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red-archivist · 4 months ago

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TMAGP 23 SPOILERS!

i heard those lines and was immediately inspired to make something sad lol

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.

It’s not enough to just stop, the shakes and the headaches nip at him constantly, and he reluctantly concludes that bad habits need to replaced by better ones.

That’s where the cycling comes in, to start with.

It’s exercise, it’s eco-friendly, and he can pretend he is literally leaving his cravings behind him as he pushes hard on the pedals.

He does his homework first, researching what is the best option for city cycling, for his budget, for someone that hasn’t ridden a bike since they were nine.

He plots out his paths to the office, the shops, and the nearest puncture repair centre, just in case. He even makes a spreadsheet to keep track of them.

He is sure Tim would poke fun at him for it, if they were still talking, but the organisation keeps his twitching fingers busy and his roaming mind away from the half-finished box of cigarettes in his desk drawer that he promises he will throw away any day now.

What all that planning fails to account for, as soon as he actually gets onto the road, is the rest of the world moving around him.

Every stereotype he has heard about antagonistic drivers is proven ten-fold as he dodges swerving cars and gets sworn at for whizzing past stalled traffic. He soon learns to sneer through tinted windows.

Pedestrians are almost worse. They seem blind to him, stepping out directly in front of his wheels and making him wobble as he overcorrects. As if a bike can’t still do some damage if he were to actually hit someone. Once, he clips the edge of a pram and stops in the street to shout some sense into the careless father pushing it.

He bitches openly about this during his lunches and his coworkers only roll their eyes at him sometimes.

The cycling becomes a bit of running joke in the office when they spot him coming in with his bike shorts and change of outfit, but he ignores them. The shorts are practical. For some reason, telling them that only makes them laugh harder.

He takes the fastest route into the office and a scenic one home. It winds through quiet well-off estates, before opening out to one of the less well-known urban parks. It’s calming, almost meditative, to roll through the cool shade the cluttered trees offer after another meaningless day of data entry.

In those times, he doesn’t think of his empty flat or his dead-end job, he forgets his sniggering coworkers and his ever-dwindling contact list. It’s just him and the wind.

The only thing that could make those moments better, he admits to himself, is a smoke.

The problem with this particular path is how hard it is to see around corners in the park. There is some national re-wilding initiative in the works and the foliage looms over the roads in a way that block his line of sight.

He checks every turn, even though it is rare to encounter a car in this area. Better safe than sorry.

The night he dies is warm but overcast.

He follows his usual route and cranes his neck to see around the overgrown corner he is approaching. A drooping branch grazes his head and something falls from the tree onto his neck.

It could be a leaf, or a twig, or a ladybird, but Jon feels the whisper-touch of something small at his throat and his only thought is: spider.

He has been afraid of them since he was very young and terrified instinct immediately beats any reason. One hand flies up from the handlebars to bat away at his collar. He swerves. Fear makes him pedal faster and the bike speeds onto the junction.

He is so scared of the potential at his throat that he never even sees the delivery truck.

The bike is sent flying from the impact, Jon falls under the wheels.

The driver, to his credit, calls emergency services immediately, distraught.

The ambulance is there within five minutes, but they needn’t have bothered. Jon is declared dead at the scene with a broken neck.

What few friends he has left comfort each other with that fact.

At least it was quick.

Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.

This is a good thing, Martin reminds himself, more than once. It is Good that his mother is alive.

It doesn’t matter that the nurses need to attend to her around-the-clock now. It doesn’t matter that the care home bills have skyrocketed. He is grateful that she is still with him.

He starts looking for a third job. The admin work during the day and the shelf-stocking at night barely covered his previous bills. He’ll have to look for some flexible positions to cram into his schedule.

In the meantime, he cuts back. Eats cheaply, eats less. Cancels overdue check-ups and doesn’t touch the heating.

His days are a current of constant worry, occasionally breached by a wave of panic that he tries to quell by hiding in the office bathroom and digging his nails into his legs.

Panic won’t pay the rent or keep the lights on or remember to call Mum every Sunday. He smothers it deep in his chest and ignores the spasm of pain he gets whenever he forces it down.

He has been getting those more often; sharp, sudden chest pains, numb fingers, dizzy spells, an aching back, shortness of breath.

He had been going to ask the doctor about it all before he cancelled the appointment but. Well. Needs must.

He has his first heart attack on the evening shift.

Pulling a box of washing up tablets from the top shelf in Aisle 4 causes such a rush of agony in his chest that he dares to ask the manager to take his 15-minute break early.

He doesn’t make it to the back room before he collapses.

In the hospital, after he wakes, the doctors ask if there is a family history of heart problems.

If he didn’t feel so weak he would laugh.

He has more in common with his mother then he likes to admit. Of course they share a bad heart.

Or maybe it came from his father. Mum always said he was heartless. Maybe there’s a hole where Dad’s DNA should be.

When the medical team leaves him to rest, all he can think is how much this will cost him.

The NHS is no charity no matter what their marketing says, not to mention how much money he will lose by recovering. He can’t afford six weeks of not working. His first job doesn’t have that much sick leave and his second doesn’t have any.

He runs the numbers in his head, tries to find what else he can hack out of his life to keep his head above water. Occasionally his thoughts swerve, self-recriminating and barbed. He is so stupid for letting this happen at all.

It’s all his fault.

Mum is going to be so angry with him.

His heart pulses in keen pain, bitter and broken.

Somehow, he drifts off, counting figures instead of sheep.

The second heart attack kills him in his sleep.

They die on the same day, at nearly the same time (Jon rushes ahead, always too eager, Martin follows inevitably after him).

Their death certificates are filed away alphabetically by a bored clerk in the dusty management system of the General Register Office.

Twenty years later, Samama Khalid exhumes them and examines them, with more curiosity than sense, only to be disappointed by the mundanity of their ends.

He returns them together, heedless of any organisation.

Jon and Martin meet, in the quiet and the dark.

The filing cabinet is a shared headstone, their names rest side-by-side.

Also on AO3

#the magnus protocol #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 23 #tmagp #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #is a ship a ship if its posthumous? im saying yes #tmagp fanfic #red-archivist scribbles

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sugurizz · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ── Bby Boo Joo is a M E N A C E but I know a lot of us noticed him being all soft and tender (like 1% of the time) but oh well, I can work with that 💪🏼. So here’s some of the ways Jaekyung expresses his…feelings? Ig. kinda his love language.. in a way 💕…

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐒𝐊.

Also thanks for the inspo and sorry ik this ask was sent long ago 🤧. U can call me Hana but I’ve been thinking about Yuna as a new alias…idk.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: established relationship, Physiotherapist F! Reader, shared house, implied power dynamics, hints at sex/ SEXUAL content.

Living in Jaekyung’s penthouse sure made life easier for both of you. It slowly aquainted you to each other, bodies and minds. You slowly got used to his mannerisms, little habits and his little pet-peeves. The sense of pride it gave you to feel like you knew him more than anybody else sure gave you a tiny ego boost. especially him desiring you whenever his body needs it…

♥︎──♥︎ He checks on you randomly. Casually pretending to walk by your room and just making sure you’re there. He does it almost whenever he’s home with you. Sometimes getting a bit sly with it so you don’t really notice him. But you slowly learned it was his way of checking up on you, making sure you’re around him -you know- just in case…

♥︎──♥︎ He hates you not being home, especially when he’s back from overtime training. Whenever he’s feeling stressed, uneasy or just in a sour mood, he’d rather you be around him or at least somewhere he knows.

He made it obvious the one day you were away til a late hour at night. He came home from his evening workout, didn’t find you there and instantly texted you.

‘I’m home. need you to check on my shoulder.’

♥︎──♥︎ He always complains about his feather-light sleep, but snoozes like a baby whenever you’re in his bed. The nights before his matches are surprisingly best for him. He gets the best sleeping quality after he pounds the juices out your poor pussy. He wakes up before you for sure, but his cute disheveled morning hairs are sure proof of a healthy healthy nap.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes it better when you make the food. His cocky ass always claims he’s fine making it himself but eats twice the amount whenever it’s you cooking his meals. He’d pretend he’s tired and not in the mood whenever he craves your cooking cause…his ass can’t simply ask for something lol. Yet he gets all giddy and blushy when his fav smoked eel dish is ready.

♥︎──♥︎ He hates to see you in any pain. Always saying it’s just for himself though…You know, just because he wants you always safe and ready to keep him in peak condition. and NOT because he actually cares or anything.

Yet why does he still gets annoyed at you getting the slightest scratch? He frowns when he notices you wearing band-aids, having a bruise or even some random shallow cuts on your hands and he’d instantly grab your arm, staring into your eyes and asking you how’d you get the injury.

♥︎──♥︎ He likes randomly noticing you…*ahem* underclothed. booty shorts definitely trigger his inner perv. He stares at your ass when you’re standing in the bathroom, doing your skincare freshly out of a quick nighty shower. So damn shameless when he stares. Almost undressing you with the raven eyes and thick lashes. So annoying…

You usually end up taking another shower that same night, only with his thick cum flowing down your thigh the second time :3

♥︎──♥︎ He can sense whenever you’re feeling down…IRONICALLY? Sounds like a joke with Jaekyung being the dick he is LOL but trust me on this one.

He almost has a sixth sense whenever you’re sad, scared, stressed out or just if something inconvenient happens to you in general. He’d never admit it -obviously- but it bugs him if he ever caught you teary-eyed. It gets him uneasy and you can tell when his mood sometimes matches yours..

Uhhh smells like love in here *insert Jaekyung stuffing his nose with toilet paper scraps*

♥︎──♥︎ He hates when you struggle to do something by yourself instead of asking him for help. (paying bills, dealing with packages, paperwork etc…) Says they’re just ‘bs problems’ and he can solve them for you much quicker and better than you could. He’d do it himself or even pays someone to do it instead.

Besides, he’s not kidding when he says he wants all your focus on him so he’d rather everything around you gets taken care of just so you can be there for him at all times.

♥︎──♥︎ He doesn’t mind your outside life but would definitely notice when you’re all cute and dolled-up for some reason.

It’s not only about the dolly looks to be fair. He’d bend you over the kitchen counter in your stained apron and fuck you dumb or suck your tits in your goofy pattern pjs on one of his long sleepless nights…

But the time he notices you spraying your cherry fragance in the bathroom, your perky breasts sticking shyly through your dress and a shiny jewel dangling from your ankle bracelet always gets him tight in his boxers.

He walks in with his glossy eyes, same naugthy grin you see when he’s in that mood..

‘Tomorrow’s my back check-up. Better not be late.’ He steps behind you, arms lazily crossed above his chest.

You nodded and made your way through the entrance, catching a honeyed voice behind you.

‘Hey Doc. I’ll drop you by'...

…His white McLaren got you there way ahead of time. so ahead that you ended up clawing at the door close to you, the little ankle bracelet jiggling over Jaekyung’s back and your shaky arms wrapped shut around his shoulders. Begging him to let you cum in fear of missing on your little night out...

#joo jaekyung smut #joo jaekyung x reader #joo jaekyung #jinx bl #jinx manhwa #jjk smut #jinx mingwa #jinx #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines

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pinksilkribbons · 3 months ago

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MAMA SAID: Yandere! Jason Voorhees x F! Reader

CW/TW: bullying, sort of stalking (?), ableism, kidnapping, canon divergence, death (not mentioned in detail at all)

i might make a part two if you guys want it idk. also the end is kinda rushed sorry lol. i love jason sm and i really tried to explore his character a bit here, specifically younger jason.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you met at camp.

This was your first time attending and you were pretty nervous. Your whole life you've always been a little shy around new people, and your mother decided it would be the perfect opportunity for you to make some new friends.

No matter how much you whined and begged she was dead set on you going. You even faked a fever, and she still wouldn't budge! And so, here you were: Hot, sweaty, and carrying an overpacked duffel bag.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who has been to camp crystal lake a few times now. Thanks to his past experiences he knows his way around pretty well. He also knows who to avoid and not mess with. Since a lot of people like to pick on him, he's kind of took it upon himself to be prepared for anything.

Thats why he makes sure to hide behind some trees, closely watching the entrance. It's important that he knows what to expect or, in this case, who to expect.

First comes in Mia and her twin brother Mikey. The two of them don't really mess with him much so there isn't much concern there. Next, Terri. Terri was pretty mean to him, but she never got physical. As long as he stayed quiet and out of her way things should run smoothly.

A few more campers who he isn't familiar with walk through. A sick feeling sets in his stomach. The kind that tells you something bad is going to happen. His mother warned him of this. They were expecting far more campers than usual this year...he wishes he could say it excited him.

To his dismay, the last few campers rush through. A terrible chill runs through his body at the sight of his bully. Or, well, bullies. There's a small group of kids who especially get a kick out of messing with him.

Last year they set up a "prank" in his cabin and poured an entire bucket of water over his head while he slept. When he started choking, they just ran off while giggling. If his mother didn't come to help him who knows what could've happened.

Among the group is a new person. A girl, actually. A pretty one at that. Jason zeroes in on the pretty girl as they all walk in together. The leader of the group, Alex, is walking much closer to the girl than anyone else.

Of course, she's probably his girlfriend. I mean, they're pretty young but he's seen a few people claim to be dating anyway. But he's noticed it's a different kind of dating compared to what the counselors do. Kind of weird.

Jason sometimes wishes he could have a girlfriend. Maybe even just a friend. He just wants someone to talk to. Someone to play with. Someone to look at him and not be disgusted or scared.

"Jason! I made your favorite!" His mom calls from a distance.

As weird as it may seem, Jason feels a connection to the girl already. If he worked up the courage, he'd like to speak with her...even if it's just once. He really wanted to stay and watch her some more, but he knew better than to worry his mama. So, he walks through the woods and makes his way towards the cafeteria.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who has been discreetly searching for you. Most campers are near the campfire making s'mores, but you're nowhere to be found. As risky as it is Jason makes a decision. Besides, there's a camp counselor not too far from here so he should be safe.

"Hey, Alex? Can I ask you s-something?"

The blonde swifty turns back and scowls at him. Jason already feels a sense of fear creeping up his neck. "What do you want, freak?"

With a deep breathe he continues. "Uhm...what happened to your friend? The...girl?" The last part comes out as if he's questioning if he saw correctly. If that girl was even real at all.

Alex's face seems to get even more annoyed by the second. He jumps up and hands his friend the pack of marshmallows he was holding. The bully glances around, clearly checking to see if any adults or counselors are within range. The two of them meet eyes and there's an unspoken agreement.

He won't do anything when a counselor is just over there.

A leaf crunches under his shoe as he moves closer. Jason wants to move back, every inch of his body is ushering him to get away, but his fear keeps his feet right where they are.

"Listen to me, mama's boy", his words come out venomously, "[Name] is my cousin and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from her." Tears surface near the end of Jason's eyes at the harsh tone. He feels ashamed for even crying anymore. It's happened so many times that he should be used to it by now.

Alex and his friends cackle loudly. Whatever they're saying he's sure it isn't nice. No matter, though. Jason already feels himself cheering up. He speeds up and swings open the cafeteria door, making his mother jump in surprise.

The boy can't help the wide grin taking over his face.

"Goodness, baby! Knock next time. I almost had a heart attack."

His mother's words don't even register in his mind. He may not know where the girl is, but he knows her name now. That's a win in his book!

Even her name is pretty.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who finally sees you again during lunch. A few of the newer campers were calling him names so he ran off with his sandwich in hand. He finally came to a stop once he was a little deeper in the woods, and there you were, sitting against a tree and drawing a sketch of the lake.

A blush rushed to his cheeks and he nervously ducked behind a nearby tree. Unfortunately, you'd heard him and jumped up rather quickly.

"Who's there?" You asked, eyes scanning for anyone nearby. He stayed quiet and hoped you'd just dismiss the sound.

"I'm serious, Alex. After that stunt you pulled last night you're lucky I didn't tell anyone." You seemed to pause, as if you were waiting for a response. "Hello...Alex? Is it you?"

Jason felt a bit bad when he seen you so scared. You held the sketch book to your chest tightly and your legs were trembling in fear. His mom taught him to always be honest and true so, maybe he should just come out. "Uhm. It isn't Alex..." He said, slowly peeking his head from around the tree.

"Oh."

The two of you stood there awkwardly taking in each other. To his surprise you didn't seem disgusting or scared. Just curious, if anything. He felt a little nervous being looked at so thoroughly. You hated him already, didn't you?

"Sorry about that. I'm [Name]. Jason, right?" You tucked the sketchbook under your arm and reached out with the other, offering him a shake. Jason's hand trembled against your own, yet still firmly shook all the while.

You hadn't spoken with him much, but he has quite the reputation at camp, so you've heard of him. No good things unfortunately. He didn't seem like a bad guy to you though. Just a different one.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you became friends with ever since that handshake. He introduced you to his mom and she was more than excited to learn her son made a friend.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you sneak into the cafeteria with at night to steal some sweet treats. The two of you haven't got caught once since the counselors are never doing their job anyway.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who you defend from bullies. Including your cousin Alex. Sometimes it ends with the both of you bleeding, but you don't care about that! Jason is your friend and you're not going to stand by and let him get bullied!

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who loves watching you draw. At night after scoring some cookies, the two of you sit near the lake and he watches you sketch. His favorite was a self-portrait you drew, and since he liked it so much, you signed it and let him keep it.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who can't find you at breakfast time. When he asked him mom she simply told him that she didn't know. So, he decided to go check on you. As he approaches the girls cabin a counselor stops him with a strict look on her face.

"Can I help you?" Jason fails to mask his look of annoyance. Since when did they start caring about the kids around here? "M-my friend [Name]. I couldn't find her at breakfast and wanted to make sure she's okay."

"Oh, her. Yeah, she's sick. For some reason they're making me watch the kid." Her emphasis on 'me' made it seem like it was an insult for her to have to watch [Name]. How stuck-up.

From this alone Jason could tell today would be a rough one.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who suddenly gets ambushed by Alex and several other campers when he walks back near the campfire. They rush towards him and begin pulling the white mask off his face, shouting insults all the while.

"I heard [Name] got sick! Bet he gave her the cooties!"

"Ew, look at his face! I can see why he wears that thing around."

"You're such a mama's boy. Too good to hang out with the rest of us, huh?"

A terrible feeling settles on his chest. He'd been bullied before, but so many people throwing insults at him all at once was a lot to handle. Too much to handle.

With newfound adrenaline Jason runs off, not even realizing that he's nearing the dock. All he can think about is getting away. He just wants it to stop. He hates himself. He hates his face, his personality, he hates all of it. A part of him wishes he was never born.

He just wants to be left alone!

The voices of the campers get louder. They're Approaching. They're getting closer. And suddenly, Jason is right back to that same day.

That day where he approached Alex and asked about [Name]. That same day he couldn't move and was just frozen with fear. He hated how he felt then. And he never wants to feel that way again.

He has to move! He has to do something!!

So... he jumps into the lake.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who misses you more than anything. He misses his mother too, of course, but she was still with him. In spirit at least.

"You should go find her, Jason", his mother tells him.

And He wants to. He wants to find you. He wants to hug you again. He wants to eat cookies with you again. He wants to sit by the trees and watch you draw again. He misses his old life. He misses you.

"So go find her and re-live that life."

If he leaves then who will watch over camp? Forget it. It would be selfish of him to leave their home unattended for his own desires. Anything could happen while he's gone! Besides, there's no telling how long it'll take him to find you.

The voice of his mother laughs a bit. "You're so sweet, my son. I will lead you to her. A quick trip. Here and back."

Jason was still hesitant to agree. But if mama said it'll be okay, then it should be okay. Right?

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who finds your apartment quicker than he expected. Judging by the boxes scattered throughout different rooms, he's assuming you've only just moved in.

He snoops around a bit out of curiosity. Can you blame him? It’s been years since you’ve seen each other. He finds a picture of you graduating high-school in the living room. He realizes then that he’s never met your parents.

Moving forward, he creaks open the door to your bedroom. In the corner he spots a canvas with a few strokes of paint on the surface. He isn’t sure what you were trying to paint, but it makes him happy to know you’re still into art just as much as back then.

Luckily you live alone. He was a little worried about having to kill someone in order to bring you back with him. He didn't want to ruin your clothes with blood or anything like that!

The second he sees your sleeping face he feels a warm feeling hug his heart. It had been too long. You lost all that baby fat and now had a mature, even more beautiful face. Not that he expected any different. You were always so gorgeous to him.

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who grabs you out of bed and throws you against his shoulder. You wake up pretty quickly and start kicking and squirming as soon as you register what’s going on. Who the hell even is this?!

“Hey! L-let me go!!” You start banging your fists against his back but it doesn’t even seem to affect him. He just keeps walking and walking, not speaking a single word the entire time.

Eventually, you begin sobbing. Your throat goes dry from how much you’ve been screaming. It is pretty late, but how come no one is coming to save you? Why can’t anyone hear you?

The cold air is eating at your legs since you slept in a cami top and some shorts. Your captor still has yet to speak. He also has a super tight grip. It would definitely bruise. If you even make it out of this alive.

“Please…” You beg, slowly losing hope. There are no street lights, cars, houses…nothing. He was taking you to a secluded area to do who knows what to you. This was the end. This was how you’d die.

After a few more minutes the man grunts and swings open a door. It’s pitch black outside so you aren’t exactly sure where you’re at. “Please, just let me go.”

He stays silent and lays you down on a bed surprisingly gently. Before you can even blink he’s binding your hands against the headboard with some rope. His hands move fast to make sure you have no chances of running away.

You feel more tears fall down your cheeks. How could this happen to you? Why was this happening to you?

Yandere! Jason Voorhees who feels bad for tying your hands up. He didn’t miss the way you winced in pain. Mama said it would be necessary until you get used to living here though.

When she says it’s time, he’ll allow you to take them off.

“She’s so beautiful, Jason. It’s only a matter of time until she gets comfortable with you again. Until then, she’ll have to stay like this. . .”

He hates this. Jason just wants to untie you and hug you like old times! He hates seeing you so sad, so scared. He feels bad for even doing this in the first place.

He trusts his mama, though. So for now, he’ll stay patient and wait for you to come around.

Just like mama said.

#yandere #stalker yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #jason voorhees #slashers #yandere: jason voorhees #friday the 13th #yandere jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhes x reader #yandere slasher #slasher x reader #silkwritealot

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waywardxrhea · 2 months ago

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Better Late Than Never - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Detective!reader

Your teamwork with Daredevil to take down a dangerous gun trafficking gang leads to your life being on the line more than once.

word count: 6,280

content: hurt/comfort, two idiots in love, canon typical violence, guns, blood, car violence, forced sedative use, binds and gags (not the fun kind lol), beating as an interrogation tactic, knife use

a/n: this was done for an anon request! i was given lots of free reign with this one so this is what i came up with for the request of Reader getting captured and Matt/Daredevil has to attempt to rescue!

ps idk why, but i pictured Tom Ellis as the face and voice claim of the gang leader? not the intention, but it just kinda happened lol picture whoever you would like!

“Thank you for your time, and again, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” you said to the young woman you had arrested the week prior as she walked out of the precinct, shooting you a dirty look on her way through the door.

You had found her in possession of a weapon that was unregistered and untraceable, so you took her in and had the gun run against the database to confirm your suspicions about the weapon. Captain Mahoney had recently assigned you to work on a case of an organized crime gang who were trafficking guns, so you were on high alert for any weapons that matched their MO. Turned out your hunch was right and the gun matched up with the weapon used in a murder a few weeks prior to her arrest. The detectives on the case were having trouble tracking down who the killer was, so when the gun’s tool marks matched up exactly, everyone was happy to have someone in custody for the crime.

The woman never once swayed from her story of innocence though, so naturally, she lawyered up. Her innocence was proven just hours before by a pair of talented attorneys from the law offices of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. You looked up to see one of her lawyers coming toward you with a smug look on his face as he approached, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his cane not unfamiliar to you at this point. “I guess you can’t be right all the time, Detective,” Matt Murdock said to you as he came to a halt mere feet from you.

You looked out at the bustling New York sidewalk where the woman had been moments before, and told him, “I’m just glad she didn’t go away for something she didn’t do. She ended up having a solid alibi and we found grainy footage of some thug slipping the gun into her purse the night I arrested her. I don’t think we would have known to look if it wasn’t for you and Foggy.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. There was a moment of silence before Matt spoke again, telling you, “Nice job, by the way, taking down that serial mugger last week. The streets already feel safer because of you.”

“Oh, you heard about that?” you asked curiously. Truthfully, it had been such a cut and dry case, you never followed up on what happened after the arrest.

“Yeah, when he hired us as his lawyers. Obviously, he was guilty, so we got him to take a deal,” Matt replied with a quiet chuckle. You watched as an almost cocky smirk curled up one side of his lips before he added quietly, “He said you were a little rough with the handcuffs?”

You leaned casually onto the wall beside you, crossing your arms loosely with a cheeky smile plastering your lips as you asked, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you, Murdock?”

Before he could respond, an older officer who was wandering past barked out your last name and said, “Hey! What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy? He’s the reason so many of my arrests walk, you know!”

“Are you encouraging her not to listen to serious concerns from a constituent in her jurisdiction? I was just telling her how safe I feel now that she's on the case and taking serial criminals off our streets,” Matt said to him, his quick defense of you and the lawyer-speak making your heart flutter in your chest. He straightened his tie with his free hand not holding his cane and added, “Maybe if your arrests would actually hold up in court, they wouldn’t walk.”

The other officer stalked off, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out, but you guessed that Matt could judging by the way his jaw was working in frustration. Wanting to take his attention away from the stressor, you quietly cleared your throat and told him, “You look really nice today, by the way. The tie really flatters you.”

His gaze finally tore away from the man when you said this and the muscles in his jaw relaxed, a smile returning to his features as he said, “Well, I’m glad it isn’t horribly obscene.”

“You could wear the gaudiest of hats and a neon orange tie and you’d still look amazing, Counselor,” you told him, a playfulness in your tone as a smile teased your lips.

Matt leaned in toward you slightly, his voice lowered and almost with a sultry quality to it as he asked, “Are you flirting with me, Detective?”

The gesture and his proximity made your heart start pounding in your chest, the sound reverberating loudly in your ears as your eyes quickly darted down to his lips before focusing back on his eyes behind his red lenses. Your voice sounded foreign in your own ears as you breathlessly said, “And if I-”

“Okay you two! No more puppy eyes at each other! You’re cut off for the day!” came Foggy Nelson’s voice as he approached with Captain Mahoney beside him. Both you and Matt straightened up in response to his interruption, the space between you growing once more to one of more professional standards as the two men approached.

Captain Mahoney playfully tsked at the pair of you before telling Matt, “Come on, Murdock! I need her sharp for the case we’re working on! I can’t have her daydreaming about you the whole time!”

“I don’t daydream…” you mumbled, averting your gaze to the ground in the hopes that the furious blush now taking over your cheeks would be less obvious that way.

“And I don’t need you to start now,” Captain Mahoney said, a quiet chuckle leaving his chest. You glanced up to see him giving Foggy a pointed look before telling him and Matt, “Now, you two get out of my precinct! And don’t come back unless you have to!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back with cigars for your mom soon!” Foggy said as he and Matt turned to leave the building.

“Oh, no you won’t!” Captain Mahoney shouted back.

“They totally will,” you said with a quiet laugh as you watched them disappear into the bustling crowd on the sidewalk.

Before you could return to your desk, the Captain’s voice caught your attention as he asked, “When are the two of you gonna finally go on a date?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you told him, shocked that he was discussing this with you.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he said, not even trying to hide his smirk.

Wanting the conversation to be off of your painfully obvious crush on Matt, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you get a team together to head to the potential drop site with me tonight?”

“Yeah. It’ll be you, Stewart, Greene, and Campos,” he replied, relenting on his teasing, at least for now. “I had to make it a small team so you won’t be so obvious. You’ll go in plain clothes with bulletproof vests underneath. The four of you will have body cameras on at all times and I’ll be nearby in a van watching the feed with backup in case you need it.”

“Sounds good, do the others know yet?”

“No, I was just about to find you all,” he said. “Meet me in my office in ten and we’ll discuss the full plan.”

That night once the sun had set and things were settling down as much as they could in New York City, you and your team of officers were making your way to the site where you were told the latest shipment of illegal guns was coming in. Dressed in plainclothes, the four of you ambled toward the site, Greene’s arm slung around your shoulders as she pretended to drunkenly stumble down the sidewalk while you brought a water bottle in a brown paper sack to your lips and took a long drink before pulling a face as if the contents tasted like cheap liquor on your tongue. Campos and Stewart flanked the two of you on either side, both of them also pretending to be unsteady on their feet as the four of you made your way toward the docks.

Once the four of you got to a mostly hidden spot near where the shipment was supposed to be delivered, the act was dropped and you all crouched silently as you stared at the dock. The boat was scheduled to arrive in the next thirty minutes. As the time got closer, Campos leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“This is where my source told me they would be,” you told him.

Stewart, a slightly older officer, scoffed quietly and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Daredevil? Look, I know that after what happened with Fisk, Mahoney trusts him, but me personally? I think-”

“You should really listen to the detective in charge,” came the gravelly voice of the man in question as he perched on the structure across from the four of you. “Ghallagar got spooked since you’ve been onto his trail, so he moved the shipment a few docks down. If you hurry, you’ll be able to make it before the sale’s done.”

“And what’re you gonna do, huh?” Steward sneered.

“Let New York’s Finest do their work,” Daredevil replied. “All I came here to do is make sure you can do your job.”

“Thank you, Daredevil,” you told the man in red graciously. He simply nodded before silently turning and making his way in the opposite direction. “Well, you heard the man, let’s go!” you told the others before gesturing for them to start getting up and heading in the direction of the new stakeout location. Before you could head off though, you spoke aloud so Captain Mahoney could hear, telling him, “The shipment’s being dropped off a few docks down. We’re heading there now. Control van can stay in place, it shouldn’t be too far from the original location.”

“Control van staying put, copy,” came the captain’s voice. “If you need backup just call.”

“Will do,” you said before creeping your way to the front of the small pack. You had your service weapon drawn and pointed to the ground, but it was ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

When the four of you arrived, the van for transport had just pulled up and you saw three men get out, heading over to meet with three more emerging from a small boat anchored at the dock. They were all armed to the teeth. It was clear that Ghallagar was not messing around. Before the guns could exchange hands, you motioned your crew forward. Staying slightly ahead of them, but fanned out, you raised your weapon and shouted firmly, “NYPD! Put the weapons down! Now!”

“Shit, we gotta go!” you heard one of the men from the boat crew shout before turning tail and running back to get the boat started.

“Stop running! Put your hands where I can see them!” you shouted, firmer yet, as the four of you slowly creeped toward the men.

“Get the guns! Now! We’ll hold ‘em off!” one of the gang men roared while gesturing for the shippers to grab their boxes.

“Weapons down!” you warned.

“I don’t think so!” the man in charge of the street crew snarled before opening fire.

“Get to safety! I’ll provide cover!” you shouted at the other officers who quickly obeyed your command and hid behind shipping containers. In case Captain Mahoney hadn’t heard the gunfire, you shouted, ”Shots fired! I repeat, shots fired!” You heard more gunshots firing off from your side and watched as one man from the boat who was still on the dock got shot, a crimson spray of blood misting the air as the bullet made contact.

Before you could make a move to back up and into an area of cover of your own, a rapid spray of bullets came flying toward you! You barely registered it as a second man from the street crew who had taken the heavy artillery weapon out of the van before the wind was knocked out of you completely and you were knocked onto your back. As you lay on the ground struggling to breathe due to the impact of so many bullets on your kevlar vest, you saw a blur of red dash past you and toward the dock.

You barely registered the shouts of, “Officer down! Officer down!” from Greene as your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, but rather than pushing you up like it normally would, it froze you to the ground.

When you were finally able to turn your head to see what was going on because you could no longer rely on your hearing, you saw the red-clad figure of Daredevil standing over a bloodied man who had crumpled to the ground. You saw his shoulders moving up and down as his chest heaved with the effort of the fight, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood menacingly over the body. His head jerked up as the van peeled away from the dock without their fallen man and the boat zoomed away into the water.

Closing your eyes, you breathed a sigh of relief to know the fire fight was over. “Take care of him,” you heard Daredevil’s voice bark to the other officers. It sounded like he was getting closer to you. You attempted to take a deep breath, but groaned in pain as you did, earning a concerned, “What hurts?” from Daredevil as he came to crouch beside you on the cold ground.

“Ribs. Stomach. Bullets to kevlar,” you managed to get out between shallow breaths, squeezing your eyes shut as more pain burst forward with every word.

“I’ve got-” Daredevil started to say, but stopped abruptly. When he did, your tightly closed eyes were suddenly engulfed by light before more excruciating pain radiated throughout your body as you were lifted up and into Daredevil’s arms. As you moved through the air with your eyes snapped shut, you felt Daredevil nearly lose his balance as a blast of air jostled him. Opening your eyes for a brief moment, you saw the gang’s van flying past you, missing the pair of you by mere inches!

You came to a crashing halt right into his armored chest with a cry of pain a few moments later, your knees buckling under the weight of your body and the pain. “I’m right here, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, pulling you gently back up into his chest, his gloved hand supporting the back of your neck as he did.

Through the ringing in your ears, you barely heard your name being called out as officer Greene and Captain Mahoney made their way over to you and the masked man. “Are you okay?!” Greene asked exasperatedly. “Those guys are maniacs! Santos barely got out of the way before he got hit!”

“I’ll-” you tried before groaning in pain once again.

“Greene, make sure that bus is on the way and get an ETA, I can handle this,” Mahoney told her before you felt another set of hands on you to give support as you were peeled away from Daredevil’s chest. “I can’t believe they tried to hit you!” he grumbled. When you were able to open your eyes for a few moments you saw the deep scowl on his face as he shook his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out through the cotton in your ears as your heart continued to pound relentlessly.

It felt like mere moments before you were being put onto the gurney and being stabilized by the EMTs as you guarded your midsection while they worked. Glancing over, you noticed that since you were out of his arms, Daredevil was about to leave. Not wanting him to go without an acknowledgement of being the reason you were still alive, you managed to get out a weak, “Thank you. For saving me.” In response, he offered you a nod before sprinting off, leaving you to be taken to Metro General to be checked over.

A few hours and exams later, you were released by the doctors at the hospital, being cleared of any breaks or concussion. You were simply sent home with massive bruising and told to take it easy the next few days with some pain killers. And although you protested, Captain Mahoney benched you for the next few days, telling you to stay home and heal up before returning for desk duty at the end of the week.

It was understandable, being told that you would come back for desk duty after what happened, though. You were shot at by a heavy weapon and almost mowed down by a van, for Pete’s sake! You cheated death. Twice! But it still felt like a punishment. Riding the desk hadn’t ever been your style, and you hated to start now…

Reaching over to the nightstand near your bed in your apartment, you felt around for the bottle of Advil that had become your best friend the past couple of days. When you finally made contact with it, you opened the lid and turned the bottle in order to drop a couple pills into your hand, but nothing came out. Groaning in pain and frustration, you realized that you were out and hadn’t bought any before coming home after the hospital visit… Shit. You would have to go to the bodega down the street and get a new bottle.

Getting dressed was a task, and it took you a long time to get your sweats and t-shirt on in order to go to the shop. You didn’t even bother with sneakers, slipping into a pair of slides sitting by the door as you grabbed your purse off the hook and began making your way out of your apartment building. The walk was slow going and painful, the constant bustle of people around you on the sidewalk not helping as they shoved past you, your tender ribs and bruised abdomen taking hits that had you wanting to scream.

The bodega thankfully had the medicine you were seeking. After paying for it and a bottle of water, you were taking the pills as you left the store, not wanting to wait a second longer for the pain relief you desperately sought. Before you could close up the pill bottle though, from the alleyway beside you, a pair of arms reached out and grabbed you! The pills scattered all around as you struggled to go into a defensive move you knew by heart in order to get out of the attacker’s grasp. But almost as if they knew you had bruised ribs, they squeezed your midsection, igniting your whole body in a searing pain that had you seeing stars. Taking a deep breath to scream turned out to be fruitless as only a weak cry tumbled out when your expanding ribcage violently protested the intake of air.

“Gotcha,” said a gruff voice, their breath hot beside your ear as they spoke. After he did, you felt a needle enter your arm as he muttered, “Night, night. The boss can’t wait to see ya, Detective.”

When you came to, you blinked hard a few times, thinking that maybe it was all just a pain-induced nightmare. Reality hit you though when you tried to move your arms but couldn’t because they were tied behind you as you slumped over in an uncomfortable chair. Trying to remain as still as possible so as to not notify your captors of your conscious state, you took in your surroundings.

You were shoved into a corner of the room, so you had a pretty good view of the space around you. Lining two of the four walls were crates upon crates, each marked with the symbol of the gun runners you had been tracking. So, that confirmed your suspicions about who had snatched you… On top of each box was a display of what gun was inside, small spotlights illuminating the weapon as if it was an art piece in a museum. Two men stood guard near the boxes with guns of their own holstered to keep the product safe. Another man sat in a chair nearby on his cell phone. Because of his proximity, you assumed he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for you to wake up.

There was a musty smell that permeated the air and the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. It was a narrow room with a slightly rounded off ceiling, which you thought was odd. There was graffiti on the wall that seemed vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you had seen the tag before… The far wall looked like it had collapsed long ago, and it held the only entrance to the area that you could see. It didn’t even have a door, it was just an opening in the collapse. Something more promising though that clued you into where you may be located was the unfinished rail tracks peeking out from under the collapsed rubble and the unused tracks that had been used as makeshift barriers to protect the guns.

You must be in the tunnel where the city had tried building an additional subway line a few years before, but it collapsed before they could get too far. Neither you nor Daredevil had been able to figure out where the gang’s base of operations was located, and now it made total sense. The area the city had accessed to get into the underground area was sealed and forgotten about by the population at large. You didn’t even know where the entrance was, although you had your guesses. Any time you would chase a group of troubled teens you caught harassing a street vendor or tagging the window of a business, they would just disappear into thin air near 45th and 9th. That was where you knew the graffiti tag from! There must be an entrance into this place somewhere near there! Not that knowing where you were particularly helped you at the moment, but… If you made it out of here somehow, at least you knew the best way to get to safety.

“Hey, look who finally decided to wake up,” said the man near you. A shiver zipped down your spine as you realized that it was the same voice that spoke in your ear when you were taken. “Thought we overdosed you there for a little while. Guess I’m not as good at calculating drug doses as I thought. Oh, well.”

“What do you want with me?” you tried to ask firmly, but your voice came out broken and scratchy from lack of use over however long you had been out.

“You’re asking the wrong guy questions,” the man said in a bored sort of tone. “Hey, Reg! Call the boss-man and tell him she’s awake. He’ll want to talk to her.”

“That he will,” came a new voice. Your head turned toward the opening in the collapse and saw a man in a white button up and pressed slacks walking in, flanked on either side by burly looking men who you assumed were his guard.

“Ghallagar…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at the man you had only ever seen in pictures from the original brief you were given on the case. The whole time he had been in the Kitchen, the man was practically a ghost, so this was your first time getting a good look at him.

“Detective,” he said with a certain smugness in his voice as he approached you. He held your gaze for a few moments before asking his men, “May we have the room? I need some time alone with the detective. There are buyers coming in an hour. Make sure we have materials to hide this section of the space. We don’t need them to see what I’m about to do. Bad for business.”

“Yes sir,” one of the burly men replied before turning away and gesturing for all of the men in the room to follow.

When it was just the two of you again, Ghallagar rolled up his sleeves as he said, “I bet you’re wondering why I had you taken.”

“The thought may have crossed my mind,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. What did he plan on doing to you? What did he-

A sharp slap across the face pulled you out of your thoughts. “You seem to have something I want.” Another slap in the other direction nearly toppled you out of the chair before he snarled, “And I intend on getting the information out of you.”

“What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, trying not to show any weakness to the man standing tall over you. You may be in the compromised position, but there was no way you were going to let this man break you. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“Tell me Daredevil’s identity,” Ghallagar said as if it was the most simple question in the world. As if he was asking the name of the cashier at your favorite bodega.

“I don’t-” you tried, but stopped to let out a cry of pain when he sent a kick into your bruised midsection.

“You’ve worked with him for months! Trying to find me, finding the gang whose place I took, taking down that mugger together. I could go on with all of the cases you’ve figured out with his help, Detective.” Before you could contain your emotions, your eyes widened momentarily, and that reaction caused a smirk to twist Ghallagar’s lips. “Yeah, that’s right. I know your case files. I have a folder with the names of every criminal you’ve taken down since you got out of the Academy.” He circled around to stand behind you and dug his thumbs into painful pressure points in your shoulders as he said, “You got to do your homework on me, I got to do my homework on you. It’s only fair, isn’t it? And it’s also fair for you to tell me who you’ve been working with since you’ve been such a thorn in my side!”

When he said that last part, a white-hot pain seared over your shoulder as he ran a knife over the skin there. You tried to bite your cheek to muffle your scream of pain, but only drew more blood than was already trickling out of the wound on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath to control yourself only made things worse and you let out another groan of pain as he circled back to stand in front of you. “I don’t know-” you tried again, but were cut off when he shoved the whole chair over with you in it.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he shouted as he sent another kick into your ribs, causing more pain to rock your already battered body. “The way he saved you that night on the docks! He made sure to go to you! The way he held you when he saved you from my men’s van! You know who he is, and it’s just a matter of time until I get it out of you!”

“She was supposed to get back to work today, I haven’t seen her though. Not like her to be late…” was Brett’s response to Matt’s question about where you were. It was the morning you were supposed to be back after the incident at the docks, and Karen had suggested bringing you flowers. He didn’t hear you inside the building on his way there, though, so he hadn’t grabbed any before heading in to speak with a new client.

“Have you tried calling her?” Matt asked.

“Straight to voicemail. I was thinking of doing a welfare check myself here in a little bit if she doesn’t show up by noon,” Brett said with a sigh. A quiet chuckle left his chest before he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll get a hold of her, Lover Boy.”

Matt shook his head and laughed light-heartedly at the joke, telling Brett, “I appreciate it,” before he and Foggy left the precinct and headed to their office for the afternoon of case file sifting.

Running his fingers over the braille case file in front of him, Matt had been fully engrossed in the complexities of this case for hours. Foggy had already called it quits for the night and went home, but he and Karen were still there, working to find an angle they could win this case at. “What if we played up the jury’s-” came Karen’s voice, but Matt tuned her out when he heard your name mentioned in the police chatter from a nearby cop cruiser.

Officer missing after welfare check. Cameras show the officer’s last known location outside of a bodega before disappearing into an alleyway. Three days ago.

Matt was out of his office chair and hurtling toward the door before Karen could even ask where he was going, calling over his shoulder that there was an emergency that he needed to deal with. He didn’t even bother with the cane as he ran, he and Karen were the only ones in the building anyway at this hour. He needed to get to his suit and he needed to get to it now. Your life may well depend on it.

You weren’t sure how long the beatings went on for. There was no light that got into the collapsed tunnel so you couldn’t tell day from night. There didn’t seem to be any patterns on when guards entered or exited the room. There was no specific time when Ghallagar came in or out to beat answers you didn’t have out of you. And there was no use shouting. You felt doomed.

The only reprieve from the onslaught of pain was when buyers came in. When they were there, you were gagged and concealed from sight by a room divider, left to bleed and suffer in pain before more was inflicted when they were gone. Besides the pain, the only thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have the information he wanted. You didn’t know who Daredevil was. No one did. You just worked with him on the recommendation from Captain Mahoney. That’s all. The way the masked vigilante saved you that night and held you to his chest made you feel safe, yes, but why that made Ghallagar think you knew his identity was beyond you. You wished there was some way for you to prove that you were telling the truth. Some way for him to know-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound of gunfire in the front of the room. The enclosed space made everything louder and you squeezed your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to shut everything out. You were afraid of the ricocheting bullets making their way over here. Although, if one hit you, this could all be over… You wouldn’t have to endure anymore pain. There would be no more pain. And boy, did that sound great right now.

The sound of fighting got closer and closer, Ghallagar’s voice barking orders before suddenly going silent along with the rest of the room. The only thing you heard was the sound of fists hitting flesh and groans of pain from the victims of whoever was dealing the blows. Already conditioned to fear the punches of your captors, you cowered inward as much as you could, a weak and unintentional whimper leaving your throat as you did.

Within seconds of making the noise, the pounding of fists stopped and you heard a thud as a body landed on the floor, their skull hitting the pavement hard. Your heart pounded in your throat as you heard heavy footfalls approaching you and you wished the person away with all your might. Your wish didn’t come true though as the room barrier was shoved aside, causing you to tuck your head down to be as small as possible in the eyes of the unknown person in front of you.

Your name was whispered in a gravelly voice, and you shook your head in some sort of attempt to deter the person from you. Instead of another beating that you were accustomed to though, suddenly your hands were free of their confines and you were being hauled up and into the embrace of the person now standing in front of you. You were too weak to fight, but when you felt the texture of the armor adorning the person holding you, you let out a sob and tightened your arms around the man. Around Daredevil. He came to rescue you. He saved your life again.

“I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe now,” he mumbled as he held you as gently as he could. With one arm still wrapped around you, you felt one pull away before he spoke again a few moments later, saying, “Tell Mahoney I found her. Collapsed subway tunnel near 45th and 9th. Ghallagar and his men are incapacitated. Get an ambulance here, now. She’s in bad shape.”

It was as if your body instantly switched out of survival mode when he ended the call. The moment you knew that an ambulance was on the way and you were safe in Daredevil’s arms, you collapsed. Every muscle fiber in your body gave out and your joints folded under all the weight and suddenly everything went black once more.

When you began to regain consciousness, you instantly knew you were in a different environment. Rather than the sound of dripping water and gruff men speaking, there was the occasional beeping sound and soft spoken voices. You were in a somewhat comfortable bed with pillows surrounding you in an effort to soften the mattress and your hands weren’t bound behind you. There was no steady trickle of blood leaking from your body. You were in the hospital. You were safe.

Your eyelids fluttered open when you heard movement from beside you, and you realized that one of the soft spoken voices was coming from right beside you in the form of Matt Murdock praying. Looking down, you realized that one of your hands was grasped in his as he prayed, and a deep blush creeped onto your cheeks - the moment was far more intimate than any you had shared before. “Hey,” you whispered once he said amen.

“You’re awake. Thank God,” he said, the emotion obvious in his voice and smile. “You had me scared there for a few days.”

“A-a few days?” you asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah. It’s been three days since they brought you in,” Matt replied, squeezing your hand gently. “Brett and Daredevil took care of Ghallagar. He and his men are going away for a long time.”

“Good,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion as you remembered what you endured at his hand. Wanting to change the subject off of the man in question, you looked at the gorgeous bouquet of flowers on your bedside table and asked, “Did you bring those flowers?”

A bashful smile made its way onto Matt’s lips as he nodded, telling you, “I was hoping you’d wake up before they wilted. Was I right?”

“Yeah. They’re gorgeous. Thank you, Matt,” you said, voice wobbly as you spoke. “And thank you for coming to see me. I- You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Matt replied softly.

“Oh hey! You’re awake!” came the voice of Foggy as he peeked into the room. “I hate to break up this happy little reunion, but we gotta go, buddy. Client needs us, like, yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Matt told him.

During the whole exchange you were left staring at yours and Matt’s intertwined hands and got to thinking. Why hadn’t you ever just made a move with him? Before, you were convinced that he was just playing along with your flirting. That he didn’t have feelings for you like you did for him and that he just didn’t want to be rude. But now, frankly, you didn’t care about your overthought reasoning. After the last week, you realized how fleeting life was and just how lucky you were that you were still alive. So, before Matt could stand up and say his goodbyes as Foggy stepped out of the room, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

The gesture ignited pain in your battered body and a furious blush on your cheeks as you relaxed back into the mattress. The boyish grin that lit up Matt’s face made your heart flutter, and you swore it almost stopped when he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” was your instant response in a breathy tone with a wide smile on your lips as well.

The kiss was brief and gentle with both you and Matt unable to hold back your smiles as it happened. You felt rays of happiness flowing out of you and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips when he pulled away mere moments later. He squeezed your hand once again as he said, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize…”

“Better late than never,” you replied, a content smile on your lips as you remembered his soft ones on yours, already craving the next. You hoped that this would be the start of something magical with Matt.

big shoutout to my beta readers in the tuna tank for helping me out with this, especially @sunflowersandsapphires for some of the dialogue pieces as well as @justvalkyrie and @thornbushrose for help with plot points and clarity!

ps: the flirty comment with the handcuffs made me giggle so much! it happened very organically too (even though i am a terrible flirt and needed to ask for help in the server for inspo) also the bit at the end with Matt holding Reader's hand and praying?? i teared up, whoops!

as usual, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

dividers by @firefly-graphics as always!

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil hurt/comfort #daredevil angst

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townofcadence · 8 months ago

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"Smoke?" He repeats, trying to make sense of what he thought he heard. She's speaking loud, but the blizzard is doing it's damndest to swallow them both. The snow is already to their thighs. "That's good!" That meant there had to be somewhere nearby. Even if it was the worst option, a cave, or the best, one of those buildings along the trails, that would at least give them some respite from the storm until it passed. Either way, those options were better than standing here. And with the flurrying winds, it couldn't be far, or the scent would've been dispersed by all the air movement. Right?

He pauses as she takes point, a protest on his tongue. He knows how much trust it takes to show her back and there's a bitter feeling in placing her in that position, but what he hates even more is the idea of her taking the brunt of the load. Salena was so sacrificial, she'd hurt herself without a thought to protect him, but he needs to protect her, when she already suffers so much for him and everyone she cares for. She shouldn't have to do this.

But....he can concede that her fur is protecting her, and it was senseless for both of them to face the winds. He can tell how she much this will take out of her this close too. If she even started to twinge in pain, he could step in so she could recover, if need be.

He keeps that thought tucked into his chest like a safeguard. Arms hugging himself, Artair follows behind her in the storm.

It seems worse every minute, and he's glad they have her nose; he can hardly see in the sleeting wrath of the blizzard. It all is just white, drifting, pelting, slicing--- he can only focus on Salena's tail, trying to use it as his guide as she trudges forward. The furrows she leaves in the snow help him keep up, though they fill near as fast as she plows them with her legs. He can see the spires of pines, black and frosted and barely visible in this weather, the needles billowing under the intensity of each snowy gale. They.... won't make it much farther. He's cold-- cold cold cold he can't stop shaking and crying and he's so ANGRY---

Artair lets out a shaky breath, one stolen by the wind before he can even see the fog of the exhale. His shoulder is burning and he feels numb again--- that was--- he wasn't sure. The feelings drop away and then crescendo all at once in his chest before vanishing again. It's exhausting, almost as exhausting as he's starting to feel. He's still crying, and the tears freeze on his cheeks into crackled ice, breaking as his skin tightens in winces.

He's ready to ask Sal to stop, to just dig a space out, and make a shelter. He isn't sure he can make it much further before he's a fucking popsicle, with how soaked and bedraggled he is. His hair is hanging against him, plastered to his face and iced white by snow, and he stumbles from the stiffness in his legs, even if moving them is all that's keeping him from freezing. The prosthetic hardly moves, and when he brushes himself with the metal it feels so frigid it burns. His veins are cold, it feels like his heart is pumping ice through his body, and his breathing feels slow, strained. If he swallows enough snow, can he drown? Maybe? Fuck, he's tired. The cold is seeping into even the marrow of his bones. They feel liable to snap. He keeps coughing--

And then Salena stops in front of him. He peers around her.

Lights. Window panes lit in warm gold.

It's like being struck by lightning. Both their paces increase, moving as fast as they can towards what can only be some kind of outpost. He can barely see the shape of the building, but the yellow casts like a beacon into the dark of the snow; it leaves pools of warm light, shimmering and wavering with snow as drifts of it pass through the light. It can't be more than a hundred feet or so, maybe just a little more than that. They can make it. They came this far, they can do this. A hundred feet is nothing.

At the loping pace they both manage, they're already halfway there. The door opens and he can see fire, warm light, fucking salvation from the cold. Someone runs out, waving their arms frantically and yelling. They must have seen them from the windows, and are trying to flag them over--

Artair feels a gust of wind leave him and his arm lights up in fire. He can't catch his breath, as cold burns into his lungs like thin tendrils of ice, which splinters into spears that pierce through the precious tissue. He almost falls forward, seeing Sal continuing to move towards their destination. She knew he was supposed to be right behind her but---

His thoughts scatter like the flakes stinging his skin and his eyes threaten to droop. He turns his head to the sensation and sees frozen crystals like quartz and icicles growing from the perimeter of the sensation. And there, ringed by that growing ice, was a hand. It is pale and damaged, blue at the palm and black at the tips of their fingers. It clutches his arm at the bicep tight, and the touch sent convulsions through him, flooded his eyes with tears enough to blind and a dizzying vertigo.

He manages a few blinks to clear them, and a zombie turn of his head to follow the hand-- a woman stands there, her hair mid length and sleek, black and tipped with frost until it shimmers, and floating around her like she's underwater. Her outfit is bleached of all color, a coat with fur trim and thick pants, all damaged, tattered with rips and tears. He can see what looks like a knitted hat, tangled in her hair near the crown of her head and vanishing behind her in the curtain of her wavering hair. She's shorter than him, but she seems to stand on the snow itself, so she towers above him by at least a foot as her tattered boots glide over the banks at his side. One leg sits twisted, near all the way backwards, with splinters of bone jutting out where a break likely was beneath her pants. The whole of her visage carries an ethereal glow in the softest blue.

She has a pale face, white beyond life, with parts shorn away like one might expect with biting winds like this. Her lips, her cheeks, her nose and ears-- even the hollows of her eyes were all black and bloodless. Sparkling flakes of ice dapple her eyelashes and brows, the corners of her mouth, and the edges of raw, damaged flesh with white. The rest of her glitters, like freshly fallen snow catching in the golden light of the building ahead. Her eyes were white with a milky sightlessness. Tears flow in streams that froze over themselves in sheets on her face.

When her mouth moved, black dribbled out, dripping down her chin before seeming to congeal where it oozed along her face. Her lips opened more, wider and wider, and her cheeks seemed to crack, to fracture like glass along the skin, revealing black underneath. Still she stretches her open mouth, until they shatter entirely in black and white shards; he can't even feel as some of them embed in his arm where she holds it. They continue breaking away, allowing her jaws to stretch into a yawning chasm, impossibly wide.

For someone alive, that is.

"S-sAL--"

A wail escapes her throat. His own strained whisper cuts away. Artair's vision turns snowy with spots and static as a wave of something wracks him. He swears she doesn't speak, but he hears it nonetheless, even during her endless, unyielding scream.

It's.

MINE.

It bounces in his head like a ricocheting bullet. The woman is still screaming, but he hears the voice in his head with clarity, like those two words were whispered in his ear in a silent room. And the voice-- it sounds tattered, wrecked and raw and desperate and enraged; the torrent of it drowns him to mutism, makes him wish he could rip each rib from his chest to escape the torment. His fingers flex under the compulsion, and he almost collapses, almost drops to his knees--

But this isn't the worst he's suffered.

He bites his lip until it bleeds from the points of his incisors, and inhales through those clenched teeth. A flicker of life restores itself in him with the forced breath. He wrenches his arm in the woman's grasp, feeling the hand break away with a hollow, crackling snap. It twists his stomach, but he focuses on the momentum.

Keep moving.

He stumbles forward in the snowdrift, trying to put distance between him and---whatever that woman was. Hopefully he'll end up closer to Sal and what might be a break from all the freaking perils. He hears a howl behind him, another shriek from the woman, but he pitches only further forward, trying to navigate while blinded by just-- too much.

Admittedly, keeping her attention on something other than the snow was doing some wonders against her own body. Assess the situation, be mindful of the other person with her, figure out the next step they would need to logically take. Her armor and fur were naturally made to withstand the weather, but it wasn't going to last forever. Her shivers from the initial hit would die down, but the blizzard would remain.

More concerning was Artair. He was significantly worse off than she was. Skin rather than fur. Clothing that was going to get soaked the longer they stayed out in the open. All he had to protect his face was his hood, and even that was not going to be enough.

Finding shelter was of the highest priority. Even if she had to dig a hole somewhere for them both to hunker down in, she would.

Or hell, maybe her vial could be a last resort option. A stone body wouldn't suffer much from the snow, and it would make blocking the wind and snow from Artair much easier... trouble was they wouldn't be able to move... not easily anyways. Flying was out too.

So they would walk.

Salena's ears pulled back, eyes narrowing as they fell on his hand. It was already turning red... they needed to move now.

He tried his phone... and while slightly helpful, couldn't give them a direction. Neither could his compass. She couldn't help the way her lips pulled up into a silent snarl. A random direction wasn't going to do them any good. He'd suggested seeing if she could hear or smell anything. Hearing wasn't really doing any good for them either... not over the roar of the wind from the blizzard.

She thought she could hear something else under it... but not certain. Not anything that would lead them to shelter.

Then her nose caught something. Smoke. Smoke was liable to be coming from some kind of fire. There wasn't anything else she could think of that would create such a source, at least not in this storm. If there was a fire going nearby, then it had to be in a covered space.

Salena turned her head back to Artair, "I can smell smoke. I'm going to lead us to it. Fall in line behind me and I'll take the brunt of the storm." Of course... she was aware of what this meant... asking him to do that. It all came down to trust.

She took a deep breath, turned her back to him, pushed against the storm, and began to lead them, following the only smell that might be their saving grace.

#talesofnovembria #salena #Snowed In #rp #sounds good! also i did notice. they've grown a lot over time <3 #long post #sorry i was like transition and the spoopy but yours does NOT need to match length. if you want a little bit with the ghost with sal i can #swing that! also some of what artair is feeling is more from her than his own body. getting inside will help. though he won't leave sal xD #and i figure the person who came out is wendy and she's yelling that there's something in the snow and to hurry because it's safe here #since sal might hear it better with her special woof ears lol #my original stuff #i'll probably post it separate tho lol but i hope you like the finished piece <3 #cw body horror #just in case #ic Artair

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