#matt murdock au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madschiavelique · 10 months ago

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𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐔

This au was first talked about on 04/11/2023 with my amazing bestie @sunflowersandsapphires and I thought it could be cute to share these thoughts !! (I'm gonna post several AUs ideas we had and discussed on throughout the months because DAMN the thoughts are delicious)

please note that english is not my first language and that there might be some little grammar mistakes here and there !

word count : 2,2k

We’re all familiar from up close or far of the myth of Medusa, also known as one of the gorgons. People often tend to forget that there were 3 gorgons on this myth : Medusa (of course), but also her sisters Euryale and Stheno.

To give you a bit of a refresh on the myth of Medusa – just from memories okay, the versions of each myth vary in mythology and this is the one i remember best – she was in love with Poseidon and the god decided at one point to bring her to one of Athena’s temples so that they could make love there, her two sisters helping her getting in.

The two lovers were taken during the act by Athena herself who cursed the 3 women by making them gorgons, creatures with snake hair (and body too I believe) that could turn to stone anyone that made the mistake of looking at them in the eyes.

So my mind went like “huh, wait a minute you’d have to be able to see to actually turn to stone right ? So what would happen if-” and it all clicked.

I think somehow Athena’s magic on the gorgons would make them prone to often get reached by men that are ill-intended. So who knows, what if reader is one of the gorgon sisters, hum ?

What if men in the past have tried to come and attack you, what if men in the past successfully killed your two sisters and that you’re now all alone ? What if you lost faith in the possibility of anyone being nice to you, or of anyone not considering you as the monster that you are ?

You lived bitterly, secluded in an area people never walked by in fear of getting attacked by you. You're just so used to people coming to you with the intention of killing you that you expect everything to be a threat. You know better than to be afraid, your powers serve you well enough that you don't have to live in fear.

Until one day, Matt gets lost. He’s never passed through that area before, and the surroundings are so different to his sensitivity. There’s a certain presence, an aura that makes his senses blurry as he walks hesitantly.

Of course, you notice his presence. You’re used to living underground, and the vibrations his footsteps and his stick send through the earth are enough for you to come to the surface. You get out, ready to fight, ready to stare, ready to kill.

He hears you, turning around and simply asking “Hello ?”

But ironically, you’re the one to freeze this time : he is looking in the void, and the usual signs of petrification are not lining up on his body. You frown, and the gut wrenching feeling of fear takes you as much as the weight lifting sensation of relief.

Maybe your powers aren’t working anymore, maybe this is your last moments of torment, maybe you will join your sisters in Hell, maybe you’ll die and get humiliated once more.

But maybe you’re finally free from your curse, maybe only the snakes remain on your head but you can’t turn anyone to statues anymore : maybe you can finally get out of this situation where you’re all alone.

You just want to make sure though, so you step forward a bit, not entirely in case he tries to attack you by surprise, and ask “Why have you come here ?”

He tilts his head towards the sound of your voice, a curious gleam passing his eyes as his eyes won’t settle on you.

“I’m lost.” he answers.

Now you scoff, thinking it’s another trick to make you fall. You’ve had wise men trying to kill you in the past, using their wits to trap you in enigmas or other stupidities that would bring your downfall.

“I don’t fall for tricks and traps,” you say as you step closer to him.

He doesn’t seem to step back, nor does he seem afraid, not in the slightest. You tilt your head a bit until your eyes bore into his, making sure your gaze is aligned with his own.

He frowns, tilting his own head to the side, “Tricks and traps ?”

Your eyes go wide and your shoulders fall as the realisation hits you : he’s blind.

The fear dissipates, but gives its place to disappointment. Of course your curse is not lifted, of course the possibility of you going back to a semi-normal life is purely impossible. You step back, looking at him as if discovering him for a second time.

“You’re not here to kill me ?” you question as you cross your arms over your chest.

He’s the one to scoff now, placing both of his hands on his stick.

“Kill you ? Why would I do such a thing ?”

There’s genuine confusion in his tone, but you’re not ready to let your guard down about all of this.

“Don’t play ignorant, you know why.”

“I assure you I don’t.” he answers.

Now you’re both confused.

You are mostly because it’s the first time your powers don’t act on someone, as well as the first time someone isn’t here to kill you nor is aware of your existence.

As for him, he’d just arrived here because he had lost his way, and now here he was in front of a woman that was claiming he was here to kill her. So who could she be that people came so often here with that purpose only ?

There was something different about you, your smell indicated a strong presence of wet stone, but of something much different. Something that smelled like warm sand, like diluted metal, like scales of snakes. He wondered if perhaps you had one on you, or if the area had plenty of them he had to beware of.

You couldn’t tell if he knew of the legends, for who knows : maybe your sister’s tale had gone forgotten. If he was aware of your story however, he looked like someone pretty calm about it, which made the word ‘unusual’ turn into a euphemism for your situation.

“You’re simply lost ?” you end up interrogating.

“I never used this passageway before,” he conceded, “I wanted to use it as a shortcut, but I’ve never gone this far away from the places I know by heart.”

You continued looking at him. He was well built, enough that his physique could be considered as one of the many heroes that had tried harming you. Yet the more you looked at him, the less the thought of him being here to cause you pain and kill you faded. He only had a bag, and his walking stick.

Your silence perplexed him.

“Why would people want to kill you ?” he asked again, pulling you back from your reverie.

The question made you feel weird, because it seemed like such an evidence to you that seeing an alternative to this interrogation seemed impossible on the spot. Why would they not want to kill you ? They had plenty of reasons anyway.

“Doesn’t matter,” you answered on the spot as this being somehow the only thing your could provide as an answer.

“I think it does,” he interjected, and your parted your lips.

In all these years of being a gorgon, never had your had much of a conversation like so. He surely didn’t care about your life, and maybe was this another ruse to lure you in and make you easier to kill.

Guessing how answering these questions wasn’t one of your fortes, he sighed.

“Could you help me find my way back, please ?”

You’re hesitant on the case of his demand. Every man before him had wronged you, had turned against you to try and bring some glory to their pathetically short lives while you remained eternal and undefeated.

What if it was another trick by Athena ? What if this was her final resort to bring glory to humans ?

And in any case, men had taken away your sisters, how could you not be angry at them and not wish to help them ?

But this one… He seemed kind, disinterested in any kind of glory in any shape or form, just a blind man lost in your woods.

Not daring to be closer to him or even touching him in case this could ease your way into death, you grabbed the foot of his stick and rose back up.

“Hold on to it,” you mumbled as you started walking towards the next path.

You turned a second to him, a grin plastered on his face. Not a vicious one, to your relief, but a grateful smile.

“Why’s a lady like you all by herself on this desertic passage ?” he questioned, walking at your pace as he tried to make sure by waving his arm in front of him that he wouldn’t be hitting anything.

You weren’t here to make friends with men, but you hadn’t talked to anyone in a while. The sight of him having so much trouble directing himself because of your gauche handling of his stick sent you a wave of pity. You dropped the wood, and he stopped, surprised.

“Already there ?” he asked in surprise.

But you came to him, taking his hand and have it circle your arm so that he could still use his stick.

“Thank you,” he softly smiled as you both started walking again, your mind trying to chase away the way his arm against yours felt. “So, why are you all alone in here ?”

“Because bad men chased me until there was no place other than there for me to live,” which wasn’t far off the mark.

“Exiled ?” he interrogated.

“Feared.” you breathed.

“How could you be feared ?” the question rang wrong to him.

“How could I not,” you almost laugh as your free hand comes to caress the neck of a snake.

“I don’t find you terrifying,” his lips came to form an inverted smile as he rose his eyebrows.

“It’s because you are safe from my unwanted danger.”

“Am I holding the hand of the most dangerous person to ever be ?” he laughed, the lack of seriousness in his tone making the situation all the more ironic for you.

“You just might,” you answered, a bit less tense than you were seconds ago.

“Well, it pleases me,” he admitted and you stiffened.

Trying to play it cool and not get nervous that this could be your last conversation ever, you asked :

“To be in danger ?”

His head turned to yours, his gaze still lost somewhere you could never be in.

“To be in good company.”

Your walk with him came to an end, and Matt had by now remembered the way to get to the path. He wished you goodbyes, and you came back to your cave thinking how much of a strange situation it had been.

He hadn’t tried to kill you on the way, but maybe had an acolyte of some sort of his placed a trap in your cave. You meticulously made your way back to your place, but nothing different was to be found.

What an odd encounter.

And thus he came a second time to you.

“I’ve lost my way again,” he had explained.

“Have you got the memory of a goldfish ?”

But nevertheless, you had accompanied him back again, and had chatted again, and waved goodbyes again.

But still, he kept getting lost, and kept coming back to you for your guidance.

You had the full conviction by now that he had the worst sense of orientation a man could have ever gotten.

And he had the full conviction that you were not a monster, so he pretended to not know his way although he now knew it by heart just to have an excuse to meet you again and talk to you.

“Seems like I really can’t remember my way anymore.”

“Matt, you always come to me with the exact same path, you know that right-”

“Really can’t remember it anymore, such a shame, looks like you’ll once again have to accompany me.

“It’s the second time you’ve come to see me today.”

Of course he tries to play it off and placing this on his atrocious sense of orientation, but there are some moments where he accidentally lets the cover slip.

“It’s near a huge rock.” you explain again.

“You mean the one shaped like a heart that is about 300 steps from here ?”

“Yes exact- wait a minute, if you know the placement so well, how come you always get lost ?”

“...”

“...?”

“Amnesia has taken me, what were we talking about ?”

“Matt you’ve gotten ‘amnesia’ three times this week. You need to speak to someone about that.

“You shouldn’t worry. Actually I feel like I have most of my sense in your presence lately, your company cures me of my own obliviousness-” he says as he trips over a rock immediately.

And you’re quite oblivious to this, but also the more you understand about this, the least do you complain about it.

Maybe loneliness started slipping away from you after all.

(I could continue on this au but I have WAY too many others in mind that I want to put out there !!! I'd love to see any of the thoughts you'd have on this au besties <33)

#mads' thoughts ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#mads' aus ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#mads rambles ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock au #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock x Vampire!reader (f!reader)

Part 1 // Part 2 (currently here) // Part 3 (coming soon)

PART TWO - Humans are dying at the hands of her species and she has to do something about it, but how can she when the object of her attraction just so happens to stumble into her path over and over again, as if he's just as addicted to her as she is to him?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Very explicit sexual language, dubious consent (inappropriate touching, dirty talk), blood, vampires, death, bad humor, plot, religious imagery (?), submissive Matt Murdock, Dom!Reader, DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat), really, this is absolutely filthy dark, AND not proof-read

A/n: This is so dark, holy shit… Here’s the second part! I hope you’re not mad at me that I left you waiting. 2023 already feels so weird I don’t know why, but I’ve finally finished this chapter and I’m getting to work on the third one as we speak. The smut is coming soon, I promise. Until then, I’m just going to get you all worked up :)

DARK CONTENT UNDER HERE, 18+ ONLY!

Ever since the beginning of time, humans have felt threatened by their fellow species. The goal is self-preservation rather than preserving the world around them. At the same time though, there has never been another species so hell-bent on destroying their habitat than the human race.

She watched the seasons come and go. Where one life ended, another started. Humans were fast to reproduce, she realized, but they were also just as fast to die. Sickness and injury are the biggest threats to the human body. You could be okay one second, then on your deathbed the next. While the female body could withstand the terrible strain of childbirth, it stands no chance against cancer. You could bleed out in seconds if the right vein is nicked, and if you fall the wrong way, a broken neck will either kill you instantly or leave you dependent on machines for the rest of your life.

While humans are considered the most sophisticated species since the beginning of time, they are all collectively fragile.

The last time she was actively human, she didn’t even have a quarter of the knowledge at hand that she gained later in life. Times have changed since then. The world grew into something new, something modern, and the human race evolved with it.

They’ve never had many nice words to say about her kind, so it came naturally to be terrified of a species that was more than willing to eradicate her own.

Sure, killing and blood-sucking isn’t something that goes over well with a crowd, but she often emphasized that they weren’t all cold-blooded murderers. Not all vampires were the same, and the lore often got it wrong.

Cold, they were, but only temperature-wise. Her half of the litter, anyway. And they were murderers too, else they wouldn’t have survived this long. Drinking blood to survive was a curse she wished upon no one. It naturally made her species reborn killers; they had to take a life to sustain their own, and since death and starvation weren’t in the cards without a stake through the heart, they had to follow their most primal instincts.

She tried to refrain from murder like a good citizen, and it worked, most of the time. There are other ways to get blood that doesn’t involve murdering an innocent. In Hell’s Kitchen, she could easily roll open a map and point to a random place, and she surely would have found criminals deserving of punishment.

But there were also humans who didn’t fear her species, those who were willing to give to the cause voluntarily. They liked to call themselves blood-submissive as if it were a sexual practice on its own – the sex was a nice byproduct, and some of those people were born to be whores, but making it a new trend was something she wished would never happen.

Though she was well aware of the subculture around humans fetishizing vampires, who were all more than ready to give their blood. Humans are so susceptible to overstimulation, especially through strange forces, even the smallest taste of a vampire’s blood could get them high enough up the precipice to push them into an orgasm.

That was the one thing that enticed her the most; the human anatomy, and how responsive they were to stimuli. She knew all about it, and yet she found herself surprised again and again whenever she lay with someone new.

That evening though, she woke up with a heavy feeling in her stomach. One that wouldn’t go away.

She entered the kitchen of her shared home to find a stranger sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. Two very obvious holes adorned the young man’s neck. He didn’t look terrified when he saw her, only overly tired and perhaps a little drained.

She sighed heavily, moving to get herself a drink from the fridge. Not that she had one already sitting there, but he wasn’t hers to take. He had already been labeled with two very sharp fangs that could only belong to one person.

“Eli, you left your dinner in the kitchen!” her voice bounced off the high walls, doing black flips until it finally made the human twitch. “No offense,” she said. “I’m just not a fan of waking up to blood banks sitting at my kitchen counter.”

He opened his mouth, but no words would come out.

She grinned. With her mug in hand, she returned to ask the boy, “Coffee?”

He declined.

“Well, you can’t say I haven’t tried to be hospitable with you.”

Just in time, Eli came around the corner wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. She rolled her eyes. It was one of those guests.

She met Eli somewhere around 1800 when she spent some time in the deserts of Egypt. He was only a couple of days old then, bitten by a passing vampire with no regard for human life. Eli was lucky to have survived, but with no one to teach him, he went rogue and slaughtered his entire village in a hungry haze. When he came to, the life he once knew had been destroyed beyond repair.

