands that her pain-addled mind struggled to parse into words. A bellow of triumph was cut short by the wet thud of tearing flesh, followed by a scream of anguish.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The room fell crushingly silent but for the low groans of the wounded and the occasional sputter of a dying servo. Ungentle hands seized Charlie by the shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. The lancing agony of the movement brought tears to her eyes, her vision clearing enough to resolve the soot-streaked faces of her team hovering over her.

Jay's broad, battered features split into a fierce grin as he saw her eyes focus on him, teeth startlingly white against his dark skin. He'd lost his helmet somewhere in the chaos, and an ugly gash over his left eyebrow wept crimson down his cheek. "Shit, boss," he rumbled. "We leave you alone for five minutes and look what happens."

Mouse offered a strained chuckle at that, though the ashen set of his features belied his humor. His left arm hung limp and bloodied at his side, the polymer of his armor sleeve split open from wrist to elbow. His other hand clutched a bulky plastek case to his chest, the seams of its lid pulsing with the telltale argent glow. "Yeah, well, I think Charlie's little solo operation paid off." He offered a pained grimace, hefting his burden. "Snagged more than just this while I was poking around. Got some data drives that should fetch a fine price with the right buyer."

A wet, wracking cough burst from Charlie's lips as she tried to sit up, each spasm setting her chest aflame with agony. She gritted her teeth, forcing out words between panting breaths. "Great. Happy for you. Dunno if you noticed, but I'm kinda bleeding out here."

"Shit, yeah, hang on." Jay produced a palm-sized black disc from a pouch at his belt, snapping it open to reveal the coiled tubing and gleaming needle of an autosuture. He pressed it against the ruin of her side and depressed the trigger stud, a sharp coldness spreading out from the impact as the device hissed and spat. Charlie stifled a yelp, jaw clenching against the urge to scream as it knitted up her perforated flesh in fast-forward.

"There we go, good as new. Sorta." Jay tossed the expended device aside, surveying his handiwork. "Need a top up?" He tilted his head toward the bulky shape of the drug injector riding his other hip, while his free hand wrapped around a purifier, slamming it into the exposed skin on Charlie's side.

Charlie made a face, shaking her head, nostrils twitching at the sharp but otherwise pleasant pinprick of the purifier's needle. "Nah, I'm good for now." She'd seen what that stuff did to people firsthand - made them feel invincible, sure, but also made them sloppy. Stupid. She needed her wits about her if they were going to get out of this. She couldn't afford the luxury of chemical courage.

She forced herself to her feet with Jay's help, muscles protesting every inch of the way. Mouse shot her a worried look, which she waved off with as much nonchalance as she could muster. "I'll be fine," she said, biting off each word. "Sitrep. How many of those things did you scrap?"

"Three, as far as I could tell," Mouse piped up. "But I think there were more. Looked like they were coming out of some kind of… I dunno, maintenance alcove? Over on the far wall." He jerked his chin in the direction of the back of the room, now lost in shadow.

Charlie blew out a breath, nodding. "Okay. Okay, we can't stay here then. Sooner or later more are gonna come to investigate, and I don't fancy our chances in a stand up fight." A glance up at the silent banks of servers surrounding them. "Did you pull a backup of the files?"

"Sure did." Mouse tapped a gloved finger against the plastek of the case still clutched tight to his chest. "Everything I could grab before they spiked the connection. Dunno if it'll be enough to reconstruct the whole dataset, but it's a damn sight more than we had when we walked in."

Charlie set her jaw. "It'll have to be enough. C'mon, we're burning moonlight." She cast about for her discarded weapon, stooping to retrieve it with a grimace of pain. The barrel was warped and pitted from the heat of her wild full-auto burst, but the action seemed to still cycle smoothly enough. It'd do, for now. She thumbed the release for the side panel, a final once-over by touch assuring her that nothing vital had been damaged. Good enough for government work.

They moved out at a cautious pace, Charlie on point with Mouse and Jay watching the flanks. The room's layout seemed to shift and distort as they picked their way through the carnage of shattered machinery and twisted cybernetic limbs, shadows bleeding together into a disorienting haze. Or maybe that was just the blood loss talking.

They reached the far wall without incident, the hulking forms of the alcoves looming out of the murk. As Mouse has said, they looked like they'd been designed to house the security machines - heavily reinforced, with thick power and data conduits snaking into each. A quick peek inside revealed them to be empty, the soft amber stand-by lights winking at them mockingly.

"They must've been activated remotely when the system detected an intrusion," Mouse mused, half to himself. "Some kind of rapid-response unit. Probably high-value priority targets for the Towers."

"Yeah? Well they can fuck right off," Charlie spat. "I've got high-value priorities of my own, and none of them involve getting diced by the Tower's pet murder-bots." She shouldered past him, stepping over the tangled ruin of what had probably been an access panel once upon a time. The corridor beyond was as featureless as the one that had led them here - just more matte gray bulkheads and sullen crimson emergency lighting.

Time to get moving. They only had another 20 minutes before the Tower reset, and Charlie wasn't looking forward to becoming a red stain pressed between two concrete blocks.

#writing #worldbuilding #sci fi

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years ago

Text

COMFORT- M. MURDOCK

Pairing: Boyfriend! Matt x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 850

Summary: matt helps comfort you during a panic attack

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety, sensory issues, mentions of getting sick, praise, lots of fluff

Notes: i wrote this while having airport/ airplane anxiety this morning, as i woke up bright n early so i had a lot of time to think. then my flight got cancelled, rebooked, then cancelled again. so im stuck here till tomorrow :) (i want to cry. also airport wifi sucks so bad btw)

He could hear your heartbeat miles away.

Fast.

Thrumming so hard it was as if it was a motor engine, constantly revving but instead of speeding off into the night- it sputtered.

Your breaths were fast. Irregular. Panting raggedly, as if you were a dog.

Hands clutched to your knees, a steady creaking against the old hardwood as you rocked yourself in a ball on the floor.

The two of you left for the airport in less than an hour. Matt had taken care of all the flights, him and Foggy triple-checking everything to make sure everything was booked, purchased and on time. Luggage was packed for your little getaway planned in Central America, zipped up tightly waiting by the door.

But you remained put on the floor, feeling the grooves of your long nails dig into your skin, pinching little crescent moon shapes as your lungs struggled for air.

“Sweetheart?” he called from the doorway, shaking the rain from his coat off as he hung it up to dry.

No response.

Your tongue felt like millions of weights were pulling it down, inflaming it so you were unable to speak. Nothing but dry saliva coated your mouth like a thick paste.

“What's going on love? Can you explain how you’re feeling?”

He knew there was no point asking whether or not you were okay when clearly- you weren't. You were having a panic attack, something that you got very often. Changes in your routine tended to set it off, or things like big crowds or loud noises.

Matt knew your mind was racing with endless possibilities of what could go wrong. You had expressed them to him last week.

What if we miss our flight? Or there is too many people and I’m trapped? Or I feel sick and have nowhere to go? Matthew what if our flight gets cancelled? Or the gates? There's going to be so many people there, all so stressed and non-self aware.

Something was wrong when you called him Matthew instead of Matty. That was always the first indicator he picked up on.

“‘m just anxious.” you whispered softly, voice low and rough as if you had just discovered you could talk for the first time. He softly padded over to a window, opening it just a smidge so fresh air could sneak through the crack, and the sound of the rain pattering against the glass was amplified.

“Can I touch you sweetheart?” he asked politely, crouching down next to you.

You nodded.

Warmth spread through your body as his large arms wrapped around your body, shielding you from the outside world. “Okay. Let's just breathe together okay? Just follow with me.”

He took a deep inhale through his nose, to which you shakily followed. A deep exhale escaped from your lips as you followed the rise and fall of his chest, breathing in his comforting smell as your fingers made there way to twist and tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

“Thats it, atta girl. You're doing such a good job!” he praised, letting you cling to him as you slowed down your breathing- expanding your lungs again.

“We’re going to take this one step at a time okay? It’s going to be okay, I’m never going to leave your side. Security is the scary part. Then we just wait in a quiet part until we get on the plane. And it’s just a two hour flight, and you've done much longer car rides than that.”

“But what if I’m sick?” you asked timidly.

“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens. We’ll scout out all the washrooms and there is one on the plane sweetheart. I’ll hold your hair back I promise.” he joked, making you sniffle as you giggled.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Let’s just get some water into you, and we can get your headphones and fuzzy sweater for you to wear. It’s going to be just fine angel.” he kissed the top of your forehead, stroking your cheeks with his thumb, the callouses on the flesh of his fingertips bringing you a sense of comfort.

You watched through slightly clouded vision as he swiftly went over to pour you some water from the Britta you nagged him to buy, and you heard the pills rattle from the bottle as he dropped a gravol or two in his hand.

“I’m tired.” you murmured. Your thumbs were bleeding, and you felt the sticky blood smear as you tried to stop it.

“I know baby. You can sleep soon. I promise.” he assured, coaxing water down to quell your thirstiness as you swallowed the ginger pill.

“I need my headphones.” you said, attempting to find your balance as you wobbled up to your feet.

“I have them here sweetheart.” he smiled, grabbing them from the luggage- leaving them out for you just in case. Siding them over your head, the world was slightly muffled and you exhaled.

It was quiet. It would be quiet. And you could do this.

“Ready?” he asked. “Ready.”

“Good, cause we have sunshine and margaritas waiting for us.”

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #daredevil fluff #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #charlie cox

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woneuntonzz · 10 months ago

Text

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 2/5)

• part 1

• part 3

• part 4

• part 5

warning/s: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 2.8k words!!

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ description: student athlete!anton x studious class officer!reader | you swore to yourself, to you friends and even to your parents “I'm not one to easily fall.” and you thought you were that tough, not until him of course. [note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first ever post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

[Day 1]

A new day has come to greet you, but just like yesterday, you were once again lacking a few hours of sleep. You had your eyes closed, but you kept thinking about the endless possible scenarios that await you the next day. You were embarrassed to admit it, but you brought yourself to school with much anticipation, cause he had something to prove after all.

When you got to school, you were expecting the same, empty and quiet classroom that always greeted you in the morning —being the first to arrive in your class all the time. When you unlocked the door however, you were instead met with Anton sitting in front of your desk with his back facing you.

He turned to look at you and you were able to take a glimpse of why he was there and what he might be doing.

In front of him, resting on top of your desk, is a notebook and a few pieces of paper. You could see a blurry view of numbers, variables and equations.

“I just thought I should teach you the math lesson you missed last time —oh, and, good morning.” you smile at the shy little wave that followed his soothing voice.

“Good morning.” being your first time speaking since waking up this morning, your voice came out a little more mellow.

And it made Anton melt in his seat. He averted his eyes from you after realizing that you were looking right into his eyes just as how he looked into yours. He felt the blood rushing up to his cheeks as you got to your seat and sat down across from him. His eyes wandered all over your face. Somehow you seemed a lot more angelic under the early morning sunlight that lit up the classroom.

Anton tutored you all morning. There were times when you wouldn't understand what he's saying, partly because he's speaking a lot softer the whole time, and mostly because you were just that slow. You would lean in a bit and so would he, repeating what you claimed to not understand. Your faces eventually got close enough that you felt each other's breathing. It'd be a lie to say that Anton was not panicking on the inside, he definitely was, and you could tell.

He was pointing and writing with shaky hands and would stutter more than your fingers could count. Not only that, but you could see the tint on his cheeks.

“D-did I say something funny?” he asked after hearing you chuckle.

“No, no. Sorry, it's just, I never knew you were into make up.” the look on Anton's face reflected his confusion.

“I am?” you bursted out laughing which only made him smile, face as hot as the day.

“Nice blush.” That's when he hurriedly hid his face in his hands. “Hey, hey, it's alright, I'm not judging.”

“I know, I —I'm just really extra self-conscious around you.” his voice was muffled by his hands pressed against his face.

Though you two were not able to notice, some of your classmates were paying great attention to the two of you, especially Anton's friends. They tried giving teasing looks towards Anton but failing to get a reaction or any signs of acknowledgement. You were right in front of him, talking, laughing, and listening to him teach you, why would he turn his attention to anyone else? He's been waiting for this moment ever since the first time he was made aware of his liking for you.

“Is this… for me?” you asked hesitantly when he placed a cheese bread and canned coffee on your desk.

“Yeah —I just wasn't sure if you'd like it—”

“You're kidding.”

Anton slowly shook his head. “No?...”

“I always get these at the convenience store before going to school. I just don't have the energy to stop by there everyday anymore.” your voice shifted to a somber tone as you stared at the pillowy cheese bread which triggered Anton's worry for a bit until you spoke again. “Thank you! These are honestly my faves. I should really be more productive now. I need coffee so bad but I'm becoming too lazy these days to get some so I can't help but snooze around all day.”

