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watermelongirl01 · 1 month ago

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Sweet Rescue - 02

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, but let me know if I missed something.

A/N: Please, please let me know if you like it, I appreciate all your comments.

5:00 am.

You woke up from a restless sleep, you had something in mind and there was only one thing you wondered about.

Did you have enough pie?

Captain Winchester had said he would be there first thing in the morning and expressed a deep love for your pie recipe. You knew you shouldn’t let on how excited you were about seeing him again, and it was probably best if he didn’t know you cared that much.

But you did care, So fuck that.

You needed to be sure to have all the pie you needed.

5:30 am.

You slipped into your robe and made your way down the stairs that led directly from your apartment to the bakery below.

Sure, you could’ve used your kitchen upstairs, but where was the fun in that? Living right above your shop meant you didn’t have to worry about dishes, especially when Donna would be downstairs to help in the shop’s kitchen.

You opened your apartment door and descended the familiar stairs. The cold and the quiet darkness greeted you as you reached the bottom. The large glass windows of the shop let in just enough light from outside to guide your steps toward the kitchen door, where the smell of dough still lingered in the air.

6:00 am

You preheated the oven while you start with the pie fillings.

The kitchen was getting warmer and warmer and your arms started to get sore from kneading the dough.

6:40 am.

The first batch went to the oven.

7:30 am

You set the pies down on the table.

You’d probably gone a little overboard, apple, pecan, cherry, peach, pumpkin, rhubarb, sweet potato, banana cream, lemon meringue, and a few experimental flavors you hadn’t even tasted yet.

Damn, you really went all out.

You sat in front of the pies, trying not to overthink it, but the self-doubt crept in. Was this too much? You didn’t want anyone to think you were some obsessive bitch. Your mind spiraled, Maybe you should’ve just stuck to the basics, and the lecture looped on repeat, getting louder and louder.

Then, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway, followed by the rhythmic stomp of boots hitting the ground.

Your eyes went wide with horror. Charlie was here.

Panicking, you ran, making sure everything was off as you rushed upstairs. You jump into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

——

“Oh hey, boss.” The redhead flashed you a grin as you walked into the bakery.

“Hey, Charlie. How’s everything going?” You returned the smile, trying to shake off the lingering nervousness.

“Just opened. Looks like you’re ready for the day, showered and everything.”

“Yeah, I slept through my alarm, so I figured I’d better be presentable.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Was it really for looking presentable, though? Or for washing away the evidence of the hundred pies you baked? Did you even sleep last night?” She placed a hand on her hip, her teasing grin never fading.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brows in exaggerated confusion, trying to play it cool.

“Oh, come on. Poor Donna walked in and nearly had a heart attack when she saw all those dishes.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, poor Donna will be getting a bonus this month.” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, I already made sure of that.” She grabbed her apron and tossed yours at you. “But seriously, what’s all this about?”

“The hot firefighter,” you said nonchalantly.

“Oh, he’s coming today? That’s why you baked for an army?”

“I just didn’t know which pie is his favorite,” you muttered, a little defensive. “Be honest, am I an over-the-top weirdo?”

“Oh, honey, you’ve always been one.” She smirked. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you will be his favorite pie flavor.”

“Oh, shut it.” You rolled your eyes as you headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll let you know when your hot firefighter arrives,” Charlie called after you, her voice full of mischief.

——

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the owner of this place.”

The redhead frowned in confusion, looking up to meet a pair of bright green eyes.

“Oh, you must be the firefighter,” she said with a smile, her expression lightening.

“How did you know?” Dean asked, a little surprised.

“A hunch.” She smiled again and knocked on the door behind the counter. “Hey, boss, the hot firefighter is here.”

Damn Charlie.

Dean’s gaze followed the sound of the door opening, his eyes falling on you as you emerged from the kitchen. Your ponytail was neatly in place, your skin glowing, and your perfect lips tinted in a soft pink.

“Hey, Captain,” you greeted, your smile warm.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes twinkling.

“Dean it is.” You took two large pastry boxes and set them down on the counter with a graceful motion. “I pre-selected some pies for you, but feel free to pick anything else you like from the display.” You gestured toward the desserts on the display refrigerator.

“You sure about this?” Dean raised an eyebrow, eyeing the boxes. “Sweetheart, this is a lot of food. You’re losing money.”

“It’s okay, really,” you said with a reassuring smile.

“You sure?” he pressed, clearly not convinced.

You nodded. “And it's not entirely free. It's for the small price of saving my life.”

“But that’s my job.” He chuckled. “Tell you what,” he added, suddenly more serious. “I’ll take all of this if you agree to go on a date with me tomorrow night.”