She saved him. Initially, she planned to just pass through, but the word about a vampire on the loose traveled fast, even back then, and so she found herself in Eli’s village soon after, convincing him to join her. She saved his life and therefore, he felt as if he owed her. They never left each other's side again.

Though sometimes, Eli was particularly hard to live with. He was almost like an unruly child, and he left his food lying out most of the time – he tended to forget that wasn’t the only hungry one in the household.

“Would you stop calling every human I bring home a blood bank?” he said.

“If you stop letting them stay for breakfast,” she retorted.

He met her bitter smile with a sour one of his own. “Not everyone feels the need to submit to you as Talon does.”

“Maybe I should make that a rule then. I mean, I am the head of this coven, after all. The least you can do is give me some respect.” She eyed the young man still sitting at the counter, completely hypnotized by the shirtless man prancing around the kitchen. “And your blood whores, too, before you start giving them a sexually transmitted human disease. Or turn them into one of us.”

He scoffed. She patted his shoulder as she passed by him, taking the chance to whisper into his ear, “Would be a shame if I had to drive a stake through one of them when all they signed up for was just a little fun.”

She couldn’t help herself. On her way out, she passed by the helpless human, pulling his head back by the hair to reveal his deliciously long neck, and she dipped her nose to take him in. The blood running through his veins smelled beyond divine. Sweet temptation. She wanted to bury her teeth in his soft skin and suck until he was empty. “Ah, delicious,” she said. “Youngblood, untainted, pure. Excellent pick. I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells.”

The tips of her sharp fangs scratched at his neck, and she had to force herself to pull away before she could make the mistake of taking Eli’s food off his plate.

“Get him out of here,” she told him. “Before I make you bathe in holy water for the rest of the week.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

The respect issue was a problem she had to deal with. She wasn’t someone to play around, with except for the bedroom. She was nothing if not playful there, with someone writhing underneath her and begging for the mercy of pleasure, and they would always get what they wanted and deserved. She was considerate like that. But her lovers also never struggled to pay her respect. That seemed to be a family problem only.

Perhaps she had to assert more dominance over them too, even if it was just for kicks. They would learn soon enough. It wasn’t exactly easy to be a leader, after all. That was common knowledge even amongst the undead.

The vibrations of the phone in her pocket caused her to look up. She checked the text – a piece of technology she was quite fond of, the cell phone – and if she hadn’t been pale enough already, she surely would have turned white as a sheet right about now.

“What happened?” she asked as she entered the main room.

Talon nodded his head. “I just got word from my source at the police station,” he told her.

“And?”

“There’s been several suspicious murders in Hell’s Kitchen in the past week.”

“If I wanted a broken record player, I would have gone into the attic. Spit your words out now, Talon, or I will cut out your tongue.”

He flinched, remaining in his position with his head bowed downward. He couldn’t look into her almost blacked-out eyes and be met with disappointment.

“The victims have been drained of most of their blood, but the injection sites are sloppy, so a lot of the blood got wasted and spilled around the corpses,” he said.

“That’s… graphic.” She rolled her eyes. Chaos only compelled distraction. “But not at all the details I need,” she said.

“Yes, I was just getting to the important part. There’s security footage that shows a foreign party escaping from the site of the murder, and the same person is shown a couple of days later attacking the third victim in a blood-thirsty rage.”

The scenery sounded all too familiar. She tilted her head, intrigued by his report, and moved forward. “What exactly are they saying?”

“The police are blaming it on a new drug epidemic that has the users acting out to the point they would cause a blood bath. The drug supposedly triggers hallucinations that make them unaware of their surroundings and crave violence.”

“You mean blood. The drug is making them crave blood.”

“That’s what they’re thinking, but it’s not in the official report.”

“Yeah because that drug is called vampirism and that’s not exactly an epidemic that should be happening,” she said.

Talon nodded. “Police are issuing a warning,” he told her, “without knowing what they’re warning from. It’s just a couple of kids overdosing and bleeding out in the most ghastly of ways. They’re saying it’s drugs because they don’t understand.”

She grew more and more agitated with every word that slipped past his lips. The pedestal that kept her above the man made her seem much taller than she actually was. She paced the floor. It gave her a sense of superiority that she fought very hard to receive. Her status surpassed those of the people around her. She was older and wiser and perhaps slightly more sophisticated. Her moves were calculated yet often brutal because she learned that you get nothing in life if you’re not willing to spill a little blood, literally and figuratively. To have something or someone threaten her precious freedom like that was an obvious call for action

She halted her movements when he went quiet. “Do they have proof?” she questioned as if she expected him to tell her himself.

“No,” Talon said.

“Good. Call a meeting. I need to know who did this. And make sure no one knows beforehand. The last thing I need right now is a fucking vampire uproar.”

“What, you suspect it was one of us?” He had a doubting frown resting on his pale face.

“While I have faith that you can keep your fangs in your jaw, I need to make sure I’m not misplacing that faith,” she stated. “If I’m wrong in my suspicions, that is good for you. If I’m right and one of you idiots is behind this, I will drive you to hell myself.”

“If you want to have my opinion…”

She smirked, “I really don’t.”

“But if I may?”

“You may not.” Stepping down from the pedestal, she eyed him. “Call the meeting,” she ordered. “In the meantime, I’m going to get myself a bottle of Scotch to drown my sorrows, and then I’m going to steal from the police.”

Talon yelled after her, “Do you need any help, boss?”

“Yes. You can help yourself to stop crawling up my ass! That would help me a lot, actually. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, “I like my men submissive, but your behavior is just getting pathetic now. I’m your boss, not your mother. She’s dead. Deal with it.”

It wasn’t the first time she broke into the police station in Hell’s Kitchen. Crime rates exploded at night, which meant a higher police presence in the building, but at the same time, the cells overflowed with the many criminals they caught. They were always drowning in paperwork, and the crime never seemed to take an end.

She waited until the commotion in the bullpen caused the officer at the front desk to jump from his seat and escalate the situation. She sped toward the file cabinet, retrieved what she needed, and disappeared just as fast as she had come.

The officer looked up to find nothing but a strong breeze knocking the documents off his desk. He frowned, choosing to ignore it as the man underneath him writhed against the handcuffs.

Talon said a lot yet nothing at all. She eyed the pictures in the moonlight, the dead eyes staring straight into the security cameras, the man’s body covered in blood as he left a trail of bodies along the Hudson’s riverbed. He downplayed it. This was bad, a monster out of control, someone who shouldn’t even have existed in the first place and yet somehow came to life. There were clear rules. Those rules had been broken in more than one place, shattered on the ground, and then walked over with utmost disrespect.

And he wasn’t the only one. Every murder was accompanied by one of the herds escaping, later appearing on the scene of another crime. To the untrained eye, it appeared as if these kids were high and just playing around. The blood around the bodies was significant, so the ordinary human might sort it as an overdose after all. An accident. Though none of the things she saw were accidental.

They killed without a care, without remorse, and at the rate they were going, she was sure they wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

It wasn’t the first time she had to run against the clock, but it had been a while since she was tossed into such a situation where she had to choose between peace and her most primal nature. She had to appeal to her common sense. She knew better than to let them continue this.

Humans aren’t stupid but often underestimated. At this rate, if they kept going, war seemed inevitable.

These strangers were hunting on her turf and they turned everything upside down. She wasn’t having it. She had to do something.

The wind came from the far east and blew through the streets. Many different smells lay in the air that night, but the most prominent hit her nose at the front step of the precinct.

She tilted her head. She could sense him clearly now. He still smelled the same, his blood a bittersweet taste on her tongue, and she craved more. His heartbeat filled her ears, an elevated sound. She searched for him in the night until the sound of his scruffy, careful voice caught in her ears.

He stood on the fire escape of the precinct’s second floor. The metal creaked. A door fell shut. He wasn’t alone.

“Look, man, I’d be happy to help you, especially because we are way in over our heads with this case, but I told you,” the second voice said, “The file is gone.”

She stared down at the brown folder in her hands.

“What do you mean gone?” he asked, finally, and her eyes rolled back at the mere sound of him.

He was everywhere, so goddamn overwhelming, all she wanted was to pull him off that fire escape, into the alley, and turn him into a helpless mess until he was begging her for mercy with tears in his eyes – she could only imagine the soft color behind the red glasses. Were they brown, green, or perhaps even blue? They surely would turn black with lust and then gloss over with exhaustion from the sheer overstimulation when she was done with him. Though she would only stop when the color of his eyes would disappear behind his eyelids as he slipped into a state of unconsciousness, the pleasure causing his mortal body to shut down and submit even more to the power she wielded.

“Apparently, someone took it.”

“Since when do people steal files from a police station, Sergeant?”

The man shrugged. “It’s not the first time,” he said. “Happens more often than you might think.”

“What now?” her nameless stranger asked.

She could only imagine his mouth moving in sync with his gravelly voice, the movement of his Adam’s Apple in his throat as he swallowed, and the way his hands balled to fists at his sides, the beautiful veins protruding and his knuckles turning white. She wondered how those hands would feel somewhere other than a cane or a metal rod. How they would look tracing not the brim of glass but rather a different opening. Playing with wetness until his hands were coated in it the same way he played with the condensation on the glass of his drink.

“Sergeant, if you want me to help you, I need more than a whim to go on. Do you have anything you could give me?”

“Look, I can’t help you,” the Sergeant said, “but if I did know something, I would suggest scouting out the docks. Ground zero seems to be close to the docks, but I’ve also got word that the rest of Manhattan might be involved too, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever. We have heightened police presence there since the first suspected overdose, consider that before you make any wrong moves.”

That stopped him. “Suspected?” he questioned.

He was a smart one. Her lip curled into a distant smirk.

“I’m not saying it’s not an overdose, I’m just saying they’re too suspicious to be instantly ruled as such. It’s my opinion, not the official statement, and everyone else here at the station and even the DA’s office agree with the drug epidemic explanation. But I’m not sure it’s right to assume that, not yet, not without evidence,” he said. “We judge people way too quickly these days.”

The stranger chuckled again, his voice darker than when she met him, but the darkness he displayed was something she thoroughly enjoyed. It was enticing, eliciting an excitement she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

“Are you talking about me?” he asked sheepishly, and she imagined him smirking. He seemed more confident in that alley, fully in his element, not at all as submissive as he had been around her.

She wondered if there were two sides to that man whose name she still hadn’t figured out.

The Sargeant scoffed, opening the door back into the precinct. Hot air met the cold one outside, causing the air to condensate. She could feel it even from a distance, the changes in temperature, the warmth that felt more wrong than it felt right.

“Just be careful,” he told him.

The fire escape squeaked and the sound of his boots disappearing into the distance had her frowning. Blind men don’t jump rooftops and they don’t do parkour. There was more to him than she first suspected. He wasn’t the innocent man he made himself out to be. He had dark secrets that went way below the surface. Her curiosity was spiked. She needed to see him again and she needed to have him now.

She held the file in the air, watching as the edges started to crinkle and the fire spread from her fingertips, infecting the paper. The folder lit up, filling the night with yellow flames and the ashes of the several documents gone with the wind.

When the paper fully dissolved, she closed her fist and the last remaining flame vanished.

As the mysterious stranger made his way over the rooftops of the city, she turned in the opposite direction. Her first instinct was to follow, but there was no fun in chasing him just yet. She wanted to play some before she did that and wanted him to know more about her before she completely destroyed and corrupted him. His beautiful soul would only remain a faint memory.

The doors into the old, abandoned church swung open. The benches were occupied with exactly five people, two of them Eli and Talon, and the rest of what she liked to call her family, but historians would have called them a coven. An assembled group of vampires qualified as such, as did more than one witch sharing the same ideologies and sharing the same living space. That’s what the two species have in common - they are both widely hated by all kinds of religions except for Satanity.

Six vampires living in a church sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but the place had been abandoned years ago and there was no official owner, so it was run-down and, most importantly, they didn’t require an invitation to enter. So they made their home there, choosing Hell’s Kitchen as their turf and claiming it as their territory. That had been years ago and the small chapel grew significantly to feel like home since then.

“Cold-blooded murder,” she recited as she walked down the aisle, “Blood baths, two injection sites on the neck, suspicious behavior making humans thirsty for blood, and the police declared it a fucking drug epidemic!” she said. “What century are we living in, people? Is this the seventeenth or the eighteenth? Have we traveled back in time so that these words can be used in the same sentence again, right here in New York? What bad dream am I having right now, because it surely can’t be real?”

She reached the pedestal, stepping up in front of the altar.

“Seriously, what is happening?” she asked.

They all stared at her with wide, confused eyes. Those weren’t the faces of people who were about to cause a supernatural war of the undead. They were pretty much caught off guard by her accusations and that gave her hope, considering she knew them pretty well by now to know their tells when they were lying.

“Please tell me that it’s not one of you currently going on a rampage in Hell’s Kitchen, turning innocent teenagers into ruthless, blood-thirsty vampires, and breaking every rule that was set for us when it comes to hunting humans. Tell me none of you is going on a fucking murder spree!”

Her voice boomed off the high stone walls, almost cracking the colorful windows that adorned the church, pictures displaying passages of the bible and glowing bright red under the moonlight while others shone in blue and green. Though that night, red was truly prominent, and it fell right on her pale face, making everything appear dangerously dark about her.

One of the younger men raised his hand.

“William,” she called.

He stood up, clearing his throat, his hands tangled together in front of his body. He was the shy one, the one she had to pick up because he was starving himself due to his fear of what he had become after he was brutally turned by a woman he thought he could trust. It had been a very dark time back then, early twentieth century, and vampires in the States were still on the loose without a care in the world. There were no rules, only bloodshed, and the covens had body counts higher than the entire population.

“None of us is going on a murder spree,” he said.

“Are you saying that just because I want to hear you say it or do you actually mean what you just said?”

“I, um… you know what, I’m just gonna sit back down.”

“Wise choice.” She nodded. “So, William’s not a killer. What about the rest of you? Anyone trying to start a rebellion?”

Eli shrugged. His answer was obvious, “It’s not me.”

“I figured. You let your dinner stay for breakfast, and you know, you prefer blood whores. Gives you a sense of superiority, which of course, is not how this works. But anyway…”

The group burst out in laughter and Eli glared at her from across the room. “Very mature,” he said.

“I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine,” she said. “Now, anyone else wanna share?”

Another hand rose in the air. “I’m honestly just knitting,” the woman said. As a demonstration, she lifted the half-finished scarf - they didn’t even wear scarves - and threw the ball of wool in the air. “I tried my hand at a very complicated cardigan, but that project failed, so I’m just going back to my roots.”

“Thank you, Helen, but I never doubted you, not even for a second. You’re a total sweetheart.”

“It also wasn’t me,” Talon spoke up. “But you already knew that.”

“Yes, because you are too stupid to cause such mayhem,” she stated plainly. “That leaves only one…” she let her eyes roam over the pews until she found who she was looking for.

His head hung low. Was he… sleeping?

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Can someone please punch Adam in the face?”

Eli stabbed him with his finger. The man shot up, causing the bench to creak. “I’m awake!” he declared.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” she answered sourly. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Adam looked around. All eyes were on him. He rubbed his very heavy eyes. “I zoned out after you said bloodbath.” At least his confession was honest.

She sighed. She was living with a bunch of idiots. She shouldn’t have suspected them. They weren’t capable of the monstrosities that she saw in the police file.

“Never mind,” she said in exasperation. “You’re all dismissed. Now please, fuck off. I need to be alone so I can fucking shoot myself.”

She wondered how they even managed to make it this far without getting caught.

“Talon.”

“Yes?” he replied.

“I need to get back out there. You’re in charge while I’m gone. Make sure that these idiots don’t kill themselves or each other.”

“Are you sure that is such a good idea? Going out there, I mean? We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” he said.

“No,” she stated after a slight moment of hesitation, “but I’m the only competent one in this house, so I have to step up.”

Her version of stepping up was simple. Scout the docks, stake out if necessary, and confront anything she deemed suspicious enough to risk getting caught. She hoped to run into one of the young vampires, at least, so she could make them answer her – the young ones were never bright, always controlled by hunger and the new intensity of their emotions. The anger was the most brutal one.

It’s like that even for humans – anger blinds, anger poisons, and anger can tear worlds apart and start new generations built on the same ideals. She witnessed anger and greed topple empires that had once been strong and flourished. There is no limit to what anger can make a person do. And vampires, like any other enhanced species, experience most emotions ten times deeper and worse than the ordinary human being.

She felt that effect even after years of being trapped in the same body, in the same state she was left in back then, and especially as she stood on the roof of the warehouse by the docks, overseeing the Hudson and the city that laid on the other side of the shore. She learned how to control and live with her anger. She learned how to survive. Though there were moments when even the highest form of self-control failed and she was stranded with the blade of a hot knife stuck in her sternum, digging further to tear apart her cold, dead heart.

The hunger was the worst part. It had the ability to cloud her mind completely and dictate her every behavior with the purpose to stave that hunger, which was a near-impossibility. There was no satisfying a hunger that had been there for centuries, that not even pints of blood could satisfy. In the years she lived, she learned how to live with it, but always going hungry was also no real way to live. It was awful, constant torture, and with every passing century, she grew more tired of the life she was forced to live.

In the distance, the wood creaked. One of the boats on the harbor displayed movements in its belly. The light only faintly fell on the source of the noise. A figure emerged behind the barrels stocked on the pier, heading straight for the oblivious fisherman who seemed to have stayed around to have a celebratory beer after bringing home quite a large catch of fish. She could smell them across the docks, already tied in bags to take home, but the victor was still inhabiting his boat. Humans have always been particularly obsessed with the art of fishing; it had once been their largest source of food income and fish is still pretty high up on the list of shippable goods. Though there was nothing worse to her nose than the smell of several fish perched together in one place. The stench was astronomical.

A young vampire was far more sensitive, though once hungry, there was nothing but blood on their minds and so none of them would run at the smallest hint of fish in the air, let alone the fear of getting caught. They didn’t have that kind of perception, not yet at least, because this particular behavior was taught. Primal nature dictated them to be monsters and without the proper training, the hunger would control them instead of them gaining control over the real monster – the insatiable thirst. Self-control is one of the hardest traits to gain, but it goes a long way, especially for creatures of the night who were born to be the opposite of compliant and self-aware.

If you want to live amongst an emancipated species, you have to learn how to conform to their rules and compromise, if necessary. You have to be willing to change your true nature to fit in and become something more than what history made of you. All of it comes back down to self-control. Without self-control, there can be no rules and without rules, society is doomed to collapse. Rules are what make a society habitable.

If there was one thing all young vampires had in common it was their lack of stealth. The young boy she had heard lurking behind the barrels across from the fisherman’s boat only checked the corner to his right, his eyes bright red as the moonlight fell on his blacked-out irises.

She cocked her head to the side. Someone trying to preserve themselves would have gone about this much differently. He stopped tip-toeing when he caught her scent in the air, slowly turning in her direction, and the way he looked straight at her reminded her of a frightened deer or a child caught in the act of stealing something. He was stealing, it just wasn’t something so easily explained. What he was stealing and risking went beyond what the human mind was capable of comprehending, let alone the brain of a young vampire that had absolutely no rational thoughts left behind.

He froze dead in his tracks and she sighed, almost like a condescending mother trying to teach her disobedient son a valuable lesson.

“I see what you’re doing,” she stated.

The boy licked his lips, revealing parts of his very sharp fangs. Another thing about the young ones – they didn’t know how to mask. One look at them and your first thought would be a vampire. Red eyes, protruding veins around the sockets, pale, clammy skin, and strength and speed they couldn’t control yet. Stealth was little to non existent, as was their sense of self-preservation and control. They were like unruly babies turning into toddlers overnight, the Devil on their shoulders whispering sweet sins into their ears and causing them to make the worst decisions. Right or wrong didn’t exist in their world. They knew what they wanted and they would try everything to get it, rules be damned.

Even though they all started out like this, not many chose to stay that way anymore. Once you learn how to live by the rules, it’s not that hard, and she grew to love the routine.

Without someone to teach them, young vampires could turn into everyone’s worst nightmare, and then everything she had worked so hard toward for centuries would have been for nothing.

“Fair warning,” she said, “Don’t.”

He bared his teeth.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots. Not. What’s your name, kid?”

He looked no day over seventeen, at best. His mother was probably worried sick. Little did she know that her worst fear, her son dying, had come true but in a far worse sense than she could ever imagine. Who he was now had nothing to do with the boy he used to be. The young vampire staring back into her eyes dark and empty had nothing left inside of him but insatiable hunger. His soul was clouded by the demon inside of him and chances were that it would never fully recover from the monstrosities he committed and would still commit.

She couldn’t stop him, she knew that. If she took him with her, whoever was responsible for the sudden spike in bloodless corpses would only create more of him, and take more teenagers from their parents until they got what they wanted. She needed to know what that was so she could stop the war that was looming on the horizon. She couldn’t have an apocalypse, not when her life was going semi-normal for a change. She quite liked New York, she wasn’t done yet.

“Who did this to you?” she asked again.

“Leave,” he growled.

“You see, I can’t do that. I want to, believe me, but I can’t. You’re too young, too inexperienced, so I’m trying to tell you this as easy as possible. What you’re doing right now is breaking all sorts of rules. You’re hunting on our turf,” she said. “My turf. My coven and I live here now. If you continue causing mayhem and destruction and turning innocent people into vampires, you’re breaking a truce that is far older than you, your parents, and great-great grandparents together. There is a set of rules for a reason…”

“You need to leave,” the boy repeated.

She ignored him. “This truce,” she continued, “was put in place over a century ago to assure that vampires and humans can live together in peace. Covens are not supposed to turn innocent people into vampires, let alone leave them without someone to teach them the ropes. A vampire out of control poses a danger to all species and if you continue what you’re doing, your actions will lead to war.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps that’s what you want. Is that it? Do you want us to be at war again?”

He smirked.

“You weren’t there the last time. It was ugly. That’s why there are rules, right?” She motioned as if explaining the way the world worked to a toddler. “To prevent such unnecessary bloodshed from happening again. To prevent us from killing each other,” she explained. “That’s what those rules are for, okay? Prevention, not causation. You’re supposed to stick to the rules to prevent a war that would destroy more than it would fix, and world domination doesn’t happen just because you say ‘fuck it!’ And shine a dangerous light on all vampires in the process. We’re not all alike. Every coven knows that,” she said. “Whoever made you is only using you to get ahead. In other words, you’re fucked and doomed to get slaughtered in the end. Either by your own kind, a war, or maybe even one of the very ancient vampire hunters that are only waiting for a chance to get back at us.”

Talking to him was futile. He didn’t follow a word she said and even if he had, he wouldn’t have understood. Young vampires were so stupid, naïve, useless and a nuisance. To think they all started out this way grossed her out, even though she made saving the lost causes of the world her life’s work.

Her logic was twisted and more often than not illogical, but she was wise and considered herself above average in intelligence, simply because she had been around for quite a while. She saw empires rise and fall. She stared into the darkest pits of existence and still managed to come back from the abyss. Her life had been a series of doors in her face, which led to several life lessons being taught over the course of centuries. She was no angel, but she wasn’t stupid and she had one job: make sure the truce would remain intact. And she would do just that, even if she had to eliminate that young boy in order to do so.

He didn’t say anything for quite a while. “Get out of my way,” he growled. Of course, he would settle on something as dramatically pathetic as this catchphrase. “I’m starving and I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you keep me from my meal.”

“Ouch,” she cocked an eyebrow, “You really bruise my ego, thinking you can get through me without getting hurt yourself. I’d suggest you think about your actions,” she said, “but I know that I’m practically talking to a wall right now, so thinking isn’t an option. You’re incapable of rational thought.”

Fear was the last thing that came to her mind when he showed off his teeth again.

“Listen, I just want to know who’s behind this. Who’s leading your coven, kid?”

“Fuck you!” he spat.

“Hey now, no need to get vulgar. I asked you a normal question. Who’s behind this and is there a chance I might get to have a conversation with the one in charge? Tell me and I will gladly point you in the direction of a different hunting ground,” she said.

The boy nodded toward the boat. “I want that one. He’s mine. Don’t even try to stop me.”

“Yeah, but you can’t have him.”

“I’m going to have him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Stop disagreeing with everything I’m saying!”

She shrugged. “Can’t help that you’re wrong all the time. I’ve never learned how to shut up. It’s genetic; centuries of untreated trauma are at fault here, and of course, your general wrongness plays a big part in my need to disagree with your embarrassing hypotheticals.”

“Go to hell!”

“Already did. You know, of course, pride always goes before the fall. Such a human trait to have; multiply it by a thousand, where does that leave you? Certainly not more sophisticated than me, someone with hundreds of years of experience. You need to be careful, young vampires like you are at an even higher risk to be discovered and murdered before you even get the chance to learn what you were given with this transition.”

Finally, he launched at her. She sped away, gone in a matter of a second, and appeared a few feet behind him, heaving a heavy sigh. “You kids are all the same,” she declared, looking into his very distraught eyes. He couldn’t believe she had switched that fast. “Fast but reckless and extremely easy to trick.”

A moment later, he stood in her spot and she was gone again, crossing her arms behind her back.

“You done?” she asked. His attempts to attack her only made her laugh, “Oh, so terrifying.”

She had him right where she wanted him, so agitated that he spiraled out of control, no longer aware of where he was going or what he was doing. She watched him dance for a bit. By now, he surely must have realized he wasn’t going to win. But the pride was stronger and he kept going, trying to get to her in all kinds of ways, though never succeeding.

“I feel bad for you. What would your mother say if she saw you like this?”

He stopped. His left eye twitched. She saw the wheels on his head turning and she thought, finally, I got him.

What did she say? Pride goes before the fall.

She caught the billy club that soared through the air in their direction only a few inches from the boy’s face. Her lips pursed and she stared at the red object, feeling the heavy metal between her fingers and the small ripples in the material.

When she turned her attention back to the target, the boy was gone. He had sped away, using the moment of distraction to run. She couldn’t sense him anywhere; he must have escaped the docks completely, not even staying close to the Hudson. He was on his way home. The fisherman was safe and she had diverted quite the disaster, but she still deemed the interruption rude, including the attempt to impale that poor boy with the billy club. She had thought about it, but she would have never gone through with it. Whoever the weapon belonged to had to have been close by.

Her night just kept getting better and better. That was her assessment, at least, until she heard his heartbeat again. The scent of him brushed the hairs in her nose and she took a whiff, feeling his presence so close in the air, she stopped to let the sensation wash over her. The fire inside of her belly ignited once again, the excitement tickling her cold skin and leaving nothing but lust and hunger to rummage through her veins.

Footsteps thudded against the asphalt, stones crunching under his weight. They were slightly wet from the previous rain, causing a slight slip.

She lowered her hand with the billy club, turning to look over her shoulder at the supposed blind man in a suit. She had seen that get-up before in the papers when he first showed his masked face in Hell’s Kitchen. She never thought much of it since he had never posed a problem before.

The tables had officially turned.

Her lips parted to chuckle. “This is awkward,” she said. In the distance, the waves of the Hudson crashed into the riverbanks. It was colder than usual with a breeze in her hair that caused the water to go wild.

She fiddled with the red billy club, smirking, “Does this belong to you?”

“Who are you?” his voice sounded significantly lower than the night she first met him at that godforsaken gala.

To think she didn’t want to go in the first place; she would have never met him if she hadn’t let Talon convince her that she was supposed to show her face. A political move, he called it, to assert her dominance, which she did, but not in the areas that mattered.

“What are you doing in my city?”

She pouted. “So many questions.”

“Who was that boy you were just talking to? Where did he go?”

“What happened to hello, how are you? What’s your name?” She retorted. “Take a girl out for a drink first, would you? Back then men used to still be gentlemen.”

His chuckle was rather dark, a sound that made her shiver and imagine what it would sound like to reduce him to whimpers instead. The man was a brat, no doubt, not easy to force into submission, but she had cracked worse nuts. Surrendering wasn’t her forte, but she could make it everyone else’s.

“I’m not here to play games,” he told her.

“But I am,” she said.

“What do you want?”

“As far as I can recall, I made that pretty clear when we first met.”

“When we- I don’t know you,” he lied and she realized how bad he was at it for a lawyer.

She licked her lips, the fangs threatening to come out. She was starving. “I quite like an oblivious man. Makes things so much more exciting.”

“Listen, I don’t have time for small talk. There have been several suspicious murders around this part of New York and you’re currently my only connection, so you better talk before I make you.”

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, “what does making me entail?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He headed straight ahead, determined to grab her, and she watched with an amused crinkle in her eyes. The downward tilt of his lips was truly something to laugh over.

She allowed him to push her against the wall behind them. His force was surprising – those arms didn’t just look scrumptious, they actually carried a lot of strength for a human.

The stranger bared his teeth and she smirked, eyeing his focused expression. He tried to look intimidating but failed miserably. One of his hands braced against the cement beside her head and the other landed around her neck, a threatening motion to assert dominance. They were all so predictable and foolish enough to think that a woman like her couldn’t fight back.

Everywhere she went, she was underestimated. If only everyone knew her true nature, they wouldn’t be so reckless as to push her into corners over and over again. Or in this case, against cement walls on the docks in the middle of the night, right in the middle of her hunting ground with not another human soul close enough to hear him scream. And water is knowingly a great way to dispose of a dead body.

He squeezed tighter and she unclenched her jaw, wriggling out of his grasp in the process. “You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Answer my question,” he bit back.

“If you answer mine first.”

“This isn’t a game. Lives are at stake here! Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you are,” he said, “but if I find out that you had anything to do with these innocent kids getting slaughtered or know something about this new drug everyone is talking about, I will find you and I will destroy you.”

“You know, if it weren’t for the way you smell, I wouldn’t have recognized you, all confident in your little devil’s costume,” she purred.

Her finger slid up the leather of his suit, brushing over his tensing abs hiding behind the protective gear and she sucked in a sharp breath at the illusion she received.

“All of this tension and I still don’t know your name.”

He caught her hand and pinned it over her head. She squealed. He was full of surprises, and it only turned her on more. She wanted to bite him, really bite him, and suck on his pulse until he was crying her name and praying for God to save him, but the pleasure would only drive him further to hell and God wouldn’t be coming. She wanted him to writhe under her touch, taste him and make him come undone over and over again and once he believed she was done with him, she would start her torture anew, right from the beginning, pushing him from the precipice just far enough so she could catch him, bring him back to the top and then do the same thing in repetition all over again.

He roamed her face aimlessly, as it seemed, but barely visible behind the mask. “How?” he growled.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” She chuckled. “It’s unfortunate that we had to meet again like this, but…” In an instant, she had them flipped around, her arms pinning him to the wall instead of herself and her strength remained unmatched. He could struggle, it was of no use. She had the upper hand.

Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke, far too close for comfort, “You smell absolutely divine. It’d be a shame to waste all that sweet, sweet blood for a second time,” she said.

He couldn’t move. Sharp nails raked through his hair and over his scalp, tugging his head to the side until his throat was completely bare to her, naked, exposed. His aorta pulsated wildly under his skin. She could see it bulge with every beat of his heart. That strong, masculine heart, stronger than anything she had heard or felt before.

She tasted the sweat on his skin and the salt of threatening tears in the air. If he was turned on or scared, she wasn’t sure. The lines between fear, pain, and pleasure blurred. It was all the same to her, anyway. Getting close to her would most certainly draw everyone under her spell at some point, no matter the sex or gender, and all the heads would continue turning to her whenever her presence entered a room full of lively human beings. Only then her pheromones could work their wonders.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen struggled against her grasp but to no avail. He was powerless, just how she liked him, how she wanted and craved him.

She licked a long stripe over his pulse point. “I want to taste you so badly,” she whispered. “I want nothing more than to dig my teeth into your pretty little throat and suck you dry, and then I want to get on my knees and eat your cum so I can feel it mix with the essence of what your heart has to give, and then you’d be mine. I’d own you. You’d be completely at my mercy, you’d be bound to me and it would feel so fucking good. It would feel so fucking good for the both of us.”

Her fangs began to scratch the surface, enough to make him feel it but not nearly enough to break the skin. She tasted the salt of his sweat even clearer now, wondering how much deeper she had to go to finally reach the source of the sweetness that surrounded him.

“Don’t you want that?” Her hand joined the words slipping from her silver tongue and wrapping around him like a poisonous snake. “Don’t you want to let me corrupt you, to bite you, to eat you until all you can feel is the pure pleasure of having me all over you? My lips, my tongue, my teeth, my body on yours everywhere, all the fucking time… oh, that would be such an orgasmic sight, and the pleasure you’d be feeling, I can’t even describe it. You won’t know until you at least try and believe me, you should. Isn’t that something you want, darling? Doesn’t your body crave to be caressed and receive undivided attention from someone who knows how to make you feel good?”

He sounded small, fragile, and utterly broken when he next spoke, and she hadn’t even started yet. “What are you doing to me?” he asked. The heat of his breath mixed with the cold night air. “What are you?”

She chuckled. “The better question is, what am I not?” The tip of her tongue moved from his neck to his cheek until she reached the corner of his luscious lips. Her nose dug into his cheekbone. “Fuck,” she said. “The things I want to do to you are far from innocent.”

But so fucking good.

Even with fear holding the reins to his body, he melted into her touch. He turned into a puddle of melted chocolate right at her feet. She could have asked anything of him, he would have done so just for the sake of pleasing her. But she wanted him to do it voluntarily not because the smell of her pheromones managed to drive any man into a state of co-dependency.

She wanted him to want her for the sake of wanting her. Like this, she would only compel him to do things he would never choose to do out of his own free will, and while the thought of having him right there on the docks was exciting and had her cunt squeezing around thin air, already wet and wanting, the only treacherous thing about her that was entirely defenseless and could be forced into submission with just a simple flick of the tongue over plump, rosy lips. He had her on the cloud of dangerous euphoria in seconds, already stumbling on the edge and about ready to slip, lose herself, and lose control only to have him, finally, in all the ways she pleased and all the ways that would make him feel good.

She could give him anything he had ever wanted, give him a time that not a single human could give him, and make him come undone inside and outside so many times, he would pass out from the pure pleasure. But he wouldn’t regret it. He would go out this as the winner, fucked out and blissful and perhaps a little addicted to the taste of her as well – she was sure she would be addicted to him as well. She almost already was, just from the scent of his blood and the way his body shivered at the slightest touch. He was so responsive, so human, yet stronger and more unique than anyone else could ever be. He was the one thing she wanted and she was ready to take it as soon as he wanted it, too.

She was used to taking what she wanted however she wanted and screwing the consequences, quite literally, but not with him. With him, the need bubbling up deep inside of her belly was different. It wasn’t just a hunger for blood or a hunger for sex and pleasurable violence, he caused much more than that within her already conflicted soul, and as enticing as that was, the connection confused her. There was a reason she didn’t let anyone close, using sex as a mere pastime activity to get the edge off – she couldn’t toy with him because chances were she would reduce his survival chances to zero.

Allowing a human like him close would only cause pain in the long run, and she’d been through enough of that for several lifetimes. And that wasn’t even an overstatement.

Her lips brushed over his momentarily before she forced herself to pull away, widening the distance between them.

The poor man slumped against the wall, his world rotating. He took it much better than most people, but the sweet taste of his fear in the air reminded her that he was just human, after all. A curious, enticing, and mysterious human, but a human being nonetheless.

Humans serve only one purpose for vampires like animals serve a purpose to humans – predators hunt their victims to feast, sustain themselves and survive. Humans are essentially animals and vampires used to be humans turned into hunters, predators, and dangerous perverts who craved blood to survive while at the same time using it for twisted, sexual purposes that had God locking the gates of heaven to anyone who even dared to fantasize about it. There is no ancestor ready to turn around in their grave because vampires were born from lust and hunger, and the first vampires had been carnal creatures as well, ready to go at it like animals without a single brain cell at their disposal.

Vampires weren’t like that anymore. Sex still played a huge role in their existence, but their main purpose was to fit in. They wanted a peaceful life. Taking everything they wanted was no longer possible, their chances were limited, but at least they didn’t have to fear imminent death anymore. Not ever since the truce was first established, anyway.

If those young vampires continued killing and turning innocent children without mercy, and their coven even supported their decisions, the peace would have been short-lived. She could already see it swindling with every passing second, though fear was not something she wanted to concern herself with, not yet. Her life had more important things to offer before she rang the warning bells on all the vampires she knew, therefore causing a certain commotion that would send the gravestones rolling. Not yet, she decided, but if they kept going at this rate, certainly very soon.

“Go,” she growled into the night. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from the Hudson until further notice. You can never know what blood-thirsty and murderous monsters might lurk in the dark around here,” she said.

He didn’t move.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, his voice remaining steady.

She frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, you don’t scare me. Manipulate me all you want, this isn’t the first time an otherwise scary woman fails to put me under her spell. But,” he smirked, “don’t take it personally. I’m sure you look pretty scary.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, her eyes switching from their natural color to a glossy black. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?”

The red nails adorning her fingers grew sharper and in size. If only he could have regained his eyesight, he surely would have changed his mind. Her skin turned even whiter, the bags under her eyes sinking deep into her skull, replaced instead by thick, purple veins that transported the venom from the core of her existence into them. She was chaos, an abomination, humanity’s biggest threat – not scary was a description she wouldn’t accept.

No matter how blind he was, he had to follow the natural order of things like everyone else. He was supposed to be afraid of her. If he couldn’t find it in himself to show her, all of her games would inevitably lose their fun factor. And her ego would suffer the most.

Open an ancient book about demons and a picture like that might stare back at you.

“It takes a lot more than dark magic to scare the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” he told her.

It was cute. Remarkable, really. She laughed at his attempt to make himself feel better, and partly because she was starting to grow upset with him.

“Somehow, being infuriated with you only makes you so much more attractive to me,” she said.

“You still don’t scare me.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Five seconds. The heartbeat of the fisherman rang loudly in her ear. She was starving, her last meal far too long in the past. He wriggled in her grasp, crying, begging for her to let him go, to have mercy on him and, “Oh, God, your face- what happened to your face? Are those- are those fangs? Please, I have a family!”

Her laugh reverberated in her chest. The man stiffened when she tore at his hair to position his head sideways, his neck in perfect reach for her mouth. She looked at the man in the suit before her, his jaw clenched, and he had his billy clubs at the ready. They weren't going to hurt her, he knew that. She would catch them with ease. He could only stand by and pretend he wasn’t scared even though he had never been more in sync with the feeling. They were a package deal when it came to her.

“Don’t worry,” she told the poor fisherman, “You’ll see your family again, and you won’t even have to remember a thing.”

Her mouth opened.

“Don’t,” Daredevil threatened – yes, it was a threat, not even a warning – from the other side of her, and she saw the conflict dance clearly over the revealed lower part of his face. “You don’t have to hurt him,” he said. “The man’s innocent.”

She shrugged. “I know.”

“He has a family.”

“I know. My ears are quite impeccable, can you believe that?”

“How about you think this through before you act? There’s a lot of ways you can go about spiting me, but pulling an innocent bystander into this is not fair. Come on, you said you wanted me, so take me.”

As lucrative as that sounded, she had a different plan.

She hummed, “No.”

“Why? Are you scared? Perhaps you’re not such a bad person after all. Is that it? You want me to be afraid of you, so you’re trying to hurt that man until I cave? Well, I won’t, but I’m offering myself to you instead of him, so don’t try so hard. Just take me. Take your shot.”

Oh, he sounded so amused – time to wipe that smirk off his beautiful face.

“Ancient advice,” she ignored everything else he had said, “Don’t be a martyr,” she said and her lips rained down on the fisherman’s throat in a fiery passion. “History hates martyrs.”

“No, history only consists of martyrs.”

“The official version. The truth lies much deeper than your little human brain could ever explore.”

Daredevil was right about one thing; the man was innocent. No matter how she turned it, there was nothing wrong with him, so death would have been unnecessary punishment.

She wasn’t going to kill him just to spite the man she craved to actually have a taste of. She was just going to take a sip, still a quarter of her hunger and then move on, heal the man’s wounds and make him forget this ever happened. He would be disoriented, but he would be fine.

Humans are the most susceptible to manipulation.

“Don’t be afraid,” she told the fisherman, “I’m just going to have a little taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Her teeth dug into his aorta and she sucked, tasting the blood that squirted into her mouth and all over her face in thick stripes. He tasted nothing like the feast standing right across from her, but it didn’t matter. Her mind shut off. The hunger moved to the forefront and at that moment, everything else stopped existing. It was just her and the life of this particular human in her hands, the taste of his blood exploding on her tongue and her stomach churning with the endless hunger that only got fueled with the small taste. She wanted more, needed it, but she knew better than to let the desperation overpower her.

Passed out and short of a few pints of blood, the fisherman fell to the ground. She licked her lips. He was everywhere, even stuck on her clothes and traces of him had gotten tangled in her hair. He was a bleeder, that much was sure, and if she hadn’t licked over his neck to seal the wound, he surely would have bled out.

Poor thing, but sentiment was useless in a case like this. He would make it. No use crying over a blood bag, she was taught. Humans lived to feed them. It was their purpose and she had no reason to feel bad for wanting to be full for a change, not go to bed hungry because she wouldn’t dare touch someone that wasn’t already in a plastic bag. She deserved this.

And Daredevil cowered in fear at the sounds he was met with. Her night had turned from a total shit show into the sight of victory.

She stepped forward and he flinched away, finally. “You wanted to know what I am. This is it!” she declared. “I’m the monster parents warn their children about and I’m the one thing every church fears because I happen to stand against everything religion stands for.”

“Dear God,” he breathed out.

“God can’t help me now,” she said. Her eyes moved to the sky, watching the stars disappear behind a thick cloud of smog and thousands of lights from the city center. “He stopped doing that the second I died. He’s dead to me now. He cannot be found. There is no God, there is only hunger and I’m probably the most merciful of them all, so I’d run if I were you. I’d run before another one of those demons God gave up on saving, jumps out of the dark and decides to suck the life from your pretty little body. I’d run,” she said, “because there is not a millisecond that goes by in which I do not want to tear your neck open and drink your blood while I also desperately want to suck your dick between my lips and do the same to those veins too, and the longer you stay the more my self-control starts to fade into the thin smoke that comes out of your mouth whenever you speak.”

He shivered and the color faded from his skin, blood pooling in his veins at twice the amount and the smell almost knocked her off her already hazy feet from the first course.

More, her body screamed, but she held back. She learned how to hold back. No one had to die tonight.

“Run now or I’m cutting this short, and then Hell’s Kitchen will no longer have a Daredevil to protect them from the likes of me. They won’t even get the chance to mourn because it’d be impossible for me to drop your body in the Hudson after getting a taste of your blood.”

He turned around, finally getting the hint to run. He jumped the wall up to the rooftop too gracefully for a blind man. She watched, her bloody lips moving into a smile.

“Fear is healthy,” he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t let your pride cloud that healthy feeling from manifesting. And find me,” she said, “when you’re ready to talk without underestimating me.”

By the time she looked back up, Daredevil was gone with the wind, but his scent still lingered long after he had left and she would take it to bed with her where the most unholy of things would happen to the sound of a name she didn’t even know.

She should have fucked him when she had the chance.

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sgt-morgan · 2 years ago

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Sight Unseen 💤

Summary: Matt pulls a late night and comes home to his perfect little family. Life is good. Part of the Robin verse.

Warnings: none. This is short and sweet, sappy fluff.

A/N: Matt is a good dad. Robin is the sweetest. Daddevil strikes again.

Daredevil Masterlist

Matt imagines that this is the cutest sight in the world. His pregnant wife and baby girl curled up in his bed. He has half a mind to take a picture, even though he won’t be able to stare at it. Instead he enjoys the serenity of the moment and tries to conjure an image in his mind of just exactly how sweet this sight must be with the senses that he has while he takes off his suit.

Earlier in the evening he had received your text about the bed already being full and he had laughed.

Robin 🦇🖤💍😍: Careful when you come to lay down tonight devil boy, your little battlin’ Jackie has taken over the bed, and I’m as big as a whale. If you decide to sleep on the couch to avoid a foot to the ribs lmk. Stay safe Bman, love you.

Now when faced with the reality of it his insides turned to mush.

He can smell the sleep in the air, both of his girls smell of it for certain. He takes several deep breaths to better get the picture. Jackie smells like that baby sweat all children get while napping, he can practically taste the salt of it on the air, children run hot when they sleep and his little girl is no exception. He imagines her hair is slightly damp with it, plastering her soft baby curls to her forehead. She also smells like her soap, the sweet smell of no tears shampoo, you must have given her a bath before bed. Next is the new lotion you bought for her, it smells like lavender and camomile, some kind of baby calm stuff, it’s pleasant and certainly does the job, the comforting smell of it allows his shoulders to relax. You always joke that those scents were more for the parents benefit than the baby’s, and he suspects you’re on to something. She also faintly smells of the both of you, she must have been sleeping in here the whole time. She had her own room, but some nights you both just needed the comfort of one another while he was out. It made his heart ache to think that you both would be so sad as to miss him, but when he’s around you always reassure him that it’s fine. He chooses to believe you, but he knows better.

Then there’s you, he can smell your sweat as well, telling him you’ve also been asleep for a while now. He also smells your deodorant, something soft and powdery, he thinks you noticed when he didn’t like the smell of your last one, you said every time you uncapped it he got a ‘smelly cat face.’ Whatever that means. He’s grateful for the change that you so readily made for his comfort, it was thoughtful. He smells his soap on your skin as well. It’s a habit of yours to use his toiletries when you miss him, he must be working too much lately, he makes a mental note to text foggy he’s taking an impromptu day off tomorrow, he wouldn’t mind. You also smell like the sensitive baby laundry detergent you’d begun to use, but it was masked heavily by his cologne, telling him you were wearing his shirt to sleep in. It was also spattered a bit with the smell of Jackie’s children’s toothpaste, so he knows it’s been a playful and eventful evening full of bath times and giggles. He’s sad he missed it.

Then he listens to the sounds around him. Two sets of breaths were slow and deep, three heart beats slow and steady, perfectly in sync. It further drives home the thought of Jackie curling up in your bed from the beginning. The sounds of your tiny matching snores makes him smile, you’re both sleeping good, peaceful and totally relaxed. Good, you deserved the rest. You had been struggling to sleep comfortably the further you’d gotten into your pregnancy, but tonight you seemed to be settled. There’s soft music playing, the sound of a lullaby album you played for Jackie when she was born, she must have been fighting sleep at first, asking you to sing her her lullabies. He also heard a faint breeze from a cracked window, it did feel a bit warm in here. He strains his ears, and he bets the air conditioning unit is broken again, he’d call the landlord about it in the morning. While straining his ears for the air con, he also picks up a faint rasp in his daughters breathing, oh no, she must be getting sick, he reaches out to feel her temperature and- oh, no, not sick, crying. She had been crying. Ah, now this little sleeping arrangement made sense. Jackie was sleeping on his pillow, there were wet spots where her tears had fallen onto it. He ghosts his fingers down her arms, and he finds the feeling of soft fuzz, she’s gripping her Batman teddy. A Christmas gift that matched her PJs, the teddy was affectionately known as her ‘daddy teddy.’ She was crying over him he realized with a deep sigh, he’d have to make it up to her tomorrow. In the mean time, he stripped off her footie pjs so she was just in her undershirt, Robin often said he was like a space heater, and as the little girl was already fairly warm, he didn’t want to risk her over heating. You and Jackie had been laying on your sides, foreheads pressed together. The thought of it was so endearing it physically made his heart hurt, and he rubbed his hand across his chest to release the ache. Once he got his daughter ready, he climbed into bed and settled her between you, her little back pressed to his chest. He ran a hand over your side, and let out a soundless chuckle when baby number two pressed a foot back into his palm, causing you to grumble and snuggle down further into your pillow in an attempt to get comfortable again. You always complained that all of his babies were daddy’s girls, and in moments like these he suspects you’re right. He smooths a hand over your hair, pushing the strands out of your face and caressing your cheek, you sigh contentedly and he beams. All of his girls loved him, the evidence of it was right here, and it made his chest swell with pride.

So maybe he couldn’t see his perfect little family, couldn’t see the way that Jackie was a perfect little carbon copy of his Robin, couldn’t see that you were sleeping in his ‘daddevil’ T-shirt, couldn’t see the picture of him on the nightstand you had strategically turned towards the bed so you and your daughter could see it, couldn’t see the crayon drawing Jackie made of her daddy in his suit, or the sonogram you’d received today of baby number three, but he could hear your heartbeats as they synced with his own, the evidence of your love made plain in all your little habits, and that was enough for him.

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somethingblu3 · 4 months ago

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i can't stop thinking about treason. i need you to think about CIA Agent Matt Murdock here for a second...

#like....#au idea #matt murdock #okay i'll do it myself #charlie cox #treason #daredevil #daredevil au #matt murdock au #matt murdock crossover #adam lawrence

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years ago

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Devil's Own

Pairing: devil! Matt Murdock x angel! reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 700 words

Outline: A devoted angel knows how to hide from the devil. What about an enamored angel?

Warnings: dark themes, implied manipulation, mild violence & death.

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be my Halloween fic, based on a request I got for this pairing. Sorta Poetic.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Matt Murdock Masterlist

His hands are strong, his grip tight on you, squeezing your bones.

One crack and you will be gone—his, forever.

You try to fight the tears that pooled below your eyes. Because you know it would only make him happier. He is sadistic, with his horns shining bright in the dim moonlight. Your white dress is drenched in your blood as he twists your wing in his hands trying to break them.

“You don’t need them anymore, my love.”

His voice echoes through your head, making you nauseous.

But you know you can feel something else as well.

Darkness loves the light so much that it wants to devour it.

This was never about hatred. This was never about opposite sides. Just a declaration of love however twisted to a virgin’s eyes might look.

A young lover’s song.

Devils love their angels.

Devils chase the angels.

Devils devour their angels.

Until they capture them forever deep inside the earth.

Caged.

It would be a nightmare to be someone’s possession forevermore…

Madness. Really.

Living forever in his cage.

You knew that. There’s nothing that you didn’t already know. But now it wouldn’t matter anymore. You didn’t have long left. His fist pushes your wing down and all you can feel is love.

Why?

For centuries you had learned how to hide, how to walk only in the light, obey the sun and run alongside him. You have been hiding from the night, from them, the devil, the thieves with shining smiles, their velvet robes, their strong aroma.

You tried to stay away.

At least that’s what you told your elders.

Did you try to stay away?

The clock can’t turn backward.

Did you shield your face from the eyes of the devil?

Or did you cut strands of your hair with golden scissors savaging them through the darkest alleys?

You were a traitor and that you knew.

You were a traitor from the moment your eyes met his.

And you’d never regret it.

At night he’d whistle and call out for you, calling you his, repeating your name like a chant and a prayer. Creating such soft music, filling your heart with lustful thoughts that occupied your head until you couldn’t tell reality from a daydream anymore.

You wanted to look at him.

To follow his voice, touch his hand, lay on his naked chest.

You longed to become the devil’s own.

But can the devil truly love?

What does the devil know about love?

He just wanted your wings and your light.

You dreamt of his lips on your skin, fire on fire, engulfing you and turning you into his own. In his warm embrace, dress begone, fingers intertwined, his grip on you. Touching your body, caressing your skin.

And that’s where you were now.

Right under his spell.

You could have sworn you were deep in the woods protected by old magic but somehow he had pulled you out. Dragged out in the streets and now he was holding your wing.

You had to put on at least a little bit of a show.

Did you hide? Or did you lift the spell? You were a clever one, weren’t you?

He must have known how easily you would have fallen for him, he would smell the desire on your skin, your lust growing on you.

But you can’t let him have that easy, could you?

You keep your head away from him, don’t want to see him, don’t want to meet his gaze and most importantly you‘d never want him to learn just how much you had been praying to get captured by him.

One breath.

Two breaths.

The pain is no more. Your wings are laying on the dirt and all you feel is free.

A strange sensation overfills you and the feeling of something soft and velvety is evident on your lips. You open your eyes and see him, the devil himself, kissing your lips, touching your skin with a wondrous delicacy that makes your heart beat again.

Rebirth.

In his arms, you were born again as the devil’s very own.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on post notifications!

#selenewrites #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock au #daredevil x reader #daredevil #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #netflix daredevil

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ddejavvu · 10 months ago

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sooo mei I was reading through your matt murdock ml and stumbled across the mafia one and pleaseee that is so cute, would you ever expand on that au? like maybe r’s flat is broken into and before she can even go to the cops there’s a bunch of matt’s guys there like don’t worry we’ve got it handled and she’s just ???

mafia!matt is the last thing i thought i'd be writing in the year 2024 but i can work with what you gave me <3

You're not sure whether you'd consider yourself lucky for escaping the bank unscathed, or unlucky for having been in the bank during an active shooting in the first place. Either way, the entire ordeal leaves you unsettled for weeks. You're bordering on agoraphobic, but food is a must, so you set out to brave the streets of Hell's Kitchen in search of something quick and dirty.

Upon your return, you know you're unlucky. You'd locked the door when you'd left, but evidently that doesn't stop someone who's desperate enough to break into a place that's barely up to code. You stare into the gaping, dark recess of your burgled apartment, noting that several electronics and appliances are out of place, but none of them appear to be missing. Your television is cracked, but you suppose your computer will be a suitable replacement until you can manage to afford a new screen.

You back away from the door just in case there's still someone inside; you're not stupid enough to investigate for yourself. However, the moment you step back, you ram into someone behind you, and your mottled nerves make you nearly shoot out of your skin.

All you can manage is a muffled, 'mmf!' when a hand clamps itself over your mouth, but the voice accompanying the hand is quick to assure you, "Easy, tuts, we're not gonna make it worse. We're with- uh, the cops. Okay? We got a call from the neighbors, 'said they heard someone breakin' in. We've got it handled, alright? Just relax. You can head back inside, that creep is long gone. We'll have someone stand guard outside, got it?"

You're only let go of when your captor deems you calm, but your heart is still racing in your chest when you turn to face him. He doesn't look anything like a police officer, but he does look menacing. He shows you a badge and I.D, and they look authentic enough for your arrythmia to settle.

"Go on," He ushers you towards the door, "Get in there, we'll take care of it from here."

You adjust your grip on your plastic bag of frozen meals, passing a couple other men that are now posted at the front door of your apartment. Each attempts a kind smile at you, and you're glad to shut the door on them once you get inside.

There's a man on your couch.

You don't notice until you flick the light switch on, but he's sitting there, clad in a suit and sunglasses. You shriek, and briefly consider whether or not your frozen ravioli could be used as a suitable projectile.

"Relax," The man stands, an easy smile on his face, one that drips with sympathy, "I'm Matt. I'm here to stand guard."

"Why were you sitting in the dark?!" You demand, now doubting the validity of the police badge you'd seen earlier, regretting the decision to trust these less-than-official men.

"It doesn't matter to me whether it's light or dark," He chuckles, and your face flushes momentarily when you realize what his sunglasses are for.

"Oh. Well- well you're not doing a very good job of making me relax, Matt. I feel like I'm more in danger of you than I am of someone else breaking into my house."

The man's smile is gentle, but not weak, "Sorry. Just go about your business, okay Y/N? We'll replace your damaged property and be out of your hair as soon as we can eliminate the threat.”

"Eliminate...?" You echo cautiously, "How long does that take?"

"Depends. A day. A week. Months, maybe. But this is all for your precaution, Y/N," He stands, making his way over to you and carefully feeling out the broken glass on the floor with the toe of his shoe. He places a hand on your shoulder, "Just trust me, I'm here to help. None of this will ever happen to you again- not on my watch."

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cellophaine · 1 year ago

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i dont know if you listen to lana del rey but MATT MURDOCK AND SAD GIRL BY LANA DEL REY

i need a fic based on this like i have been listening to it non stop and i cant stop thinking on him so a matt murdock angst fic with fluff with a lil smut?

Sad Girl

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut.

Author's Note: This fic is brought to you by delusion and denial. The song has a big influence, but I made a few tweaks. Italics are flashbacks.

To Anon: yes I do listen to Lana! Quite religiously 🫣 If you read through the fic names in my masterlist, you'll see some of Lana's song titles.

Share and feedback are welcomed!

GIF Credit

"Sooo … how's it going with the guy you're seeing?"

Over the rim of your cup, you cast your watchful eyes at your friend as you took a sip of your steamed drink. Mindy's inquisitive gaze bored into you, pawing and prodding at the film of protection you projected on the particular topic. You had expected her to ask about Matt since that was where you left off the last time you saw her three months ago, even though she was your closest friend. The way you left it wasn't positive in your friend's eyes, so this time, she was adamant about the two of you catching up. You couldn't hide from her anymore, even if you tried.

You bit into the side of your cheek before releasing it; your eyes briefly darted away from Mindy's face before answering.

"It's… good."

Mindy arched a brow at your drawn-out 'good', waiting patiently as she expected you to divulge.

"It's really good. Same old, you know?"

She nodded, her eyes slightly narrowed in a way that seldomly meant something good.

"Does that mean you're still stuck in the … grey area?"

You placed your drink down a little harsher than necessary, striking a sharp sound on the delicate saucer.

"I'm not 'stuck'. It's not even a grey area; it's black and white. I chose this."

She had struck a nerve, and you didn't want to admit that to yourself.

"So you chose to be in an ambiguous relationship with a man who doesn't seem to care that much about you? Who only hits you up when he needs someone to warm his bed?"

Your casual, friends-with-benefits relationship with Matt had gone on for well over eight months. At the very beginning, you both agreed on strictly no strings attached. He would come over, you would fuck, and at the end, he would leave. It started out as a once-in-a-while thing, then once a week, and now it had almost become a nightly basis. Your closet stored some of his comfy and formal clothes, your bathroom cabinet held his own hygiene items, and your pantry was stocked with his favourite teas. Matt had slept over so often that you felt like your place was his, too. Even your first aid kit got an upgrade as you equipped it with stuff you wouldn't need yourself so you could be more prepared for any injuries he might have. You knew Matt was Daredevil, knowing the danger he might face every night. It wasn't something he could hide from you. Not for as long as Matt tried to, anyway. After your discovery of Daredevil and Matt's acceptance of the fact that you knew, you started patching him up when his nights got rough, and he began to ask for your help more often. On those nights when his injuries weren't so grave, his fucking would get rougher as the extension of his waning wrath.

"No! You're wrong. It's not like that at all. He cares about me …."

You trailed off when the doubt crept in, making you unsure of yourself. Mindy caught on to your hesitation and gave you a concerned gaze. You couldn't help it, but you wanted to prove your friend wrong. After all, it only happened three weeks ago, and the memory was still fresh in your mind.

Your boss was in a particular mood that day. He scrapped the entirety of your careful research and made you go down the police station all the way in Brooklyn to obtain the paper documents yourself. You barely made it out of work and into a cab before eleven, slouching in the back seat as the toll of the day took over. Your feet ached from the heels, and your body was riddled with tension. You were so exhausted that once you came home, you headed straight for the shower to wash off the grime and sweat; the melody of your wind chime outside on the fire escape didn't even register in your ears. After the much-needed cleanse, you settled on the couch with greasy takeout and put on your show. You didn't even notice how the wind chime had gone quiet, turning into a gentle tune momentarily before three dull knocks on the window pane startled you.

Your attention turned to the window, recognizing the silhouette outside. You only realized then that you had forgotten to take the wind chime in – the form of communication you used to signal that you were waiting for him. The melody had almost become a permanent fixture on your fire escape. You hurried to the window and ushered Matt in.

"Sorry, I totally forgot that you were coming."

You felt guilty of your own forgetfulness for giving him a false signal, but a small part of you didn't. You wanted him to stay, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to. It felt like a violation of your agreement. And yet, you desperately did not want to be alone that night. All the turmoil in your head quickly evaporated as Matt closed the distance, discarding his mask before he reached you and pulled you in by your waist. He planted a hungry kiss on your lips, slowly smouldering to a lingering touch. You would be lying if you said his impatience didn't turn you on. You pulled away from him, feeling embarrassed when you remembered the chow mein you had, but Matt didn't seem to mind.

"What was that for?"

Your eyes drank in the messed up hair, the glossy unsighted eyes focused a lower point on your face, and the easy smile tugged at a corner of his plump, just-kissed lips. Everything added to the boyish charm you had come to love.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. I missed you."

His confession and the way he said it with a soft smirk made you melt. Matt wasn't one for sentimental statements, but when he was in the mood for it, he always knew how to make you weak in the knees. No matter how true the admission was, he knew you knew that this was no more than a casual arrangement. Crossing the boundaries was something of a figment.

"It's only been three days."

"I know. And I still missed you all the same."

He stepped even closer, slotting one leg between your open stance before slanting his lips over yours. You couldn't help but lean into the kiss and moan; your body arched into his embrace out of second nature. His soft lips found the pulse on your neck and sucked, marking the smooth skin there as if he deemed that it was missing his mark. His hands started pulling on your clothes, making your mind run wild with the possibilities of the night. But your muscles' cry for rest was louder. For the second time that night, you gingerly pulled away from his warm embrace, and the crestfallen look on his face once you had distanced yourself almost made you regret it.

"Is something wrong?"

He asked gently. None of the whining and all of the genuine concern. You sighed, running your hands over your face.

"It's not you. It's me. I had a pretty … shitty day at work, and I … I don't feel like doing this right now."

You quickly added.

"I hope that's okay."

His immediate response untied the knot in your belly.

"Of course it's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You know that, right?"

You lowered your gaze to the ground; your voice was small and quiet.

"I do, I just don't want to disappoint you, that's all."

Matt placed a hand under your chin, lifting your face so you could look at him.

"You could never disappoint me, no matter what."

You clasped a hand around the wrist that was hovering over your collarbone. With all the courage you could muster, you begrudgingly gave voice to the inescapable outcome of the night.

"Well, I guess I'll… see you later?"

His brows furrowed as if you were speaking a language he didn't know.

"What do you mean? You're not getting rid of me that easily."

In a fell swoop, Matt picked you up. He walked to the couch, gently laid you down on the plush surface and told you to stay still. You watched with wide eyes as he disappeared into your bathroom. You heard the water running, then shutting off, and Matt appeared only to vanish into your bedroom. You peeked over the couch as you heard him rummaging around what sounded like your bedside table, helping himself to its content. Eventually, he left the bedroom with your body oil mist. You braced yourself on your elbows, apprehensive and confused, when Matt asked you to remove your sweats.

"I'm just going to give you a massage. No funny business, I promise."

He urged you to lay back as he carefully folded your clothes and put them on the armchair nearby. He loosened the knots in your muscles, kneading at your sore limbs. His hands worked with so much tenderness and patience, smoothing the oil over your skin, making sure you were relaxed and comfortable. You practically melted into the couch once he was done with you, feeling the tension had long ebbed away.

You sighed happily; the touch of appreciation sweetened your voice.

"Thank you for that."

"You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you."

Matt smiled fondly at you, which deepened the crinkles around his eyes. And then, there was a brief moment of hesitation, as if he didn't know if he should say what he wanted to say.

"Do you want me to leave?"

He finally asked, his voice soft. The question seemed so small, yet, it made your heart soar, sending a familiar serotonin rush through your veins.

"No. Stay with me, please."

Matt slid onto the couch with you, cuddling you from behind. The space was a little cramped, but you were grateful for it for the way his body pressed up against you underneath the cozy blanket. The two of you watched your favourite show together. Still, you didn't pay much attention to it as your mind tried to soak up as much of this feeling as possible until you fell asleep. When you woke the next morning, he wasn't there. Yet, something felt different now that you had a taste of what it was like to be on the other side of the thorned fence.

Despite the "developement", you still felt unsure. And Mindy could tell that.

"If he cared about you like that, why haven't you made it official? Is there something holding you back?"

You bit your lip, your head lowered as you still tether at the edge of acceptance of your situation after an even more recent event.

"Actually, yeah …"

You thought you knew him better than most people did, but maybe, it was you who knew the least of all. You thought about last week when you were tasked with writing a piece on the new up-and-coming law firm in the middle of Hell's Kitchen that took down Wilson Fisk.

It was all a coincidence, but you didn't mind getting to observe Matt on a professional level. The business plate on the wall outside looked new and polished, contrary to the inside. The building was a little dingy but functional. When Foggy Nelson welcomed you into the small office, the sight you saw was all but welcoming. The glass panes did nothing to conceal the view of Matt being awfully cozy with a gorgeous woman, who you knew was Karen Page. She straightened his tie, and Matt was saying something to her, his soft lips close to the crown of her head. Karen laughed at his words, and in return, an easy smile spread across his face. The intimate scene made you feel like you were intruding on the two of them just by looking in. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. It was no time for personal feelings and thoughts.

Still, the unpleasant feeling simmered and stayed with you throughout the interview until the very end. When the photographer showed up to take their photos for the newspaper, you bore witness to their intimacy once more. It was obvious to anyone that there was something between them, whether it was in the past or present. The way they held each other before your observant eyes manifested into something tangible that you could touch and couldn't compare. Their bond was something deeper than your relationship. That only aggravated your stubborn jealousy and how ashamed you felt afterward for feeling such fierce possessiveness over someone who wasn't even yours. He never was, never had been, and never would be. What you had was a casual agreement, and that was all to it. But you had to go ahead and fall for him.

The look on Mindy's face after you told her about Matt and Karen was one you knew too well. It was of pity, and you hated being on the receiving end.

"It sounds like he might have something going on with that woman. After all, you didn't agree to be mutually exclusive."

She took hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze as if to soften the blow she was about to deliver.

"I think you should reconsider your relationship. Being the other woman is not worth it, no matter how good in bed he is."

You couldn't stop the frown that formed on your lips, but you could control the trembling that almost broke in your lower lip. You jerked your hand away as if Mindy's touch seared you with shame. Your voice shook as your defensiveness raised itself around you.

"You don't know him like I do, okay? Stay out of it. I don't need your sage advice."

I don't need you to tell me how wrong I am. You wanted to say. You knew that already. Saying that out loud would mean admitting you were wrong about Matt, about the two of you, and about everything.

You grabbed your bag from the chair and walked out of the coffee shop, ignoring Mindy's calls. Your nose felt stung from the unshed tears, from the weight of your friend's words. You knew she only wanted good things for you, but she was wrong. She must be.

Even then, in your heart, you weren't so sure.

That night, you didn't think Matt would come. But you were thankful that he did. The moment you heard his familiar steps on the stairs, making his way up to you, you were already at the window, practically pulling Matt in once he reached you. You didn't even wait until he got even footing on the floor to kiss him senselessly, drawing a surprised gasp from him. He didn't seem to mind and quickly reciprocated. Moments later, your clothes were shed, letting your bare skin and laboured breaths fill the silence. Matt's hands ran all over your curves appreciatively, his lips tangled with yours fervently. He whispered on your lips when you parted to breathe.

"I missed you."

You heard that, Mindy? He said he missed me.

"I missed you too."

Your words drawled into a soft moan as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled slightly. His hand settled on your ass, urging you to jump into his arms like you always would, and you did. The proof of his need for you pressed against your stomach, hard and unyielding. Matt shifted you in his arms, and you used the movement to graze your slick core around his shaft. Your arousal smeared on his length, and you couldn't stop the gasp at the feeling of him so close to your entrance. Matt found your bedroom easily and fell onto the soft sheets with you. You scuttled back to make room, and he followed you. You held yourself up by your elbows; a shiver ran through your body as you watched him stroke his cock a few times before teasing your entrance. His tip touched your wet folds, dragging and spreading the slickness along the slit. He stimulated your clit with his velvet head, and you whimpered at how good it felt. As you parted your lips to tell him to stop teasing you, he plunged in without warning, and the complaint from your throat became a blissed moan.

Matt stopped for a moment after fully sheathed inside you, his face tilted towards yours, allowing you to drink in the pure euphoria on his face. His mouth was open-slacked, his brows curved up in an acute focus of relief, his unsighted eyes lost in the heaven you shared. You rocked your hip to meet his, only to be stopped with his hands on your waist, his hold tight, but not enough to leave bruises.

"If you keep moving like that, I won't last very long."

You nudged your heel against his ass, and your thighs squeezed his hips like an invitation.

"I don't care. I need you. Please."

Something shifted in him when you begged, and your prayer was answered with a withdrawal and hard thrust of his hips. You cried out, letting yourself fall back on the mattress and allowing Matt to pound into you. Each delicious thrust brought you closer to the edge, but you used all of your willpower to hold on. You wanted to finish with him. Matt's body covered yours as he nudged your head to rest on the crook of his arm. He caged you in, encompassing you in a cocoon that was him. His fingers wove into your hair, pulling the strands slightly to draw out your moans. His face hovered over yours, and with the barely-there distance, you felt like you were observing a piece of art reserved for your eyes only. Matt was all-consuming, demanding your attention and submission in every sense possible. All you saw was his beautiful face, all you heard was his lustful cries, and all you felt was his fullness inside you, stealing your breaths. You succumbed to him fully, worshipping him with everything that was attached to your mortal shell.

Your cries of pleasure intertwined with his created a beautiful melody of primal desires. Your hands clawed at his back, without a doubt making marks. Matt only groaned louder at the claim you made on his back, enjoying the pain you inflicted on him. As you neared your end, your core clenched hard, and his thrusts only got rougher at the tell-tale sign of your finish line. You could feel how close he was with the way his pace stuttered. You took hold of his chin, and Matt took a brief moment to kiss your thumb.

"Let go. I've got you."

You whispered breathlessly as his deep strokes made it hard to talk. Matt drew your thumb into his mouth and bit on it, but it did little to muffle his grunts of release. The feeling of him filling you up triggered your own orgasm as you came with him. The white-hot pleasure made you arch your back, making your pebbled nipples graze his broad chest. Matt's hand came down to grope at one breast, massaging and playing with your nipple, making you gasp, moan, and writhe at the sensation. He dipped his head to the hardened peak and soothed its ache with the warmth of his mouth as if to apologize for the lack of attention he paid. When you finally came down from the high, Matt whisked you into a breathless, lingering kiss as if he never wanted it to end. You happily reciprocated, and at that moment, it really felt like he might have feelings for you.

A little while later, after Matt had helped you settle in bed and fetched you some water, he slipped into the spot beside you, nudging your head to rest on his chest. His fingers caressed your arm, raising goosebumps on your skin. You played with the ridges of his abs; your blissful mind ran wild with all the possibilities and hypotheses. You felt something different tonight, just like that night when he cuddled you to sleep.

"Hey, I was wondering …."

He hummed in reply, waiting for you to continue.

"We've been doing this for a while, and I … I wonder if anything has changed."

His hand still kept a steady rhythm on your arm.

"What has changed?"

"Us. Our relationship."

Matt turned his face towards you, and your heart chipped a little at the confusion. He took a moment before answering you.

"We both agreed on being strictly casual. So … no, nothing has changed."

The crack on your heart turned into splinters that kept falling down like a flimsy house of cards, and you weren't fast enough to catch all the pieces. Of course, Mindy was right. You were such a fool. How could you hope for something different after all this time?

"Where was my memo on this thing?"

Matt chuckled softly, seeming to please with the little joke he made. Even though his body was warm, you only felt colder than ever. You slowly removed yourself from him as if Matt had grown thorns, and every movement hurt. Once you left the bed, Matt braced himself on one elbow, an easy, nonchalant, suggestive air about him.

"Are you freshening up for round two?"

You sighed heavily.

"No, I'm tired, and I would like to go to bed."

When Matt didn't say anything, you quickly added.

"Besides, I have to get up early tomorrow."

It was not exactly the truth, but a half-lie would do just fine. It seemed like Matt got the hint as he got up and searched for his scattered clothes on the floor. Once decent, he made his way to you at the window sill; his hand reached out to touch your elbow.

"Are we okay?"

He asked with a touch of hesitation. You huffed an indulgent chuckle.

"Yes. We're okay. I've had a long day, with a lot to think about."

You forced yourself to smile, even though he couldn't see it. It was more for you, so you wouldn't physically surrender to the turmoil inside. Matt kissed your cheek softly, and you did everything not to avoid his affection.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He left your apartment with the promise, one that you wouldn't blame him for not keeping. You stayed up until the morning, and throughout the day, you allowed everything Mindy said to torment you, driving and twisting the knife further until your heart was a mangled, broken piece of decoration in your chest. And you knew you deserved every single cut. You weren't stupid; you knew that you were in the wrong. You were blinded by the possibility of Matt reciprocating your feelings that you were all too happy to be the other woman despite all the red lights. But the answer he gave you last night was definite. There was no future for the two of you that wouldn't end in a crash and burn.

That night, your fire escape was dead quiet for the first time in months. You were home; Matt could tell by the rhythm of your heart inside your cozy place. No matter how many times he called your name and knocked on your window, you wouldn't welcome him in like you usually would. Matt left the bundle of flowers he brought you at your fire escape that night. They would stay where they were as he felt them wither away every night until they ceased to exist.

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

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akariamai · 2 years ago

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Chamomile Tea

Part 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Black Widow!Reader

Word Count: 1112

Steam seeped from the porcelain cup, filled to the rim with your Chamomile tea, as you waited for your neighbor to arrive. The table you choose was not made out of thoughtlessness. It was deliberate and precise. The chairs near the table held the same preference. You needed to see the exits of the room, the people walking in and out of the coffee shop, and be slightly hidden away from the world.

The Red Room taught you to be hyper vigilant. To be aware of your surroundings every waking moment of your life. Danger can lurk at every corner of the world. Slowly whisking you away from the little sanity you clasps to.

Last night left you vulnerable. You lost your head for a second, yelling at the woman you’ve all but forgotten. Forgetting the world around you, the man beneath your floor. Facing her was so unexpected and so painful. She was there for a moment and then gone the next. She should’ve never come back to reconcile when there was nothing left to fix. The pieces left were far too small to mend.

Matt, once she had climbed out of your window, came to comfort you in such a way where you wouldn’t feel unease. He sat closely to you but not so close that his shoulders could touch yours if he wasn’t comfortable. He waited for you to reach out to him. Matt truly was a saint. He was patient with you. He didn’t pressure you to talk unless you felt you could open up to him.

You saw him through one of the semi-dirty windows near the front of the building. He was making his way towards the sliding doors of the coffee shop. Tilting his head before heading towards the line to order. He must’ve smelled your Chamomile tea or the fragrance you generously sprinkle onto your body because once he ordered, he walked straight towards your direction. Although there were other ways where he could’ve found you, his sense of smell only being one of them. He could’ve merely asked the staff once he finished ordering if a person similar to you was waiting in the shop and pointed him in your direction.

He made his way towards you, careful not to go too fast, without knocking into anything or anyone. His hands made it towards the chair in front of you and asked, “[Reader] is that you?”

Your first natural response is to nod but nodding will do nothing but make him laugh. You reassured, “Yeah, it’s me.” Taking a sip from your tea, the gentle touch of the notes of apple and a mellow sweetness exploded your taste buds with flavor. “What’d you get?” It was a blatant attempt at ignoring the vulnerability you’d shown last night.

“I ordered a cup of coffee and a glazed donut.” He knew not to push where he shouldn’t. He spent months comprehending the slight substantial changes in your body and registering them to how you were feeling. It was quite difficult especially when he couldn’t read you like others. You were a complete mystery and you so readily intrigued him.

There were questions he wished to ask. ‘Who was she?’ ‘How do you feel?’ ‘How can I help you?’ ‘Why do you push me away when you clearly need someone?’ Granted he was not the best for accepting help nor was he the best at keeping his feelings in check. He wanted to do right to the world, bloodying his hands to do it, and keep the people he cherishes safe from harm. Somehow you had wormed your way into his heart and carved a place there for only you to fill.

He’d never tell you this, however, his past relationships had never held on for too long. He’d either lose them due to his extra-curricular activities or in the death of his beloved. Heartbreak always awaited him in the end. It was like he was cursed to walk the path of vigilantism alone.

“She was someone I considered a sister…” You paused, “when I was younger. More naive to the world around me.” She suffered the same fate as you before she left without warning. The hurt did not come from leaving suddenly or being left in the dark but for not sending help for the rest. The inability to begin the complete and utter annihilation of the Red Room. “I was taken to a vile place when I was a child. Too young to remember the face of my mother or share any memories of anything but blood and weapons.”

His heart ached for you and your lost childhood. He could feel the wave of sorrow spilling out of you and you confessed to him snippets of your past. It was more than he had hoped for.

“One day, she vanished without a word. It was a place where hope could not enter but when word spread of an escape, it rushed in like smoke. That pinch of happiness was all we had. Someone might finally save us but no one ever did and that happiness disappeared like it was never there.”

He could feel tears pooling into your eyes but they refused to fall. He could tell you were holding them in but he stayed quiet. “I’ll never forgive her for not trying. For giving up on us the moment she tasted freedom.”

Matt placed his hand, palming facing the ceiling, waiting for you to choose to take his hand. It was the only way he knew how to comfort you. A gentle smile worked his way onto his lips as he felt your hand inch closer to his. Your hand was rough, the bumps of scars littered all over, and your grip was light. You had suffered all this time and had only now had the time to process such a revelation.

“You don’t have to.” He believed in forgiveness but could not pressure anyone to come to that resolution. It was a path walked alone. The road to be able to forgive is not an easy one. It was taxing and tiresome. Even he, a self-proclaimed man of god, still found it hard to reach the absolution of forgiveness.

“Thank you.” Your lips whispered into the air almost silent enough for his ears wouldn’t pick it up without his senses. He slightly tightened his grip, letting you know he could be someone you could depend on. That you were not alone in your journey to recovery, whatever form it takes. He wants to stay by your side through it all and maybe even learn more of what remained of your past.

Masterlist

#Matt Murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock one shot #self-insert #daredevil fanfic #Daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #netflix daredevil #black widow!reader #matt murdock x black widow!reader #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matt murdock au

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elgrandeavocados · 2 months ago

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dissolution (part 20) | matt murdock x ofc

Story Synopsis: Elizabeth Herrera and Matt Murdock go way back. Friends since college, the two have known each other for ten years. But as a couple, they've been together for four and lately, their relationship is hanging by a thread, and the two are desperate to make it work.

Will their relationship survive? Or will memories of their past hinder them from healing? MATURE.

Author's Note: By a show of hands, who's surprised about this new chapter dropping out of nowhere? I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm also surprised since this one took some time, but I'm glad it's finally here. This chapter holds a special place in my heart, and I hope you enjoy it. 💗

Read Part 20 of 'Dissolution' HERE.

Excerpt from Part 20

A small cloud of cold air puffed around his face. The chill of the air made his cheeks turn a bright pink. His glasses concealed his eyes, but I knew deep down, hidden behind those dark lenses, the crow’s feet I had quickly grown to adore were on display.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” I confessed.

He smirked. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That you would be the one to break your rules for this weekend.”

I bit back my grin. “I was testing you.”

“Hmm…” He laughed. “Sure you were.”

“I was!”

“If you say so.”

I gave his arm a light shove, making him step back. “It’s the truth.”

“I beg to differ,” he said.

I couldn’t hide my grin any longer. “Don’t make me throw a snowball at you.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Grinning, Matt shook his head. “Throwing snow at a blind man. Who have you become, Elizabeth?”

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donottouchredbutton · 1 year ago

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this might be the weirdest idea i’ve ever had but hear me out: life is strange au but with college!matt murdock

#idk what this is #life is strange au #matt murdock au #daredevil au #daredevil fic #maybe it’ll be a thing idk #idk how to tag #matt murdock imagine

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Total Eclipse Of The Heart | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!vampire Reader

Series summary: The suspicion of a new drug epidemic follows a series of suspicious murders and bloodbaths on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, and the police can’t seem to find the answers. On the search for the truth, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen makes a shocking discovery – vampires are real, there are entire covens of them hiding in plain sight, and they’re not all heartless monsters; they actually have feelings.

Series Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, for Dark Themes, Canon Typical Violence, Blood & Gore, Vampires, Language, Angst, Smut, Dub-Con, BDSM, Dom/Sub Dynamic, sub!Matt, dom!Reader, Blood Play, Choking, Biting, not canon compliant™️

a/n: Here it is! What turned out as a silly little thought is now an ongoing fic. It probably won’t be as long as Foreigner’s God since it doesn’t follow the storyline of the show at all, but it’s still something. The title is inspired by the Bonnie Tyler song, not because of the song itself but because we have a musical in Germany called “Dance Of The Vampires” and they reimagined that song in the musical. It’s my favorite musical of all time (and I’ve seen many) and this work is heavily inspired by the songs. Additional warnings will be added before every chapter!

PART ONE — Matt meets a strange woman at a work gala. From the start, he can tell that she means trouble.

“There are those who curse their fathers and do not bless their mothers. There are those who are clean in their own eyes but are not washed of their filth. There are those—how lofty are their eyes, how high their eyelids lift! There are those whose teeth are swords, whose fangs are knives, to devour the poor from off the earth, the needy from among mankind. The leech has two daughters: Give and Give. Three things are never satisfied; four never say: “Enough”.” - Proverbs 30:11-18

Growing up in a catholic orphanage, Matt Murdock learned how to wear his religion on his sleeve. He believed in God; he was taught this undying version of faith that was supposed to sustain his body, and he was told to live by it even long after he was old enough to make his own decisions.

He never questioned it. He went to school, read the Bible up and down and when he was finished, he would start anew. He prayed until his knees were bloody and even then he only got up momentarily to relight the candle, and then he went back to dig his knees into the hard wood of the benches in Clinton Church, and he would pray again. He wasn’t sure what he prayed for if it was guidance or forgiveness, but the nuns at the orphanage told him that praying always served a purpose and that he was to do it as often as he possibly could.

He spent every breathing hour of his life devoted to God, not expecting anything in return. As a boy, he craved answers, he craved the comfort of someone, anyone, even if it was just a faceless deity in the sky, though as he got older, he realized that some voices just won’t be heard. God can only do so much. There are limits even to his power. To some, he comes, to others, he doesn’t. Some prayers meet deaf ears and no matter how much you pray, it’s never enough.

Still, he returned to the church he grew up in and he gave his heart to the cause. He prayed, he confessed and every time the world beat him down, he would light a candle at the altar to offer God his sacrifice.

Matt didn’t fear much. He jumped head-first into danger and returned with his fists bloody. He had seen the bottom of humanity, stared down the endless pit of despair, yet he always came back. There wasn’t much he feared, at least not the things a normal human being should cower from.

He wasn’t sure what exactly irked him about her though.

About the woman standing at the bar with a glass of Scotch in her hand - the expensive kind, he could smell the stench from miles away. The liquor rested on her lips, overshadowing even her sweet perfume and the scent of the dry cleaner’s sandalwood and rain laundry detergent left in the fibers of her equally as expensive dress.

What color was it? He wanted to ask. Not that he cared, but the curiosity drew him closer to the stranger. It was a curiosity that came with a heavy feeling in his stomach as if mountains of stones kept him from moving. He was paralyzed. The tiny hairs on his neck stood up, his hand clenched around his cane and he couldn’t help but lick his lips one too many times.

Cold sweat pooled in his palms. His senses reeled; as they always did at huge gatherings, too overwhelmed with all the new sensations and unable to focus on anything in particular which made him feel even more out of control than he usually did, but the second he caught onto the woman at the bar just standing there in all her confident glory, radiating so many red flags, he lost count, his blood pressure spiked and he went pale.

He had never met her before, but he instantly knew that there was something inherently wrong about her presence. She didn’t fit in.

The invisible hammer hit him suddenly. She was looking at him, he could tell. Her head tilted ever so slightly, eyes narrowing at his sight. If she could tell he was analyzing her or if she merely found him attractive, he couldn’t tell.

Judging by the way her body language shifted from the elegant, confident woman to an almost dangerously cocky predator, he suspected it was the former. How could she have possibly caught onto that? Were his stiff posture, the position of his head, and his right grip around his cane that obvious? He usually made a habit of hiding his abilities, and he considered himself good at it. She seemed to look right through him though, and it felt humiliating to have her eyes bore right through his soul as if he were an open textbook.

A hand found its way onto his shoulder. “Matt?” he heard his friend call out for him, but the cotton in his usually so sensitive ears kept the voice distant.

He was hypnotized by the stranger on the other end of the room. It didn’t seem healthy to be so caught up on someone he had never met and couldn’t even see. Who knew who she was? She smelled of danger and despair, but at the same time, his body jolted with excitement at the prospect of her coming over after realizing he was trying to subtly check her out in his own special way. The rational part of him told him to run while the other urged him forward. He needed to get to know her, he needed to satisfy his curiosity and heal his suspicions.

Matt wouldn’t give in, no. Dangerous people had their tricks to get people like him to fall for their charms, and she reeked of danger. Even without knowing her, he could tell that she was nowhere near the well-put-together woman she pretended to be around the men yearning for her, trying to buy her drinks and gain her attention by talking smart. She used them, she didn’t care. She thrived off of the attention, which was exactly why she turned to him when she felt his metaphorical eyes on her.

“Matt!” Foggy’s voice grew louder. He tore the cotton from his ears, redirecting his attention.

She slipped from his grasp as he turned to his friend, cheeks red and shocked at his inability to control his thoughts for only just a moment.

His tongue darted out to wet his quivering bottom lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

Distracted was an understatement.

“Henry’s here,” he told him.

“Henry?”

“From college. Henry Verlice.”

He raised his eyebrows behind the red glasses that adorned his face. The light of the chandelier fell on him just right, tinting his pale skin a soft yellow and underlining the dark color of his glasses. He adjusted them on his nose and said, “Henry ‘the Hunk’ Verlice?”

Foggy clapped. “Exactly!”

“Wow,” he pretended to sound as if he hadn’t heard their old classmate enter the gala about twenty-five minutes ago. “Didn’t he drop out of college in the fourth semester because he knocked up Sarah McKinley, our civil rights professor’s wife?”

“So they say.” He sipped his drink, a mixture of vodka and cranberry juice, with just a little more of the latter to make up for the bitter alcohol.

Foggy was an avid beer drinker. He didn’t like Scotch, he preferred Whiskey, but the choices they offered at this particular gala made even Matt’s stomach churn, and he drank cheap German beer for a living.

He ordered a Macallan, neat. He always did.

Matt toyed with the ice cubes in his drink. “Why do we care about Henry all of a sudden?” he asked.

“Haven’t you heard? He joined this huge law firm,” said Foggy. “Even bigger than Landman & Zach. They make a shit-ton of money. Now, remember what he said to us? That we were never going to make it?”

“Ah,” he chuckled knowingly, “you’re afraid he might remember us and when he finds out our law firm doesn’t make any money…”

“Imagine the talk, Matt! We just proved everyone who didn’t believe in us back then, right.”

Matt pointed at his glass. “How much of that have you had?”

“Too much.”

“Okay,” he huffed. “We should be proud of what we do, Foggy. These people…” he motioned to the crowd of lawyers and judges around them, “they are only in it for the money. People like Henry do this job solely because they want to profit from the misery of their clients, possibly make them even more miserable. We don’t do that. We’re better than them. We take care of the little guy, no matter the cost. Why should we feel guilty for making this dream – our dream a reality?”

Foggy looked at him as if he had just told him he didn’t know what cows were. “Because we’re broke, Matt!” he said. “We don’t have any money to flaunt around as they do.” He hit his drink back. “We don’t belong here.”

“I don’t disagree with anything you’re saying, but may I remind you that this was your idea?” he challenged.

“I didn’t expect us to run into so many of our old acquaintances.”

“What did you expect, a room full of strangers?”

“Would have been nice for a change,” he said.

“Look, Foggy,” he grabbed his sleeve, “maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just leave.”

Much to his dismay, he shook his head. “We can’t pull out now, Matt. That would be even worse. For our reputation and my ego. Besides,” he said, and his giddy grin returned steadily with each passing second, “Where else would we get an open bar?”

In the distance, Matt heard the doors open again. Heels clacked against the floor.

“Oh, finally! Marci’s here.” Foggy straightened his bow tie. “How do I look?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see,” he deadpanned back at him.

“Right, my bad,” he said.

“I’m sure you look great.”

“Thanks, buddy! Appreciate the effort. If you need anything, just call, okay?”

Matt sighed deeply into his Macallan. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he said. “Go and have sex with your very obnoxious girlfriend in some random bathroom like two randy teenagers.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’d do. We’ve all been there. Now go, before Marci changes her mind and leaves you who earns the amount you have in college debt in just a month.”

Foggy pulled the loose strands of his unruly blond hair behind his ear. “I’m sure you’ll find an eligible partner here somewhere,” he said right before he left. “You always do, blind act and all. Stay strong, buddy. Marry a rich woman. You can do it.”

It was as good of a pep talk that he could come up with in his crush-induced haze.

It wasn’t often his friend who stepped out early with a girl. Usually, Matt was the one with a woman or a man on his arm and back on the way to his apartment where he would indulge in several hours of great sex — he knew how to pick them and how to please them. Sex became his favorite coping mechanism, his senses finally being able to shut down and allowing him to breathe as he gave himself fully to someone else. His endeavors were entirely physical and they didn’t end in breakfast.

What Foggy always told him he wanted, he hated most about himself. He enjoyed the meaningless encounters and the benefits that came from them, but it didn’t help with curing the deep loneliness in his chest, as if something or someone was missing.

Once his friend was gone, he became painfully aware of the same Scotch-scented lips he had lingered on only moments before. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat, he only made out the faint scent of her perfume.

“So you didn’t come here alone,” her voice sounded like what he imagined the sirens of the sea in the several lore books he had read growing up to sound like whenever they sang. His toes curled, a chill ran up and down his spine, and somehow the sweet tone shot straight to his very touch-deprived cock.

He flinched, turning around on the heel of his shiny dress shoes.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” she asked. “That wasn’t my intention.” The curl of her tongue at the top of her mouth told him that she was lying.

He started to doubt his hearing abilities. Her heartbeat was so faint, he almost missed it. It was slow, almost like the dying flame on a candle. She breathed in intervals, something he couldn’t possibly consider healthy. The closer she got, the colder her skin felt, and he wasn’t even touching her. His heart rate picked up, his brain secreted cortisol into his bloodstream. Any second now, his fight or flight instinct would kick in. He had a choice, but he couldn’t move. She had him under some kind of spell.

He clenched harder around his cane. “I- I’m sorry,” he breathed.

She tilted her head. “Sorry for what, exactly? Stalking me or not coming up to talk to me when I caught you?”

Matt chuckled. Not even his mouth was under his control anymore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?” she said, eyelashes batting innocently.

Her finger touched the sleeve of his tux, purposely avoiding his skin. He could feel the low temperature radiating off of her, but somehow he was hotter than ever in the gigantic room. His bow tie seemed to suffocate him, and the buttons of his shirt wound too tightly around his torso.

“And here I was, thinking you’d be interested in me.”

He swallowed.

“Am I wrong?” The woman stepped closer to him. Nothing else mattered but her scent and the intoxicating feel of her hands touching the fabric of his clothes. He lost control of himself, feeling his grip on reality loosen and slip into the abyss.

He sucked in a sharp breath when her hand wandered to his neckline. She popped the button on the top. Matt sucked in the welcomed air instantly. He could taste her on his tongue now, sweet and salty and full of liquor.

“You don’t even know my name,” he said.

She shrugged, her red-painted lip curled into a smirk. “You don’t know mine either,” she said.

His eyes fluttered shut as her breath fanned over his face. “I believe that could be considered unethical, not knowing someone’s name before making advances.”

She chuckled, one of the softest tunes he had ever heard before.

“I mean, that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You came here to see if you could get me into bed?”

She eyed him up close and personal, her head twitching to the side to take in the sight of his bare neck. His Adam's apple popped as he swallowed the lump threatening to choke him once more. His aorta bulged out of his skin. She watched as his pulse hammered against it even faster at her proximity.

She licked over her lips. “More or less,” she rasped.

He leaned back into her. The magnetic pull threatened to snap his neck and send him straight to hell.

“Why, is that something that you’d want?”

“Is it something that you want?” he retorted.

The glint in her eyes grew. She shoved the empty glass of Macallan aside, placing hers in his hand. “Have you ever tried Scotch that’s a century old?”

His eyebrows shot up. The different aspects of her very unique scent were starting to cause a headache. He couldn’t differentiate between who he wanted her to be and who she truly was.

Realizing he wasn’t quite present, she guided his hand to his mouth. His lips wrapped around the brim of her glass, tasting the slight cherry tint of her lipstick and her saliva mixed with the third portion of the same liquid.

The Scotch burned down his throat. It was strong, sharp, and tasted musky. He wondered how expensive a bottle of this was, let alone a glass. Her eyes stayed on him the entire time, stronger when he licked his lips and subconsciously inched closer to her. As cold as she was, her body screamed for him to take her. He must have blacked out. This had to be a dream bordering on a nightmare. The mask he put on every time he went out as Matt Murdock was starting to slip into the one he put on at night. The darkness in his mind wasn’t his, it was the devil’s, and the snake that she was, she was compelling him to bite into the apple and give in.

“Taste good?” she asked.

Matt swallowed again. “It’s Scotch,” he answered.

“Aren’t century-old things just beautiful? And they taste and smell absolutely…” she sniffed at the brown liquor, “ah, divine.”

“You have experience with that sort of thing?”

“I have experience with a lot of things.”

She placed the glass back down on the tabletop. Her heel nudged at his calf. He couldn’t move, not sure if it was her or himself this time that had him trapped close to her. He wasn’t lucid, couldn’t be, though at the same time he had never felt more aware of someone.

The world didn’t matter, his senses focused entirely on her, and even then they were lulled by everything that she had and had not. Trying to understand her had his mind in a painful twist, but his nerves didn’t respond to the stimuli. He felt nothing but a strange pull in her direction that made the blood run from his cheeks between his legs, the last place he wanted it to be.

He buried his teeth in his bottom lip, glad that his glasses hid the inability to keep his eyes open or rolled forward in her presence. He didn’t want to give the stranger the power she wanted. He smelled the danger before, and it became even clearer now, only this time, the fear was replaced with an inappropriate, down-right filthy, and animalistic feeling.

It had to be her fault he was feeling this way. She was cold, yet his body was on fire. Her heartbeat was faint, almost silent, yet it screamed in his ears. With anyone else, he would have already run, put on his Daredevil suit, and solved this the right way. But no, Matt Murdock couldn’t move a muscle that he wanted, only those he couldn’t control.

“How much harder do you plan to try to get me to fuck you?” he heard himself breathe out.

He swallowed the grunt in the back of his throat. Her leg was completely between his now. The fabric of her dress shifted, sliding further up her thigh.

She laughed quietly at his choice of words. “I think you got it all wrong, darling,” she said. “I don’t need anyone to fuck me.”

He huffed, “What do you take me for?”

She shrugged. Her finger switched from his arm to his chest, using her whole hand to feel the abs that were undoubtedly hiding underneath the tight dress shirt. His muscles hardened under her touch, the low temperature even clearer through the thin fabric. The hairs on his body stood up. He shivered, the heat in his veins multiplying with her wandering hands. One grabbed at his bicep, the other continued to explore his torso.

Her lips tickled at his ear when she whispered to him, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

The worst part was, he didn’t want her to. The gala was crowded, but he couldn’t have cared less. If people wanted to pry, they should.

She ghosted over his belt. The fog that surrounded him thinned a little, the prospect shooting the first thrill of fear through him ever since she stepped into his personal space.

Matt almost broke the glass in his hand, a groan passing his lips, as two of her fingers shamelessly stroked over his hardening cock. His hips bucked into her touch before he flinched away, realizing how wrong this was. She was a stranger in the middle of an overcrowded room; she had no business touching him like that.

He set his mind on telling her to stop, though instead, what came out was, “I’d like to get a name first,” he said.

That still left the prospect of them going further open, if only he knew who she was.

Her hand came back up, nail extended to scratch over the scruff on his jawline, following the poorly shaved hairs down to the distracting vein that kept pumping the blood through his body. Not once did her skin touch his, only her nail dug into his throat. He stopped breathing.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. Besides,” she purred, “when I am done with you, you won’t even be able to scream my name. So why bother with theatrics when sounds are already such powerful communicators?”

She looked down between them, his hot crotch close to hers. The blood on her fingertip trickles down into her palm. She considered wiping it on his pants, but that would have been quite a waste.

“If the next time we see each other I get the same reaction, we are going to have so much fun together.”

Matt slowly returned to his body. He tasted the copper in the air, his hand reaching up to trace the scratch right over his aorta. He felt the pulsating of his cock, the missing attention leaving him with nothing but blue balls. His heart punched against the inside of his ribcage. The sharp pain in his neck burned through his skin. He hissed, playing with the blood in between his fingers. It was hot and sticky, and the consistency was thin enough to let it travel down with gravity down his heated skin.

He was more focused on the clarity that came back to him than on the sound of the stranger’s heels distancing herself from the table. When he realized she had gone, it was already too late for him to act. Back in control of himself, the shame was greater than the arousal had been.

The voice in his head chided him for being so foolish, for letting that happen to him. He was no smarter than before. The darkness she brought with her infected him and he had realized too late what it was doing to him and the other side of him, too, that had been sleeping soundly while waiting to be unleashed when it was time.

He pushed down on the cut again, partly because he felt as if he deserved the torture, but also because that woman left her mark in more ways than one and that was something his mind still couldn’t wrap itself around.

She sucked her index finger into her mouth, tongue swirling over the small drop of blood she had drawn. Her eyes rolled back into her head.

Soon enough, she was no longer alone. “Everything okay, boss?” the man to her left asked.

She halted, pointing her finger at the distraught figure at the opposite end of the ballroom. “I want to know who he is,” she said.

“Know as in-“ he didn’t voice his thoughts, though he made a grabbing motion at his neck.

“No,” she shook her head, “I just want his name and… well, what else I want from him is none of your business.”

Her bright eyes turned a shade darker.

“Nevertheless, I’m starving. I think we should abandon this establishment to go somewhere that best fits our needs, don’t you think so, Talon?”

He smirked knowingly. “The others have been asking the same thing,” he said.

“Then you better get them together. We only have a small window of time before what we’re doing arouses the suspicion of certain law enforcement agencies. Or, Lucifer forbid, the Avengers.” She scoffed, “Now that would just be embarrassing.”

Talon held the door open for her. However, she couldn’t possibly leave without throwing another longing glance in the direction of the object of her attraction.

She licked over the sharp teeth that poked out of her mouth, tasting the remains of his blood all over them. The sensation was stronger, and much more detailed. It wasn’t just copper, it was sweet and heavy, almost like the whipped cream, sauce, and sprinkles on an ice cream sundae. It was the cherry on top, a dream to taste, an orgasm to her tastebuds, and fuel for her never-ending hunger.

Watching his more-than-human form, she willed the fangs to shrink back to their usual size. There was no time for that, at least not yet, maybe not ever. She wasn’t sure what to do with him just yet. Until she knew how to proceed, he was nothing more than a handsome stranger she met at the bar.

Matt had folded his cane and bent over the table slightly, trying to catch his breath and figure out what happened. The tissue he held against his throat displayed a small drop of blood that had seeped into it.

She stared at the crimson remains on her fingertip, her smirk only deepening and the darkness in her eyes taking over.

Talon crossed his arms. “Everything okay?” he questioned.

She was tired of being asked the same question over and over again.

“I’m splendid,” she said. “I just realized that I’m not quite ready to leave New York just yet, nor am I satisfied.”

She could have sworn he turned back to her when the big, golden doors started to close around her. He tilted his head, she joined him.

“Not until I get what I want, at least.”

And what she wanted would no longer be there in a century or two – he would be gone and she would return to a changed city with nothing to go back on.

That was her curse, after all. The people she cared about slipped through her fingers the same way that the sand slipped through her lifetime's hourglass. But in her case, there was no top or bottom, the clock just kept on ticking and the sand kept on falling.

Even when everyone else was long gone, she would remain as a stranger on a reformed planet and be forced to look upon the ashes of the life she once led.

The lives she had lived were somewhere in the hundreds, but only a handful of those had been filled with people she adored, and every time it happened, she had to watch them pass as the sand of passing time swallowed them whole.

Humanity’s hourglass was limited to a minimum and maximum lifespan. She was stranded in a never-ending quicksand. Humans knew that once their clock ran out, their time was over and they could finally rest.

She wished she could do that too. She wished she could stare into the hourglass and watch her time run out, to know she could rest after an eternity of running from everything and everyone. Instead, though, she had to watch as life took everyone she ever cared about, and with every new decade or century or millennia, the cycle would repeat itself the same way it had from the beginning.

She must have been an awful person in her past life because if God were as merciful as every believer on the planet claimed he was, he wouldn’t have sent her down the spiral in the first place.

There was a reason people worshipped the devil; he would have thought of many ways to torture a sinner, but cursing them with eternal life he wouldn’t have as he had been condemned too, a long time ago, to be someone he never wanted to be.

She became something she never wanted to be and never asked to become, and there was no one to blame but the almighty, all-merciful God in heaven and his hopelessly false righteousness, that steals more lives than it saves.

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