Anton watched as you rambled on about how tiring school is, at this point, he had already finished teaching you and class was about to start in 10 minutes, but he was still there. At some point you stopped talking and he had his chin propped on his hand just staring at you, the whole scene was like one of the dramas you've watched before. The bell rang seconds later, and only then would Anton break out of his trance, being obliged to go back to his seat.

At lunch time, you remained seated on your seat, you were assigned by your teacher to collect and organize the activity sheets and bring it to her by lunch, and so you got started as soon as the clock hit 12:30.

“Can I help you?” you look up immediately, and there he was, standing beside your seat.

“Oh, you don't have to. Go have lunch.” you could still feel his presence towering over your seated figure.

It took him a minute to speak again. “I wanna have lunch with you, if that's okay.”

“Oh, yeah. But this might take a little longer—”

“Just continue, I'll be waiting for you right here.” he dragged a nearby chair next to yours and just sat there.

You fumbled a bit, feeling his stare. You thought maybe it's just a feeling, you thought even if he liked you, you shouldn't assume things so easily.

Anton watched as your hands delicately glided over the papers you were handling. He smiled to himself seeing the pout forming on your lips as you arranged the papers in alphabetical order of your classmate's surnames. He saw you misplace his paper, placing him before someone who's last name starts with 'h'.

“Hong goes before me. Sorry I just noticed that.” His voice was very low and subtle, almost a whisper.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” you hurriedly fixed the arrangement and continued with the rest.

You were able to finish before the 10-minute mark, Anton had offered to accompany you to the teacher's lounge to pass the papers.

Right after, you two went to the cafeteria walking alongside each other. The both of you were quiet, one was more nervous than the other, and when you both reached the cafeteria, Sohee and Xen's surprised eyes caught your attention right away. The couple grinned, exchanging looks.

You walked behind Anton and lightly pushed him to the food queue. “Let's get some food, I'm so hungry.”

He was caught off guard with your action but maintained his composure as you continued to push him to the food queue.

After getting your food, your attention was immediately called by Sohee. “Y/n-Ton! sit with us!”

Your eyebrows were knitted, while also holding in a laugh with how cringey Sohee's ship name for you and Anton is. Meanwhile, the tall figure that was walking with you towards Xen and Sohee was smiling the entire time, embracing the color in his cheeks that he always struggled hiding.

The moment the two of you sat down, the pair sitting from across started firing at you with questions.

“What were you two doing in the classroom?” Sohee started.

“You two were in there for a while huh?” Xen was quick to add to Sohee's probing.

You started to continuously tap the table with the end of your spoon. “I was fixing up our class' activity papers!”

“Yeah? and Anton?” Xen's gaze went from you to Anton.

The beat that vibrated throughout the table you occupied stopped, enclosing your spoon with your grip holding it still and up sturdy. You looked over to Anton, only turning your head slightly, just enough to see his rosy face.

“Oh, I was just —you know. Waiting… for her.” after the last words that fell from his mouth, he looked over to you, right into your eyes.

You quickly looked away after a very short while, afraid that the feeling you caught from his shy but sweet gesture will start showing through your face.

The remainder of lunch time went on with the two of you exchanging glances from time to time while the couple in front of you kept babbling on and bickering a little, you occasionally joining in on the conversation.

The rest of the day was like the usual, but you felt a bit more… willing —willing to let a little loose with taking notes, willing to let yourself be distracted with the design imprinted on your 4 year-old mechanical pencil, willing to stare at your teacher with nothing but passive listening —willingly choosing to briefly meet eyes with Anton from time to time.

You never saw Anton the same way he supposedly saw you. To you he was just that one guy in class, and sure, he wasn't as noisy or as annoying as the other guys in your class; his friends, but you were certain that he wasn't worth your attention. But then here you are, giving him the focus you had always reserved for class. Was it because he kissed you? No. It was just a stupid peck, kind of childish too. —you thought to yourself. But then you recalled the feeling, it was irresistible. You've never considered yourself as the 'in-denial' type of person, but now you couldn't even hold back the thought. What if Sohee and Xen didn't arrive to put a stop to the strong desire radiating from the both of you? The longing desire to come back for more.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You fixed yourself up to a poise state, finally focusing in class.

Anton eyed you the entire time your mind was going in a whirl. He wanted to know what you were thinking about, but he knew he was still far from getting there. However, like in every swimming tournament he's competed in, he's determined to give it his all.

————— ୨୧ —————

You sat at the edge of your bed, just staring at your shoes. You were still in your school uniform, thinking about how Anton had chased you down the hallway just before you stepped out the classroom to give you another pack of cheese bread.

“I won't be around tomorrow for training, but I'll message you! If that's fine with you.”

You had no idea why you felt so down to hear that from him. It wasn't like he's the only one you knew in school, you had quite a handful of friends, and your classmates were pretty fond of you too.

You rubbed the sides of your shoes against each other, your head hanging low as you felt your eyes get heavier and heavier. You stood up from your bed after taking a quick glance at the clock that read 7:08pm. You stood up, turning around to face your bed. You went around to get your pajamas at your towel, then your phone that soundlessly rested on your bed lit up. You were able to immediately make up the brachiosaurus emoji from a distance. You held your phone in your hand, staring at the notification of Anton's message on your lockscreen. You sighed. You had stuck a mental note to your brain ages ago, no matter what, choose yourself before choosing others.

You got over the fleeting excitement that rushed over you. You waited for your phone to turn itself off before placing it back down to where it was and heading to the bathroom. Your trip to the bathroom, though would've usually taken you about an hour to get out of, ended quicker than you thought. The next thing you know, you were laying on your stomach, elbows pressed on the mattress, phone in hand. You opened Line as fast as you could blink.

A low chuckle escapes your throat as your feet kick themselves up into the air.

Anton is wide awake as soon as he feels his phone vibrate in his hands. He had been waiting for your response. He was laying flat on his back with one of his hands resting on his chest, and the other holding his phone, extended to the other end of the bed. For a good minute he thought you might never reply, or worse, you might message him dry. But his apprehensions were refuted once he received your replies.

Once he did see your message though, he was unable to contain a small laugh, painting a permanent smile on his face, the same smile he always wore whenever he thought about you.

Contrary to how you appeared in chat, you were all smiles, kicking your feet up into the air like a child.

Even with his whimsy message, you couldn't help but expect something. You didn't want to be so sure of exactly what it is you were expecting, but your eyes were heavily fixated on your phone screen so much so that anyone who saw you at the moment might think you were trying to burn out your vision.

Anton bit his lip, growing more and more anxious as the time ran, and so he fumbled around quickly following his last message with a rather pathetic attempt to sweep everything under the rug.

Anton bit his lip a bit harder at your response, chuckling and blushing so hard that If anyone ever saw him like this he would self-isolate forever and create his own post-apocalyptic reality.

You just felt so genuinely happy, so touched that he invited you to watch him swim. Technically, anyone could walk in and watch him without his invitation or not much as asking him, but you just felt so special. For once, you felt wanted. He wanted you to be there for him. Notwithstanding his cheesy pick-up line, your body never lies, and your cheeks are enough to tell you Anton's got you again.

Usually you would subside these feelings with eccentric responses, but this time, you couldn't

Anton grew a bit worried when you were taking a while to respond. He didn't know whether his sappiness had a bad or good effect on you, heck, he wasn't sure if it did anything at all. Worse case scenario is you would leave him on read.

His smile would only grow wider at your response.

At this point, for you, somehow you just didn't want to give in just yet. If Anton was a book, you have only read two pages, and that's the title page and the table of contents. And so you quickly got over mutual tension being encapsulated in your phone screens.

Anton's smile drooped down, but was instantly replaced with a straight wide line paired with bulging eyes. His friends had always jokingly told him he was cute, teasing him all the time, him never hearing the end of it. He just was never able to tell when it's just teasing and when it's just a genuine compliment.

He suddenly lost his ability to be able to come up with quick and masked replies.

It was true. You thought if he had to make your heart flutter, why not do the same for him?

As if you aren't enough to make his heart jump out of his chest.

You had to take a breather. You thought you were being crazy, feeling so moved by the bare minimum. They're all just words, for all you know there might be no real thoughts behind them at all.

You released a breathy titter, moving yourself to a more comfortable position as you felt like this conversation wasn't ending just yet. You didn't want it to.

Anton was very observant, when it came to you at least. He couldn't miss a single thing about you that's wide open for him to write in his personal journal he had created in his mind, one that he made only for you.

When you made your ant joke, Anton let out a “pfft!” suppressing the laughter threatening to escape his mouth. He pursed his lips, beaming with adoration even with how corny and unfunny you were.

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when he calls you adorable, hiding yourself under the covers as you squirm your legs around like a child throwing tantrums.

You thought you were being way too ridiculous, feeling as if your reaction was unjust.

“what am I winning?”

my heart lol —you quickly erased what you had previously typed on your keyboard. You pressed your palm against your cheek, squishing it until you were able to regain your sanity.

Whilst Anton was waiting for your reply, his heartbeat increased significantly and he feared he might just collapse.

The conversation ended after a while and it left Anton smiling as he turned off his phone. He felt a bit ashamed to expect more from you, that he would be able to catch a glimpse of how he made you feel, but this was just the beginning.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#riize #briize #riize fanfic #riize au #riize fluff #riize x reader #riize anton #anton lee #Spotify

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dwntwn-strnlo · 1 year ago

Note

hey you said you were looking for requests i was wondering if you could right a oneshot for either chris or matt based of this song

thank you for the request! love you ❤️

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY chris sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. i've never listened to this song before so my mind hasn't quiet perceived it yet, so im just going off of what google said about the love triangle thing?? idk,,, sorry if this isnt exactly what you had in mind

kylie is just a random name! kylie is an oc and is not based off of anyone-

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. request!

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? yes!

you and chris got together only 2 months after his ex dumped him. which didn't really do well with the public eye. and the allegations hurt like hell.

you tried to keep your relationship private for as long as you could, but, well, its hard to stay undercover.

the aggravated name calling came fast.

'we want kylie back' 'you stole chris' 'kill yourself' ; all things easily thrown under your tiktok's and insta posts.

calling you a 'slut' or a 'home-wrecker' just started rolling off of peoples tongues when your name was mentioned.

it truly disgusted you how people could just throw things out like they didn't have a care in the world. or that it would truly demoralize the person on the receiving end.

the threats and shaming put a hole in your heart. a huge, massive endless pit of a hole. it hurt, a lot. and chris knows that, and he tries and tries and tries to help you. but its very, very hard for the both of you.

so when chris walked into his room after taking a shower to find you sitting there staring at the wall, he knew something was up.

your eyes were puffy from recently shed tears, and the wall just seemed to get closer and closer.

"y/n?" he says, cautiously taking a step towards you. "whats up? im sorry, i didnt know you were coming over today."

a small sad laugh escapes your lungs as you look up at your boyfriend. your eyes wash over his face, confusion and worry crossing over every part of him.

the second he gets a good look at your state, his heart shatters.

you bite down hard on your lower lip, not really caring if you were to draw blood. "i..." your breath hitches as you attempt to choke back a sob. "we need to break up, chris."

his eyes widen, before he sighs, running his hands down his face. his face stays covered for just a second more. "we need to?" he sighs, still very confused of the conversation.

"im- im sorry-" you mumble, just barely audible for chris to hear.

chris walks over to where you sit on the bed, placing his hands on your knees and squatting down in front of you. "baby, please. you need to talk to me."

you shake your head, quiet tears falling from your closed eyes.

"baby-"

"no, chris." you sigh as he takes your hands in his. slowly rubbing circles along your knuckles. "i cant fucking take it anymore." opening your eyes, you find his eyes start to well up with tears. begging to fall down, but he keeps himself from falling undone in front of you. wanting to keep the situation as stable as possible.

"what?" he asks, exasperation lacing his shaking voice. "what cant you take anymore?"

"i love you chris, but your fans-"

"fuck them."

"you don't mean that."

the same sad laugh that you let out before, escapes his throat this time. "no i dont."

you smile lightly, but the flowing tears pushes back your moment of happiness.

"its almost wednesday, and we havent filmed a video yet-" you start to cut him off but he shakes his head. "no- matt and nick see it too. they'll talk about it i promise."

"chris..." you sigh, searching his teary blue eyes.