You flashed him a bright, teasing smile. “You have yourself a deal.”

“Amazing.” Dean lifted the pastry boxes effortlessly. As he looked around, he noticed a box of bakery business cards sitting on the counter. “Is this your number?” he asked, pointing to the cards.

You shook your head. “It’s the bakery’s number, you call there if you want a three-floor cake for your quinceañera.” you said, reaching under the counter for your card. You shoved Charlie out of the way with a playful shove and handed it to Dean. “This one’s mine.”

“I’ll make sure to call you,” he said with a wink.

“You better,” you replied with a sly smile

“Bye, redhead.”

Charlie looked at you with a big smile on her face. “Look at you, all lit up like a Christmas tree.”

——

Jo sat in the common room, watching Sam arrive alone. She raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Hey, Sam!" she greeted. "Did you come in alone?" In all her years at the firehouse, she'd never seen the brothers show up separately.

"Oh, yeah. Dean wanted to stop by the bakery before shift, and I had some errands to run here." Sam explained.

"He went to the bakery and left you behind?" Jo’s tone was more indignant than she intended.

"Well, it's not like that. I do have my own car." Sam tried to clarify, but Jo wasn’t listening. She was too focused on Dean’s absence.

"Amazing. All that just to chase the baker’s skirt?" Sam blinked in surprise.

"Uh, no. I actually think it’s more than that," Sam replied, shifting uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" Jo asked, leaning in, skeptical.

"I just think he’s ready to date again after the Amara thing." Sam said quietly.

That left Jo momentarily speechless. But before she could react, Dean walked into the firehouse, holding a box of your baked goods. Behind him, a few of the firefighters eagerly followed, eyeing the treats.

"Unbelievable. All this for a dozen of overpriced cookies?" Jo muttered.

"Oh, they’re not overpriced," Dean said with a grin. "And totally worth it. You should try one."

Jo shook her head, refusing the offer.

Dean smirked at Sam while holding up a card. "And guess who has a date tomorrow?"

Jo sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned and headed towards the locker room.

"What’s her deal?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

Sam just shrugged.

A sudden emergency interrupted the brothers' conversation, forcing Dean to leave everything on the kitchen table, your personal card included, resting there on top of the pastry boxes.

“Don’t touch my pie!” he shouted, rushing toward the truck.

In the chaos, as firefighters scrambled to manage the scene, your card was knocked to the floor and landed near Jo’s ankle boots.

She looked down at it, her mind racing. For a moment, she considered picking it up, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, she nudged it away with her foot, pushing it down the kitchen aisle. No one would notice, and no one would be hurt by it. Dean would have more time to heal, away from any distractions, and you wouldn’t become just another notch in his belt.

It wasn’t that she hated you, but seeing that card made something twist uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t blind to what was happening between you and Dean, but she wasn’t about to let him fall for someone like you, not when he needed space, not when he still had so much to work through. But that moment wasn’t just about protecting Dean’s heart, no, it was about protecting her own, too.

She quickly washed away any sign of guilt on her face and followed everyone to the trucks.

——

"Where the hell is it?" Dean was frantically tossing items around the kitchen.

"Oh, God, Dean!" Bobby's voice cut through the chaos. "What are you doing? Look at this place."

"I left it here, and now it's gone."

"Food doesn't last long around here, son."

"No, not the food, the number. Her number." Bobby raised an eyebrow in confusion. "She gave it to me, and now it has disappeared. I haven't called her yet, and she's gonna think I’m just another player."

"But you kinda are," Bobby said.

It was true. Since the whole Amara thing, Dean had been... well, a little too generous with his attention to women, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his way. But this was different. Bobby had never seen Dean like this before.

"Not the point, Bobby." Dean sighed, clearly frustrated.

Bobby, looking a little too pleased with himself, placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Let me tell you what, son. Your truck’s almost out of gas. Why don’t you and the boys take it to the station, and fill the tank? And hey, make sure you take the street that passes near the bakery, just to, you know, say hello."

Dean’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face as he grabbed his jacket.

"You’re a genius, Chief."

Dean quickly gathered the crew and jumped into his truck, headed straight for you. Bobby stood watching him go, a satisfied smile on his face. He glanced at the pie Dean had been saving for himself, shrugged, and cut himself a piece before heading to his office. After all, he was alone. No one would ever know.

——

“Uh, Boss?” Charlie’s voice floated in as she gently knocked on the kitchen door.

“Yes, Charlie?” You didn’t look up, still focused on decorating your cupcakes.

“Remember that hot firefighter?” she asked, peeking in.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop piping icing. “Yeah?”

“I think you might want to go outside,” she said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Confused, you looked up from your work. “What? Why?”

Donna appeared beside Charlie, quickly swiping the pastry bag from your hands. “I’ll finish these for you. Go on.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine.” You stood up, but Charlie stopped you.

“Let me fix this.” She patted your head, brushing away what was probably powdered sugar. “Go.”

Still confused, you walked toward the door, but as soon as you saw the red glow outside, everything clicked. Your glass door was tinted red from the reflection of a massive fire truck parked in front of your shop.

And then you saw him.

Dean.

He was wearing his navy firefighter jacket, the one with the logo of his station on the sleeve. He looked unreal.

You opened the door, trying to act casual, though your heart was racing. You took a quick glance at the fire truck again, then back to him.

“Captain?” you chuckled, your voice betraying a touch of nervousness. “Everything okay?”

Dean took a step forward, glancing around before entering your shop. “Sorry about blocking your driveway, Sweetheart. I just... didn’t want you to think I’m some player for not texting you.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but nodded for him to continue. You had noticed his lack of texting, but with the craziness of the shop, you hadn’t had time to think about it.

“I lost your number,” he said, a genuine tone of sorrow in his voice.

You smirked and held out your hand. “Your phone, Captain.”

He pulled out his cell and handed it to you without hesitation.

“No password?” you teased, glancing at him while you added your number.

“Got nothing to hide, especially not from you, sweetheart,” he said with a playful grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

“Date’s still on for tomorrow. I’ll text you the details.”

“Just don’t lose the phone,” you shot back, your lips curling into a smile.

He grinned. “Oh, that’s funny, sweetheart.” Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and brushed a kiss on your cheek. “See you then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you called after him, a flutter in your chest as you watched him walk away.

“Marry him.” Donna said behind you, you just rolled your eyes and laughed.

Dean got inside the truck and looked at his brother with a big smile on his face.

“What?”

“Oh, you’re going to fall so hard.”

“Is that a threat, Sammy?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Whatever lover boy.”

——

You paced back and forth in your living room, anxiety bubbling up as you glanced at the clock. You’d already changed outfits four times, and you still weren’t sure if you’d chosen the right one.

Donna and Charlie had decided to stay past their shifts to help, but you were still second-guessing yourself.

“I’m sure he’d like you even if you were wearing a potato sack,” Donna said, her voice light as she sipped her wine.

“You think?” you asked, eyeing yourself in the mirror.

“Of course. Girl, he’s smitten,” Donna replied, her confidence unwavering.

You traced the hem of your red dress, frowning as you considered her words. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the red dress you’d finally settled on. It hugged you in all the right places.

“Hey, the bakery’s closed,” Charlie said as she entered, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw you. “Oh, he’s going to lose his mind. You look very hot.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“I’m glad we stuck with this one after the hundred dresses you tried on.” Charlie’s teasing tone made you roll your eyes.

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed. You checked the screen, it was Dean. He’d arrived.

Donna and Charlie wasted no time, ushering you toward the door before you could glance at yourself in the mirror one more time.

You stepped outside, and there he was leaning casually against his Impala, a bouquet of flowers in hand. The sight of him stopped you in your tracks. His head turned at the sound of the door, and his breath visibly caught the second he saw you.

Dean’s gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, his green eyes lingering as if he were memorizing every inch of you. He straightened up, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” he said, his voice deeper than usual. “You look…wow.”

Heat bloomed in your chest as you walked toward him. “Hi, Dean. These are beautiful.”

“They’re nothing compared to you,” he said softly, handing you the bouquet without breaking eye contact.

“Let me get them in water so we can get going.” You turned to head back inside, but before you could, Charlie popped her head out the door.

“I’ve got it,” she said, grabbing the bouquet and shooing you back outside. You didn’t even notice she followed you downstairs.

Dean opened the car door for you, His hand brushed your back lightly as you slid inside, the small touch sending a spark through you. As you slid into the passenger seat, you smiled at the familiar scent of leather of his car apparently named Baby.

Even at the restaurant, he was attentive, pulling out your chair for you to sit on.

“Tell me about you,” he said, leaning forward. “I want to know everything.”

You smiled, your nerves starting to ease. “Well, I inherited my bakery from my grandparents. It’s been my passion since I was little. My parents moved away, so it’s just me keeping the place running.”

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. There was something in the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

His expression softened. “That’s impressive. Takes guts to keep something like that alive.” he said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch.

“What about you?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to him.

“When I was four, my family was in a fire,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, you instinctively reached out, placing your hand on his. He dropped his gaze to where your fingers touched, his lips curving into a small smile.