"just please, please... dont leave because of some stupid fans." he pleads. a single tear navigating down his cheek.

you drop his hand, reaching down to wipe it away with your thumb. hes slow to bring his own hand up, cupping your hand against his cheek.

your frown only deepens when he turns your palm to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your open hand. "please, baby. i love you way to much to let you get to wrapped up in something like this. your my entire world and i cant believe-" he pauses to laugh, "i cant believe that i lived 18 years of my life without you there. and i cant imagine what it would be like without you."

"just... stay." he frowns, pressing another sad kiss to your knuckles.

you slide down, off the couch. leaning over to wrap your arms around the crying boy. "im sorry... i love you, baby."

he lets out a simple sigh of relief, wrapping his around you. fully embracing you into the hug. "i love you."

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @theboyz-delulu @stxrniqlo

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #one shot #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #angst

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year ago

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Blind Faith

Chapter 4: My Accomplice

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: The Devil of Hell's Kitchen makes you his accomplice. He doesn't like when you joke about danger.

A/N: No warnings for this chapter, unless you count Matt Murdock getting mad a warning.

Again, the POV shifts towards the end. You know it's Matt's POV if he describes his senses and his name is used. If it's Mike, it's the Reader's POV.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter 3 here

Hell’s Kitchen

11:00 PM

The next few nights after your private self-defense class with Mike felt like you were in an endless fever dream.

Like routine, you met him up on the roof. Whether it was before you went out, or before he did, you made the time. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, but you liked the thrill of it all. The secret meetings, the whispers in each other’s ears, promises of seeing each other you didn’t even know were going to be fulfilled… until the next night when they were. He showed up like clockwork.

Last Night

“And here I was thinkin’ you just love ‘em and leave ‘em,” you whispered against his lips. Mike interrupted you and chased your lips with a kiss. He held onto your waist firmly and held you in place.

“I don’t love and I don’t leave,” Mike had said in a breathless whisper. He pulled you tighter against him when he spoke. “I do what I want.”

You laughed against his chest. “I know that. You act outside of the law every night. If I had that attitude, I’d do what I want, too.”

“Why do you always bring that up?” Mike smirked. You wiped it off with another kiss.

“What were you thinking, getting involved with a future lawyer?”

He chuckled and kissed you again. He spun you around.

“Technically,” he began, “you know about my illegal activities and haven’t reported me. That makes you my accomplice,” Mike said in a low voice, directly in your ear. You shivered. You didn’t know it was possible, but he held you even tighter.

“Well, fuck,” you said with a smile, “I guess it does, doesn’t it?”

Suddenly, Mike paused. You noticed he did that sometimes, followed by a statement of fact. His attention turned somewhere to the left of you.

“Your friends are looking for you,” he said, “it’s time to go.”

“How do you know? They’re probably drunk already,” you kissed him again. His lips remained on yours, and then he pulled back slowly.

“They are,” he confirmed. “Join them, but don’t drink too much.”

“No promises,” you chuckled.

“Please be safe,” Mike said as he pulled back. You hated how cold you felt whenever he let go of you.

“I will,” you promised, “though why should I be careful when I know you’re out there?”

“Don’t think like that,” he demanded, tightening his mask. You shook your head in amusement before you watched as he climbed over the roof, and into the night.

Present Time

11:30 PM

With Mike in your life now, you couldn’t concentrate on anything.

He was still on your mind even in a loud, dingy bar, like you were now. You were infatuated, for sure. Not everyone could say they were having an affair with a masked vigilante, and absolutely no one could parade that fact aloud. But you liked keeping it a secret. It made it all the more special.

You just wished you could have him here with you, now. But that would never happen. You didn’t even know what he looked like, let alone his real name. Who knew who the real man was behind the mask? Did you even want to know who he was? He certainly knew who you were. He knew your face. You knew he was older than you.

And yet, with all these thoughts floating in your mind and with three vodka-Diet Coke’s in your system, you still danced on the dance floor like nothing was occupying your mind. Emily grabbed your arms to dance with her and you raised your cup in the air, shouting.

“That guy over there is checking you out,” she yelled in your ear. You really couldn’t be less interested, but you looked over to appease her anyway.

There was someone looking at you for sure. He was tall, very handsome with a boyish look. Like boy-next-door vibes, with his light blonde hair and white tee shirt on. Blue jeans. Completely the opposite of your newly discovered type of man-in-black-mask-vigilante-who-won’t-reveal-his-name. You were fully committed to the latter, even though you knew there was no established relationship. Which truthfully, made your heart feel the tiniest heavier.

“Go talk to him,” Emily encouraged.

“I don’t know—“

And before you knew it, you were being pushed through the crowd. It felt wrong to go over to talk to him. You felt guilty.

You stumbled into him, and Emily scurried off. I’ll get her for this.

You stumbled into him so badly, you got a huge whiff of his overpriced cologne. It clogged your nose as you coughed. You drank more of your vodka-Diet Coke to suppress the coughing. He laughed, and without asking placed his hand on your back.

“You okay?” He asked with a chuckle.

You nodded awkwardly, raising your cup again—why do I always do this when I’m drunk?! You placed your cup down and held it with your hands, swishing it around.

“Yeah,” you said, “perfectly A-OK.”

“You wanna dance?”

“Not really,” you answered a little too fast.

He flinched, but then he made a face like he knew what you meant.

“Ohh,” he said, realizing something you were unaware of. “You wanna go outside?”

“Hell no,” you frowned. “I gotta go.”

“But—“

Before he could finish, you ran off to find your friends. You laughed through the crowd and spotted Bella talking to a guy.

“Hey!” She said, “This is Andre.” She gestured to the guy who stood next to her. He had tan skin, and black hair, with a strong jawline. He definitely was easy on the eyes, and definitely right up Bella’s alley.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. You shook it and introduced yourself.

You weren’t very trusting of any of the guys your friends introduced you to at first, but once you got a feel for their character, you let them in graciously. Andre, throughout the night, proved himself to be a good guy and someone who is good for Bella.

Emily and Hannah found you by the bar, ordering your last vodka-Diet Coke of the night. Emily nudged your elbow and fixed your hair. You smiled at your friends, knowing that your night out was soon coming to an end.

“How’d it go with that guy? Did he ask for your number?” She asked. Hannah also listened intently.

“No,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want it anyway.”

Emily looked a little surprised, “Really? I thought you’d be into him.”

“You thought wrong,” you laughed. It was her turn to shrug.

“Just trying to help,” she said. “We’re ready to go. Our Uber’s almost here.”

Walking outside the bar, you knew there was no way you were getting inside that Uber. For some reason, you felt something in your heart, telling you to stay. It was like you had vigilante senses—you’d bet Mike was here somewhere. You just had a feeling, you couldn’t explain it. Or the alcohol was making you feel dramatic about everything.

All your friends piled in the car, except you.

“What are you doing? Oh God, do you need to throw up?” Emily asked with worry. You shook your head.

“No, I think I’m going to stay,” you told her.

She looked confused, and then she realized something.

“That guy,” she said knowingly, “blonde with blue jeans. I knew he was your type!”

You shrugged. That’ll work. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“Text us if you need us,” Bella shouted. Andre placed a hand on her knee from the passenger seat to quiet her down. Hannah was already knocked out.

“I will,” you answered. You shut the Uber car door and spun around. The music from the club was muffled and people began to shuffle out. You saw the guy Emily tried to set you up with again, but you moved past him quickly. Sorry dude, but you are not who I am looking for.

Taking a wild guess, you turned into the first alley you saw.

And there he was, in all his glory.

~~~

“How the hell did I know you’d be here, somewhere?” You exclaimed loudly, a bit too loudly. Matt tensed as he waited for you to approach him. He heard you drop off your friends at your Uber, and he heard your conversation with them. Behind his mask, he squinted his eyes. He tilted his head, taking you in.

Vodka-Diet Coke, one too many. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. She’s wearing a mini skirt…and sandals. And a revealing top. Her hair is down. Her fragrance…cologne—overpriced. Did a man touch you?

“And what if I weren’t here?” Matt asked with no humor in his voice. You came to an awkward stop in front of him, crossing your arms.

“I would’ve walked home alone and expected you to find me anyway,” You slurred, though you were trying not to sound drunk. It wasn’t working.

“You can’t expect that I’ll always be there all the time,” Matt argued. “You need to be able to keep yourself safe when I’m not around.”

“And when you are around?”

“You’re safe with me,” he said simply.

“And that��s exactly why I wait for you,” you answered. The smell of the cologne was overpowering to Matt’s senses—he couldn’t stand the smell of someone else on you.

“Who’s cologne is that?” Matt asked.

You shrugged. “Some random guy Emily tried to set me up with. He wasn’t my type.” You laughed. “I’ve got someone else on my mind.”

Ignoring the last part, Matt pried more.

“Did—did he touch you?” The scent was so strong and terrible it was like you were doused in it. You shook your head.

“I drunkenly stumbled into him and he uninvitingly placed his hand on my back,” you said, then asked, “are you—first of all, I am way too drunk to know how you know there’s cologne on me, and second, are you jealous?” You asked suspiciously, and Matt didn’t need to be able to see to know you were smiling when you asked your last question.

Perhaps he was.

“What if I was?” Matt asked.

You laughed, but it wasn’t lighthearted. There was something else in your voice, almost like resentment. “What, you would’ve walked right into the bar and stopped him from talking to me?”

“No—“

“No,” you cut him off. “Because then I’d know who you are. And you have no right to be jealous.”

Matt was silent. You were argumentative in nature, and he liked that, but tonight, it felt more personal. He was already starting to hurt you. He didn’t like that.

“I’ll leave you alone from now on,” Matt stated. He turned on his heel and began to walk away, but he felt you take his hand.

“I’d walk myself into danger to get you to come and find me if you leave right now,” you said tauntingly. Matt turned around so fast, he knew it startled you. He took your wrist and held it tightly.

“Don’t. Don’t joke like that,” his voice was low, guttural even. The thought of you in danger made him furious. The thought of you purposefully putting yourself in danger was downright seething.

“I’d walk into the depths of this city alone and in nothing but a sundress and wait for you to come to find me,” you sneered in a drunken whisper.

“Stop,” Matt’s jaw clenched as he spoke, “Stop it.” He held onto your wrist tighter. You yanked it out of his grasp. He taught you how to do that.

“Why haven’t you left yet anyway? Why are you so triggered now, all of a sudden?” You argued more. Matt shook his head before he answered. It’s what I’ve been asking myself all week.

“Because I can’t get enough,” He said in a low growl as he took your chin in his hands and kissed you so hard, you had to hold on to his shirt. You held his black shirt in between your knuckles, pulling him desperately closer to you. Matt held onto your waist like he always does and moved you against the wall of the alley.

He kissed you more, in the alley, knowing no one was around. It was just you and him in the alley, kissing desperately and holding onto each other. He pinned your hands above your head but held your wrists firm.

“Touch me,” you demanded as you pulled back, gasping for air. You spread your legs so he stood between them.

“No,” he whispered and shook his head. “Not when you’re intoxicated.”

“Oh, so you’ll easily break the law every night, but when it comes to a girl allowing you to touch her, that's where you draw the line?” You laughed. He shushed you with another kiss.

“You’re not just any girl to me,” Matt’s voice softened.

“You say that to all the girls you save,” you joked. He shook his head again, holding that same serious demeanor.

“You’re the only one,” he told you truthfully. “There’s only you.”

“Your accomplice?” You asked with a smile.

He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“My accomplice.” He kissed you again.

Hell’s Kitchen

1:00 AM

Mike walked you home. And now, you laid in bed, about to dream of him all over again.

The way he told you that you were the only girl in his life… no amount of water could’ve sobered you up quicker, and no amount of lecturing could make you take the situation more seriously, the way he spoke to you just an hour ago. And there was still the lingering question in your mind of, well then, who are you?

You had bit your lip. You didn’t ask him.

Another night, you told yourself.

Tonight, you wrapped yourself in your sheets, wishing it was him instead.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel imagine #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #the defenders #charlie cox fan fiction #matt murdock fan fiction #daredevil born again #blind faith

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itwasthereaminuteago · 2 years ago

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|| When Girls Telephone Boys ||

Fratt x female reader

Tags/warnings: E 18+ some phone fun while your two favourite guys are working away. Oral (m rec), Bukkake 😁

When he answers your call, hearing Frank's voice always fills you with a warm contentment.

"Hey sweetheart, everythin' alright?"

You smile widens, forever grateful that he always checks in on you.

"Yeah I'm doing fine, just really missing you both. What're you up to?" You ask, the probing, not-so-innocent curiosity dripping from your tone.

"Ah, nothin' much. At a motel for the night, just out the shower."

It's as if he does it on purpose, you're unable to stop your mind conjuring up the image of Frank wet and naked.

"Are you together?"

Matt's laying on the bed in just sweatpants. His fingers twitch when he hears your question over the receiver.

"Yeah." comes Frank's short reply.

"Good. Put me on speaker?"

Frank snorts out a little laugh. "Sure thing darlin'."

"Hi Matty." You call out to him.

The corners of Matt's lips pull up when he detects the layer of mischief there even within your simple greeting.

"Hi sweetie, what can we do for you?"

You hum with a little sense of satisfaction, knowing this was heading in exactly the direction you had hoped. "Just wanted to help you and Frankie relax after your hard night. That's all."

"Mm I see. Well yeah, that would be nice. We miss you honey, wish you were here."

"Oh I know." You pause for a few seconds.

Matt reaches out from the edge of the bed hooking his fingers in the rolled edge of the towel that Frank has wrapped low around his hips and pulls him in between his spread legs, the towel loosening and falling down to puddle on the floor. The taut skin of his stomach is still glistening with droplets of water that gather on Matt's fingers as he trails them down.

"So is he naked?"

You hum, considering the almost endless possibilities.

"Yep."

"On your knees for me Matty."

"Of course."

Frank's eyebrow quirks up and a slow smile spreads across his lips as Matt quickly gets up, switches places with him and sinks down to the floor like he was just waiting for the excuse. Frank places the phone down on the edge of the bed.

His hand cups Matt's jaw and he nuzzles into it. "He always looks so good on his knees, don't he, baby?" Frank notes. His cock bobs before him, the evidence of anticipation there in a perfect clear bead of precum leaking from his slit.

"Go on Matt, I want to hear him make all those pretty noises I like."

Matt wets his lips.

Frank groans in response and closes his eyes as Matt's tongue languidly laps over him, tasting him as he takes him into the soft, wet warmth of his talented mouth.

"Mhnh, shit…"

"You doing okay there, Frank?" You ask, a smile in your voice.

Matt kisses at his shaft, runs his tongue all the way along the prominent vein on the underside, swirling his tongue around his head as he curls his fingers around the base of him and starts jerking him off.

Frank responds with a chuckle that turns into a long, low groan as Matt takes one of his balls into his mouth and sucks.

"Fuck me devil-boy, you know every god damn thing I like, don't ya?"

Matt gives him a quick grin as he pulls off, before sealing his lips back around the swollen head of Frank's thick cock again and sucking him with fervour. He can hear the thumping beat of Frank's pulse loud in his ears and it goads him on.

Frank knows he's not gonna last long if Matt keeps this shit up, he feels too good, looks too fuckin' good. You can hear the strain in his voice as he tells you he's close and asks what you want him to do.

"Paint me a pretty picture, Frankie."

Frank groans, quickly pulling his dick out of Matt's mouth and wrapping his own fist around it, jacking himself off.

"Close your eyes sweetheart," he says, and Matt obeys, tilting his face up towards him and shutting his eyelids just in time.

"Hnngh- oh fuck, fuck!" Frank gasps as he comes, striping thick white lines of his release over Matt's face. It's dripping down the side of his nose, over his parted lips, and down his chin onto his chest which rises and falls with his own clipped breathy moans as he spills over his own fist.

Frank laughs breathlessly as he comes down. "Stay there." He tells Matt, and you hear the rustling as he picks the phone up from the bed, then the electronic 'click' of the camera app.

"Alright, there ya go."

A few moments later your own phone dings with a notification, and you open the picture Frank had sent you. Matt looks gorgeous. A completely fucked out mess, but so pleased with himself. His hair's thoroughly disheveled, some strands hanging over his forehead, cheeks flushed and red, and tongue caught mid-swipe licking over his lips as Frank had snapped him.

"Oh you boys, now I'm never gonna be able to sleep tonight! Thank you for that."

Frank squeezes the last few drops of come from the end of his cock, flicking them right on Matt's waiting tongue.

"Mmm. You're welcome sweetie," Matt calls, "can't wait till we're back home."

Tags (please let me know if you want added or removed, I will probably make a fratt taglist!): @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @briefcasejuice @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel

@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @chvoswxtch

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @marvelswh0re @feelmyskinonyourskin @honeyedheartss @evilbubu @nkeiiin @anna-hawk @frankcastlescumslut @reborn-rekall @chellestrash

#fratt x female reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #fratt smut #fratt fanfiction #matt murdock x frank castle #matt murdock smut #frank castle smut

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gratelove · 25 days ago

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I’ve been sitting on these Halloween fanfics😈HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃 ENJOY🧡

Vampire’s Meal

Matt Surniolo x Reader

Caught in the playful, thrilling energy of Halloween night, Matt and you share a sensual, teasingly intimate moment filled with flirtation and fiery chemistry. Between whispered words and lingering touches, you lose yourselves in each other.

Warnings: p in v, oral, dirty talk

The house was alive with the sound of music and laughter, vibrating with the energy of a Halloween night. Orange and purple lights cast a moody glow over the rooms, and costumed partygoers crowded around, losing themselves in the fun of the night.

You’d spent way too much time debating your costume. After an endless back-and-forth, you had finally settled on something bold. A figure-hugging, slightly risqué costume that left just enough to the imagination but highlighted every curve. You adjusted the tiny details, feeling a little self-conscious but mostly daring, deciding that tonight was all about stepping out of your comfort zone.

As you made your way through the crowded room, you caught sight of Matt Sturniolo leaning against a wall, drink in hand, casually chatting with his friends. The dim lighting accentuated his features, casting his jawline in sharp contrast. Dressed as a classic vampire—collar popped, eyes smoldering—he looked devastatingly good. It wasn’t long before his gaze landed on you, and you felt a spark. His eyes lingered just a beat longer than expected, and a small, intrigued smile curved at the edge of his lips.

You walked closer, and before you could second-guess yourself, he stepped away from the wall, meeting you in the middle of the room. “Not that I’m complaining, but you didn’t tell me you’d be coming dressed to kill,” he teased, his voice carrying that familiar warmth mixed with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe I wanted to surprise you,” you replied, trying to keep your tone playful despite the flutter in your stomach. Matt’s eyes traveled over you, not in a way that made you feel self-conscious but as though he was savoring the sight.

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “Well, consider me impressed.”

The music shifted to an upbeat, pulsing rhythm, filling the room with an infectious energy that seemed to draw you and Matt together. He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the middle of the dancing crowd. Without missing a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you close until your back pressed firmly against his chest. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, just behind your ear as the two of you moved in sync to the beat.

You let yourself sway, losing yourself in the music and the feel of his hands gripping your waist a little tighter. As you danced, you could feel every inch of him pressed against you, his body molding to yours as he matched your movements. With each sway of your hips, you brushed against him, and you didn’t miss the way he tensed slightly in response. There was something unmistakably thrilling about the closeness, the way his body reacted to every subtle shift of yours.

Then, you felt it—he pressed himself against you as his grip on your waist grew even more secure. A shiver ran down your spine as the reality of the moment sank in, making the connection between you two feel even more electric. Matt’s mouth hovered just beside your ear, his voice low and charged with a mixture of playfulness and desire.

“Do you want to get some air?” he murmured, his words almost swallowed by the beat of the music but landing with perfect clarity. The invitation lingered in the air, thick with possibility, and you felt a rush of excitement at what might happen next.

You nodded, pulse racing, letting him take your hand as he led you through the crowd and up the stairs, away from the music and into the quiet, thrilling promise of what was yet to come. He pulled you into the first open bedroom, and as you made your way to the bed, you heard the door click behind you, making your stomach tighten.

In the soft shadows, Matt took a step closer, his eyes tracing every detail of your face. “I’ve got to say, I didn’t expect to be this lucky tonight,” he murmured, a hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, brushing along your jawline before settling gently on your neck.

“You and me both,” you replied, the words barely escaping as he tilted his head, his face only inches from yours. He hesitated for a brief moment, as if testing the waters, then leaned in and pressed his lips softly to yours. You pulled the witch hat off your head, tossing it to the floor.

The kiss started out slow, tentative, but quickly grew with an intensity neither of you had anticipated. His hands slipped to your waist as the heat between you grew. You felt his fingers tracing patterns along your back, each touch lighting a spark that left you breathless.

Your arms found their way around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss, the soft moan escaping your lips driving him even closer. He pulled away and guided you to lay down, crawling on top of you. The air was thick, as he reconnected your lips, each shared breath adding to the intoxicating tension. His lips left a trail along your jawline, down to your neck, and you could feel your heartbeat racing under his touch.

Matt pulled back for a brief second, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this glad to come to a Halloween party,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

“You’re welcome, then,” you teased, but the words came out breathless. He smirked, leaning in again as his lips found yours, the two of you lost in the darkened room, the party downstairs becoming a distant memory. His lips found the skin of your breasts that were pooling over your black corset. He locked and sucked lightly on the skin, releasing a moan from you that you weren’t expecting.

The feeling was intoxicating, every movement slower, more deliberate, as he savored each reaction from you. His hands slipped down, fingers grazing along the edge of your mini skirt before he gently pulled it down, the fabric sliding to the floor and leaving you feeling vulnerable but undeniably alive.

He continued, his fingers tracing the hem of your black, lace panties. He slid off the bed and wrapped his hands around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. A gasp escaped your lips and you watched as he grabbed one of your legs, pulling it over his shoulder. He kissed down your leg, all the way to your black heeled foot. He kissed your ankle before grabbing the other leg, doing the same. Once both legs were rested on his shoulders, he dipped his head between your thighs. You found yourself surrendering completely, trusting him with every look, every touch.

His movements were deliberate, savoring each reaction he drew from you, and with every inch he kissed, a thrilling warmth spread through your body. Your breath quickened, heart pounding as his lips and tongue traced delicately along your center, his fingers hooked around your underwear, so you were fully exposed to him.

As he continued, each sensation seemed to intensify, a sweet, dizzying mixture of vulnerability and desire. You felt yourself surrendering completely, caught in the mesmerizing rhythm of his touch. His attention was unwavering, every movement thoughtful yet passionate, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the pleasure building within you. His tongue flicked your clit before he would pull it between his teeth and suck. You tried to contain the moans and squirming, but it was nearly impossible. He slowly inserted two fingers into you. You bit your lip, fisting the sheets until your knuckles turned white, as he began to pump them in and out of you.

With each passing moment, your senses became sharper, every nerve attuned to him, until the sensation swelled into an irresistible, consuming release, leaving you breathless and lost in the moment, entirely swept away by the intensity of him. Your breathing grew shallow with each stroke of Matt’s tongue. Your legs began to shake as you were brought closer to your breaking point, a blend of anticipation and pure bliss surging through you. The warmth spread from deep within, radiating outward, making every inch of your skin feel alive, heightened by his careful, unwavering focus.

As you finally reached that edge, it felt like time stopped. The release was overwhelming, a rush of warmth and euphoria that washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and completely weightless. It was an all-encompassing feeling, every part of you overcome by the intensity. Your body relaxed into a blissful haze, heart racing as you came back down, feeling exhilarated.

After you released, a soft, satisfied smile played on Matt’s lips as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a deep warmth and undeniable desire. He took a moment, letting his hand gently trace over your skin in slow, taunting strokes.

“You tasted so sweet,” he said, his voice and eyes dark with lust. His chin glistened from the remnants of you. The words made you tingle and you grabbed his collar, crashing your lips together with urgency. You needed him inside you and you reached for his pants, swiftly undoing them. His movements were intense as he pulled his pants down and spread your legs.

He slowly pushed into you and you threw your head back against the bed. As he moved, his voice was a soft whisper, “I’ve been wanting this, wanting you.”

You whimpered at his words and he picked up his pace. His hands dug into your thighs to keep you steady as he thrusted deeper and deeper, hitting your g spot with every movement.

“Fuck, Matt,” you moaned, lifting yourself and pushing against his chest at the unbearable pleasure.

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You opened your eyes to meet his. They were full of lust, of need, as he watched your every reaction you made to him burying himself in you.

“You’re beautiful like this… I love seeing you so close.” His words were tender yet intense, carrying a blend of affection and desire that left you breathless.

“Matt, oh my god. I can’t,” you squealed as your legs wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably as he continued fuck you.

“Yes you can, baby,” he breathed, kissing your cheek. His lips trailed down to your neck and he began to suck on your sensitive skin. You screamed in uncontrollable pleasure. Your eyes rolled back and your nails dug into your palms.

“Matt, I’m can’t. I’m gonna cum.” You felt yourself tightening around him.

“Do it,” he whispered, biting your earlobe. That waves of pleasure came rolling back over you as your orgasmed for a second time. Matt wasn’t far behind. Only a few more thrusts and he hit his climax. He pulled out of you, falling on the bed with heavy breathing. You looked at him and chuckled, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

As the two of you lay together, catching your breath, the faint, eerie sounds of Halloween music drifted up from the party downstairs, creating a lighthearted, spooky ambiance in the quiet room. Shadows from the flickering orange lights outside played on the walls, casting a warm, playful glow over everything.

Matt chuckled softly, his arms still wrapped around you, and glanced at a decorative plastic bat hanging from the ceiling. “Guess that was my best Dracula impression,” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face.

You laughed, nudging him gently. “You did eat me so good,” The two of you shared a laugh, the tension easing into something lighthearted and fun, basking in the mix of romance and thrill.

He brushed a playful kiss against your neck, right over where his “vampire fangs” would’ve landed if he were still in character, and whispered, “You’re lucky I didn’t actually go full vampire mode on you tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows, feigning a dramatic Dracula face that made you giggle, unable to contain the playful joy of the moment.

Feeling bold, you teased, “Well, I think your Dracula act was pretty convincing. I’m not sure I’d survive another round.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “We’ll just have to make this a Halloween tradition, then. You just keep dressing like my next meal.”

You laughed, the two of you wrapped up in the playfulness and warmth of the moment, savoring the sweet magic of Halloween night spent together.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo smut

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him.

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true.

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks.

Foggy dislocated his shoulder.

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act.

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital.

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him.

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips.

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on.

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought.

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence.

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say.

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why?

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask.

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet.

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says.

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind.

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real.

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says.

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further.

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go.

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort.

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about.

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot.

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself.

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise.

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?”

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.”

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing.

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier.

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor.

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin.

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry.

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help.

“It’s fine,” he assures you.

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.”

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier.

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes.

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do.

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie.

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for.

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers.

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.”

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye.

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running.

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

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artsycervidae · 4 months ago

Text

Moksha: Chapter 23, Danno Intermission Pt 3

Summary: Nobutoshi follows Jin into the belly of the beast. The Demon Slayer Corps confronts Danno, Lower Rank One.

Word Count: 9.6k (Grab a snack.)

Be sure to check the chapter list and trigger warnings!

The darkness sheltered the Mist Hashira and his tsuguko from the rain, wind, and light. Nobutoshi, who could see exceptionally well even in the dark, felt his eyes losing focus. His father's tilted stride drew him into a contemplative zen. This whole island had been as severely disconcerting as possible: already he couldn't tell how long the night had been, how many hours they spent in the maze, how much time they had left to kill Danno... or how much longer they had to walk down this endless ramp.

Eventually, their path opened up into a large chasm. The new geometry was a relief, a breaking of the spell. The walls expanded out on both sides, but the floor continued to slant downward in... whatever direction they were facing. In the belly of the barge sat a cavernous nightmare: catwalks leading nowhere hung from rusted support beams, metallic plates and wooden walls met at disjointed angles in the walls and ceiling, and random tunnels suggested paths elsewhere... surely all of them were dead ends, a final hope of easy escape before a bloody demise. Scummy water sloshed at the far side of the room, the deepest end. The storm far above raged on.

Jin entered first, each step allowing the saltwater to climb higher on his legs. Nobutoshi and his father strode out up to their knees and drew their swords in unison. The water settled to an eery stillness. A dead calm. A sudden realization dawned on him: something was coming to meet them.

Nobutoshi felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck as the demon slipped out of the water, not a ripple to behold in its surfacing. The leviathan body twisted and curled, ribboning like a sea snake to keep itself afloat. Vermillion scales shed from its form into the water like a constant bleeding. It bore a singular left arm that was razor-winged, the tips of its talons matte against the darkness. And atop the demon's shoulders sat the pangolin samurai, its armored back unfurling like a faceplate sliding to expose the Upper Kizuki demon's true face... that of a desiccated corpse. Skin had grown over its eyes, nose, and mouth like an unchecked moss. Despite the monstrosity, Nobutoshi was bewitched: its features were fair and feminine, and even its toothy snarl seemed more like a playful smile.

"Oh," Danno purred, "the main course. Finally. I was starting to think that they wouldn't ever send a Hashira. Welcome. And you brought a side dish!" The voice, hushed and stern like ocean waves, was what chilled him most. It sounded so polite... so believably civil. Beyond the fused eyelids, he could see a slight glowing from within. The stronger those lights became, the darker its blackened veins stood out against the skin, declaring its status as Lower Rank One. Suddenly, the metal panels scattered across the room illuminated like windows-- lightning struck somewhere far yet near, the catwalks and cables and beams quaking at the intimidating display.

The shift in its aura was overpowering. Nobutoshi worked his jaw loose, trying not to freeze up. He needed to be limber or it would cost him speed... and his life. Danno laughed, sharp teeth threatening the seemingly thin layer of skin that sealed its lips. "Quiet and dangerous. I like your type." It tossed its head back mirthlessly then and its body cut through the water as it slithered closer.

"Don't let down your guard," Jin warned, still refusing to acknowledge the demon directly.

"I won't." He hardened his heart to fear.

Danno paused, examining the Slayers. Then it struck: with a flick of its wrist, several bladed feathers came spearing at them-- Jin deflected all of them and countered. Nobutoshi watched in awe as his father's airy footwork carried him across the water like a mist rolling over the ocean. He followed in suit, trusting the oxygen in his lungs, his years of training, and some dumb luck. The wind sighed past his ears as he surged swiftly.

Fourth Form: Shifting Flow Slash.

"Blood Demon Art: Bloodthirsty Whirlpool!" Danno's second face clapped back over its mummified one, the armor covering its neck as its wing came up to shear the Slayers into pieces. But Nobutoshi had landed his slice first-- Danno's elbow came away from his body too soon to hit Jin, but at the same time that massive tail whipped through the water and swung at the Hashira. It missed, but as it passed, Nobutoshi could feel its powerful pull-- an undertow stronger than gravity itself. Jin was yanked off course, and his swing only nicked the Kizuki's armored throat, which rumbled in distress. Danno's hand, already regenerated, slapped over the injury as though to confirm the failure.

Nobutoshi fell upon one of the catwalks a meter above the water. He didn't stop running: Danno didn't strike down the structure, but the tail had drawn all the water to it, flooding the low-hanging walkways and making them hazardous. His sandals slipped, he stumbled but caught himself. Jin had seized a hanging support beam so as not to be swept away by rushing water, then oriented, twisting his feet onto the beam. Then he kicked off with such force that it exploded into debris and with such grace that he seemed to elevate toward Danno's face.

With a sudden grunt, Danno's right wing grew from the shoulder in a thrust of bone, meat, and blood. It bubbled and broiled before the feathers molted away, writhing like waking seed pods. As they formed, the batlings beat their own two wings with furious energy. 'Junko killed Kume,' Nobutoshi realized with equal parts relief and horror, about to watch his father be picked apart by a pack of carnivorous monster birds.

"Third Form: Scattering Mist Splash." And the birds were destroyed, the Hashira shifting priorities mid-launch. He plummeted into the Lower First's path, and Danno swung its bladed left arm at him. Jin blocked it with a ringing strike, allowing the demon's blow to throw him across the room, away from the entrance-- and all at once, Nobutoshi realized his father was alone out there above the deep waters. He sprinted, leaping from his catwalk to another dead end path imbedded lengthwise into the wall.

He passed one of the metal panels right as it began to shiver and ring out a high tone. Water and wind pelted him from that side and Nobutoshi wavered. Suddenly, the aviary demons rushed him-- he slashed them all dead, but his feet overcorrected for his swinging arms. He fell through the metal wall and out into the tempest itself. Warm, fat raindrops beat down on him, and he glimpsed the fight happening on the other side of the tall doorway. His father raised his sword, landed on a catwalk, and Danno raced after him with both arms raised. Then the doorway filled with bloodthirsty minions, hot on Nobu's trail.

He killed them as they came. He could see nothing but raining spittle, dagger teeth, and flying viscera; he felt nothing but the burn of his arms and chest as he fought them desperately in a miasma of blood and thunder. The surviving birds snapped into a new direction, fleeing from Nobutoshi's vicinity. He ran for the portal, but in a blink, it stopped singing. It went opaque and he crashed into the solid barrier, blood spurting out his nose. He bounced off his backside and onto his feet again, gritting his teeth and glaring against the cascade of water to make out the next attack. Two divided waves struck him-- he dodged both sweeps-- before the batlings reeled back, reforming into a single group. The storm didn't slow them as it did Nobutoshi. Like a school of man-eating fish, they threatened to swarm their cornered and helpless victim.

He wasn't nearly as talented or powerful as his father, given the lack of space and preparation. Even so, he mimicked Jin's perfect execution of the Third Form. The birds were eviscerated before his eyes, but there was no time to further assess himself. The wind throttled him, his hair whipping across his face. He didn't recognize the maze he had been spat out into. Completely turned around and the way to his father lost, he panicked-- he should have been thinking ahead, but he could only think of returning to the fight. He took off, seeking the wall markings or the tower. Anything to point him the right way. He skidded to a stop at a fork in the path, kicking up water.

To his right was a dead end.

Something was hurdling from the left-- no, hobbling frantically his way.

It was Hinata, still relying on the empty sheath to keep their left leg straight. They were shouting, waving their arms at him, but a crack of thunder muted any words that may have reached Nobu's ears. It was only when he turned back to the dead end that he saw the sudden danger. Another portal had opened-- an opportunity-- offering a glimpse into the demon's lair. Across the chasm, another hallway also opened up: it was flooded, a torrent of water spewing out into the barge's insides. 'I fell in on the other side of that room,' he vaguely registered. He saw his father's figure blur past, diffusing into the water spray. In a synchronized reflection of green, Junko-- somehow on the other side! His father wasn't alone!-- was triangle-leaping past the wall. "Blood Demon Art: Piercing Plumeage!" Danno's left arm flung razor-barbed feathers their way, too slow to make Junko its mark--

Hinata made it to Nobutoshi before anything else. They had thrown his body to the ground, then their own. The feathers shrieked overhead and narrowly missed them. Nobutoshi shoved his way to his feet, but the doorway had shut them out. "Not yet!" Hinata shouted, stumbling up as the storm buffeted them. "It's too dangerous! Follow me!"

"I need to get back to Dad!" Nobutoshi cried.

"I know!" They stuck out their hand, and Nobutoshi couldn't tell if it was more for his benefit or theirs. "We have to hurry! Be careful-- Kabuto and Kume are brutal together." Nobu took their fingers in his and they tried to lead the way, but in the end, Nobu was the one pulling them along. Their nails pinpricked his hand with a vicious grip as they hollered "Left! Right, here! Right again!"

Another door opened, this one on the walkway before them. They could have leapt in, but Nobutoshi slowed when Hinata dug their heels in and cried "Wait!", trying to stop him. A wall of flesh-birds burst from the opening, and suddenly they were overrun: the demon minions imprisoned them in a cloud of pecking and biting and beating. Hinata let him go and both Slayers took up their arms. Multiple birds swooped at the two, but were forced back when Hinata stepped into the path with an incoherent bark, slashing at the offenders. Nobutoshi began to envy those spike deterrents-- he felt a beak plunge into his back muscles mid-slash, the rake of talons across his shoulders disrupting his balance-- but they only did so much. Soon, even Hinata's Flame Breathing became erratic and desperate.

"Foliage Breathing," he heard vaguely through the rain, but the form was lost to the storm. Even without comprehension, Nobutoshi found Junko suddenly among the fray as she seethed air through her teeth. The Sixth Form roared again, the phantom forest of batlings felled. The batlings with their claws in Nobu suddenly fell to pieces and liquid. Hinata too was unscathed by the Foliage Hashira's discerning blade. Hinata looked up to the woman awestruck, and Nobutoshi couldn't help but relate: she fell atop the solidified floor, as though the maelstrom were but a tepid breeze.

She seemed as startled as Nobu had been to see she was shut out. "Kabuto closed the way!" Hinata shouted, yanking Nobu along with their free hand again. Junko fell into their ranks, gripping her katana with white knuckles. Hinata paused. Nobutoshi was about to jerk them along as they said, "Junko--"

"He's strong," she said so quietly that her words were nearly taken by the wind. "How is he so much stronger than Namazu, if he's only a rank higher? How..." She looked to Hinata. Hinata looked to her.

They were doing it again: talking without talking. Here and now, of all places, of all times. A heat slithered down Nobu's back and shoulders. "I'll do it," Hinata declared, throat scratching. "Whatever you need of me, Junko, I'll do it. But..."

And then they both looked to him. He couldn't explain how isolating that moment was-- the way they stared at him in unison to see if he would be a burden or obstacle.

"What's going on?" He asked, trying not to lose his temper. "What about the portal? Where is it opening?"

"It'll open soon. We'll have to go in fast." Hinata turned away, averting their eyes.

"We? Hinata, you go back to the boat and wait for the Kakushi Brigade. You're half-dead as it is."

"Nobutoshi," Junko interrupted, the one to step forward and take Nobu by the shoulder, "There's something else you need to be prepared for."

"What? Say it already." He wanted the door to open. He didn't want to be shut out anymore. He didn't want to know what could have happened on the other side, though.

"Hinata was always in favor of telling you, for the record. Keeping you in the dark was my idea. Just until we thought you could understand our plan, and that you could trust us without question."

That hurt. "Junko, I will always trust you," he told his future wife. "Always."

Junko knew he meant it. She cupped his cheek fondly, and it was the only thing to reach through the downpour and into his weary mind. "Oniinata is about to do something... difficult. You might even hate us for it. But we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't have a plan. I trust them with my life," she swore, the smooth curls of her nails soothing his nerves. "What about you?"

Nobutoshi glanced Hinata's way-- and he recognized their expression. It wasn't unlike the look from Final Selections, when they watched a demon tear its fellow kindred into pieces. It was also the same face that they had when a freshly widowed woman blamed them for the evils in the world. Fascination and sadness. They deliberately looked away again, staring at the metal panel that had yet to activate.

"If you trust them... I trust them."

"Thank you. I promise I'll answer all your questions afterward. Don't be mad at them-- okay?"

"I won't be," Nobutoshi promised, holding himself to it.

"Don't let your father kill them," she added, her every addition shifting the foundation of his reality. "We'll explain it to him too."

"Get ready," Hinata interrupted.

Nobutoshi was sickeningly grateful that he didn't have the chance to address that point-- he wanted to focus on his father's survival before dividing loyalties like pieces of himself. He only had time to grab Hinata by the shoulder and commanded them, "Whatever you plan on doing, keep it away from my father as best you can."

They met his eyes and nodded firmly. Then they looked to Junko. "We'll go first. Follow us." She smiled a little and huffed while Hinata relaxed fractionally.

In an instant, the wall opened, and all three dropped into the chaos. Nobutoshi, in his mind's eye, saw himself evaporate-- becoming a Lunar Dispensing Mist that somersaulted into the dark, weaving a cocoon around the bird demon swarm before it could plug the hole with body fodder. His sword sheared the air around him, clearing the way for his companions to slip through unharmed.

Among the rocking sea, the parasite-filled air, the feather-blades, and the samurai's mirror maze, Nobutoshi became yet another moving piece. In this free-for-all, he was being tested to his limits: he sliced demonlings down with every stroke. He kept track of Junko, weaving a Kudzu Vine from catwalk to catwalk, distracting the eel's tail and the rising water. Jin was running along the wall, using the pinned feathers as footholds. Hinata, he saw for only a moment, surging right into the crowd of minions before it swallowed them. 'Idiot!'

Then he lost them, when another portal opened just below. Across the numerous walls, the metal pieces flickered alight, some spewed seaspray. The body fodder demons braided in choreographed pillars, flying in and out from the lair. Nobutoshi slaughtered his way to clarity-- while he and Hinata distracted the crush of bodies, the hashira worked together to corner Danno. Nobutoshi kept moving. He leapt from his perch and slashed his descent clear, landing roughly on a jangling, suspended platform. He spun around when something heavy landed next to him-- something squelching, crunching. For a moment, he dreaded fighting one of the named components of the Lower Rank.

He froze at the awful sight and cried out, despite himself. He wished it had been one of Danno's pieces instead.

The creature before him was unlike any he had seen before, though the way it crouched over the half-dead batling was a familiar sight. The hunter's aura spiraled into itself hungrily, but its outline was perfectly shelled, guarding a greedy core from the world around it. The batling emited a high keening as the demon raised its head, tearing away a large strip of meat and sinew by its teeth. And then the batling was quiet. It was only a single bite, but so much of the creature no longer existed that Nobutoshi couldn't account for. The victor turned to the tsuguko: its pinprick pupils were of inverted color, a searing white-hot center that he couldn't turn away from ringed with orange fire. The black sclera and sunken sockets gave an impression of floating ghost lights. The mouth-- God, that mouth-- split into a shining, bloodied grin.

The corpse and its blood began to flake from the demon's front, giving the impression of an eternal smoldering. The hunter slipped their fingers under the chain of broken sword hilts that adorned their body, freeing the scavenged weapon with a snap of their wrist. They flicked the blade in their right hand, which flung gore clean off-- then they stretched their mostly-healed leg as the sheath fell away, testing their body weight with a little wince. "Much better," they conceded, their voice smooth and rich as silk. "I can keep up with you like this."

He would know this feeling of muted rage anywhere-- the way they spoke a little too informally, crassly, as if things hadn't fundamentally changed with this revelation. The rising tide prevented him from properly wielding his fury. Hinata was on the move after him, the both of them abandoning the platform. Nobutoshi found a wall-bound tunnel, leading into a dead end where his back would be protected, and there he decimated another flock. Hinata had vaulted elsewhere-- through an open panel, which flickered shut. "Idiot," Nobutoshi muttered aloud this time, left on his own as a distraction and hoping that his father hadn't been nearly as observant of his allies. 'They could have at least done that in the maze, out of the line of sight.'

Junko reached the Kizuki's neck first. She scaled the beast's torso with her Lotus Rot form, impaling the demon with such power that it blasted holes clean through. Kidneys. Liver. Lungs. Heart. Danno yelped with pain at each intrusion; not that they would kill him, but the creature's biology focused on patching these injuries as Junko swiped for the samurai's throat. In synchronicity, Jin dropped from his position overhead, his own katana arcing downward to meet the Foliage Hashira's swing. A portal opened, but rather than a reinforcement of minions, only rain pelted through. Nobutoshi could see in various angles-- overhead, under, far behind-- Hinata tearing through the maze as they maimed and obliterated the torrential batlings.

Danno's open-mouthed wails hitched from agony into delight. Before either blade kissed the demon's skin, a slit was making itself known at the base of its throat, a separation of parts. Nobutoshi hollered a warning but it was already too late: "It's--"

"Blood Demon Art: Naginata Nails." The armor platings on either side of Danno's face reached up and out-- the naginata's range beat Jin's katana, and suddenly the Edo samurai demon (Kabuto!) was standing atop Unagiko's blunted fish-head, her humanoid body stooped forward in a painful slouch. In his spear-tipped hands bled the Mist Hashira's throat. 'No.'

Unagiko writhed, her tail swinging the Bloodthirsty Whirlpool a meter too late to strike Junko-- her legs jerked straight and she flipped, trying to salvage her momentum. But Danno's left arm formed itself into a Slayer's uniform, its talons turning into hands and feet themselves: the demon Slayer ripped feathers from his own body mid-free fall, and swiped at Junko's haori-- neatly slicing the fabric from her body, narrowly missing her uniformed body as she twisted out of his reach. 'No!'

His perspective swam: he was upon Kabuto himself now, ignoring Kume's cruel laughter as she spawned minions anew, "Blood Demon Art: Hungry Mouths!" They flooded him, the pain of their pecking and biting eroding at his body. He didn't know what he was doing, whether he intended to decapitate the court anew before facing Danno again. What was the point-- they had lost so many Demon Slayers already, and now-- he would never see his father again-- His thoughts blurred until he could only recognize the brutal pain that ravaged his body, a gravitational pull compelling him away from his victim. "NO!"

Nobutoshi tightened all his muscles before he crashed into the shallow end-- it was still about two meters deep, but he had been rebuffed so fast that he felt his shoulder bump off the ramp bottom. He clawed and kicked to the surface, gasping and seeking manageable depth. He swiped wet hair from his face and desperately gaped out into the dark waters, trying to unsee his father's disembodied hand, his dislocated head, and the last fragments of light, hope, or filial affection fading from his fox eyes.

The eel demon was gone, the last rope of her tail flicking into the air as she dove down into some immeasurable depth with her prey. Could his father hold his breath that long? What would Jin do without his sword? It had all happened so fast. So fast. Faster than his father? How was that possible? How could a Lower Rank demon kill a Hashira? That hadn't happened for decades! How could it have happened to his father?

Kabuto opened the portals again: "Blood Demon Art: Glass Labyrinth." Lightning crashed and lit up the room in garish whites and blacks. The inky tide was indistinguishable yet unmistakable. Blood in the water. So much blood-- demon and human alike. Out in the dark waters, Junko was retreating. Kabuto extended a long speared finger, and Masajun pursued her, assisted by batlings. The leader followed with fluid, easy steps from catwalk to catwalk. Something clawed itself up from Nobutoshi's chest and he immediately recognized it as his own: a calcified, solid pit of hate.

Demons always found a way to make him feel utterly powerless-- and this moment of sheer loathing fueled him. Although his clothes were heavy he turned to face Kume, her pelican wings beating furiously as she spiraled at him. Those batlings, the Hungry Mouths, descended on him. This time, his Third Form was immaculate. Even Kume gasped when the sword split her wings, her body dropping for the second she grew fresh ones. His sword decapitated the empty space her neck had once been. She kept a cautious distance then, letting her minions fall victim to his mood instead while she dipped in for the occasional vicious picking.

Junko wasn't alone for long. Masajun had taken to the air with the minions, swerving upon her with a familiar Water Surface Slash. Junko cut through the crowd, just as a demonic Hinata surged from one of the mirror-portals, striking Masajun down with an Unknowing Fire so powerful that the nearby catwalks jangled from the Breathing Form's heat wave. The new recruit hollered and backed from the fight, his arms plopping into the water below.

Kabuto was no coward. Danno's head came, his hands slashing and puncturing at Junko. The Hashira's sword fended him off as Hinata clawed their way through batlings back to her side-- Masajun fled gasping, a chunk missing from his shoulder. Hinata's face dripped with blood as they binged, devouring whatever they could get their hands on, the handle-barbed whip gashed holes into the batling swarm. Junko didn't even glance back, wholly trusting her back to her demon devouring shadow.

Even with all her focus devoted to the Lower Rank, Kabuto had at least a centuries worth of experience to his advantage. He parried her, their blades screaming against each other as he forced the weapon from her hand.

But at that moment, Hinata dropped their sword. Junko caught it, as though their arms and minds belonged to the same body. Hinata's disarmed limb was swiftly destroyed for sticking out, ripped open with a gesture from Kabuto, but the transaction was made regardless-- and then Nobutoshi lost visual of them to Kume's gnashing beak, rimmed with serrated teeth. His sword split her face into two, but a cloud of her fodder slammed into him from the side like a hammer. He moved with the movement and spun like a top. He was caught between forms, his muscles ripping and bones groaning at this misuse.

Kume was gone again, and Nobutoshi cut the air clear enough to catch Hinata and Junko in motion: Hinata was right behind Junko, crowding her and surely limiting her movements. But they had both their arms-- the one he swore had been cut asunder now wielded Junko's emerald sword. Had he been mistaken?

Kabuto jabbed and kicked and swiped, his body erratic, but Junko slid her newfound weapon along those naginata extensions and nearly swiped his head clean off his shoulders. The samurai backed away, baffled and aghast. But Hinata was in Junko's afterimage, and the makeshift whip had been given its chance. With a swish of Hinata's wrist, the weapon snagged Kabuto's ankle like a bolas. When he stepped back, his foot was yanked out from under him, and the Slayers both surged forward. The Hashira and her echo performed a choreographed dance of Foliage Breathing, two Kudzu Vines twisting into a thick noose to catch Kabuto by his throat.

Suddenly the water exploded with a barge-shaking force. Unagiko appeared like a breaching whale, bringing a torrent with her. Droplets rained on them all like broken glass, and Nobutoshi had no defense but his sword and the Third Form. He felt water pellets rip through his clothes, lodging into his body before becoming inert. The opposite end of the room exploded into shrapnel, flinging the demon and Slayers off their catwalk and into the air. Hinata and Junko both landed, though the latter had landed among a net of cables. Kabuto saw an opportunity and lunged for the helpless Hashira-- but Hinata roared and leapt at him first, sword and whip snapping out like guard dogs. The Hashira swiftly disentangled herself, leaning backwards to slip free. She landed hard on an unstable catwalk before leaping over the ledge, letting faith and gravity take her into an open portal. In the next blink, the door had reverted to a metal wall.

Hinata had bought her an escape, but at the expense of those three naginata ends piercing them clean through the torso. Even when impaled, the Slayer swung to behead Kabuto. But the samurai caught their wrist. As easy as yanking a loose thread, he pulled their arm, and began to rip Hinata in half, his face fatigued and unimpressed. Nobutoshi screamed again-- Kume swooped down while his grief distracted him. Her talons slashed through his shoulder and he swatted her away, her cruel laughter sounding off the walls. His second howl was of raw fury.

Kabuto withdrew his bladed fingers from Hinata's body, thus releasing them. But before they could slump, Kabuto's knee flew up and into their ribs. Even from afar, Nobutoshi made out the bloody crnch! of their bones caving in. Hinata's body went careening in Nobu's direction, skipping across the water four times before skidding up the waterless ramp and rolling to a stop, surely skinned by the friction.

"Nice one, Kabuto!" Kume cackled, as Nobutoshi rushed to meet his fallen companion. "Sorry about the Hashira-- the older one. I know he would have been an excellent addition." Her tone shifted to something softer and sympathetic. She placed her winged hand on his shoulder, suddenly gentle and lovely as she fussed over him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Kabuto rumbled, his voice coaxing her to make up for his state. "He had a stick up his ass, anyway. The Corps made him into a hopeless cause." With a sigh, he leaned into her, and her hand drifted to his face. "I want a weapon. Someone who can make us strong enough to take out an Upper Rank. I'd say we've deserved a promotion, ne, my beautiful wife? I wish that marechi hadn't gotten away... maybe she could be a suitable replacement."

"What?!" cried a healed Masajun, who fluttered alongside the other two. "But I just joined! You didn't give me a chance!"

Nobutoshi fell to his knees next to Hinata right as their body began to rise. Unharmed-- incredible. He had no words for the cognitive disconnect in his mind. He had watched his battered friend be fatally struck. He watched them die. And yet, they groaned and sat up, alive, their ribcage expanding and shrinking like bellows. "Are you okay?" Hinata was the one asking, resting Junko's sword in their lap before reaching for Nobutoshi's chest.

The mere question broke him. "Of course I'm not okay," he seethed, gripping Hinata back a little harder than he meant to. "My father is dead." Their mouth warbled and their eyes flashed with hurt feelings. And even though it didn't make sense, he took up fistfuls of their clothes and put salt in the wound he created. "Why didn't you intervene? Why did you run out on us?" Rage slipped into shock, which plummeted into despair. "My dad. His hands--" Nobutoshi choked, "I think it--" and stopped abruptly. He never thought it would happen like this. He was the Mist Hashira now, and he wasn't prepared.

"Nobutoshi," Hinata murmured, love and regret thick in their throat, "I'm sorry." They slid the hand on his chest up to his neck, pulling him in. They pressed his forehead to their own. "We'll make him pay." The tone of Nobutoshi's compact loathing sounded alien from Hinata's mouth. It sounded musical. "We still have time to kill him. I've eaten. Junko will be back. He won't have died for nothing. I swear it."

Invoking her name did the cure: Nobutoshi felt himself breathing steadier. He had to come back alive to her. "I'm sorry I tried to send you away," he whispered, feeling weak and grateful suddenly.

"It's okay," they replied warmly. No grudge. No harm.

A pained squawk drew their attention back to the demons, Nobutoshi drawing away from Hinata's face. Blood glinted and faded off of Kabuto's bladed fingers. Masajun was clutching his newly severed shoulder: that made four times he had been disarmed, counting both sides. Kume snickered at the display from behind Kabuto's back. Unagiko surfaced slowly in the background, keeping a careful eye on the Slayers rather than appreciate the show of dominance.

"You're lucky I only took that much," Kabuto warned. "I thought I told you to get rid of Aguri before the party. You spoiled brat. At least they're obedient. You're more trouble than you're worth." Then Kabuto turned-- and Nobutoshi froze with the distinct impression that he was the one being watched. This was debunked when Kabuto raised the bloodied blades their way and said, "Aguri. I like your friends, especially the Hashira girl. Tell you what: I'm feeling generous tonight. You've all been a worthy nuisance. Kill this runt with that nichirin sword and I'll let you take her with us. Hell," then another blade rose, gesturing to Nobu too now, "if you kill Aguri, you can come instead. Winner can even pick who the marechi fights," and he gestured to his allies. "If she wins, she can be the next replacement." Masajun watched helplessly, the fibers of his winged limb growing back much slower than Hinata's fatal wounds had.

Nobutoshi raised to his feet, lifting his sword. In another universe, in a world where he had foreseen the suffering that humanity would go through because of this night, he slit Hinata's throat and committed himself to suicide, fighting Danno off until Junko could find an escape. But that did not happen in this world-- not when demons threatened to take everyone away from him. He stood between Hinata and the four evils. "You can't have either of them," he stated, dripping with saltwater and venomous contempt. Hinata did not contradict him.

"Sure," Kabuto said breezily. "That's a shame, but I don't have time to argue with someone whose mind is made up. We'll eat all of them and move on," this last sentence spoken to the demons around him. Unagiko shrank until her eyes alone peeked over the waterline nervously. Kume beamed, the flaps of her face pulling her grin ever wider. Masajun sulked, but his razor-studded arm had regrown by then. He flexed his arms, warming up for another round.

Hinata rose behind Nobutoshi. He didn't have to look back to know they were with him. "Unagiko is too heavy to leave the water," Hinata whispered in Nobutoshi's ear. "And if we can decapitate them all again, we can beach Danno too."

"Do you think that'll work twice?"

"No... But maybe if we can kill the other three as Danno first, then she'll be weakened and alone." A better chance of hunting her down and winning.

Nobutoshi understood. "How will we drag him into the shallow end?"

"I'll make the opening," Hinata promised. "Ready?"

"Let's go." He sprinted forward. Kabuto's doorways to the maze flew open. Kume's Blood Art burst like a boil into dozens of bloodthirsty birds, pouring into the room and out of the barge. Masajun took to the air, sharp feathers scattering in his wake. Unagiko sank below the water silently. Nobutoshi leapt from catwalk to wall-- birds swam into his vicinity, but he massacred them down in time to find Kume airborne, flying directly for him. Good-- she hadn't noticed Junko rocketing in from an opening, the Third Form of Foliage Breathing already in motion as she made a beeline for Kabuto. Nobutoshi slashed, but only managed to bisect the airborne demon's face again as she swerved away from him, howling in pain.

From behind him, he almost overlooked Masajun's Water Breathing strike. Thankfully, the Slayer demon was intercepted by the substitute bolas. Hinata's well-timed throw of their hilt-whip captured Masajun's limbs, tangling his arms and wings into a mess. Then they pounced him, crashing into the wall which caved with a groan-- water and steam poured out from the man-made tunnel. Then suddenly, Hinata's body was flung from that crater, numerous razor-sharp feathers skewered through their body. Nobutoshi forced his eyes away.

Kabuto caught Junko's blade on his-- but she was already too close, stepping under his arm and pressing her scapula to his. She stuck to him like his shadow, their strikes bouncing and catching air. He couldn't shake her, so he opened another portal, through which Junko chased him like a shadow. Nobutoshi swiped the next oncoming horde of birds from the sky, stealing another look around for where Kume could have gone-- narrowly leaping from an oncoming wave and to a safer height.

Nobutoshi was beginning to understand the patterns of the doors. Like blinking lights along the shoreline, he realized that the maze access was timed between specific intervals-- Hinata's door selections were calculated, and so too were Kabuto's. Which meant Kume's paths could be predicted also. He leapt out of the path of a swarm, slashing through another cloud, and landing easily on a panel that remained closed even when others lit up and opened. By the time it flickered open, he was on the move down the chasm's length, safe from the batlings' tactical formations.

But then Masajun came sailing into Nobutoshi's path, wielding a long feather like a katana. It rang off of Nobu's nichirin, but it hardly felt real. Nobutoshi recognized the resistance of his own sword on something else, but Masajun barely wavered or recoiled. If trapped in a swordfight, he knew he would break first. So he ended it fast: Nobutoshi saw instantly where Masajun relied on his body, compensating in the way that someone who had been human all their life would. Someone who felt pain and had a natural aversion to it, even after they had become immortal. Habits were harder to break than bones. Between parries, Nobutoshi momentarily apologized to his father's memory before he kicked hard into the fight, catching Masajun in a moment where his feet unconsciously met the ground. It wasn't loyal to Mist Breathing, and it felt like fighting dirty.

But it felt good to bring that demon to his knees.

Nobutoshi stepped up, his sword raised high. Masajun raised a hand as an animal scream broke his composure. "Mariko, help!" Nobutoshi easily cut the demon's head away with a single swoop. But as the head and body plummeted into the water, someone else was screaming. A rapturous noise of horror and pleasure.

Nobutoshi turned, grappling with what he saw.

Hinata, who had been bullied and railroaded by Kume and her spawn, should have been dead. In the moment Masajun screamed, they too had lost their footing and their nerve. The opening allowed the swarm to overwhelm them. Human or demon, it felt unfathomable that anybody could survive such vicious disassembly. The Hungry Mouths ripped them apart like a pack, yet the Slayer remained whole. They were mutually feasting: the thick pelt of swords trapped batlings with every swing, and Junko's green blade had nearly been dyed red. Nobutoshi couldn't concede with the way Hinata's limbs bubbled right before they were nipped and torn away. How the flesh died and turned to ash as soon as it left their form, leaving only their unmarred singular self. Kume was devastated. She was completely distracted with Hinata's disgusting display, screeching and cursing. Nobutoshi launched himself off the wall and arched his body into a modified Second Form: Eight consecutive strikes carried him through demonic matter, the final strike of it sweeping Kume's head from her shoulders. He landed smoothly in a dead-end tunnel, spinning and planting his feet to brake.

The minions fell, dead and inert. Hinata paused, their limbs falling to their side as they hyperventilated. Their breath came in puffs, as if exhaling vapor or smoke, and Nobutoshi hesitated. He only knew they were okay when their white pupils darted to him, and their lips pulled back in their familiarly grim smile. They both nodded, and set in motion to assist Junko.

She was being forced to cede ground to Kabuto. Unagiko nearly flooded the Foliage Hashira's platform, so she leapt to a cabled catwalk where Kabuto cornered her, landing so heavily that the floor threatened to drop. Hinata lunched for Unagiko, their body twisting into a bastardized Flame form. It was a good try-- the eel delved into the water, but a scattering of her flesh dissolved at the surface. The pseudo-demon lurked above the water, snatching up chunks of demon and tearing into them with their teeth as they waited for the moment Unagiko chose to show herself again.

Nobutoshi landed behind Kabuto, trapping the trapper, and the samurai glanced between them with an amused chuckle. "Aguri told me plenty about you two," he hissed, trying to sow distrust. "They missed you awfully. Talked constantly about their darling friends, the most powerful hashira of their time. How it was their honor to live in service of you. What I wouldn't give to have as loyal a vassal! Always does what you tell them... does whatever it takes to do a job right. Such fealty didn't used to be so hard to come by. But the world is changing... I don't expect you to understand."

Neither Slayer responded. They inched closer, briefly making eye contact past the demon's head. With a subtle acknowledgement, Nobutoshi lashed out, and Junko met his stride. Kabuto dodged them easily, with the practiced hand of a centuries' old warrior. Junko's blade skidded down the length of Kabuto's Naginata Nails. Kabuto backhanded her, and she nearly flew right off the platform, catching the railing at the last moment as it groaned and split from the walkway. Their foundation shook again. Nobu's strikes were parried off with the other naginata hand-- his sword caught before he could counter, he saw Kabuto's grinning face, and suddenly his head rocked back, the front of his face acutely throbbing. More blood. His nose had broken completely now, and he stumbled back dizzily. He couldn't help the frustration that his body was being disobedient lazy, moving like it was swimming through honey.

"They're much weaker than you, though," Kabuto dismissed. "Persistent and resourceful, but weak. I didn't get their fussing at first, but now I do." A pause. "Too bad you aren't any stronger than your Hashira though. You stood a chance to gain from this." Kabuto loomed over the disoriented orphan, pulling his arm back to ensure a fatal strike. "What a waste."

Nobutoshi remembered how difficult Kabuto's metallic hide was-- how Hinata had to be creative to decapitate him.

There was no such worry with Junko. Kabuto had gotten complacent and focused his attention on the one easier to torture. Her borrowed sword breathed through his throat and arms, fast as a switch and silent as the wind. For a moment, Kabuto's brow furrowed in confusion. Then his head, along with the naginata appendages, slid off his body and fell into the water.

Unagiko revealed herself. She cried out, muffled against the flesh over her head as she squirmed to where Danno surfaced from some deep, dark pocket in the water. He gasped for air and raised his winged arms to find balance. He was awkward and graceless without her like Hinata had predicted, as only the most committed stalker could have. Unagiko coiled around Danno protectively, but neither of them stood a chance at this rate.

All at once, the pieces fell into place. A perfectly functioning death machine, oiled by blood, had been assembled.

"Immolation Breathing Fourth Form: Sleep in A Bed of Coals." An overpowering gust of wind whipped the bowels of the barge: a sudden rise in temperature sucked all the oxygen from the atmosphere. Hinata rocketed for Danno's throat, their sword swinging twice, both strikes bouncing off of the pangolin armor. Blades nor birds slowed the possessed swordman; in fact, it was as though all obstacles fizzled and died on contact, so quickly were they snatched from the air and devoured.

In Hinata's third blow, they landed on Danno's shoulders with their morbid sword-chain looped around the helmet's faceplate. Hinata yanked hard on the ends of their weapon, feet digging into his shoulders as their garrote screamed against the pangolin armor. The chin guard caught and slid away, exposing Danno's dessicated face and craning neck. The Kizuki screamed and clawed for the pseudo-demon on his back-- right as Unagiko swept the end of her body across Danno's attacker. The water that Unagiko had wielded so easily exploded, much like the earlier breach, only this awful expulsion threw Unagiko and Hinata to separate ends of the room. Hinata, who had tangled their perforating weapon into the Lower Rank's throat, took Danno with them. The dessicated demon gurgled and gasped, hand reaching out for Unagiko who froze at her own unexpected incompetence.

The awful, monstrous mouth opened and she blurted something out as her humanoid appendage writhed. She said something clear and audible, but total nonsense. It wasn't Japanese. Then she dove into the water-- abandoning Danno in his dire moments. 'Was that Dutch?' Nobutoshi thought, a little delirious from adrenaline.

"COWARD!" Danno shrieked. "TRAITOR!!"

"Oh no you don't!" Junko thundered. She drew air into her lungs-- the same lungs powerful enough to explode man-sized earthware, Nobutoshi reminded his panicked nerves-- and sprinted for the water, diving after the escapee.

Nobutoshi could see the opening thread. He could see the demon's glowing eyes flickering about behind their curtain eyelids in a frenzied horror at the predicament. But all at once, the barge was yanked off course. The world shook and rotated. Nobutoshi did all he could to keep his delicate body from smashing into pieces, shrinking into himself as he was thrown to the air. He heard Hinata howling-- Danno screaming-- he couldn't see anything but the blur and crash of a sudden death.

Then he closed his eyes. He opened them again. For a moment, he swore he saw his father. Perhaps it was only his body. Maybe it was his ghost. But Nobu saw Jin like one would see a falling leaf in passing. Briefly. Unconsciously. His heart hurt.

And then, everything ceased to hurt at all.

He oriented himself in what felt like slow motion. His legs didn't fold under his weight; they compressed like coiled springs. Never before had he felt so light so absent of burden. He hated to admit so, but he seized the feeling with both hands. He drew a smooth breath and launched himself back into the fray, the barge around him bursting and swinging and flashing.

He could see Hinata burrowing into Danno's neck muscles with tooth and chain-- desperate to gorge, trying to heal against the larger demon's thrashing and slashing. The razor wings and minions were easily outnumbering Hinata, even in their incredibly sturdy state. The scraps of their body was only held together with clothes and their own bare tendons. The Fourth Form was all Nobutoshi needed for the situation. He felt himself depart from the ground and almost float through the air, his sword slicing through Danno's armored bone and muscle like an oar paddled through water. A moment of pressure. A release. His sword and his mind buzzed with vengeance and the realization that he would never be the same man Jin was.

Perhaps he could be greater than that man.

The barge jolted-- Nobutoshi knew, somehow, that this meant Junko had cornered Unagiko. Danno's massive body was dissolving in the water, amplifying the only survivor's Blood Art which dragged the entire prison in her wake. The labyrinth roared in pain as it slammed into the mainland, cables snapping, catwalks swinging. The water became a powerful vortex, fleeing the beached structure for the freedom of the sea. Nobutoshi thought fast-- he leapt for a safer foundation in a half-formed dead end, his eyes seeking the snake-like movements of Hinata's makeshift weapon.

He found it victim to the violent tides, but he was faster. He seized it before it could be snatched by the water, found purchase on handles, and fought to tie it to the wall-mounted railing. As the polluted water drained, Nobu gripped the tether and hoisted it from the churning water with ease, opening his eyes against the sting of saltwater to seek out his friend.

He found them clinging to the weapon still-- the fabric knotted around their arms, Junko's green blade tucked within the tangle as a last-ditch attempt to keep their body from being snatched by the rapids. Water and blood dripped off their hair, the dark shadows surrounding their eyes fading fast. Their face was turned up to the surface, and their eyelashes and lips kept fluttering as though asleep. Nobutoshi pulled them up and laid them out on the hallway. "Hinata. Open your eyes."

The washed out person gave no response. Nobu's panic began to catch up, but it manifested in his hands rather than his mind. He shook as he freed their limbs from the weapon and threw it into the darkness. He let the evidence be washed away as he pawed at their face. "Hinata. If you die, Junko said she's going to kill you." Still no answer. Somehow, their hair had silvered entirely along their left temple hairline. One of their arms had broken, but their body was whole, not a single hint to imply they had been ripped to pieces except for the uniform that hung off them in tatters.

Nobutoshi straddled them. As pale and dead as they looked, Hinata was still feverishly hot, a sun burning under their clothes. They were trembling too: whether it was a response to the demon's drowning or their own, Nobu didn't know. He began compressions. He gave mouth to mouth.

He was thanked with a muted cough and a mouthful of salt water down his throat.

They both turned away from each other, hacking and gagging. But even after Nobutoshi had cleared his mouth, Hinata wheezed and spat something thicker than water. It was frothing and pink and had more substance than water. Nobutoshi helped them to lean over the edge, holding back their loose hair as they choked and retched. Whether this was a result of their experimental Breathing Style or their experimental possession, Nobutoshi didn't know.

"Are you done?" Nobutoshi asked, his voice unexpectedly flat and void. They didn't reply, shoulders shivering with a labored inhale as they spat something meaty out. "If you intended to die for us, I wouldn't have apologized to you. I would have sent you away again."

Hinata brushed blood-tinted saliva from their lips and then, in a voice that wasn't theirs, they said: "Was it worth it? To carve away parts of your body and mind, to crave the respect and awe of others, when you'll end up all alone anyway? Just like me."

Slap!

Nobutoshi blinked at the stinging of his hand. Hinata sighed and tenderly touched their cheek, their tongue pressing into it from the other side. "... Sorry," they murmured, though they didn't look one bit regretful. "I don't know why I said that. I think I was still with Danno..."

"It's okay." Nobutoshi didn't apologize, because he felt no need to. He didn't say anything wrong. "Can you walk?"

Hinata furrowed their brows and tried. Their neck arched and they bore their teeth, arms straining on the railing, but then they gave up. They hadn't moved an inch.

Nobu was quietly surprised his own legs and lungs hadn't failed him yet, but chalked it up to his superior training and experience. "I'll fetch the Kakushi Brigade."

"Please don't leave me," Hinata pleaded with sudden desperation. "Don't go. Can you stay here? Please."

Nobutoshi considered this plea. Then he sat down, feeling the exhaustion all at once. He slipped his hands under their arms and scooted them further from the ledge, sitting behind them with his knees propped up. He could feel their attempts to assist him, but parts of their body were still new and weak to exertion. They sank back and let him take control, chin pressed into their collarbone as they breathed slow and steadily. They were clearly tuned in to Nobutoshi's heart and breathing now. "Thank you." Nobutoshi looked down at this hole of a human being. "... I guess this means things are changing again." Tactful. Pathetically so.

"Yeah." A beat. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I wanted to... so I asked Junko to explain it to you for me. You're always better prepared getting bad news from her. I was scared you would kill me, because you hate demons more than anyone I know. Junko said we should just keep it a secret between ourselves..."

He supposed if Junko knew how he would react, he couldn't argue against it. "... It's deplorable behavior. Don't ever do that again," was what he meant to say, but his mouth kept moving, "not without my say-so."

"Okay," they obliged with no further persuasion.

"How did you... nevermind. I don't want to know how you figured this out." It didn't matter. Eating a demon wasn't the same as eating a person... demons weren't people. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry," they miserably murmured. "I knew you would have preferred to hear it from Junko... she's the one who thought up the plan in the first place."

"The plan?"

A sudden sharp noise broke their silence-- they were both well used to the sound, but had been absent for the entirety of their mission. A crow flew in from an opening somewhere, circling overhead and cawing declarations of its discovery. It was a Kakushi guide seeking survivors and safe passages. Nobutoshi exhaled with relief but Hinata fell quiet. "The plan?" Nobu prompted gently. Hinata slowly shook their head. He went completely still, trying not to display his discomfort. Hinata and Junko-- the Foliage Hashira-- keeping secrets from the Demon Slayer Corps?

"I'll let Junko explain," they resisted, "when she gets back."

-----

"Master Ishikawa! Master Ishikawa?"

Nobutoshi knew the search had to come to an end. The sun was already nearly setting on the horizon, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Not when they hadn't found her yet.

The barge itself had already been searched-- it was easy to do, especially after it had dissolved into a pile of shipwrecks next to that dead village, indicating that Kabuto too was laid to rest. Unagiko could be assumed dead as well, given the lack of uncharacteristic riptides. Or perhaps she had fled so far beyond the reaches of the Slayers that they couldn't follow... only the best of them dared to chase demons into the dark.

Nobu couldn't accept the possibility she was killed in action. He didn't want her to be dead, but how else could she have vanished like that? He hoped that the Kakushi member calling out to him had found something of value, and he turned away from the ruins to hear them out. "Yes?"

"We... we have to bring the search to an end," the support soldier said hesitantly. "We've searched up and down the coast. All we found was her haori, which Yasumoto refuses to relinquish... and they also refuse to be transported to your manor without you."

The Mist Hashira sighed impatiently. Leave it to Hinata to draw him away from something so vital as a search and rescue. "Continue to search the waters. Drag the shore if need be. Find me something that could tell us where Hashimoto went."

There was no test. No arched eyebrow or second guesses. "Yes sir," the Kakushi member said, bowing and retreating. Nobutoshi supposed he had done enough work for one day. Slaying the Lower First and avenging dozens of souls could be considered... an acceptable outcome.

He tread away from the rocky shore and into town. It wouldn't be long before the villagers returned. By then, the Corps would have erased any evidence of the demons and their awful feasting, in hopes that lives could be picked up where they had been left for those who survived. He walked up the main path, stopping before the hut that once served as their temporary operations. A breath caught in his throat. Twenty-four hours ago, he had been in this very home with Junko and Jin. The last vestiges of his family... he stifled that breath down, swallowing sadness as he stepped indoors for the last time.

Hinata was leaned against the same wall Junko had sat at, looking out the same window that once beheld the demon's lair. In their lap lay Junko's belongings: her sword, lovingly cleaned and sharpened for her and snug in a new sheath, and her haori, cleaned and repaired and folded tidily. "... So now what?" they asked, tired. Perhaps they wouldn't look like such shit if they had submitted to the Kakushi Brigade.

"... If we can't find her body, we presume her dead."

"Do you really think Unagiko could have killed her?"

Nobutoshi curled his lip. He hated the way Hinata made the question sound rhetorical, as if the concept were unthinkable. As if he didn't feel the same way. "We have no information to suggest otherwise."

"She's still alive," Hinata said steadily, matter-of-factly.

"How do you know?"

"I have a feeling. Besides... if she's dead, then that means her plan is also dead... it can't be done without a Hashira's guidance, knowledge, and control."

Nobutoshi hummed and circled the room. No crows on the roof. No bodies lingering outside. Everyone's efforts were being put toward recovery, with only a small team aside to extract the Hashira and his companion once they were cleared to leave. With privacy assured, Nobu settled into place next to Hinata's legs. "... What is the plan, Hinata?" Their eyes locked onto his. "Is it something we can do? Together?"

Hinata scanned Nobutoshi over. "... Maybe. It'll be harder without her... but that's fine. If you want to do it, I'll make it done."

"Tell me," Nobu urged. He wanted to make Junko's goal a reality-- he wanted more than anything to live in that world she dreamed of. He would do whatever it took, even if it meant keeping Hinata's secrets.

Their lips moved subtly, and Nobutoshi leaned in to listen. They weren't speaking, but clearing their throat gently, in that familiar bedtime cypher. Nobutoshi watched their throat shift beneath their skin as they confided in him the most audacious idea that could ever be conceived. It was only something that could have been concocted with Hinata's compulsions and Junko's confidence.

It was their plan to infiltrate the Upper Ranks and assassinate Muzan Kibutsuji.

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