Dean’s expression softened as he took a deep breath. “When I was four, my family was in a fire. I’ve admired firefighters ever since and followed them around. That’s how I met Bobby, our chief. He took me under his wing and helped me get started as a Junior firefighter. And now years later, I’m the Captain.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re really determined, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “Guess I am. But when I’m not on shift, I work on cars. Baby keeps me busy, and I fix up my friends' cars too. If I wasn’t a firefighter, I’d probably be a mechanic.”

“Funny. If I wasn’t a baker, I’d have been a ballerina,” you said, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, really? I think you should still do it. You’d look amazing in a tutu.”

The evening unfolded with laughter, easy conversation, and lingering glances. There was undeniable chemistry between you two, sparks flying every time his hand brushed yours, every time you caught his smile.

When dinner ended, By the time he walked you to your door, the tension between you was palpable.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said, smiling up at him. “But next time... I think we should go for a burger.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So, the rumors are true.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What rumors?”

“That you’re going to be my downfall.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve been dying to do something all night.”

Your breath caught as he tilted your chin up, his lips hovering just a whisper away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice rough and quiet like he was holding back everything he felt.

Your heart thundered in your chest, and all you could manage was a soft, “Please.”

He leaned in slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away but when his lips finally touched yours, the world seemed to stop. His kiss was soft at first, a hesitant brush of warmth that sent a rush of heat through your entire body.

But when you tilted your head, leaning into him, he deepened the kiss with a quiet groan. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, while his other hand cupped your face as if you were something fragile.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, every motion speaking of the longing he’d been holding back all night. He kissed you like you were the only thing he wanted in the world, savoring your lips every second.

The faint taste of whiskey lingered on his lips, mingling with the intoxicating scent of his cologne. The combination overwhelmed your senses, making you dizzy with how right it all felt.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek as if he was reluctant to let go.

“You’re even more dangerous than I thought,” he said, his lips brushing yours again in the faintest tease of a kiss.

“Dean,” you murmured, laughing softly, “you’d better not be married.”

The sudden tension in his body was subtle but undeniable. Something flickered in his eyes, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“Just joking,” you added quickly, brushing it off.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I know.” His hand trailing down to his side as if it pained him to stop touching you.

Still, before he left, he stole one last kiss, this one softer, a lingering moment that left you breathless all over again.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and full of affection.

“You’ll see me tomorrow, Captain.”

Tags: @aylacavebear @deans-baby-momma @ladysparkles78 @spxideyver @lunaleah @muhahaha303

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

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born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is.

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back. He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #netflix daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock my beloved #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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ashstfu · 5 months ago

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hi! do u have any recommendations for green+earthy or light floral perfumes that dont smell like chemicals? thx <3

hey i’m not too big on earthy/floral fragrances, so apologies if this list doesn’t fully hit the mark. hope it still gives you some good options! rest assured, none of these have a synthetic smell <3

oaire by caswell massey — a green fragrance with a classic, timeless feel.

erémia by aesop — light and herbaceous with yuzu and earthy notes

oh mon dieu! by l’objet — floral with a vintage touch, yet still light and elegant.

dirty grass by heretic parfums — an earthy blend of vetiver and hemp

le solstice by moncler — a very cool and airy floral that feels so refreshing.

byredo inflorescence — airy and fresh, captures the essence of a blooming garden.

le labo thé noir 29 — a unique twist on light florals with fig, bay leaf, and black tea notes

rhubarb by perfumer H — tart yet delicate rhubarb with a soft, green floral base. inspired by the vegetable patch in the perfumer’s grandmother’s garden!!

diptyque philosykos — fig leaves & wood for a lush, natural vibe

queens & monsters by henry rose — a soft, floral scent with a touch of musk

replica ‘from the garden’ — evokes the feeling of a tranquil garden in bloom.

french defense by mind games — a refined, almost powdery floral.

hermès un jardin sur le nil — fresh and earthy with hints of green mango & lotus

#ask

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doueverwonder · 6 months ago

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Gov making the regions hang out together, and when it's the Midwest and Northeast's turns he thinks he's sending the Midwest to the slaughter because 'they're all too nice for their own good,' and instead the Northeast are the ones that came out traumatized.

"Do you know what a Midwest Goodbye is Gov? Five hours of torture after saying we were leaving, we barely made it out with our lives. we lost New Jersey, but got some rhubarb stalks and a cool-whip container of tuna casserole so bad it should be considered a biohazard so it was actually a fair trade for Jersey but--"

#wttt #welcome to the table

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

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perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

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price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol