#why are we asking about Fisk?

[clintbarton-thearrowguy]

Clint, this is @verygoodlawyer , Matt this is Clint.

Matt had some questions about Fisk.

Nice to meet you, @verygoodlawyer

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 15

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Ch. Notes: Angst, vomit, mentions of phsyical abuse, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death

Summary: After effectively taking care of the Fisk problem, you struggle with the moral reprocussions of that action, while also trying to deal with the truth behind your mother’s death.

An: A little quicker update than last time. Again idk when the next update will be, but just know it's coming. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter it's a soft one.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your mind can’t seem to latch on to any singular thought. Instead they all run together in a way that makes you wish you couldn’t think at all. You’re to aware of what you’ve done. You can feel the blood, his blood, all over you. His words are bouncing off the walls in your mind. Your legs are unstable and everything feels like its too much.

You don’t get much of a say as your unsteady legs buckle under you, forcing you to your knees. You shake your head left to right as you feel the bile rise in your throat. Puking is the last thing you want to do, and the fear of vomiting makes tears flow down your face.

It's more than that fear. It’s everything that Wilson said before you blew his brains out. He was right, you weren’t ever a Maximoff. Just some fragile kid from a broken home, that wanted to prove themselves no matter what the cost. You couldn’t even be upset at the family, they hadn’t forced you into this lifestyle. This is simply the path you chose to feel like one of them.

You hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, you try to find the energy to get to your feet, but fail.

“ Y/n,” her voice makes you feel sick.

You can’t fight it anymore as the contents of your stomach begin to spill out. Wanda is by your side instantly. On of her hands moves your hair out of the way, while the other rubs soothing circles on your back.

Once it was over your breathing is heavy. Your chest heaves up and down, while your hands rest on your thighs.

“Was it true?” is the first thing you say to her.

“Y/n-" you can tell she was trying to reason with you with, to have you drop this for now.

You put distance between the two of you, turning to see her face, “Did you have my mother killed?”

Wanda takes in a large breath, “She was abusing you, every moment she had you. Emotionally torturing you with the death of your brother and physically putting her hands on you. That day when you came over and I patched you up, Pietro told us everything that he knew she did to you. We all agreed, that we wouldn’t let her near you again.”

You don’t know why you felt so bitter about it, but you did, “Killing her was your only option?”

Wanda shakes her head, “No, it wasn’t. We were going to just keep you away from her, but Pietro said the next few days she came to the school looking for you. She threatened him, and followed him to our house, that’s when Papa decided to put an end to it.”

“And my father?”

The woman sighs, “Once we told him who we were, he thought it was best for him to not be involved. He cared for you and loved you tremendously, but he was scared of our family.”

At the end of the day your mother was the cause of an abundance of your trauma and you couldn’t blame your father for not wanting to be involved in a crime syndicate. However, your anger was pointed at the Maximoff’s for keeping this from you for so long.

“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

Wanda’s eyes meet yours desperately, “When you were younger, we thought it was inappropriate to share that with you. You were different back then and we didn’t know how you would react. When I left, I figured that eventually they would tell you. When I got back and they hadn’t I was upset. I wanted to tell you, but there’s been so much going on, Y/n believe me. When you asked in car, and I told you to trust me, I was trying to think of the right time. I just- I’m sorry."

As much as you want to be mad at her you can’t. She’s right, Wanda had been gone for over 5 years, how could she have known that they hadn’t told you. As soon as she came back there was basically a turf war going on.

“ I wasn’t supposed to shoot him,” your eyes are blank as they look into hers.

Wanda’s eyes soften, “I know little krolik.”

You shake your head, “But he brought up Lucas and I- he dared me to, so I did. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault.”

You were spiraling quickly. Though you were covered in blood and had just thrown up, Wanda wasted no time wrapping her arms around you.

“I know baby,” she squeezes you tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to kill him,” you sob into the woman.

She scoops you up into her arms, “We’re going home.”

“But, what about-”

Wanda silences you, “Don’t worry about it. They will handle everything else ok, just be here with me.”

You calm for a moment before you remember that Natasha got shot because of your recklessness. You start apologizing again, “I’m sorry, Natasha got hurt because I wasn’t thinking enough. I was being stupid, I should have done better. I should’ve-”

“She’s going to be fine, malyshka. She's been through worse,” Wanda gets you into the car and begins driving home.

By the time you get home, you’ve fallen asleep. Before Wanda gets out of the car she gets a phone call from her wife.

“How is she ?” Are the first words out of Natasha’s mouth.

Wanda has to stop herself from crying as she looks at your current state, “She’s not well, I’m doing my best, but I’m scared.”

“You took her home?”

Wanda nods though the woman can’t see her, “ We just pulled up. She fell asleep on the way, but she might wake up when I try to clean her off. She was throwing up when I found her. She’s worried about you, I’m worried about you.”

Natasha’s voice takes a softer tone, “I’m ok detka. The bullet is out, my arm is patched.”

“Papa and Pietro?”

“We called in Bucky, we’re trying to get a room set up at your parents house that will be suited for your father to do the rest of his recovery there. Pietro, he’s shaken up, worried about you and Y/n.”

Wanda takes in the information, “Natalia, I know I brought you out here to be apart of this with me, but I don’t know if I want this lifestyle anymore.”

As Wanda looks at you, she can see the cons of this life outweighing the pros. You’d already had a rough life before the Maximoff’s took you in, and now they’ve put you in this position where things seem to be just as bad if not worse.

Natasha takes a pause, “We’ll talk about this more when I get home and when Y/n is feeling better ok? I don’t want to make any decisions without her involvement.”

Wanda agrees, “You’re right, hurry back to me moya lyubov.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I love you.”

“I love you."

Wanda sighs as she glances at you in the passenger seat. For a moment, her head falls into her hands. She wants to breakdown, but she holds it all in. With another deep breath she gets out of the car and carries you up to the room.

Wanda goes to lay you on her bed, but you cling to her.

“Y/n, baby it’s ok,” Wanda attempts to coo you.

“The sheets,” you mumble tiredly against her.

Wanda has tears in her eyes as she smiles softly, “ I don’t care about the sheets.”

You cling to the woman tighter in protest, and she doesn’t want to fight with you. Instead she carries you to the bathroom and sits you on the counter. You lean your back against the wall eyes barely open, but still able to see the woman running water for a shower.

Wanda turns back to you her hands tremble a bit as the grip the end of your blood and vomit covered shirt.

“Sorry, it’s gross,” you mumble.

She shakes her head,” I don’t care. Is it ok if I take this off of you?”

Your eyes open wider to meet hers properly, nodding slowly.

When she removes the shirt, her eyes linger on the scar on your abdomen from the day you left home. Her finger couldn’t help but to glide over the rigged skin.

“It needed a stitch back then, but I didn't want to see you in anymore pain. It probably wouldn't have scarred if I did,” Wanda reveals absent-mindedly.

“It’s my favorite scar, I’m glad I have it,” you find her eyes as you speak.

“Why?”

You look away from her, feeling shy for a moment, “ I remember you letting me rest my head on your shoulder and promising that the family would protect me."

Wanda frowns, “I’m sorry, we didn’t protect you enough.”

You take her hand, “I’m sorry I’m so hard to protect.”

“No, don't do that Y/n. We lied to you, I lied to you for years. Telling you truth wasn’t some Olympic sized task. It’s the least we could've done and it's what you deserved. Our- my carelessness lead you down this unnecessary path of pain, and I’m sorry. I should've done better,” you listen as Wanda berates herself unable to look you in the eyes.

“You weren't here, Wanda.”

“I should’ve been.”

You want to do something to give her comfort but you feel disgusting in your current state. Your eyes dart over to the shower and it's as if to remember why you were in this position to begin with. Wanda sees your movements and takes a small step back from you.

“Do you still need help?”

You think for a long moment, hesitation heavy in the air. Part of you wants to push her away now that you have your bearings a bit more. However a larger part of you wants the woman to help you in the shower

“Yes,” it’s breathy as it leaves your mouth.

Your hands guide hers to the button on your pants. She pulls them down gently. Wanda hesitates at the sight of your underwear. You attempt to hop off of the counter, Wanda’s hands find your hips to better guide you.

It's two swift motions as you remove your underwear. You stand before the redhead bare for the first time in this way. You stare at her waiting for something to happen. She sense the expectancy in your gaze and begins undressing.

Once the last of her clothing hits the floor she takes your hand and leads you to the shower. You enter first and she goes in after. The water against your skin feels good. It cascades from your face down your body washing away the gunk in the process.

Wanda doesn’t make a sound as she begins to wash your body. Her hands light and delicate against your skin. The only objective being getting you clean. Once you’re clean she spins you around and places a kiss on your forehead.

“I don't know how I feel,” you tell her honestly.

She takes a step back from you. You’re quick to grab her wrist and pull her back into you, “I just know that I want you close.”

She reached behind you to turn off the shower. “As long as you want me close, I won’t ever leave you again.”

You rest your head on her chest, her arms enclose around you once again. The sound of her heart beating calms you deeply. You could fall asleep right there.

“Let’s finish getting ready and then we can get in bed,” Wanda rambles against your head.

You nod against her and after a deep breath you both exit the shower. Once you’re dry and dressed for bed, you finally brush your teeth. You climb into the bed, but you’re wide awake.

Peace nowhere to be found as a million questions race through your head.

“I didn’t mean-"

“He deserved it, Y/n. He tried to kill papa, he had you beaten, he shot Natasha, he wasn’t a good man,” Wanda reassures you.

You shake your head, knees pulling closer to your chest, “Lucas is dead because of me.”

“That’s not true lisichka.”

Your eyes are quick to dart over to Natasha but you don’t move. Your gaze falls to her injured arm, and it’s yet another injury due to your carelessness.

“ I sent you in there and-”

“And I’m fine because you saved me. In fact you saved everyone in that room tonight,” Natasha doesn’t hesitate to crouch down beside the bed.

You frown, “No matter how many people I save, I can never go back and save Lucas.”

Natasha looks at Wanda for some kind of insight into who Lucas is to you, what he means to you.

“Lucas was my older brother, he would still be here if I hadn’t been so careless.”

Wanda disputes this, “You were a child, Y/n. Your parents should’ve been watching you.”

“I have this scar on the back of my head from where skull hit the concrete. A constant reminder that he’s not here and I am.”

Natasha takes one of your hands in hers, “ To me, it sounds like you went through something really traumatic as a child. Not just losing your brother, but also almost dying in the process. Going through that without the support of your parents makes it even harder to come to terms with.”

“Natasha’s right, Y/n. You’re a victim in all of this, and going through this alone was never fair to you. You didn't kill your brother, neglect did,” Wanda takes your free hand.

“My mom never stopped blaming me.”

“She should’ve never started. To abuse one child after the loss of another is a cruelty that only a monster is capable of Y/n,” Natasha’s words are a statement.

“But did she deserve to die?” You turn your attention to Wanda.

“How many times did she hit you? How many times did she starve you? How many times did she verbally abuse you? How many scars do you have because of her?” Natasha draws your attention back to her.

“Maybe she didn’t deserve to die, but she didn’t deserve to have that power of you. She didn’t deserve to torment you for the rest of your life. You couldn’t go out without looking over your shoulder, you flinched at every touch, and she had you thinking you were a mistake or a burden. You were just a child,” Wanda’s voice trembles as she speaks.

Natasha takes over again, “A mother doesn’t treat a child in the way that she treated you. That woman barely viewed you as her child, she doesn’t deserve your sympathy even in death.”

Your body begins to shake as the tears cascade down your face. You feel two sets of arms enclose you as you cry. They were right about your mother, she was an awful person. The more you thought about it the harder it was to think about anything good about her. After your brother died, you had no kind memories of your mother left. She was cruel, ruthless, and unforgiving.

After all these years, you never missed her. You hardly thought about her and when you did it was against your will. Her memory has haunted and tortured you since she has been out of your life.

“We have you, Y/n. For as long as you want us to, “ Natasha is gentle as she wipes away your fallen tears.

“We’re going to have to talk about this, with everyone,” you attempt regain your composure .

“We will be by your side, no matter what,” Wanda insists.

“Not just about my mom, but about Kingpin.”

Natasha nods, “Yes, but only when you’re ready. There’s no rush for these talks or conversations. With Dragos awake now, this problem isn’t falling straight onto your shoulders anymore.”

“Our main priority is you. Y/n, for once in our lives I think it’s time that the family business takes a backseat” Wanda adds on.

The idea plays in your mind briefly. A life where the most important thing wasn’t this job. No more missions, no more hacking, and no more danger. The thought would’ve bored you before, but now with Natasha and Wanda by your side, it seemed more desirable.

You nod, “Ok.”

“We love you lisichka,” Natasha gently kisses your forehead.

Wanda follows suit, “More than anything.”

The small smile plays on your lips, “I love you too, the both of you.”

It’s a brief moment as you swiftly place your lips on Wanda’s followed by Natasha’s, before quick passing out from the exhaustion of the day.

“I know that look detka. Everything is going to be alright, I promise,” Natasha says, looking at her wife’s worried expression.

“She deserves better Natasha, I have to do better,” Wanda keeps her own tears at bay.

“You aren't in this alone Wanda. I’m here, lean on me, together we can build something that Y/n truly deserves.”

Natasha interlocks her fingers with Wanda’s, “I love you.”

Wanda kisses the back of her wife’s hand, “I love you too.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989 @falloutboy-lover

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Marvel Masterlist

One Shots

Spook-vengers Tower - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

Better Than Gifts - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda, Vision, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

New Years Eve - Steve Rogers x Reader ft. The Avengers, Doctor Strange, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes (all platonic)

Not Making It Out - Loki x Reader

Love Is Sacrifice - Loki x Reader

Champion Selection - Loki x Reader

My Mistakes - Loki x Reader

The Task - Loki x Reader

Pulled From The Timeline - Loki x Reader

Poisoned Ice - Loki x Reader

Pompeii - Loki x Reader

Madripoor - Bucky x Reader

Why Would I? - Bucky x Reader

A Small Thing - Bucky x Reader

Not The Worst - Bucky x Reader

A Little Help - Bucky x Reader

When You Wake - Bucky x Reader

What We Started - Bucky x Reader

Kiss Her, Captain. - Steve x Reader

Attacked - Steve x Reader

Aftermath - Steve x Reader

The Drink Allergy - Steve x Reader

A Subtle Escape - Steve x Reader

A New Mission - Tony x Reader (platonic)

3am - Frank Castle x Reader (platonic)

Trick or Eat - Venom x Reader (platonic)

Halloween Cookie Surprise - Venom x Reader (platonic)

When Ghosts Hunt - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Under The Flame - Robbie Reyes x Reader

As Imagined - Ben Poindexter x Reader

Surprise Guest - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Earpiece Patch - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Imagines + Mini Fic

Imagine Steve wanting to propose but having to hold off because of the Civil War

Imagine Steve's surprise when you hit an entitled party guest

Imagine flirting with Steve much to his surprise

Imagine inviting Steve to the newly created Memorial Centre

Imagine a kiss from Steve to distract you from blinding pain

Imagine boldly telling Steve how you feel mid-mission

Imagine waking Steve up after being disturbed by a nightmare

Imagine being paired with Steve during the time-travel mission

Imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission

Imagine being the last person that Tony tells about 'moving day'

Imagine Bucky’s therapist asking about you

Imagine laughing at Bucky after his failed plane jump

Imagine getting caught in the crossfire of John Walker’s rampage

Imagine trying to talk John Walker down at Zemo’s apartment

Imagine waiting for Bucky and his cake delivery

Imagine convincing Bucky to get back into dating

Imagine taking Bucky to meet his dinner date

Imagine being ambushed by HYDRA while waiting for Bucky

Imagine Bucky being present when you wake up

Imagine Sam’s pleasant surprise when Bucky treats you gently

Imagine Bucky getting jealous on a mission

Imagine refusing to work with Loki at the TVA

Imagine Loki trying to explain his theory to you on a busy day

Imagine Loki being asked to let you go

Imagine discovering that Loki is to aid in the escape of Asgard

Imagine Loki falling asleep on your hand

Imagine Mobius shocking you with an idea regarding Loki

Imagine Loki hearing about your variants

Imagine sending Mobius to calm Loki after you’re injured

Imagine Loki stealing your pie at the TVA

Imagine your surprise when Thor brings Loki to Norway

Imagine learning that Hela wants you dead too

Imagine waking up on Sakaar to find Loki trying to help

Imagine Loki learning why you lied and faked your death

Imagine Loki accidentally time-slipping when you’re getting dressed

Imagine asking Thor about a gift that you gave him

Imagine Thor trying to grant you visitation with Loki

Imagine Thor learning that you’re in Norway with his father

Imagine Thor asking Loki about your whereabouts on Sakaar

Imagine finding Venom raiding your pantry

Imagine spending the holidays alone in Avengers Tower

Imagine checking on Robbie’s injuries

Imagine helping Matt escape the prison after Fisk takes control

Imagine Marc Spector inquiring about your hand injury

Imagine Khonshu trying to convince you to be his avatar

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers

Imagine the Avengers when they learn that you and Bucky were attacked

Imagine Clint coming to you after a mission gone wrong

Imagine Fury asking you to be a diversion

Series

The Rider’s Guardian - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Stowaway Cloak -  Stephen Strange, Reader (platonic)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Return to the Easy Navigate Masterlist)

[komsomolka]

Nasrallah was killed because he was unrelenting in his support for Palestine. Unlike every other Arab leader, Nasrallah had led the fight against Israel twice, which led to its defeat: first, when Israel was forced to withdraw from Lebanon in 2000 and second when Israel could not vanquish Hezbollah in 2006. The man who defeated Israel was finally killed on September 27, 2024, along with thousands of his fellow Lebanese. [...]

In the Lebanese coastal city of Sur (Tyre), unknown people bombed a number of restaurants that serve alcohol in late 2012. I went down to talk to some of the owners of these restaurants and of a brewery, all of whom told me that they had been visited by people from Hezbollah who offered to pay for the damages even though the attacks were not by their members. Nasrallah had said that though he opposed the consumption of alcohol, he did not believe that Lebanese society must conform to the social views of any group but should learn to tolerate the mores of each other.

For all the talk of Nasrallah and antisemitism, it would be worth considering that it was Hezbollah under Nasrallah that helped the reconstruction of Beirut’s Maghen Abraham Synagogue. “[It] is a religious place of worship,” Nasrallah said, “and its restoration is welcome,” stated Arab News. It is this attitude that partly led to Nasrallah telling Julian Assange during a discussion about Palestine in 2012 that “the only solution is the establishment of one state—one state on the land on Palestine in which the Muslims and the Jews and the Christians live in peace in a democratic state. Any other solution will simply not be viable, and it won’t be sustained.”

When Israel, with US support, began its bombardment of Lebanon in 2006, it appeared certain that Hezbollah would be demolished. But it withstood the attack and counterattacked Israel. Years earlier, friends in the Arab states would ask me, “Why can’t we produce a Hugo Chávez?” meaning why could they not have a leader who would stand up against the interference of the West and the occupation of the Palestinians by Israel. During the 2006 war, these same people began to say that Nasrallah was their Chávez, that he was the incarnation of Gamal Abdel Nasser. The fact that Hezbollah was not destroyed and was able to stand up for itself proved to large sections of the Arab world that Israel lost that war.

The victory is partly attributed to Nasrallah’s ability to convert Hezbollah from a military force into an integral part of the “resistance society” (mujtama’ al-muqawama) in large parts of Lebanon; this resistance society shaped the worldview of the villages of southern Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley, where they committed themselves to the long-term struggle to end the Israeli occupation of Palestine and the Israeli interventions in southern Lebanon. It is this resistance community that defines Hezbollah’s endurance rather than the thousands of missiles it has hidden away in tunnels across Lebanon’s southern region. The Israelis tried to kill Nasrallah many times during and after 2006 but did not succeed. He would often talk about how one of his speeches was his last since it was unclear when the Israelis might succeed.

The assassination of Nasrallah produced a sense of shock across Lebanon because a view had been growing that he could not be killed. But Nasrallah was a man, and human beings die one way or the other. Robert Fisk asked him to explain what it meant to prepare for martyrdom, according to a 2001 article by him. “Imagine you are in a sauna,” Nasrallah said. “It is very hot but you know that in the next room there is air conditioning, an armchair, classical music, and a cocktail.” That would have been his attitude when the Israeli bombs landed.

[kdheaven]

buffy summers + matt murdock: resurrection parallels

id under the cut

ID: A series of gifs compares the journeys of Buffy Summers of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and Matt Murdock of "Daredevil":

Buffy jumps to her death into a portal of purple-white energy. Matt travels through a sea of fire following the explosion at Midland Circle. Both have their arms outstretched in a shape reminiscent of Jesus Christ on the cross.

Buffy awakens in her coffin after being resurrected by her friends. Matt awakens in an infirmary bed at St. Agnes Orphanage, where he's being cared for by the nuns. Both of them are disoriented and shocked to be alive.

Buffy confesses that she is struggling to get through every moment in a loud, bright, violent world since her return. "This is hell," she says. In a hallucination, Wilson Fisk taunts Matt about the fact that his damaged hearing was restored just in time for Matt to find out Fisk is out of prison. "Does that sound like God's forgiveness?" he asks. "No," Matt responds. "It sounds like… hell."

Buffy explains that something has been missing since her resurrection. "When I clawed my way out of that grave, I left something behind. Part of me." Foggy Nelson makes a similar observation about Matt. "I think a part of him was buried under Midland Circle," he says.

Buffy is symbolically resurrected again alongside Dawn, her sister, who often represents Buffy's connection to her humanity or inner child. The two of them crawl out of an open grave in the cemetery after fighting off some demons. Matt is symbolically resurrected again alongside Karen Page, who can be viewed as representing his ties to his loved ones who he has pushed away and his sense of purpose as Daredevil ("People like her are why I do this"). The two of them climb out of a stone coffin after hiding from pursuers in the Clinton Church crypt.

Buffy and Dawn walk together amid the leafy green trees and flowers of spring. We see their backs as they look out over a beautiful vista. Matt and Karen walk together out of Clinton Church and emerge into the sunshine. Similarly, we see them from behind with bright green leaves in front of them. Both scenes evoke rebirth and hope.

[ily-fictional-women]

Christmas Blues

Summary: Kate’s feeling down but Y/n is gonna do her best to fix that.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know

Word count: 1501

a/n: Just something for the Holiday season! (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

With it being the Christmas season Kate and Y/n agreed to have a small date night at Kate’s apartment watching a Christmas movie while cozying up together. Although during the movie the two sit beside each other one of Y/n’s hands on the back of Kate’s head playing with her hair. Typical Kate is one to talk throughout a movie this time she’s quiet, too quiet.

Turing just slightly Y/n looks over at Kate, there’s not even a slight grin on her face. Y/n moves her hand from the back of the girl's head down to the back of her neck, “Hey.” Kate snaps her attention at the sudden change, “Yeah?” Biting the inside of her cheek Y/n tries to find the right words for the moment, “Katie, are you okay? Where’s your head at?”

“What do you mean?” Kate shifts in her seat at the question. Y/n pauses the movie putting her full attention on Kate, “Look, I’ve known and loved you for a while. So I’d like to think I know when you’re stuck in your head. You don’t have to tell her anything but if you want to tell me I wanna know.”

Kate shrugs nervously, “I guess it’s just the Christmas season. Ever since the whole Fisk thing and the thing with my mom going away, it feels like the Holiday season is just a reminder of all the bad instead of the good.” Y/n starts lightly drawing shapes into the back of Kate's neck trying to think of any kind of solution, “Is it being in New York that’s a reminder of it or is it just a feeling in general?”

Kate rests a hand on Y/n’s thigh trying to distract herself from how she was feeling, “Probably a mix of both. But I think being her plays a big part in it. Why?” Y/n shakes her head nonchalantly, “Just trying to figure out how you’re feeling.” As the moment settles down and the movie’s unpaused Y/n interrupts again.

“Do you have any hot cocoa powder?” Kate’s brows furrow for a moment, “No. I don’t think so at least did you want some or something?” Y/n quickly gets up putting a coat on, “Yeah I was thinking of having some. I’ll go out and pick up enough for the both of us.” Both Kate and Lucky turn their heads as Y/n goes for the door. “Did you want me to come with you?” Y/n smiles shaking her head at the question, “No don’t worry. I want you to relax.”

Y/n was going out to get hot cocoa mix but there was also another plan. Making it out of the apartment building Y/n pulls out her phone calling the only person she knew could probably help. “Hey, Clint can we talk?”

There’s some murmurs in the background of the call but they slowly get quieter, “Hey, yeah, Y/n what’s up?”

“It’s Kate, Clint, I’m worried about her. She doesn’t seem like herself. She was talking about how all the Fisk stuff and her mom being locked up was getting to her. But she said it mostly tied to being in New York so I was wondering if we could come over for a little. Mostly so I could see if it would cheer her up.”

“I mean yeah that shouldn’t be a problem I’ma just ask Laura first.” For about two minutes Clint is obviously on mute leaving Y/n standing in the New York snow. The sudden loud background noise shocks Y/n from the cold though, “Okay, Laura said it’s alright. Are you guys gonna be here tomorrow or later?”

“Tomorrow works just fine I’ll get her to pack up tonight.” Right before Y/n’s about to hang up there’s some loud murmuring in the background before she hears Clint’s voice again, “Oh uh Lila said to to pack ugly sweaters. We’re having a contest and Nate is judging.”

“Will do Clint.”

//

Getting back to the apartment Y/n quickly brushes off the excess snow on her coat before hanging it up the small bag of hot cocoa powder in hand. Heating some milk Y/n flops on the couch with Kate, “Soooo. You’re gonna need to pack a bag.” Kate raises an eyebrow cracking a nervous grin, “Why do I need to pack a bag exactly?”

“We're going on a trip to get out of here. You’ll like it I promise.” The confidence in Y/n’s demeanor was just enough to convince Kate to go pack a bag. “Oh wait,” Y/n stops her before she can get too far. “You’re gonna need to pack an ugly sweater.”

//

DAY 1 Making it to the Barton home Kate has a tight grip on Lucky’s leash, or that it is until Clint opens the door to the house bolting in to play with the kids. “Hey, Clint.” Kate opens up her arms to a hug from the older man. Clint looks at the two of you up and down noticing the ugly sweaters. “I see you both dressed up for today.” He examines both sweaters closely, “No offense Y/n but Kate is definitely winning the ugly sweater contest today.”

Y/n looks at the man genuinely shocked, “How?! Mine has Shrek and you said Nate was judging.” Clint looks over at both sweaters again, “No yeah Kate definitely wins. The owl’s eyes are so beady it creeps me out.” Kate smirks to herself, “That’s not the worst of it.” Clicking a button on one of the sleeves of the sweater the eyes of the owl begin to light up.

Letting out the most dad laugh possible Clint looks back at Y/n’s sweater, “Y/n I bet $5 Nate will pick Kate's sweater over your's." Y/n puts out her hand shaking Clint's taking the offer, “You’re on old man. It'll be your Christmas gift to me." Ignoring the old man comment Clint invites the two in to begin the ugly sweater contest.

DAY 1 (NIGHT) Y/n scans the dark living room, “Where are the kids and Laura?” Kate readjusts the blanket she has wrapped around herself sitting in front of the fireplace. “They all went to bed, how was the whole wood-chopping thing with Clint?” Y/n tosses a fresh piece of wood into the fireplace, “Surprisingly boring. Did you guys do anything?”

“We mostly just played some small games Laura found online. But what I want right now is for you to sit with me.” Kate stretches out her arms like a kid wanting to be picked up. Sitting down with Kate Y/n admires the fire for a moment turning over to Kate. “Have you had fun so far?”

Kate’s gaze stays on the fire watching it crackle and burn, “Actually, yeah. I have. I still don’t think it’s fair you won the ugly Christmas sweater contest though.” Y/n fake coughs quietly murmuring, “Sore loser.” Kate quickly flops on top of Y/n with a playful smile, “What did you just say?”

Y/n looked around the room pretending to try and find the answer as she moved her hands to Kate’s hips to make sure she didn’t fall off the couch. “Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything! I swear.” Kate leans in a little closer to Y/n’s face, “Really? Because I could have sworn you called me a sore loser.”

Y/n lets out a loud sarcastic gasp, “Me?! I would never!” Kate looks at her questioningly, “Really now?” Y/n smiles cockily, “Nope never! Now how about you lean in just a little bit closer and kiss me so we can go to bed?” Giggling into a kiss Kate agrees ending a blissful night.

DAY 3 (NIGHT) With yesterday being an almost full day of baking cookies everyone was still fairly tired, especially being tired of taking orders from Laura in the kitchen. Because of this, everyone agreed today would be the Christmas movie marathon. First, it started with some of the classics.

You had The Grinch, Home Alone, A Christmas Carol, and so much more. The best part was probably the kids' commentary though Kate especially found it funny that quote “Captain America looked so much like the boy from A Christmas Story”.

Throughout the night it was obvious Kate was becoming happier and happier, especially compared to how she had been feeling before the trip. It was hard for Y/n to not stare at Kate being happy again. It was like she could see a light through her smiles and laugh. A light she hadn’t seen in a while.

Kate leans over to Y/n still intently watching the movie, “Thank you for this trip. I love it. And I love you.” Y/n smiles softly, “I love you most.” This, this moment. It was the only Christmas gift Y/n needed.

[olsenmyolsen]

This Is Me Trying - Two - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

masterlist

Summary: The Hawkeyes and you seem to be on the same track...

Word Count: 3.5K

Content: College stress, Flirty Kate Bishop, Clint being a dad

"Kate Bishop! Your crush! Asked you that!? No way!" Ned, of course, couldn't believe it. But this was the same man who didn't realize he was going out with Betty Brant for two weeks

"What did you say after she asked?" MJ questioned when she looked up from behind her laptop on the couch.

"I said, "yeah!" and "that's awesome." Was that good?"

MJ shook her head. "Truly a wordsmith." Sarcastic as ever. MJ went back to her screen to basically ignore you and Ned.

"Well, anyways, congrats," Ned said, getting up from the dining room table where his and Peter's LEGO Death Star was kept. Why was it in your dorm and not there's you had no idea. But MJ helped from time to time, so you figured it was okay.

Ned and you walked into your room and closed the door.

"You know it's a good thing everyone knows you're gay, or else the amount of time we go to your room alone would be suspicious." You froze and thought about Ned's words. "Yeah, I guess... I wonder what MJ thinks we do?"

"I think Peter said we watch movies that she'd disapprove of."

That made sense. "Hmm, alright." You walked over to your bed and flopped onto it while you waited for Ned to do what he needed to do.

3...2...1. "Okay, got it." He said as your fingers formed into a 0. "Alright, what am I looking at?" Ned had pulled up security footage from a traffic light from three weeks ago.

"Okay, this was when that building on 10th in Hell's Kitchen burned down." Ned played the video, and it showed a group of guys in Tracksuits fleeing from the building as they piled into a black SUV moments prior to the building going up.

"Okay. So the Tracksuits are back.." You thought out loud as Ned moved his cursor to another video.

"This was from last week on 3rd in Harlem." The video played and was almost identical to the third one. Except the SUV and the plates on the car were different.

You stood in thought as the last video started. "This was last night."

You recognized the building immediately as you remember zipping past it last night. Just like the other two videos, it played out the same. When the video stopped, Ned looked at you.

"Okay, so as bad as their fashion choice is, they're not idiots. They have different cars and plates every time. Their faces are covered, and let me guess, if we follow the cars light by light, they end up at a chop shop?"

Ned nodded.

"So... it's gotta be the buildings." Ned tilted his head. "What do you mean? It's not the chop shops?" You shook your head. "Chop shops are easy to bust. It's like they want you to follow them there. The buildings. The ones they burn. That's the real money."

Ned looked from you to the screen.

"So you think these tracksuit guys are burning the buildings for insurance money?" You shook your head and entered your closet to change into your Spidey Suit.

Just because you're gay doesn't mean you want guy your friend Ned to see you.

"No, I think someone is hiring these guys to do it." You huffed as you remembered who had the tracksuit mafia in his pocket last time.

Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin.

He was a roach you could never squash just right.

If he owned the buildings, that means there was a lot more at play.

"Okay." You stepped out of the closet and quickly scarfed down a leftover slice of pizza Ned had. "Do you think you could find out who owns these buildings?" Ned nodded. "It's probably a bunch of shell companies, but I can do my best." You patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." You hurried across your room and grabbed your mask.

"Oh, and when Peter comes over, could you maybe not tell him I went patrolling? Tell him I overheard something on the radio." Ned gave a flat smile.

Lying was not his strong suit.

"If you do, I'll-"

"Hey, Y/N, are you still in there?" You gave a panicked look to Ned before putting on your mask and twhiping away before MJ wildly opened the door.

She looked from the open window to Ned.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Uhhh..." Ned was really bad at lying. "She left..ago- a while ago!" He was in trouble. "Yeah?" MJ crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "How come I didn't see her leave?"

Ned's brain scrambled.

"Blindness?" Ned said, making MJ stand up straighter. "I turn a blind eye to many things, Ned, but this won't be one of them." She uncrossed her arms and stretched her arm out to grab the door handle to the room. "By the way, nice camera footage, totally not suspicious at all." She thinned her eyes and hummed as she closed the door.

After swinging for what felt like a good enough distance away from campus, you stood on the roof of an old pizzeria.

Your phone chimed, and you had a text from Ned. "Did my best. Sorry. 😭😭😭"

You laughed and reassured him that he wouldn't be fired from his guy-in-the-chair duties.

"Keep me posted on the buildings." You sent your final text and put your phone away.

You then stared out into the boro you find yourself in. In the distance, you can see what remains of a shootout you helped rescue people from two months ago. You think about a girl you saved who said she wanted to be like you when she grew up.

Your heart warmed, and you told her to stay in school and that she'd be better than you.

Which was looking more and more accurate by the day as you leaped off the pizzeria, ignoring a text from your brother about the essay you still needed to do.

At the same time, Kate Bishop entered her dorm room, walking past her blonde roommate and fast friend Cassie Lang at her desk before Kate collapsed facedown onto her bed.

"What's wrong?" The slightly shorter of the two, Cassie, turned around and asked. "Tired." Kate's muffled voice spoke.

"How late were you out last night?" Cassie asked as she stood up, approaching her friend's bed. "Past 3," Kate said, making Cassie go wide-eyed. "Kate Bishop! The rule was 2:30 at the latest!"

Kate rolled over and lifted herself up. "I'm sorry." She pouted at her friend, who instantly pulled her into a comforting hug that turned into Kate leaning on Cassie's shoulder. "What else is wrong?" Cassie asked as she saw how exhausted Kate looked.

"Nothing," Kate said, but Cassie wasn't so sure. "Are you doing some overthinking?" Kate froze eventually before nodding. "What about?"

"Clint and the Tracksuits."

Kate spoke freely about her other life to Cassie.

Kate used to tell people openly about how she was working with an Avenger, but after what happened with her mom and Kingpin last year, she toned it down.

Now, the only people who know are Cassie, Pizza Dog, and a rouge assassin for hire. Plus, Clint and his family.

Cassie only found out when she woke up in the middle of the night to see Kate in her Hawkeye outfit on the floor.

Kate tripped, falling through the window, and busted her chin.

Kate wanted to tell more people like you. But as previously mentioned. She liked you and didn't want you to get hurt because of her.

So, she kept her Hawkeye circle small.

However, Kate couldn't get the idea out of her head... what if she told you?

"Kate?" Cassie poked the forehead of her dorm mate. "Where'd you go?" She asked.

Kate sat up and cracked her neck, ignoring the question. Cassie noticed as she raised her eyebrows and returned to her desk. Choosing schoolwork, Chemistry in particular, over prying answers from Kate.

"Do you think I should tell Y/N?" Kate spoke up and waited for Cassie to turn around. But she didn't.

"Cass?" Kate asked as she stepped off her bed and walked next to her friend. "Cass?" She asked again before realizing Cassie had put in her AirPods.

Cassie turned to her left and jumped, startled, before pulling them out. "Oh shit. What's up?!" Kate opened her mouth. "I..- nothing. I just was going to tell you that I.. wanted to.."

She couldn't do it.

"I wanted to invite Y/N to my archery practice!" Kate put on a smile and watched her friend's face light up.

"Oh my God, I love that! Please do it! Ugh, she's so pretty!" Cassie was happy for her friend finally doing something about her crush. "She is," Kate replied with a blush. "Think she'll show?" Kate then asked.

"Why wouldn't she?" Cassie tilted her head, entirely focused on the conversation.

Cassie and you had hung out briefly when your friend group and Kate's got together, but she has never witnessed how your superhero life affects you.

Kate shrugs. "Lately, Y/N has been... flaky isn't the right word.. but not here? I guess? She's always tired too. She bails on plans with her and Peter sometimes."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I've seen it at the library. Their study block is next to mine." Cassie nodded. "Plus, MJ's told me."

"Michelle Jones?" Cassie questions, making Kate nod. "She's roommates with Y/N, right?" Kate nods again. "Well, what does she think." Kate folds her lips into her mouth and raises her eyebrows.

"She thinks Y/N is The Spider."

Cassie's mouth drops before forming into a smile of laughter. "What?!" Kate nods with her own smile. "It's true. She's convinced."

Cassie laughs, making Kate giggle. "She took pictures of The Spider over a summer once. That doesn't mean she's THE Spider." Kate nodded as her smile naturally faded. "That would be funny," Kate said, making Cassie laugh again.

"Well, good luck with having your crush at practice tomorrow." Kate waved Cassie off as she went to the bathroom to shower and change. "Going out?" Cassie yelled through the closed bathroom door.

"Not till later. Why?" Kate replied as she took her top off. Her eyes finding a yellow bruise on her chest. "Looks like it's gonna snow."

And snow it did.

It started to come down after you stopped an armed robbery. Armed being used lightly as the men committing the crime were carrying toy guns.

Plus, the bank they chose to hit was a block down from a police station.

So, as you swung back up onto a nearby roof, snow hit your mask. You smiled and lifted up the mask to expose your mouth and nose. You inhaled and exhaled, watching your breath hang in the air.

The snow touched your face and melted against your warm pink cheeks.

It was cool and calming.

A few seconds of much-needed peace.

"I love snow." You whispered to yourself as the wind blew, making you shiver, but you remained now sitting on the roof with your smiling face to the darkened sky.

After enough time, you pulled out your phone.

"I should see if anyone needs any help." But before you could check the Friendly Neighborhood Spidey App, you were receiving a call from an unknown number.

"Ew, who calls anyone after 7?"

You weighed the options of answering it due to your fear of talking on the phone, but after three rings, you caved. "Hello?"

"Yes, hello, I'm calling for a Y/N Parker." The male voice on the other end sounded familiar.

"This is she." You said, standing up. "Ah, Y/N! Nice to put a voice to a list of your academic achievements." The male chuckled. "This is Dr. Otto Octavius." You physically stopped pacing and smiled. Holy crap! You were speaking to THE Dr. Octavius!

"Dr. Octavius! Hello! Wow, I can't believe you called. I take it Dr. Connors passed along... well, my life." You sent a small laugh Otto's way. "He did." He replied with a smile. "And I must say he was right; you're a bright student, Y/N."

You made a "yeah!" gesture with your arm.

"But-" Oh no! "I agree with Connors when he says you've been struggling. I can see just by looking at your grades and past reports that you're lazy. Brilliant but lazy."

"I- I'm trying to do better." You paved around the empty rooftop. "I've just had a lot of personal stuff happening lately."

The other side of the line went quiet.

"Parker, intelligence is not a privilege. It's a gift."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, butDr. Octavius stopped you. Do you think you'll be free after the holidays?" You perked up at that and stood on your tiptoes.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

"Uh yes- yes sir! You'll have my undivided attention!"

Dr. Octavius hummed.

"On the second Monday after the new year, I'd like to speak with you face to face. From there, we can see how we'll proceed with one another. That's about a month away, Parker. That should give you time to get your other affairs in order."

You nodded your head. "Yes, sir. Thank you!"

"I'll email you the information and where to meet me two weeks from now. Happy Holidays."

The line went dead, and you cheered. You just got an interview with Dr. Otto Octavius. He called you lazy, but he also said you were brilliant!

You put your phone away and jumped off the roof of the building with an aloud cheer that you were certain people did not appreciate.

Meanwhile, Kate was unlocking the door to her aunt's place to meet up with Clint. What she wasn't expecting was for Clint to be there already.

"Trust me, I don't plan on missing two Christmas' in a row."

Clint was on the phone.

Kate quietly closed the door, dropped her bag, and quiver on the floor.

"Laura..." Clint sounded tired. "With Kingpin back, I'd feel awful if I left and something happened." Kate's lips formed into a flat line. "Yeah, no, she's great. Kicking ass on her own." Clint said and laughed when his wife replied back.

Kate tried to remain quiet, but a floorboard creaking under her left foot gave her away. Lucky's head shot up from Clint's lap, making the archer turn around. "Hey, babes, Hawkeye just arrived, so I gotta go. Yeah. Yeah. I'll be safe. Love you too."

Clint smiled before hanging up. "She says hi." Kate nodded and told Clint to tell Laura hi the next time they spoke.

Kate grabbed a spot on the loveseat next to the couch.

"I didn't hear you come in," Clint spoke up as he put his phone away. "Don't know if that's my old age or..." He tapped his ear. "Maybe I'm just getting better at sneaking around," Kate replied with a smile.

Clint nodded his head with a chuckle. Kate was saving him from embarrassment.

Clint was still struggling with his hearing loss.

"Yeah, well... maybe it's all three," Clint said as he looked away from Kate. His hand still petting the dog.

Something in the room always shifted when talks like these happened. It reminded the two archers that time and missions with one another were limited.

Clint couldn't do this forever.

He didn't want to do this forever. He had a family and a life outside of being Hawkeye.

But damn, if he wasn't going to miss someone, he considers family—an annoying girl who was somehow more skilled than him but clumsy as hell, Kate Bishop.

Clint kicked his tongue and scooted Lucky off his lap before getting up and grabbing a water from the ridge and a laptop from his bag. "While you were at school. I got a friend to do a little research."

Clint returned, sitting at the edge of the couch closest to Kate. He opened the laptop and clicked on a folder of files. Blueprints. Bank records. Phone calls and messages all popped up on the screen.

"A friend?" Kate asked with a knowing smirk.

Clint ignored her as he took a sip of water. Clicking on the map of the city. Certain buildings highlighted in red. Others in grey. "What am I looking at?"

"The red ones are the burned-down buildings." Kate took a look at the map again. "And the grey... Potential targets?" Clint nodded before clicking on another file. It was a picture taken by Clint last night. "This is a zoomed-in photo of the blueprint on the Tracksuits wall."

"Their next target?" Kate asked. "I think so. We find one of the grey buildings that matches this blueprint." He pointed to the screen. "We can stop them."

Stop them, hurt them, make them confess, give us the details and whereabouts of Wilson Fisk.

You know, that kind of stop them.

Kate looked at the screen again. She moved pieces of her hair behind her ears before leaning into the screen. "How do we know they'll target one of the grey ones?"

Clint moved the cursor on the screen and clicked on an open tab. Finical records. "The ones burned down and these ones." The ones highlighted grey. "Are all owned by different shell companies, but when you really start digging deep, you find that they all go to the same place. Red Lion National Bank."

"Kingpin," Kate said.

Clint nodded. "He owns them all."

"So what he uses these buildings as cash houses and then burns them down when they aren't needed?" Clint shrugged. "It's a working theory. I'm sure there's more involved than money." Kate agreed.

"This one looks like the blueprint. But... but so does this one." Kate said as she clicked between two different buildings.

"It's probably built by the same company that's why they're not so different." Clint thought. "We could go stake out one and see how much movement happens."

"Sounds good to me. Doesn't look that far away. I mean it's far but- you get what I mean." She flopped her hand at Clint.

He laughed.

"Alright well, let me go get changed and we'll be off." Clint stood up and clapped his hands. "Oh, I also already fed Lucky and took him out so no need to worry."

Pizza Dog perked his ears up.

"Awww did Uncle Clint already take care of you?" Kate turned on her baby voice as she leaned over to kiss and pet the dog. "You're such a good boy!" Lucky's tail started wagging. Clint playfully rolled his eyes as he walked to the bathroom.

As she waited Kate's mind started to wander.

"Alright, we just about ready?" Clint asked as he zipped up his vest and grabbed his bow. Kate stood up putting her phone into her pocket and nodded. "My stuff's by the door."

"Great." Clint and Kate made their way to the front door to finish gathering what they needed. "Oh, here." Clint tossed Kate a purple beanie.

She smiled and looked at Clint. "Occasion?"

"It's cold and snowing outside. Can't have you getting sick." Kate's heart warmed at that whether it was sarcastic or not. "Thanks. Where'd you get it?" She asked a she released her hair from its ponytail

"Stopped by my place in the city earlier. Found it in the closet."

What Clint failed to tell Kate is that the beanie wasn't store-bought.

It was handmade.

And before you ask. God, no Clint didn't spend hours crocheting a hat together.

Natasha Romanoff did.

"Looks better on you kid." Clint smiled as Kate dawned it with pride. "Hawkeye and Hawkeye. One with a beanie the other with a hearing aid!" Kate posed as if she was shooting an arrow and exaggerated her voice.

"Had to ruin it didn't you?" Clint teased as he opened the door.

"Bye, Lucky!" Clint waved to the dog before entering the hall. "Bye, Pizza Dog! Be good!" Kate flipped all but one light switched off and locked the door.

As the two archers made their trek to the location marked on Clint's phone he spoke up simply because he couldn't help himself.

"So... who were you texting earlier?"

Kate looked to her right confused. However, she knew what Clint was talking about. "Come on. Don't give me that look. I may be deaf at times but I'm never blind." Clint bumped into Kate as they kept waking. "Don't forget I'm also the father of a teenage daughter."

Kate had him there.

"A friend." She said. "Oh, a friend! Are they nice?" Kate nodded. "She's nice." Clint smiled. She. "Does she know about this?" Clint pointed to the arrows on Kate's back.

Kate shook her head. "She knows I do archery but that's it." Clint looked at Kate's side profile. "But you want to tell her?" Kate looked up. "How'd you know?"

Clint exhaled.

"Because Kate you like this friend of yours. You're young. Oh, and you're terrible at keeping secrets."

"Am not."

She was.

In Clint's eyes, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know the real identity of the "new" Hawkeye.

"Regardless, are you going to tell them?"

Kate shrugged. "I don't know."

Clint patted her shoulder. "That's alright." Kate smiled. "I invited her to my archery practice tomorrow and to study afterward. The text was about her coming over."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Oh well as long as you're safe."

Kate furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. But before she could reply her phone buzzed.

It was a text from you.

"Sounds great! 🎯"

You smiled as you hit send.

Your fingers remained tightly gripped around your phone as you twhiped yourself through an alleyway.

You thought about double-texting Kate. Asking her how she was or what she was doing. Or why the sudden invite to her archery practice?

Was it just for fun? The want to hang out with you? Or did Kate truly just want to show off her toned arms and skills with a bow?

Could it be all of the above?

You closed out your messages app before you could accidentally send a double text and focused on your tingling.

[plush-rabbit]

Simmering and Smothering

Part 2 to It’s Always Coffee

Word Count: 7K

A/N: I’m soft for this guy rn. He’s so !!! Anyways, I um don’t know what else to say

- You stand with a group of people, a lanyard hangs from your neck, and you pinch at the plastic cover that holds a card reading “Visitor” stuck on it. People part of the group peek through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the wonders behind the glass. You're sure at some point you saw Dr. Ohnn standing close to a coworker. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked up and you had to fist your hand to restrain yourself from waving at him. But when the scientist beside him puts their hand on his back, returning his attention to the project in front, you find yourself digging your nails into the flesh of your palms.

You look around, but nothing catches your eye as it should at Alchemax. While you knew that they wouldn’t show a tour group all the dark and gritty experiments, a part of you wishes that you were able to slip away to explore, but any chances of that were snuffed out with a warning at being kicked out and banned should you stray. However, you do enjoy getting to step foot into the building. The group is led through glass doors, and you hear a few people sigh in relief. Walking in, windows line the room and let in a nice glow of sun. 

“Okay,” Dr. Octavius says with a clap of her hands, “this is the cafeteria where we will be having lunch. Those tables over there-” she points over to a cluster of tables that have been protected with stanchions- “will be where you all will be eating. Lunch is one hour, and if anyone needs to go to the restroom, please contact a security guard.” Her gaze is friendly, smile wide and tone with the slightest hint of superiority, she speaks to all, before her gaze lands on you, her smile falling ever-so-slightly. “If you fail to inform a guard, and are caught wandering, you will be immediately removed from the premises.” Smiling, you give her an “okay” symbol, and in response, she looks away from you. “Okay!” She chirps, taking a step to the side, she sweeps her arms towards the selection of food. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You’re at a cart, holding a tray consisting of fruits, and a bottle of juice. You peer over the selection of bread, holding a saran wrapped bagel. You pull your mouth into a line, wanting to put it back, but unsure if that’s okay to do so. Sure, it’s saran wrapped, but what if it’s not okay to place things back. You’ve already picked it up, and with a sigh, you place it on your tray. You look over the rest of the selection of the grains, and perk up at the sight of a muffin. Happily, you reach to grab at it before your wrist is grabbed at.

“Hey-” You bark out, pulling your hand out of the grasp and turning to look at whoever it was that clutched your wrist. You stop short when you realize that it’s Dr. Ohnn. “I feel like we talked about appropriate ways to greet others,” you muse, grabbing at the saran wrapped muffin. 

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you frown. 

Your eyes scan his face, and you fold the tray closer to you. “You’re upset,” you conclude, tilting your head with furrowed brows. 

“Of course I am,” he hisses. Your ears begin to burn, and you look around the cafeteria, many of the patrons sitting down and ignoring you- including the tour group you are a part of. When you look back at him, he continues. “Why are you here?”

“I’m part of the tour.” You jerk your head over where your tour members sit behind the stanchions. “Fisk was promoting it- something to show off Alchemax and how family-friendly it is. But if you ask me, I think it’s just a cover to stop people from asking-”

“I don’t care,” he rushes. 

You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay, you don't have to be rude.” His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. He opens his mouth, but you press forward. “Listen, I paid my way in, okay? If you’re upset with it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” He stays silent and you look back to your group. Turning back to him, you start. “Is that all, Dr. Ohnn? May I go sit down, or do you want to continue reprimanding me?”

He opens and closes his mouth, and when you turn on your heel, he calls your name. You turn to him with a waiting look. “I apologize.” You encourage him with a nod of your head. “I just-” he looks around, and grabs your wrist, pulling you to another station of food, grabbing a tray, and standing in front of the selection of fruits. 

“You just?”

“I hadn’t thought that you would be here. I-” with his middle finger, he pushes up his glasses by the bridge- “I wasn’t aware there was a tour going on.”

“Does that matter?” You ask, grabbing at a cup of peeled mandarins. 

“Scientists are usually the one to lead groups,” he says quietly, "due to the fact that it is our projects we are showcasing. We all take turns with it given that leading groups take time away from our projects. This should have been a group that I would have led. Dr. Octavius must have seen your name on the roster and decided to lead it for the day.” He gives you a look. “I’m surprised that she let you in.”

“I paid,” you shrug. “She isn’t happy about it or anything, but-” you end it with a shrug. “Anyways, I won’t bother your lunch or anything. I’m simply here to see the building and enjoy lunch.” You give him a smile as you lift up your tray. “Have a good day Dr. Ohnn.” You nod your head, ready to walk away before he stops you.

“Do you have to sit down with the others?” You turn to him, and look at him quizzically. “We um- We never finished our conversation from the other day.”

You tighten your grip on the tray. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “You kinda left without exchanging numbers. But I don’t think I’m allowed to sit elsewhere.” You look back at your group. “I’d invite you to sit with me, but I’m not sure if I could give you quite a riveting conversation as your work buddies.”

“You can. You have,” he says so, without any hesitation. “Our last conversation was entertaining.” 

"You think so?" 

He opens his mouth, before being interrupted by someone calling his name. "Jonathan," calls someone far too cheery from the door. A few heads turn to watch as another scientist- you think that they look familiar- and turn back around once the scientist enters the cafeteria. They turn on their heel to wave at another and it clicks- it's the scientist that touched his back.

You look back to the doctor, giving him a raised look. He has a sort of flush that colors in his face, and you purse your lips together. 

The scientist walks toward the both of you, but their attention is solely on Jonathan. "Jonathan-" they say his name with a sickly sweet tone- "I thought you were going to wait for me so we can have lunch together." They smile brightly at the other and you watch as they reach over to squeeze at his bicep. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"My apologies, Dr. Owens." You don't miss the way that he refers to the scientist by their last name while they refer to him by his first. A frown tugs at corner of your lips- they refer to him by his first name. You glance between the two and a pit settles in your stomach. "I hadn't forgotten, but I got distracted. It must have slipped my mind."

"You don't normally get distracted," they note, and their eyes dart at you. With the consequence of being acknowledged, you smile at them. "Ah. Part of the tour group, huh? No wonder you bothered our precious doctor." They're far too sweet with their words, it makes you uncomfortable. You open your mouth to apologize, but they continue on. “I was wondering if we could get the chance to go over our notes?” You feel as if you're in the middle of something. Standing besides Dr. Owens, you feel unsure of yourself. You clear your throat. They turn to you, and their smile is beaming. “Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt. While I’m sure Dr. Ohnn would love to engage with others about theories and his work, I do have to steal him away from you.” Their smile turns gentle, and you feel silly standing between them. “Sorry,” they apologize with a smile. 

"Uh, yeah." You grit your teeth- that came out less eloquently than you would liked. "Sorry, Dr. Ohnn." You tap your heel against the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.”

"Oh- Um-” he looks at you, and you smile at him, shrugging your shoulders. He returns his look towards the other scientist, and you let your gaze drift down. You walk away, catching only a glimpse of their conversation. “What would you like to discuss?”

Sitting down at a designated table, the other tour members greet you. You smile and pick at your bagel, taking small bites, regretting not getting some kind of topping. You bite at your muffin, nodding along as the other group members talk about the experiments going on at the building. 

It would make sense for him to have a partner. He's attractive, and has a good job. With the one conversation that you've had with him, he was well spoken. You eat your mandarins, letting the citrus fill your mouth. Dr. Owens isn’t unattractive and they certainly seemed nice. You do your best not to look at the doctor and his partner, keeping your head down as you listen to the other people in your group. 

You know why you feel so bothered by it all. It’s dumb. You only had one actual conversation with him, but it was nice. He was nice- much nicer than you had ever given him credit for. You feel silly over being jealous of a man you only knew for a minute. 

-

"Fuckin' driver," you mutter under your breath, your lips curled in disgust. Fixing yourself, you cross your arms and decide to walk to the train station. It's incredibly late and something that you actively avoid doing, but you don't want to risk yourself with another driver. "Now I gotta walk." 

A part of you pays with the idea of putting in your headphones and at least having a calming walk, but you shake your head at that idea. You will not be murdered just because you wanted to listen to music. 

Headlights flash by and you bite the inside of your mouth every time. A car passes by, and you watch as the red tail lights blink on. You stop in your steps, taking a look around. No one else on the sidewalk acknowledges the car. 

“Okay”, you think to yourself, “I can't get abducted in front of other people.” You take a step forward and pause. “That's dumb. Yes, I can.” You scowl and tap your foot against the pavement, holding tighter onto the strap of your bag. 

However, no one else seems fazed by a car pulling over, and that gives you confidence to walk further. At the end of the car, you see the passenger window roll down. You hesitate again. Sucking in a breath, you roll your wrists, and as you walk past the car until you hear your name being called. 

You turn, and through the windshield, you see a familiar doctor waving at you. Looking around, you clutch onto the trap of your bag before making your way towards him.

"Dr. Ohnn?" 

He smiles nervously. He looks far too tense for someone in their own car. "Hello," he calls you by your name. "I was sure you would have left ages ago."

"Tour ran late- one of the kids explored without permission," you explain. 

"I'm surprised it wasn't you." You weren't aware he could tease. 

"I wasn't in the mood for any trespassing charges. Maybe tomorrow." You shrug, and send him a grin. “Who knows? Night’s still young and all.”

He turns his head, and you follow his gaze out onto the street before the both of you. "Why are you walking?"

“People had their own rides, and I didn't. I took the bus. After the whole fiasco, I missed it. I got into a taxi, but uh-" you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest- "the driver was being too sleazy for my tastes so I decided to take my chances walking.” 

“Oh- I’m sorry to hear about that.” He leans over the middle console of the car, with his hand pressed down on the passenger seat. “It’s quite late,” he tells you.

Your lips stretch into a thin grin. “Correct. It’s no wonder that you’re one of the top scientists at Alchemax.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.

“I try,” you tell him. The soft glow of the streetlamps casts him in a warm glow. “But I'd be more inclined to believe you if you were actually laughing.”

“Yes, well, I’ll try to laugh next time.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile sharply at him. 

“Is that why you stopped? To hear my humor?” You tease, taking a step forward, and he tilts his head to look at you. 

“No, actually. I thought it was you,  and I wanted to know if you would like a ride?”

You’re taken aback. “Oh! Um- No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” you correct yourself. You turn looking down the street where the crowd of people slows. You look back at him. “I’m sure you have your own plans for the night. I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt or anything.” You twist the strap of your bag in your hand. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to worry about me Dr. Ohnn.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. I don’t have any plans.” 

You stay silent, weighing your options in your head. While you’d like to be in a car and taken to your home, you also can’t just enter his car. Even if he is the one offering. No. You can’t. There has to be a line. You have a crush on him- maybe. You’re attracted to him. Wait, that’s actually worse. You shake your head.

“I shouldn’t.” You bite your bottom lip and look at the air freshener that hangs down the rearview mirror. “I would want to get you into any sorts of trouble.”

“Trouble?” He says in a quiet voice, but alarm is still laced into his words. 

“You know-” you wave your hand in front of you- “with Dr. Owens. Would they be okay with you giving me a ride?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What does Dr. Owens have to do with this?”

Your chest begins to burn, and it travels upwards to your face. “Would they appreciate you giving a ride to a stranger?” 

“You aren’t a stranger,” the way that he calls your name has your breath hitching, and heart racing. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you walking so far to a station at night.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “But you have to put in the directions on your phone. I’m easily distracted and won’t be able to give you any good directions.”

“Fine by me,” he pulls away and the door unlocks. You open the door, and the window slowly raises. “Between you and I, I’m not entirely great with navigation.” The noise from the outside mutes as you close the door, the lock clicking down on itself.  You click the seatbelt as you give him a look. “I get lost easily,” he admits. He grabs his phone and sorts through his applications, finally passing it your way with the map function on display.

“Don’t you have a PhD?” You enter your address, and return the phone, watching as he places the phone on the holder stuck to the car. 

“Doesn’t mean a thing if a shopping center has me turned all sorts of ways,” he admits, setting the car to ‘drive’ and pulling away from the sidewalk. You laugh, it starts as a snort, and forms into a chuckle and it has you hiding your smile behind your hand, trying to quell the laughter. 

You turn to look at him, the corner of your lips tilting upwards and wrinkling at your eyes. “I don’t even think I could picture you getting lost in a mall.”

He sits up straighter, and casts a glance through the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a particularly good image of me,” he confesses.

Humming, you lean back into the seat, fixing your bag onto your lap, playing with the zipper. “No, I’m sure it is,” you hum. “A renowned scientist, lost at a mall.”

“It can be quite traumatizing.”

“I’m sure it can be,” you muse, trying to hide the smile that slowly grows. "Many children often fear the mall for that same reason." 

He scoffs at your remark. “Did you learn anything interesting on the tour?” He asks, and you cross your ankles.

“I think we learned about atoms?” He chuckles at that, and you feel warm. “I gotta be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more, ya know?” 

“Atoms aren't enough?” 

"Not nearly,” you tell him softly. “Maybe if they brought out some secret project or like showed some sort of light show, then I’d be impressed.”

“Oh, of course,” he says with sarcasm laced into his words. “A secret project shown to the masses, especially where one child had gone missing.”

“Explored,” you correct, turning our head to look at him.

The GPS voice speaks, and he misses a turn. He mumbles an apology, the application already rerouting him. “If you join another one, I’ll make sure that there’s a light show.” He casts a glance, and misses another turn, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m thirsty,” he tells you.

You blink at him. “You can stop somewhere and get something. I don’t mind waiting in the car.” The metal zipper of your bag shines under the passing streetlamps.. “You’re already doing me a favor by driving me home.”

“The coffee shop is still open. Would you mind accompanying me for a drink?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah- sure. I’d be okay with that. I still owe you that cup of coffee. You know, from when we met at the shop?”

He shakes his head. “Consider it my treat. I am inviting you after all.”

“But you did win that little wager, and you are driving me home. I could at least buy you a cup of coffee or something.” He shakes his head. “Come on-” you slap the back of your hand lightly against his bicep- “don’t make it difficult.”

“I’m not making it difficult,” he frowns.

The GPS continues to tell Dr. Ohnn to make a right when he can, and he fumbles with turning it off, grumbling under his breath until you offer your hand out. The phone is placed down, and you shut down the application. The phone is held in your hand, the application minimizing to show his background- a picture of- the phone is pulled out of your grasp.

“I don’t even get to learn what your background is?” You give a faux pout, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he tells you. “It isn’t all that exciting.” You stick your tongue out at him in response and he fails to suppress a smile. 

Pulling to the side of the road, you place your bag on the floor, snagging your debit card before zipping the bag up. Getting out of the car, you’re careful not to slam the door. You rush to beat him from opening the door. “Okay,” you draw out the vowel, slipping to move in front of him, “how about this. You buy my cup, and I’ll buy yours. I’ll even let you get a pastry- you know as a thank you for driving me home.

“You don’t have to. I offered to drive you home, it was completely my own volition.”

You give an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever you say, but the offer is there.”

As he orders his drink, you press your card against the payment terminal, telling the barista that it’ll be two separate transactions. You can feel his eyes on you and you can only smile, nodding when the barista confirms. Lacking your energy, he pays when you order your own. You’re sure that the barista is annoyed with the two of you, but at this point, you had a win that he was owed. 

With the lack of patrons, the two of you find a table placed beside the window. The two of you sit across from each other, and wait for your drinks to be called. Tapping your hands against the table, you look out the window, watching the people and the cars. 

“I was more than happy paying for your drink,” he comments. 

You look at him through the reflection, and he meets your gaze there. “I know. But you’re already doing me such a favor by taking me home and stuff-” shrugging, you turn to face him- “might as well buy you a drink.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbles.

“I wanted to.”

Looking at you, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when he can’t find the right words. You nod, letting him take his time and to continue with whatever he is going to say. Clearing his throat, he can only get a breath out when the two of your names are spoken. You turn just in time to see the drinks placed on the counter as the barista walks away.

“I’ll go get them for us.” He stands from the table and you watch him. He takes long strides, his head bent and arms close to himself, as if trying to make himself to the public. You hadn’t realized that he had such squared shoulders. He almost reminds you of a rectangle.

Placing your drink in front of you, he takes a seat. His teeth bite at his bottom lip and he brings the cup to his lips. Placing the drink down, he clears his throat. “Why did you ask about Dr. Owens?”

Ah. Maybe you should’ve kept quiet about that. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned that I would get in trouble with them if I had driven you home.”

“Oh um, yeah. It’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m asking.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your gaze focused on your drink. “They just seemed into you is all. I thought there was something you know-” you lift your head looking at him- “between you and them.”

“You thought they were into me?” You choose to ignore the wonder in his voice. Opting to stay silent, you nod. “I can assure you, Dr. Owens is not into me.”

“It sure seemed that way,” you mumble into the rim of your drink. He stares at you, and you shift in your seat, hiding behind your cup. “What?”

“What made you think they were into me?” 

Your molars grind against each other. The rim of the cup is brought to your lips, but you don’t take a sip, you only press your lips against the opening, before lowering it back to the table. “Oh gosh, are you into them? Look, that's sweet and all, but I’d rather not play matchmaker to some scientists.” He stays silent, and you look outside the window, watching a couple walk past by. “You really wanna know?” He makes a noise of confirmation, and you let out a held breath. “In that little time that I saw the two of you, they had no trouble touching you. And they call you by your name, too.”

“My name?”

Nodding, you twist and untwist your legs. “Yeah.”

“Is that usually an indicator?” 

Lifting your hand, you make a see-saw motion. “Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how it’s used and all. Context, ya know?”

“I call other people by their names,” he counters. You nod, letting him continue. “I call you by your name.”

“Oh yeah- I um, I guess so,” you mumble, taking another sip of your drink, desperate to keep yourself busy.

“You never call me by my name.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was allowed.”

“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“I always thought you found me annoying.”

“I did.” You frown, and he gives you an apologetic smile. His hand lifts up, grabbing at a strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. “That doesn’t mean that I disliked you. I have to admit-” he lets go of the strand and it falls back to place- “I always did find your drive admirable. You weren’t one to give up. You’re quite stubborn.” You stare at each for a few moments, heat blazing itself against your skin, making a chill over your body. He breaks eye contact and tilts the cup, making a circle with the bottom edge. “Do you really believe that Dr. Owens likes me because they call me by my name.” You nod, your mouth too dry despite the drink in your hand to even consider speaking. “Hm, okay,” he hums. His hand runs over his stubble, and you wonder if he’s growing out a beard. “You said that they touch me.”

“I um, saw the two of you in an office- while on the tour.” Your hand pulls up to scratch at your shoulder. You feel the need to hide from him.

His smile stretches even more. “I thought I was losing my marbles.” You take a sip of your drink. “I thought that after all my imagining about-” he clicks the last consonant, and you straighten yourself, leaning forward- “I thought that finally, after all of your incessant questioning, that I was beginning to imagine you.”

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your very diluted drink.

“You were saying.” He rolls his hand expectantly.

“When you turned around- when you saw me- they immediately turned you back around.”

“So? I believe we were discussing the recent project that we’ve both been assigned on”

Grabbing a napkin, you dab at the table where a ring of water from the condensation has formed on the table. “It was how they touched you. They touched your back and lingered their hand on you.”

“I’m not following.”

You make a noise of discomfort, and fist the wet napkin in your hand. “I can’t explain it in words. It’s- It’s in the details and stuff. The observer's point of view.”

“Can you show me?” 

“Like?”

“Touch me.”

The napkin is clenched tightly in your hand, your nails ripping through the soft paper. Warmth flushes through your body, and you fear that he can notice the change in you. You know that he doesn’t mean it that way, but for him to say something so- so, intimate sounding, without meaning to, made your heart skip a beat. His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. “No- Not- Not like that. I hadn’t meant for it- I’m so terribly sorry-”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, waving your hand in front of you. “It’s cool,” you smile at him and he stops his ramble of words. There’s a rapid beat that bruises inside of your chest at his words- even if he did mean them innocently. “But you know, they touched you at the cafeteria too. They went up to you and touched your bicep.” You lift your hand, reaching over the table, letting it hover over his forearm. Glancing at him, he’s watching you, and you close your fist, pulling your hand back to you. 

“And you believe that all of those actions are due to the fact that they like me?”

Shrugging, you suck in your bottom lip. “It’s just my theory,” you whisper, embarrassment laced into your words. “They wanted to eat lunch with you too.”

The two drinks remain untouched and outside, you can hear sirens. His hand lifts up to rub over his mouth, and he has this faraway look in his eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles. 

“Okay?”

“Is there anything else that you want to add?”

You pout. “No.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a worker clean a table with a rag. You watch for a moment, and turn your head when chairs are fixed back into their positions, scraping along the floor. A part of you feels unsure about the conversation. While you wouldn’t believe that the scientist had a crush on you, you had at least humored the idea, but knowing that he isn’t interested in you, makes you want to go home.

You open your mouth to speak, and he beats you to it. “I’m hungry,” he states.

“I told you you could have gotten a pastry,” you point out.

“I want dinner. An actual dinner.” Sitting straight, it’s as if he has a new resolve. “Are you hungry?”

Blinking in surprise, you lift your shoulders. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I could eat something.”

“Good,” he nods to himself, and stands up, the chair squeaks against the floor. You follow his eyes, looking up at him as he adjusts the chair and stands by the table. “I’d like for you to accompany me to dinner.” Clearing his throat, his shoulders bunch together, and any confidence that he did have, is slowly evaporating. “That- That is if you want to, of course.”

You scoff with a smile. “Yeah, I’m game with that, Dr. Ohnn.” 

“Jonathan. You can call me Jonathan. I don’t mind it if you call me that.” He twists his hands, interlocking them, and pulling on the back of his palm, his skin stretching thin over his knuckles. 

Straightening yourself, you nod. “Okay. Jonathan it is. The same um, goes to you of course. You can call me by my name.”

“I already do,” and the way that he says your name, softly and tenderly, held with a smile, makes you turn your head and scratch at your neck in a desperate attempt to hide how wide your smile is.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. Standing up, you make sure to push the chair in and grab at the loose napkins and your drink. 

Following behind you, he throws his drink into the trash. This time, he’s made sure that he stands in front of you, stretching his arm out to hold the door open for you. Mumbling, you thank him, standing beside the door as he goes to open the passenger side door.

None of what he’s doing is helping quell your attraction to the scientist.

Clicking his seatbelt, he starts the car, driving away from the coffee shop. “Do you have a preference?”

“On food?” He nods, fumbling with the radio that plays the song of the week. You tap your foot to the beat. “Um, I think I’m good with most stuff. Restaurants are pretty inclusive about diets and stuff most days.”

“There’s a burger place on the way to Alchemax, do you know the one I’m talking about?” 

“With the really good burgers?” 

“Yes. Would you like to go there?” 

“Isn’t that too far?”

“They opened one relatively nearby.”

“Oh okay,  yeah.” You nod. “I’m game with that.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The drive to the restaurant passes by quickly as you chat about miscellaneous things- the weather, work, different coffee shops. Uncomfortable with silences, you keep the conversation going, jumping from topic to topic, trying to make something stick. However, the driver seems to be content with silence, nodding and giving one-worded answers, only really contributing to the conversation when you give your opinion on something.

Pulling into the restaurant, he takes a glance at you, and you smile in response. He opens his door, and steps out, and you follow close behind. The door is held open for you, you order your own meal, and before you can pat your pockets to find your card, he’s already paying for the meal. You aren’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. You feel good- happy and flustered even- but you can’t kid yourself. It’s dinner. With a scientist who you have pestered for a good while about what exactly is going on within Alchemax. It’s dinner with a guy who you had coffee with- twice. That’s it. 

When he sits in front of you, and smiles, you think you’re about to pass out.

Oh. He’s really cute.

No. Whatever feelings you’re having is a moment of weakness. Maybe you should download a dating app or something. 

Your newfound emotions aren’t settled by the end of the meal where you tell him a story about an old job that you used to work. He’s an avid listener, expressive and laughing when you start to smile uncontrollably. He pushes his tray closer to yours, letting you snag what little left of fries that he has. Even with bags under his eyes, he remains attentive during your story.

“No, and like my supervisor tells me “Well whole milk is regular milk,” and I’m so adamant-” you laugh mid-sentence- “that two percent is regular milk. Or like can be qualified as regular milk.”

“Why were you so adamant about it?” He laughs softly, leaning forward.

“Honestly?” You lean forward, stealing a fry of his and plopping it in your mouth. “I just really hate being wrong. Anyways-” you wave your hand in the air- “we have this whole spiel about milk of all things. And I tell him that I like oat milk and he’s like-” you deepen your voice to portray your supervisor- “‘Oat milk isn’t even milk. How do you even milk an oat?’”

“How do you milk an oat?” He asks with knitted brows.

“I-” you pause and tap at the table. “I always thought you blended it. You know, like peanut butter?”

“Yeah, but people don’t drink peanut butter.”

“I bet you that there is at least one person in the world who does drink peanut butter.”

“Okay, you find me that person and I’ll buy you a coffee next time.”

“Yeah, yeah-” you wave your hand, trying not to let your competitive side leak out. “Anyways, I’m sure they make almond milk the same way. Blended.” You lift a hand and point with your index, swirling it in the air.

“I’m partial to oat,” he admits.

“I gotta be honest, I think all milk tastes the same,” you whisper out the confession, covering the side of your mouth with one hand.

“Oh, now you’re being difficult,” he says with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his glasses by the leg. 

“I’m not, I swear! It just all tastes the same. Doesn’t stop me from asking for it at the coffee shops.”

“Even if it tastes the same?”

“I like feeling fancy,” you lilt, and he laughs.

“So you’re tricking your mind?” 

“Oh totally.” 

“With the fake milks?”

“Real, regular milk,” you counter. “Soy is fake- I think.”

“Oh, soy is fake, but the others aren’t.” He scoffs. “That’s where you draw the line.”

You laugh, taking the final sip of your drink. “Yeah, obviously.”

He joins your laughter, dipping his head down, and stray hairs fall in front of him. When he lifts his head, his smile is wide and open, and he has such a nice laugh- deep and the type that shakes his body. Pride makes your chest swell and heat burn over your cheeks at making him not only smile, but laugh. Fighting back the urge to move away the tray pieces of hair that have fallen, you clench your hand into a fist, your laughter slowly dying down. 

A quiet moment befalls the two of you, and you both look at each other. You rub the bottom of your shoe over the top of the other, and check the time. With a click of your tongue, you gather your trash onto the tray.

“We should probably get going. It’s close to closing time for them,” you explain, nodding your head back to the register where two workers chat.

“Oh, should we?” Despite questioning you, he follows your example and gathers his own trash.

“As someone who used to work customer service jobs, yeah.” Tossing your trash into the designated area, you stack the tray overhead. “I’m pretty sure that the employees probably hate us by now.”

“Good point.” He holds the door open for you, and you follow him back across the mostly empty parking lot. Inside the car, he waits for the engine to heat, and he turns to you. “I apologize for keeping you so late.”

“No, this was,” you hesitate choosing your words, “fun.” You nod your head and pull your bag up onto your lap. “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad that you did,” he says softly, giving you a final look before he gives his attention to the road. 

-

After a long day, you stand in front of your building, Jonathan joining you. You’ve always been much more comfortable with chatter than you have been with silence, but as you stand with him, you don’t feel as uncomfortable. You might even like the silence if it gives you reason to look at him. You stand on the steps leading to your home, finally looking him in the eye, and you hate the fact that he has such soft brown eyes. 

“Thanks for driving me home. And getting me a drink.” You kick at the ground, scuffing up at the dirt that lays in a thin layer. “And paying for dinner.” A jitteriness falls over you, and you can only twist and grip onto the strap of your bag. “Thanks for all of that Dr.-” he gives you a narrowed look and you quickly correct yourself- “Jonathan.”

“You don’t have to add my title,” he tells you. Beside him, his hand twists at the hem of his shirt. 

“Force of habit,” you say shrugging. Clearing your throat, you start. “Still, thanks. This was nice, Jonathan.” You like his name, and you hate the way that it makes you feel.

He nods, and raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner. I had a good time.” He says your name delicately, rolling off his tongue, and you never thought that you would want to hear your name repeated over and over.

“No worries,” you answer breathlessly. You can’t think around him. Everything feels as if it’s too much- too hot, too close, too sweet. 

It was one day- two technically- but it was a short amount of time. You wear your heart on your sleeve despite trying so desperately not to. All it took was one day with him, and you think that you might like him. 

Oh, how you wish he was with someone else, then you could give yourself a reason to look away from him. 

With cotton stuffed into your mouth, you don’t trust yourself any further. You think that you should go inside- that maybe you shouldn’t be taking up his time. A part of you wonders when you’ll see him again. Shifting your weight between each foot, you pat your hands on your thighs, drying off the clammy feeling. You wish he would start talking again. Or maybe you should. If you go inside, then this could all be over. You turn your foot, and wave your hand in a goodbye, when he starts to speak.

“Will you be joining another tour group?” There’s a hint of hope that’s weaved into his words. He’s looking at you, and you wonder if you look pretty.

“As much as I enjoyed it, no.” You think you imagine seeing his shoulders slump at your words. “It wasn’t really for me. It was nice, but much more kid-centered.” His glasses are slipping down his nose and you wonder if he’d get upset if you pushed them up. “Will you be going to the café tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” he admits.

“Oh,” you clear your throat, and fighting away the burning feeling that is burning in your chest, you suck in a deep breath. It makes sense to do this now. You have to take a risk. It’s dumb and highly unprofessional, but you need to tell him something. He has to stick around, just for a moment longer, just so you could get whatever pink and sweet is in you, out. “Would-” he word comes out much softer than you would have liked- “Would you want to exchange numbers, maybe?” You hope he says no.

“Really?” He looks so shocked, and so happy. A grin tilts his lips upwards, and like seeing his smile.

Nodding, you rub the flat of your middle finger against your jawline. “Yeah. It would be a better alternative than meeting during lunch on a tour group or a random chance meeting at the café. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” he says eagerly.

You nod eagerly, unable to fend off your smile. “Cool, cool.” You suck in a deep breath, and wait for a moment, before you start to pat your pockets, pulling out your phone and clicking at the ‘New Contact’ section. Holding the phone to him, he grabs the device and places his information. 

Holding the phone tight in your hands, you tap your fingers against the back of the case. “I’ll message you later?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He lifts his hand and waves at you. You watch his back as he steps into his car.

You can hardly believe that you even made it inside without dropping your keys from excitement and nerves. Behind your door, you clasp your hand over your mouth, pitifully trying to stop the smile that beams across your features. Oh, this isn’t fair. And oh, you can’t wait to message him.

[chvoswxtch]

Hello i am also here from the GLF (global lesbian federation ofc) asking if you have any spare dom!karen thought to share? WE ARE DESPERATE

oh do I have THOTS

I hereby declare this meeting of the GLF regarding the matter of dom!karen now in session

karen prefers privacy to be able to take her time when she plays with you, but she's not above doing it in public

karen "the fbi was taking too long so I showed up to threaten wilson fisk to his face" page isn't exactly known for her patience

let's just say it's date night, you and karen are at a nice lil restaurant having dinner, but she can't focus on a word you're saying bc your dress is showing off a tantalizing amount of cleavage, and suddenly she's hungry for something else

while you're in the middle of telling her about something that happened at work, she cuts you off

"give me your panties."

she enjoys the way your eyes widen and you nearly choke on your wine. for a moment you just stare at her, trying to figure out if you'd heard her correctly

"what?"

karen tilts her head to the side slightly, a seductive smirk on her lips as she looks at you with a ravenous twinkle in her bright blue eyes

"you know I don't like repeating myself, baby."

the warning edge to her voice sends a shiver down your spine, and immediately you set your drink down. glancing around the restaurant nervously, you check to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of you. karen hasn't looked away from you, and when you meet her hungry gaze again, the clear desire in her stare ignites your own

keeping your eyes on her, you reach under the table and slip your hands underneath your dress, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of the thin lace. subtly shifting your hips upwards, you feel your heart start to race in anticipation and excitement as you push them down your thighs to your calves

leaning over slightly to slip them off your heels, you were going to discretely slip them to her under the table, but karen reaches her hand out expectantly with her palm upwards

your lips part in surprise at her boldness, although you aren't sure why that shocked you. when you hand them over across the table, karen's lips spread into a pleased grin at your obedience, and she flashes you a wink

"good girl."

you expected her to do something, but instead she reaches for her glass of wine to take a sip, and resumes conversation as normal like she didn't just ask you to take your panties off and give them to her in the middle of a restaurant

she can see the way you grow antsy and restless throughout dinner, and she smirks at you over the rim of her glass, noticing that you can't sit still. she knows what she's doing to you. she loves driving you crazy and watching you squirm, but even she can't deny her own desires

when it comes time for dessert, she pats the spot next to her in the booth absentmindedly while reading over the dessert menu

"come sit by me, baby."

the second you're by her side, she reaches over to place her hand on your bare thigh, her fingertips dangerously close to the hem of your dress. she's delicately stroking your skin, and she smirks feeling the way you tense up in anticipation

"what do you want for dessert? i'm in the mood for something...sweet."

emphasizing her point, she slips her hand beneath your dress and between your thighs, but she doesn't move it upwards where you're desperate to feel her

"karen-"

cutting you off, she holds the menu out between the two of you, like you give a fuck what's on it right now

"what sounds good? cheesecake? tiramisu?"

she's teasingly stroking her thumb along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and it makes your breathing become ragged and your heart pound in your chest. she knows exactly what she's doing, and you know it too. but you know better than to give into your own impatience if you want her to give you what you want

"are you in the mood for cake? or do you want something...creamy?"

you can hear the smirk in her voice, and you bite back a soft noise at her teasing words

"I want what you want."

karen laughs in amusement and shakes her head slowly

"oh sweetheart, if it were up to me i'd spread you open on the table and have you for dessert."

inhaling sharply, you clamped your thighs tightly around her hand, and she turned her head to look at you, grinning as she reached up with her other hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear

"open up for me, pretty girl."

letting out a shaky exhale through your nose, you slowly parted your thighs, and karen rewarded you by sliding her hand just an inch closer to where you wanted it

"pick something to keep your mouth occupied."

turning your head to look at her, you tried to convey your raw desperation in your expression

"cheesecake."

karen leaned in and brushed her nose against yours, dropping her voice to a low whisper.

"good girl. now you're gonna sit still, and when the waiter comes back, you're gonna order. and you're not gonna let him or anyone else know that my hand is between these pretty thighs, are you baby?"

as she slowly started to slip her hand further up your thighs, you shook your head no fervently, making her grin wickedly

"that's my girl."

in conclusion I need to be spayed like a feral fucking cat. thank y'all, see you next week

[ronearoundblindly]

Threadbare (3)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part Three: Rupture/Fracture (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve skirts the line between protector and absolute doofus. Your fashion show begins.

[Image submitted by ask and does not reflect reader's race or body type. It's just a visual of the gown described in this chapter. Also from an unknown source. Credit to the creator.]

Warnings for canon-level violence and some mild language. This story is rated Teen. WC 4251

Captain America: Man of Action.

Steven Grant Rogers? Eh, not so much.

It’s a risky strategy—to do nothing—but Steve’s run out of ideas.

He doesn’t know what’s upset you. He doesn’t know what Tony does know. He doesn’t have a backup plan to his initial, lame, ‘date’-in-the-diner-downstairs idea, and yes, he knows that was pathetic in-and-of itself. Steve got the words out, though, didn’t he? That’s progress in the trench warfare he’s waging on the one thing that still completely intimidates him: womanhood.

That’s not to say Steve is fighting against you and all you are, but he doesn’t know where he fits in anyone’s equation of life and partnership. Relationships imply relating to each other, and he lives in a tower with superheroes, a billionaire, highly-trained agents who are all ranked above the other 99% of their classmates, and several legitimate aliens.

This does not instill him with confidence on his relating-to-the-average-human skills.

Before Steve was a super soldier, he was also pretty shit with women. It never got better because there was no time to try.

Since Steve has time now, he’s convinced he’ll do something stupid, and that’s really why he sits on his laurels.

This behavior apparently frustrates more than just Steve.

“So how’s your girl?” Sam Wilson asks nonchalantly, petting his beard while watching the final assessment of their newest recruits.

“Faulkner looks injured. His form is off and he’s slower than usual.” Steve makes a note on his tablet.

“Yeah, guy got kneed in the berries for a bad pickup line at the bar last night. Don’t change the subject.”

“Not necessary,” Steve grumbles in avoidance.

Sam scoffs. “You didn’t hear the pickup line.”

“Guy gets hit like that and you think that makes me want to talk about dames more?”

“Ladies, Cap, go with ‘ladies.’”

“Old-fashioned man with—“ he yells out “—find your balance, Pritchard, then block—“ then sighs “—old-fashioned notions.”

“This might surprise you, but we noticed. Maybe you should make some effort to be in her space, huh?” Sam jots something down. “I’m just saying, she spent weeks here. With you. Close. Convenient. Maybe it’s your turn?”

Steve scans the fighters across the room, his brain processing nothing he’s seeing for a moment.

“Maybe it is…”

Steve isn’t actually doing nothing, per se; he’s simply keeping tabs (respectfully) from afar. He sets up an alert for your location if the posted cops call in anything whatsoever. He’s got an alert for Richard Fisk, too, and that has let him know that the man who threatened you has spent one overnight in jail on the opposite side of the city within the last week. It reassures Steve that Kingpin’s son is not wholly focused on you. Maybe this will all blow over? That’s good, right?

 Your storefront’s curb still sports a police cruiser, but inside aren’t the same two men from your run-in with Fisk.

Steve rolls the garment bag he brought off his shoulder and does not take an extra deep breath right before pulling open the door. It’s a normal breath. He’s fine. Fine.

Again, as several other times before, you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Oh my god,” your fourth assistant squeaks from behind the counter.

He knows his name. They know each other’s names—clearly—but have never met.

The young man stands taller. “Oh…my god. Hell-oh.”

Steve…is not sure whether the once over your youngest employee gives him is flattering or objectifying but rallies to get to his point.

“You must be Byron,” Steve tries casually, suppressing the awkward smirk rising with gentle heat to his cheeks. “I was wondering if the lady of the house was in to return this.” 

Steve’s glad he has the jacket as a prop, something to do with his hands as he nervously glances toward the upstairs where he knows you live anyway. You’re here. He knows it. You’re working, and Steve doesn’t want to interrupt you. He has no other options, or at least, no other options that don’t make him feel a bit creepy.

“‘Fraid not, sir. But—“ Byron gathers his wits more admirably than Steve seems to be “—I’m sure I can help with anything you require, Mr. America.”

“Just Steve is fine,” he smiles back. Steve scans the open fitting rooms for Dominica or any of the others he has a rapport with, but no such luck. “And just the jacket.”

“What seems to be the problem with it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not mine. I was just standing in for a fitting when I got called away and…accidentally took it.”

Byron eyes Steve suspiciously. “You…you stood in…for the fit of another client’s jacket? Another client that…looks like you?”

Steve rolls his shoulders in discomfort. “She asked me to,” he defends lamely.

Byron keeps looking at him as if Steve’s grown an extra head instead of just a head taller than his original stature. “Ok,” your assistant shrugs, “let’s see who the marker is for.”

Steve shoves the hanging bag in Byron’s outstretched hand, nervous again. He shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea. Damnit, Sam, stay in your lane.

Deftly, clearly recalling a move he’s executed thousands upon thousands of times, Byron unzips the bag, tucks the opening under the shoulders of the jacket, runs his hand down the left side seam, and flips up the corner to peek at the lining.

Steve sees a glint of metallic he never noticed.

“Remind me of your middle name, Mist—sorry, Captain Rogers.”

“It’s Grant,” Steve blurts without thought. “Why?”

“This is your jacket, sir, down to the threads.” Byron smiles, a glistening white band of teeth bared for the enjoyment of all, and gleefully spins the garment around to show a delicately stitched ’S G R’ in silver against the deep purple.

Steve’s cheeks are on fire.

“But…” he stammers. “That’s not…” Steve hunches over the counter as if it will settle a bet his mind and heart are arguing.

You asked about the color…and he said he loved it.

You shyly asked if he’d spare the time to help you…and he jumped at the chance.

You made him a custom jacket and tricked him into having it fitted.

Steven Grant Rogers: Idiot.

“Captain!” a voice exclaims from the stairwell. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tarik shuffles down the last few steps looking a little worse for wear and sidles up beside his coworker. His gaze drops to the counter.

“Oooh, I see ma’m’selle went with the midnight—“ Steve doesn’t understand the next few words he uses and Tarik notices the glazed look. “The shine,” he clarifies. “Gives it that color-changing look.”

Byron leans to his left. “He says he wants to return it.”

As soon as Tarik tries to lift the hanger up though, Steve pulls it back.

“No, no. Not returning. I only…thought…” He tucks the jacket back under the protective liner, scrambling for an answer. “I didn’t know…it was for me,” Steve tries once more, like that helps to explain anything. “Hey, can I ask you both a question?”

The young men put on perfect customer service faces and wait.

“Is that unit outside keeping everyone safe in here? I mean, do you all feel, ya know, covered, I guess?”

They look at each other quizzically.

“Yeah, I guess,” Byron shrugs.

“Nothing’s happened,” Tarik mutters.

While Steve is pleased to hear that, his concern for you isn’t exactly diminished. “But she’s never here alone, right? Is no one staying overnight? You’re not…worried about Fisk?”

“We’ve been working some insane hours since the overhaul,” Tarik admits, but there’s no chance for Steve to ask what that means. “Doma was here until three in the morning, so she’s off today. Abby’s set to come in—“ Tarik checks his watch “—an hour or so for Ronny.”

“It’s family dinner night,” Byron jumps in. “Mom’ll kill me if I miss.”

Steve softens. His ma would be the same way if she… “Family dinner night,” he repeats, holding the garment bag a little closer. “Right, and no other unnerving customers bothering you?”

The younger assistant gulps and continues to stare.

Apparently, Steve counts as ‘unnerving.’

If there’s no threat anymore, then truly how the hell is Steve supposed to get closer to you again? In the most bizarre way, a villain looming over you was the perfect excuse for Steve to spend all that time and effort on you, and shifting back to ‘normal’ scenarios of dating a civilian isn’t exactly in his wheelhouse.

“Ok then,” he drawls, “would you—if it’s—if you wouldn’t mind letting her know I stopped by?” Steve waits for Tarik’s polite nod, fighting the urge to say you can call him. You could have called Steve this entire time. He left his personal cell at the fittings, so you absolutely have the number. If you haven’t used it yet, there’s probably a reason.

He finishes with a lame, “I’ll be on my way. Have a good evening and dinner with your family.”

Steve’s being supportive. He’s just here as an extra set of hands should the need arise. He’s absolutely not being a creep. He only sits atop your roof watching one cop return from the routine perimeter check in case you need help.

He won’t bother you, he doesn’t expect anything, and he can’t even see you. There’s nothing untoward about it.

Steve crosses his arms across his chest and watches the sun go down but with much less of a view and a swath of boring gray clouds all over. “For safety,” he grumbles lowly. “That’s all.”

He justifies staying because the cops neither spotted him nor cased the top of the building. He’s filling a gap in your security. It doesn’t, however, alter the fact Steve is skulking around the rooftop of the girl he likes, but he’s here. He expects nothing in return except the piece of mind that you’re okay.

Maybe some would find his night shift boring, but Steve brought his sketchpad and can see just fine in the ambient street light. The freedom to sit and draw all night long is wonderful.

No one watches him. No one looks for him. His phone sits at his hip, and since the Team think he is with you, no one calls.

Abby finally leaves at 1am, yawning a goodnight to the officer in the passenger seat and walking away unfazed. Steve even hears the man ask if she wants an escort home, but your assistant says ‘no.’ From the way the offer is worded, it’s as oft repeated as it is rejected.

If Fisk were going to leverage one of your employees, he’d have made that move by now, and Steve’s impression of Kingpin’s son is the man enjoys direct control. He wouldn’t want you obedient to keep others from harm. Fisk wants submission. He wants you to do what he says for him, not for anyone else. The irony is that Richard Fisk isn’t intimidating enough on his own and uses the muscle of bodyguards to complete the illusion of strength.

Steve knows the type. He’s only worried when he’s not close enough to handle Fisk himself, if it comes to that. 

Luckily, the night passes quietly, and close or not, Steve doesn’t have to do anything. The rounds of perimeter checks are like clockwork while the lights glow from your apartment onto the thin windowsills below him.

Steve huffs. That means you never officially turn in. He crosses his arms again, wondering if you fell asleep at your drafting desk.

Byron returns, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, wearing an actual fur vest, at 5am.

The cops change shift at 6, the cruiser replaced by an identical car and two very similar passengers.

Byron emerges right at 6:10 with coffee for the officers in hand—two insulated tumblers—and fifty minutes later, one of the pair takes the cups back inside before his round.

Steve naps in the gentle spring sun as if this is truly a vacation, waking hungry enough for a late lunch and a walk in the park a few blocks over.

This is probably the park you stroll when overwhelmed, and stressed, as you probably are right now, but you never come out. He keeps walking, passing close enough to see your shop before another lap, and another. He gets a strange amount of enjoyment from trying every street vendor setup nearby until he’s back on the roof before sunset, remembering how you tucked your feet up on the folding chair and under the blanket about a week ago. It’s stupid that feels like forever ago.

Steve sighs before leaning comfortably on the cool concrete and his little bedroll.

He wishes he had the stones to barge in and demand you take a break, but the access door he’s staring at only opens from the inside and he doesn’t want to end up like Faulkner.

The white noise of the city must have lulled him to sleep. He’s startled from his propped-up position by a thunk on the slab at his back.

There you are, letting go of the mug from one hand with a phone in the other.

“Hold your horses, Stark. Let the man get his bearings,” you hoarsely joke before pulling it away from your ear and extending it toward Steve. Your voice sounds good in the morning. 

Of all the things rushing through his mind, all he gets out is, “what time is it, Button?”

You give him a small, tired smile and stand back up from crouching at his side. Your bare feet teeter while one side of your open robe sash brushes the ground.

“Time for you to learn to take your charger on sleepovers, sweetie,” Tony’s voice blares. “No breakfast in bed for you.”

Wiping sleep from his eye, Steve focuses on you stretching your neck from side to side.

“You okay?” he mouths.

The same tired smile flashes as you nod.

“What’s that racket? You two sleep with the windows open? How hot did that room g—“

“Tony,” Steve interrupts, more forcefully than intended, “what’s happened?”

“Three ping fire.”

“Don’t you mean three alarm fire,” Steve groans and buries his face in his palm, shifting to wake his tingling legs.

“Location pings, Casanova, and as the dude with a suit intended as a walking fire hazard, I’m not exactly in a position to steal that department’s lingo. Ya feel me?”

There’s silence while Steve picks up the dead phone at his hip and pockets it. “No, I do not feel you.”

Tony releases a raspberry on the other end. “I am suppressing half a dozen jokes to make you feel supported in your romantic endeavors right now. I hope you appreciate that effort.”

Steve picks up the mug left beside him and moves to say ‘thank you.’ It’s not a travel cup like Byron or Abby brings out to the cops which Steve assumes means this was your drink. Tony must have called while you were waking up, too.

“Your efforts are—“ Steve turns to see an empty roof again “—unnecessary.”

You’re gone. The access door closed again.

“I bet you’re already halfway here,” Tony muses. “You doing that power-run thing?”

The call disconnects and Steve lets it fall with his arm, limp in his lap. He sips at the steaming tea for mere seconds before it occurs to him.

If he texts himself from your phone, he’ll have your number.

“Damnit,” Steve exclaims when the locked screen taunts him.

Thank god the Team doesn’t actually know how bad he is at this. It’s embarrassing, really. He deserves to skulk around on concrete treetops and sleep on stone.

He leaves the mug and phone by the door before rushing off. He notes how impressive it is that not only is the roof access door so quiet that he didn’t hear it twice, but that also counts as a security concern. He might just be splitting hairs. He’s also impressed by how you could sneak up on him. Perhaps he’s gotten too comfortable with even the fake idea of being with you, but the fantasy is pretty great.

As Steve runs back to the Tower, all he can think about is how perfect breakfast in bed sounds, and it’s distracting enough to slow him…just a little.

Fighting helps. Kinda. Or rather, fighting takes Steve’s mind off of other things right up until the tide of battle turns and Tony Stark has a spare second to insert himself into Steve’s life as well as everyone’s comms.

“So what’s it gonna take for you to really do this thing?”

Steve doesn’t understand at first because he’s busy checking in on the agents around him like he’s supposed to be doing. Stark, on the other hand, casually flies toward the hidden base of their enemy’s operations.

“What? You thought you fooled anyone?”

“Not the time, Tony,” Steve gripes, sending the shield in a bouncing arc off two trees and three bad guys. Honestly, he also did think that everyone bought you two together. Why wouldn’t they? It was convincing enough to haunt Steve.

“Guy’s not usually jonesing to drive a golf cart if he’s already on the bullet train, if you know what I mean,” Tony blusters.

“Really, Stark,” Wilson yells from his position on the other side of the valley, “a train metaphor was your best choice?”

Steve purses his lips in response, slamming into one guy, using the momentum to jump, and kicking another guy dead in the chest. That guy ricochets back into a third. The third guy’s gun goes off and drops two more guys. Steve still doesn’t want to have this conversation, even if the actual attack situation is going well for his side.

“I’m just saying if he needs some help sealing the deal—“

“—leave him alone, Stark—“

“—then I can put in a word.”

“Oh!” Steve pops the shield straps back over his arm after mowing down another line of men. “Like you put in the words that made her leave?! What the hell did you say?”

Dang it. If you and Steve were really dating, he’d already know the answer to that.

“Easy, Straps and Abs, it was a test.”

Sam beats Steve to it. “And did she pass?”

There’s a burst of sound and an explosion in the distance.

“Um. She got pissed, for sure, but I don’t know yet. I may have suggested that she only liked Cap for being, ya know, a shiny, blond beefcake.”

“You used those exact words, did you? I take it back,” Sam mutters. “That is the most hypocritical thing Stark’s ever said.”

“Somebody’s gotta top me,” Tony snorts. “Might as well be—“

“Are you KIDDING?” Steve finally breaks.

“It’s important to me that she likes you for you. Sue me—though I’m obligated to warn you you’ll be stuck in litigation for—“

“Stark!” both Steve and Sam shout in frustration.

The leagues of bad guys lose formation as their base crumbles and their radios cut out. They exchange confused looks and disagree on whether to continue attacking or retreat.

“Relax,” Tony purrs before Iron Man touches down in front of Steve. The helmet opens. “I’ve got a ticket to the Tovarich Spring Show with your name on it, and I think…” Tony scans the floundering group just as backup jets arrive to help arrest the survivors. “We’ll be home in time for Rogers to put on a ballgown and hop in a pumpkin.”

One spot of purple in a sea of white.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Ma’am, the screens you wanted set up are all positioned, and we are ten minutes from showtime,” the stage manager says in seeming slow-motion beside you. “Ma’am,” she tries again when you don’t answer. You’re too distracted by the wrong arrangements.

“I ordered butterfly bush…”

“What?”

“I ordered…I didn’t order white roses,” you croak.

Fisk’s signature flower sits on every table, lines every aisle, adorns the entire rim of the runway, and you did not order them.

Richard ‘The Rose’ is messing with you. It makes your blood boil more than it makes your hands shake because he’s not going to get what he wants. You’re not going to give it to him, but you are going to show what you can do. He can’t take credit for your work. He will not own you.

“We don’t have time to change them—“

“He’s here!” Abby bounds over, gripping your shoulder, panting after running all the way from the press tent. “Captain Rogers is here. He’s wearing the jacket.” 

A nervous smile forces its way across your lips before you grasp Abby’s hand, quickly looking back at the single stalk of butterfly bush dangling in beautiful fuchsia clusters in a vase of roses. It’s a sign, proof that Fisk was able to rewrite your order, a threat that he can rewrite your life if he so chooses.

He’s wrong. You’ll show him. You’ll show everything tonight.

“Thank god for that,” you whisper, squeezing your assistant, “because Steve’s probably about to get a hell of a show.”

The stage manager calls for all the models to line up. You fuss with the finishing touches on all the men, asking how they feel, delighted when each and every one answers with some form of ‘great,’ ‘fantastic,’ or ‘never better.’ That’s what this whole line is about: confidence and comfort.

There’s no cookie-cutter mold for a handsome man. Every frame is inspiring.

You’ve explained to the models that they can reflect however they feel in the clothing on their walk down the runway. If they feel like strutting, then by all means. If they feel like beaming a beautiful smile, it’s welcome. Several pick a pocket to sink a strategic hand into.

A one-minute warning is given.

From your spot deep in the stage left shadows, you can see Steve front and center, pulling at his lapel anxiously before petting his thumb back and forth over the smooth fabric.

Nailed it, you think. He looks happy, so it’s just an added bonus that he looks so good and is covered.

Suddenly, his eyes find you and Steve sits straight up at the edge of his chair just as the lights go out.

The countdown softly descends from ten nine eight seven, the music cranks up above the short round of applause, and you exaggerate silent words, hoping not-quite-beyond hope that the super soldier can still see you in the dark.

‘For you, handsome.’

They’re off. Ten models. Slim and slight men radiant in perfectly crafted, fitted clothing that makes each look like a king in his own right. Not one is taller than 5’6’’ and not one weighs more the 130lbs. Next year, you’ll go bigger, but this statement is essential. One particular build is flawless to you, whether it ever changes or not.

Steve Rogers was just born to be loved by you in any body.

You get to watch it dawn on him, too.

Model 1: he’s a little miffed.

Model 2: his jaw goes slack.

Model 3: he’s transfixed and taking a shaky, deep breath.

By model number four, Steve doesn’t even see anymore, his head turning to where he knows you still stand, a soft expression in the soft glow from the stage.

Even in the dark and shadow, you feel pinned, flattered, and embarrassed. Your hands smooth down the navy overlay of your full skirt and tug at the thick structured cuffs to your metallic threaded bodice. It’s the same silver laced into Steve’s jacket.

Politely, Steve stands to cheer with the rest of the crowd, staring without demanding your attention, and you wait for all the models to start their final walk before stepping out into the cacophony of light and sound. The models flank you. Several grab your arm in appreciation.

It’s so bright. So loud.

The screens of fabric you had the crew raise are still visible at the back, lit through from the entrance where no one should be during the show, yet you see movement. Figure after figure files in, and then the noise shifts. Hands aren’t just banging together. Bullets are banging on the metal scaffold across the ceiling. Your audience’s screams morph from triumph to terror.

People scramble, knocking chairs and each other out of the way, pushing in opposite directions to avoid the same source of fear.

It’s chaos, and you can’t hesitate.

“Behind me,” you scream as loud as you can, and race to the edge of the runway.

Steve lunges for your feet as you pass, but you don’t let him stop you. Whatever he yells to do is lost in the din as you spin to flair your long skirt over the edge.

Rose stems snap and litter the floor.

Your back to Fisk’s men, you beat your fist to the star placard on your chest and activate the battery. It hums to life as electric current races through the silvery details on your chest and down your body, stiffening the thick, bulletproof fabric now on display high like a peacock’s plume.

And it works.

Steve stares up from the floor at a wall of red and navy around a silver star, and you have succeeded where Tony Stark could not. You created a shield not of metal but of thread.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @yiiiikesmish @trudy-shams @darsynia

A/N: I made myself entirely too emotional with this, so I am praying that you all like it as much as I do. I seriously need to go scream into a corner now though.

[Next Part]

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[mebemilena]

Bodyguard

i'm thinking about stating a series, but i've been thinking about SO MUCH stuff. also, i'm relearning how to use Tumblr.

Last night i had a dream, a woman telling me to write, but she didn't tell me WHAT to write.

-

-

maya lopez x reader

summary: Kingpin hires you to be Maya's bodyguard

--

"A bodyguard?", Maya signs too fast in hopes to dismiss Fisk's order while it's fresh . She doesn't understand why she needs someone to protect her.

"i can take care of myself, uncle.", she insists, but Fisk gives her minimal attention.

"I need you to lay low. We can't get any attention for now.", Kazi translated. He was not entirely happy with the situation.

-

You arrived at the gym ready to show off your abilities. They said you had to be a good fighter, observant and easy to mingle around. Knowing ASL would be a plus so you studied a few sentences and the letters. 

As you got your muscles stretched, warming up your arms and legs, a few guys arrived. You recognized the Tracksuit mafia for their clothes and hid a laugh. It was funny how they seemed more like characters from a 90's TV show than to criminals.

"Y/N", Kazi called you, he was the one who suggested your name for the job. "This is Maya.", he said as he signed, introducing you to the woman beside him. Before he could continue, Maya interrupted him. 

"Do you know her?", she asked him, eyes not leaving you. 

"We're friends.", he replied.

You kept a straight face, somehow trying to show that you had control over your emotions and were a good pick for the job.

Maya and Kazi exchanged looks. 

-

You went up the ring to start the "physical test", as Kazi called. A group of man lined up, ready to attack you and you understood the task in hand. It didn't take long for the first one to kiss the mat.

One by one they ran up to you, violently trying to put you down. One of them went as far as talking to you. "Nice shoes, princess. Wanna dance?", he mocked your bright orange sneakers before lifting you up. Terrible mistake.

Maya watched with thick interest as you put all her man down. Aggressively, violently, though your expression barely changed from a smile to a grin. You were having way too much fun.

"She was a Black Widow.", Kazi explained. 

Maya got up from her seat and went up to the mat. She took her leather jacket and signed to you. You didn't understand it all but you did recognize the word "dinner".

Though you tried, Maya was way too talented. Her kicks were too strong and her aim was flawless. You hit the mat after a few minutes, your nose bleeding.

"Enough.", Kazi followed her orders. "Congrats, you got the job.", he threw you a towel.

After getting cleaned up and socializing a little, you left the gym and met Maya at the parking lot, close to her own motorbike. She handed you a helmet.

"When you said you got a job interview, i didn't think it was to be my bodyguard.", Maya hit your arm.

"I wanted to surprise you.', you replied, winking at her.

Maya rolled her eyes. "As if we didn't spend a lot of time together anyway.", she pulled you by the hem of your jacket, your noses touching. "Sorry for the nose.", she apologised.

"You can always kiss me better.", you signed, wiggling your eyebrows.

You two stayed in your litte bubble for a moment before Maya tapped your shoulder. "Let's go. You own me dinner.", she set her attire. 

"Oh, that's what you said.", you finally understood.

-

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[deepkissesandunexpectedhappiness]

In my personal opinion, "Hawkeye" is the most underrated Marvel show. Since "Endgame"...actually scratch that! Since COULSON DIED, that whenever someone important dies we never get the closure we need and want: not a funeral, memorial, not even any of the Avengers and Co. grieving... Then "Hawkeye" came along and they gave us everything we've been asking for: we've got Clint, Natasha's best friend, grieving, mourning her as we've never seen any of the characters do about any.one! Throughout the show Clint is constantly shown how shitty he feels for, not only losing his best friend but also because he feels like it was all his fault and he should've been the one to sacrifice himself. He sees himself and feels like a complete failure DESPITE having saving the world countless AND let's not forget he spared Natasha's life when SHIELD sent him out to kill her but instead he chose to give her an opportunity and decided to save her and help her by getting her out of her old life and asking her to join SHIELD. That guy is a freaking hero. ADDITIONALLY TO THAT: we have never witnessed so many of Clint's fighting scenes! "Clint is the greatest archer" yes we know, however, we barely see any of his skills throughout ALL the MCU movies binded together! This show literally provided us with the most badass, amazing, archery scenes in all MCU. 3rd) You not only have Yelena Belova's appearance but we also have the Kingpin himself, Wilson Fisk. 4rd) Yelena grieving Nat like we never see her doing AND TO TOP THAT, she ends up mourning and bonding about her sister alongside Clint. Last but not least: Kate's and Kingpin's fighting scene is so awesome! *I still don't get why the guy doesn't die or get hurt tho...* ; OH WAIT, AND 2 MORE! 1 ➸ we get to see how Clint's relationship with Laura and his, now grown up children, is (including Nate AKA Nathaniel Pietro Barton) 2 ➸ AND WE FUCKING FIND OUT THAT LAURA WAS A SPY THAT WORKED FOR SHIELD....WHAAAAT!? That's a plot twist I did NOT see coming 🤯 *Technically, Tony was right after all:

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 12 James Wesley

For people who didn't know him well, James looked perfectly calm at that moment. Serene, unflappable, as always.

But Y/N could guess the tension in his shoulders and the slight trembling of his lips.

She knew very well that he would have this reaction as soon as she broached the subject. She also understood why he was quite nervous.

"… This is not the right time." he replied, as he did every time she asked him this question.

"You know that the longer we wait, the angrier he will be."

"… I know. But is it necessary for him to know ?"

"James. He's my father."

It had been love at first sight between James and Y/N from their first meeting.

Mr. Wesley had done his best to keep his distance from her, to ignore his feelings, to tell her that he was not at all interested, but it had been stronger than them.

Their relationship had lasted for almost two years now, in total secrecy.

He wasn't ashamed of her, although Y/N ​​could have considered it because she found him much more intelligent and classy than her, who liked simple things.

The problem was rather a survival concern.

Because Y/N was slightly the daughter of his boss, Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin had almost blind trust in his secretary, whom he also considered his friend. Besides that, he loved his daughter more than anything in the world.

It was also for her that he wanted to clean up Hell's Kitchen, so that she could live there peacefully. Since her mother's death, when she was still very young, he had watched over her, even when he couldn't be there because of his work.

It had seemed normal to him to entrust her safety to James. He was the best at many things, and since the two seemed to get along, Fisk had thought that Y/N wouldn't take it as if he had a bodyguard on her back.

When he had started dating Vanessa, his daughter had thought it was the perfect time to tell him about their relationship, but James had refused.

"He'll kill me without a second thought."

"Don't say that… He'll be happy for us. I don't see what kind of man would be right for him if he thinks you're not good enough, and even if he's protective, he can't want me to be alone forever."

"You deserve happiness. But he might want someone who won't put you in danger."

"James. Darling. I'm a Fisk, I'm always in danger."

They let several months pass, New Year's, Valentine's Day, summer, until Vanessa invited them to a party she was throwing for Halloween.

Either it was a coincidence or she was a very smart woman, but she had asked James to come, telling him that he could bring Y/N with a little smile.

If she knew, it would be a miracle that she hadn't told Wilson.

"We should tell him at the party."

"A great way to ruin the party." James remarked.

"… And when, then ? Before or after, it will be just as complicated. I don't want to wait anymore. I… If you love me, we'll tell him on Halloween."

She could see in his eyes that he didn't appreciate the ultimatum, how sad it was that she might think that he wasn't talking to her father because he didn't love her enough.

It was a surprise when he came the next day with suggestions for matching costumes, clearly stating that they were a couple.

"What about the 'it's not a good idea to tell him during the party' ?" she asked with a smile.

"We're not going to tell him during the party."

"You want him to figure it out on his own ?"

"No. I went to see him last night. He told me he'd known for a long time and was glad I finally had the courage to tell him, proving that I was truly worthy of you."

"… We've been scared for nothing all this time ? Wait, I told you we've been scared for nothing all this time !"

"Hmm. What costumes would you like ?"

He remained unfazed when she slapped his shoulder and laughed, though a slight smile appeared on his face. It then disappeared just as quickly when she suggested Shrek and Fiona.

[notafunkiller]

My honest opinion about Karen Page

I am genuinely curious how people can like Karen Page as a character and even ship her with Matt, because I don’t think I’ve disliked a character so much probably ever. Karen Page got on my nerves fast and, as I watched more episodes, it got even worse.

About her

For someone who is supposed to be smart (and the definition of good), she is very stupid. The way she thinks and chooses to act makes no sense 99% of the time. She is more of a bad character than a good one. Even her “sense of justice” is flawed, with many double standards (a subject I will touch on especially when I’ll describe her relations with Matt Murdock and Frank Castle). She is arrogant, troublesome, and headstrong, she calls herself and is considered a journalist despite her lack of real experience (law experience too!!! -> so why is she now included in the firm name? SINCE WHEN IS SHE A LAWYER? I could not believe it!)

She is written in a very annoying way and flat. She is a flat character in the first place (=two-dimensional in doesn’t change throughout the work), kept around for 3 seasons (+The Defenders) for no other reason than the fact she is problematic. But she isn’t necessarily needed for creating drama if we had more villain(s) scenes and plans. She is boring and whiny, and she has a pick-me attitude most of the time. She is not just impulsive, but also extremely FOOLISH (the way she decides to go to Fisk and spill out in his face she killed Wesley... I was like: seriously?) And the writers make other characters praise her... I still find is shocking Matt only said she was brave for what she did. She is VERY judgmental and noisy and thinks the world revolves around her (The fact that when she came to Matt in S2 and found Stick and a very visibly hurt Elektra in his bed, she did not ask a goddamn thing like what happened? instead everything was about her and how she is betrayed. But like another man was in the room, you think he cheated on you with him there? Absolutely ridiculous.) But she loves to play the victim a lot, so I am not surprised.

I don’t know how the writers thought a pretty, angelic face can make the audience (and the characters) ignore her lack of development (zero) and the horrible things she does/provokes. She caused deaths and yet the writers still make others find excuses for her and not blame her.

NewsFlash: SHE IS DARK AND SHE LOVES DARKNESS. I am not even talking about a side, she is completely into PURE DARKNESS with only 1% of light.

When out of the blue, she decided to murder James Wesley despite him only threatening her, it was like ???  And she did not shoot him one time, she did it 7 times. SEVEN. And she did not even try to be cautious (locking the firm door was a joke, right? Cause I refuse to believe writers consider the audience so stupid) and caused another death: Ben, a real journalist she dragged around with her despite him wanting a way out. Fisk killed him with his own hands and Ben didn’t tell him Karen (who is the one who came up with the idea) also visited his mother. We don’t see justice, we only see her being treated as a victim again. And she didn’t even actually help to get Fisk in prison in S1 and in S2 she is a babysitter (Foggy and Matt’s) and a murderer defender (*pretending to be shocked*). S3? I was surprised by how much screen time she had (+A WHOLE EPISODE ABOUT HER)... sometimes more than Matt and it made me so unhappy because this screen time could have been used to build more. For me, the second half of S3 is not even centered on Matt.

And she caused the death of another character, a pivotal person in Matt’s life: Father Lantom and we don’t talk enough about this. I am also not surprised Maggie and her get along, they are both two selfish, horrible people who think a few tears are enough to be excused.

The writers tried to make her relevant, but they failed. The way she was basically forced down my throat made me see her flaws even more. She is not even a character than has enough traits to be a part of the main team. In S1, the contrast between her and Claire was huge (and Claire was just a supportive character). And it’s funny how they changed the love interests - direction. At first, we saw Foggy and her bonding, Ms. Cardenas hinted about them being romantically involved, but then they literally ignored that and started to focus on Karen with Matt, then Karen and Frank (still unfinished business), and a little more on Karen and Matt again, but the show on Netflix got canceled. To be honest, the last thing I wanted and want is to see Matt and Karen together.

Not gonna lie, I expected and wanted her death at the church because she is literally pointless, but it didn’t come. It would have been a surprise if they actually did it as in the comics. It would have impacted Matt and Foggy, and Matt’s decision not to kill Fisk at the end of the season would have been even more powerful and meaningful.

One of her defining features is hypocrisy. Matt is the bad guy for keeping secrets from her, but her hiding and lying, for example not telling him and Foggy about Wesley is okay. Matt being Daredevil and not killing people is not fine, but Frank being The Punisher (a freaking cold blood murderer) is more than fine. She was so happy when Matt defended him in court... it’s insane! She can be a bad friend, a liar, etc because she is special. It was hilarious when she started to give advice to Matt about how you change after ending someone's life. Shocking! And poor her, how she isn’t the same after her brother died because of her. See how she positions herself as the victim again?

It’s also very interesting how at first she tells matt (S3) she came to warn him Fisk knows about him, leaving out the part she basically told Wilson that he is Daredevil, and only later she plays semi-victim again and says she is to blame, and, OF COURSE, Matt says Fisk already knew (which is actually pretty false: he assumed, but it was never 100% confirmed) and comforts her basically. It’s absolutely infuriating how Karen messes up every freaking time and everyone goes: oh, poor you, you’re an angel, it’s okay, it’s not your fault. I am even more disappointed how the writers didn’t make Matt even have a proper reaction to her admitting she killed someone. S2 and S3 feel like two completely different writing approaches, and even though the plot in S2 made me think: IS THIS A JOKE?, Matt and the characters building speaking, it was soooo much better (not the love triangle thing though, because both: Elektra and Karen don’t deserve Matt and are horrible in two different ways).

She is a manipulative, self-centered, and dramatic person. We saw her past (drug addiction too) and how easily she can make the decision to kill someone, but she never actually faces real consequences. Her father kept it underground and Matt still protected her from Fisk.

Karen around Matt Murdock/Daredevil and Frank Castle/The Punisher

Matt and Karen not only don’t have chemistry (Charlie and Deborah have plenty of chemistry with other people), but they also don’t match at all no matter how much the fans and the writers push(ed) the idea.

Karen does not want Matt Murdock (she liked the idea of him at some point, but not the real him), and she certainly doesn’t want Daredevil, which is quite funny (Remember when she was obsessed with the idea of him, but when she found out it’s Matt, she wasn’t interested any longer?). Should I even talk about the way she wanted Matt to stop being Daredevil and not even for a second tried to support or/and understand him? SHE didn’t want him to be Daredevil so he should stop. Even when Foggy brought him the suit in The Defenders, she was annoyed. She doesn’t understand that her boss/friend/almost-boyfriend has two sides, just like Elektra tried to have only one side of him. Matt isn’t just Matt. I really loved the She-Hulk posters for Matt: Charlie Cox is Matt Murdock & Matt Murdock is Daredevil. Do you see? It’s such an important thing. Daredevil/Matt isn’t dark enough for her. He isn’t what she wants. 

And Karen doesn’t have the same moral code as Matt does (even when he thought about killing Fisk to protect the people close to him). They don’t see the world in a similar way and they never will. I don’t think Matt and Karen would have ever lasted even if Elektra wasn’t around, they are too different. She is dark, like Elektra. She wanted to change him, like Elektra. She doesn’t accept him as a whole, like Elektra. But, at least, Elektra accepted how toxic and bad she is for him. Karen is portrayed as a victim and a great, great person, as I said.

S2 had this scene in episode 7 that made it clear to me that Karen and Matt could and MUST never be together. I don’t even know if I have to explain, the dialogue is quite clear:

Not only Karen stood up for Frank Castle (who almost got her killed, killed so many people, and should be in jail), but she also compared his actions to Daredevil’s actions. She justifies murder probably because she did it too. Matt and Karen are in opposite positions and the message is loud: they could never be together. Not killing people is the fundamental principle Daredevil/Matt has, the one that makes him who he is actually. Things would be completely different if he actually took someone’s life (bad or not) for lawyer Matt and Daredevil.

For Matt: Vengeance isn’t justice and no person is God so he can decide who lives and who dies. In She-Hulk: Attorney At Law (1x08), Matt tells Jennifer: I think you’re in a unique position to do some real good. Jen Walters can use the law to help people when society fails them. She-Hulk can help people when the law fails them; which reminds me of his talk with Foggy in S1 when he finds out Matt is Daredevil:

It shows his views didn’t change and it’s quite moving to see Matt giving someone else (someone in the same position as he is) this piece of advice. It shows he finally accepted he has two sides, despite everyone else’s attempts to control him.

Their date in S2 started as quite a disaster: in a place Matt despites, awkward, and tensed, and then Elektra called! It was clear what the writers wanted to show (despite them having a better date later) and it was also clear Matt wasn’t 100% healed and that Karen and Matt were never going to be serious. So no matter how much they tries in the seconds part of S3 to push Karen and Matt closer, it looked forced, out of the place. Especially since she felt something for Frank Castle and the things that happened in the first part of the season.

Also, I can’t believe the writers made Matt reveal his face to Agent Nadeem cause he saved Karen’s life. This is infuriating.

And as much as Matt probably likes the idea of peaceful life, he would never be happy with Karen, nor make her happy. Because there will always be that Murdock side of him she will never understand just like it will always be the killer side of her he would never understand.

Matt: You deserve better, Karen… Karen: So do you...  (The Defenders, 1x05)

Frank, on the other hand, and her match. Crazy, right? But they did from day 1, even in the worst situations. She always felt drawn to him and she did not use the innocent facade as she did with Matt (Can you believe she kind of blamed him for not telling him the truth about Wesley cause he saw her as an innocent person?). She was there for him, he was there for her. They were attracted to each other (despite him still being emotionally unavailable because he is scared he’d lose her). She would rather be with him than with Matt 100% because they are similar. She had the nerve to defend his actions and mindset in Matt’s house after all. But they really match and I really believe she should be with him and live somewhere far away from Hell’s Kitchen.

Frank: I need to find these b*stards that took 'em from me. I gotta kill 'em. Karen: So where does that end, Frank? Because I look at you and... my heart breaks because all I can see is just this endless, echoing loneliness. Frank: I'm not lonely, Karen. Karen: Bullsh*t. We are all lonely. I sometimes think that that is all that life is, we're just... We're just fighting not to be alone. Frank: So what do you want? What should I do? Should I let it go? Karen: No, but I want there to be an after. For you. (The Punisher, 1x05)

In conclusion, Karen Page is not a good character despite the writers’ efforts to show otherwise. She puts everyone in danger and never pays for her mistakes and actions.

P.S. I will say this again: no, she did not deserve to be next to Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys At Law.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 4371 (chapter 36)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

WE ARE COOKING YA'LL

36. Interlude

"This doesn't change anything, Ben."

"Except now we know who your king of diamonds is." Foggy adds to Karen's words and looks at Ben, standing in the the middle of the office.

"You see the news? Everything's changed. Fisk has gotten out in front of being dragged into the spotlight. My editor thinks he's the Second Coming. Hell, the whole city does." Ben pulls out a fresh newspaper, Fisk proudly occupying the whole front page.

"So, we just... We keep digging."

"I've been doing that. Internet went from nothing on Fisk to filled with three-hanky stories about a poor little fat kid from Hell's Kitchen. Abandoned by his father when he was 12. Mother died a year later. Now look at him. Boot straps and a big dream." Ben exhales loudly, rubbing his forehead.

"Somebody knows something. It's just a matter of asking the right people the right questions in the right tone of voice." Foggy says, sure of his words.

"Yeah, that's how you get yourself hurt." Ben raises his eyebrows theatrically.

"That's what I keep telling them." Matt silently slips inside the office upon Ben's last words. "Maybe they'll listen to you."

"Ben Urich, Matt Murdock. Attorney at Why the Hell Bother." Karen introduces the two of them with a hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Murdock." Ben shakes his hand.

"Matt." Matt corrects Ben, hearing your slow steps outside in the corridor.

You return to the office, moments later, noticing a new face in the middle of the room. Extending your arm, you intently look at his face, "I know you from somewhere."

"Ben Urich, New York Bulletin." He takes your hand, eyes shining in a weird way, as if he knew more about you than you did. Taking in your rather disheveled appearance. 

"Y/n." You let go of his hand first, "You were that journalist in courtroom when I had my case televised."

"Yes, and I gotta say, it was a pretty damn good case." He cracks a smile, yet you don't show any signs of appreciation.

"You also wrote about the attack on me at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. Could've tried to write at least a believable amout of lies." You say, watching his reaction.

His smile doesn't fall, on the contrary, it only gets bigger, "Well, in my line of work, that's a compliment.

Foggy shakes his head at the interaction and brings back the previous topic, "My partner thinks we should be pursuing this through the legal system."

"A lot safer that way." Ben agrees.

"Well, why don't we all just crawl under the covers, then?" Karen ignites again, and you close your eyes in hopes of keeping your mouth shut this time, already catching up with the talk.

"No, Karen-" Matt begins softly, only to be cut short by Karen.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if Fisk is really behind everything that has happened, then we need to do something."

"If we were the only ones after him, I'd tend to agree." Ben says mysteriously, "Friend of yours came to see me the other night the man in the mask."

"Terrorist cop-killer." Foggy repeats Fisk's previous words, and you can't help but agree with Fisk here. Your heart drops and face becomes even paler than it was since the day started.

"Says he was framed." Ben adds nonchalantly, turning around to catch everyone's expressions. Matt turns his back away from the group.

"I could say I'm Captain America, but it doesn't put wings on my head." Foggy rolls his eyes, only to be shut by Karen.

"What did he want?"

"Same thing we do... expose Fisk. I printed this from a thumb drive he gave me." Ben hands Karen a bunch of papers. She snatches them like a hawk and hurries to sit behind her desk. In the meantime, you lean on the nearby wall, feeling that the dizziness from lack of sleep and not eating normal food is finally catching up with you. 

"Oh, my God!" Karen exclaims and starts flipping through the pages. 

"Told me Fisk was behind the bombings and shooting those cops said he owns half the police that they helped him take down the Russians." Ben continues, looking around the room again, and takes a notice that you're not yourself today. He remembers vividly that day when he sat in the courtroom during your televised case - you were almost glowing and full of life. Now it seemed to him that you were either sick or angry or depressed.

"But I don't understand. If you have all of this, then..." Karen blabbers again, only this time Matt interrupts her. 

"Hearsay. Can't print any of it without corroboration, can you?"

"He could just be throwing smoke. I mean, he just killed Detective Blake." Foggy adds, much to Matt's displease.

"Said Blake's partner Hoffman did it, probably on Fisk's orders. But yeah, it occurred to me." Ben nods.

"You could talk to Hoffman." Matt pouts in thought, and you almost find it amusing in this kind of situation.

"Tried. He's in the wind. Or bottom of the river. Either way."Ben shrugs, now completely helpless. 

"He just shrugged." Foggy says to Matt.

"Wait, what about the Union Allied money? Is there a way that we can tie it directly to Fisk?" Karen rises from her chair. 

"Maybe. According to the Mask, a man named, uh, Leland Owlsley runs the books. But since getting roughed up by him, Owlsley's been surrounded by Fisk's security. Can't get anywhere near him." Ben shakes his head, "Same goes with, uh, James Wesley, the guy you said hired you to defend Healy." 

Upon the mention of Wesley, you feel two sets of eyes staring at you. "What?" You say defensively, "I'm not in contact with him anymore." Crossing your arms, you turn your eyes towards the window, avoiding making eye contact with anyone in the room. Ben raises an eyebrow at Karen, but she only grimaces slightly, not giving any answer to his wordless question. Matt senses something in your voice, perhaps an underlying lie that he can't put a finger on just yet.

"Look, the Mask came to Ben for help. And I don't care how rich Fisk is, nobody can totally erase their past. I mean, somewhere out there, there has to be a piece of paper, a witness... the truth."

"What about Confederated Global? The suit that hired us to defend Healy standing right next to Fisk when he gave his big speech." Foggy looks at you again, only to find you staring with a hard look on your face out the window. 

"I looked into that. According to FCC filings, Confed Global's where Fisk gets most of his reported income."

"All right, let's play this out. If Fisk is connected to Confed Global, that means he's involved in Westmeyer-Holt Contracting, which Westmeyer-Holt is strong-arming tenants out of their rent-controlled apartments." Matt gestures with his hands slightly, pulling back your attention. For whatever crazy reason, he felt sorry that you were put into this position by Wesley now. After your last burst of emotions, Karen felt distrustful towards you, but in Matt's mind that was understandable reaction.

"Um, they were hired by a guy named Armand Tully." Karen quickly adds.

"The slumlord?" Ben makes sure he heard it right.

"Landman and Zack say he's on vacation on an island that no one can pronounce, where they use coconuts as phones." Foggy shrugs, and you wonder if he's still in contact with Marci. Foggy catches your curious look and feels his cheeks burning.

"Another connection in the wind." Ben hangs his head low, earning an apologetic look from Karen.

"Westmeyer-Holt to Confed to Fisk. We pull that thread, see what it unravels." Matt begins circling around the room.

"Still not sure about this mask guy." Foggy says and you agree with him with a hum.

"He didn't hurt Ben and he didn't hurt me. I'll take the Devil of Hell's Kitchen over Fisk any day. Plus, he kicks ass." Karen says, eyes clashing with you. 

"Karen, you know, maybe refrain from these talks in a law office, or someone might think that you're ready to take his place in jail." You smile at her sourly. Karen bites her lip, clearly not satisfied with the way you put her in her place. "He's a vigilante after all." 

Ben nods to himself again. Your frustration was justifiable, he knew what it felt like to lose a well-paid job and start a new chapter of life. Maybe life wasn't treating you right now.

"Well, if he's such a badass, why did he come to Ben? Why not just take Fisk down himself?" Foggy silently agrees with you. 

"Maybe he knows there's some roads you can't come back from." Ben replies mysteriously.

*** 

You look around, noticing the interior of the church. Clinton Church. You've never been here before. Your parents were not too religious to regularly go to church, so it didn't pass on you either. God? You didn't believe in God, because in the end, you saved yourself, not God. He didn't save you, he didn't save anyone. God was just a mythical creation, made up so that in the worst moments, people wouldn't lose their hope. God didn't mean anything to you, because if he was real, if he was righteous, you wouldn't have to deal with all these injustices everyday. If he was real, the world would've been a better place. But it wasn't. Never going to be.

The lights were lit on only at the front, only near the altar, and you catch yourself looking at the cross and Jesus on it. Was he even real? Or was he only a copy of someone else's imagination? Every cross was different, unique, yet everyone imagined the same man crucified, same man hanging his head to the side, same man with a woven crown of thorns, sticking into his forehead like needles. If he was real, in your mind he was stupid. Sacrificing yourself for the sins of the people? They were not worth it, not then and surely not now. Maybe he was real. Maybe he was a saint, but he was also blind. Blind to notice that humanity wasn't ready to understand his sacrifice, blind to think that it still meant something thousands of years later. Blind like Lady Justice. 

Involuntary, you shiver. The air was rather cool inside the church and somehow, not even your coat was keeping you warm. Turning to your right, you glance at Foggy, eyes cast down into his lap, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his coat. Movement in the front catches your attention and you see Father Lantom emerge from the shadows. He looks at all four of you, eyes lingering on a new face here - you. Feeling uneasy under the intense gaze, you bow your head down, almost in shame. You've never liked priests in general, because they looked at you as if they knew who you were under that facade. Father Lantom notices the change in your face and clear his throat. 

You only hear half of the things that he's saying; distracted by the way sunlight falls though the multicoloured windows and Karen's silent sniffling, you felt like an intruder here. Father continued talking about God, the fragility of life and the values of believing. None of this made sense to you, so you distracted your thoughts from the reason that brought all four of you here. Wesley. That bastard really sugar-coated you before throwing you unprepared to the lions. And now he was proudly marching behind Fisk on live television? You felt sick again, the need to throw up returned, yet there was nothing in your stomach the whole day, and the acidic aftertaste returned. 

"Shall we go?" Foggy nudges your arm gently, and you look at him wide-eyed for a good second. 

"Yeah." You whisper, and get up, letting everyone pass through, side lining with Matt. Father Lantom walks behind the two of you, clearly in thought. Matt has mentioned a woman before, he spoke so fondly of her that Lantom was in no doubt that Matt fell in love. He now wondered if that woman was you, or Karen; but Karen's name has been said when Matt talked about the friendships that he made. So it left him with one answer - you.

"Excuse me, but I don't think I've seen you in church before." Father Lantom comes in between you and Matt, and gives a warm smile, almost making you grimace at his comment. You knew it bound to happen, these type of things were always inevitable.

"Um, yeah, no, I'm not really a churchgoer." You shrug slowly, turning your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. 

"Not religious or not enough time?" Father smiles again, so kindly, that you feel the urge to pour your heart out to him. 

There was that feeling again, feeling that he can read you like an open book. "A bit of both." You say at first, then feeling like it's not a good place for lying, add, "mostly the first one."

"Ah. Well, Matthew here has been caught up in his work, he never visits me these days."

"Father..." Matt begins, feeling exposed. Father knows about his little nightly rendezvous, so it shouldn't really surprise him that he doesn't go to church any more.

"Oh, really?" You ask, stealing a glance at Matt, then crack a small smile, "blame me for this one Father, since he employed me, we've been very busy with work. And... I'm not a particularly good influence on him." 

Matt feels his cheeks heating up.

"Really? Well, Matthew, I'll take it to consideration for your next confession. Whenever that may be."

"Yeah." Matt mutters, thankful to finally go out into the fresh air. 

Nearing the small graveyard that was close to the church, you notice the casket next to the grave. Shivers run down your spine, head full of unpleasant memories and images, but you try to calm yourself, blaming it on the wind. All four of you stand at the end of the grave, watching the graveyard worker lower the casket into the ground slowly, accompanied by the final words that Father is saying to Mrs Cardenas, and almost instinctively, your hand finds Matt's by his side, slipping your fingers between his cold ones. The emotions run wild through your head, your blood, but you only close your eyes, focusing on the warmth that you felt when Matt squeezes your hand back. Opening your eyes, you turn to your right briefly, noticing a single tear rolling down Matt's cheek - so different from the sobbing beside you from Foggy and Karen. You glance at your hands tightly pressed together, so almost perfectly fitting, and only now realize just how close he was standing from the beginning. 

Father closes the Bible, and a quick glance at Matt and you, answers his questions. The way you looked at him told a million things, but most importantly, it told Father that Matt's feeling were not one-sided. 

*** 

"I've been such an asshole to her the first time we met." You scoff, hiding your face behind an almost empty whiskey glass. Foggy and Karen share a look, one that you wouldn't be able to decipher, even if you noticed it in the first place. "I guess they really turn you into a robot in HCB."

"Well, I know for a fact that people turn worse in Landman and Zack." Matt replies, drinking as well. If tonight was about drowning sorrows, he was making sure he fulfilled that.

Karen turns her face towards the TV and her eyes widen immediately. Foggy nudges your elbow, making you turn to look at the screen, and the need to throw up returns again. "Hey, Josie, could you turn that up?"

"No, I never had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Cardenas. I only recently took possession of her building." Fisk blabbers on the screen again, and you notice Wesley standing behind him. How the hell did the press find out about Elena so quickly?

"How do you respond to reports that you knew the tenement was unsafe?" A reporter asks, but Fisk doesn't move a single muscle in protest.

"That is accurate." He replies, taking a pause after the sentence. "That's why we offered a substantial sum to Ms. Cardenas and her neighbours. To help them relocate." He looks around at all the press, Wesley scanning the crowd like a hawk. "We should never let good people get swallowed up by this city. I mourn this woman's death."

You loudly scoff to yourself, and the whole table of Nelson and Murdock find themselves internally agreeing with you. 

"Didn't have to happen. It should've..." Fisk's words get interrupted by Foggy's ringing phone. "Her passing is a symptom of a larger disease..." Foggy fishes his phone and leaves the table. "- infecting all of us. Disease of fear..." The TV glitches for a couple of times, only pieces of sentence are heard. "...fear of bombings, fear of cop killings. Fear of a masked psychopath." 

Matt feels his blood boiling in his alcohol-filled veins.

"We shouldn't let people like that take our city from us. We need to stand together. Let them know that they will fail... because we believe we can make a difference." Fisk's words make you wonder if he has learned the speech beforehand and if Wesley wrote it. After all, he was doing all the butt-kissing. " 'Cause they are cowards! Afraid of stepping out of the shadows. Afraid of standing up for people like Mrs. Cardenas."

"Mr. Fisk, how does this affect the upcoming benefit?" Someone behind the camera shouts.

Wesley steps up into the spotlight, "That will be all. Thank you." Hearing his voice again after days of radio silence caused your anger to spike up.  "No more questions."

"What can we do about this psycho..." another man begins, only to be cut short by a commercial break.

"Jesus, he almost sounds like he means it." Karen is the first one to break the silence.

"I think he does." Matt answers shortly.

Karen scoffs, "And he's calling the man in the mask a psycho?" With this one, you agreed. The man in the mask was a psycho to you, and Karen's enthusiasm to constantly talk about how great he is, sometimes made you think that she was madly in love with the vigilante. "I hope they trace what happened to Elena right to his doorstep."

"He'd never expose himself like that. Plus, half the force is probably in his pocket. Well, then, let's pray the Mask gets his hands on him. Knocks his goddamn head off."

"You religious, Karen?" Matt suddenly asks, but the topic doesn't pick up your attention.  

"My parents were. That's probably why I'm not. You?" 

"Catholic." Matt answers shortly. You receive a fresh whiskey glass and down it in one go, relaxing your muscles when it burns your throat. 

"Does it help? With things like this?" 

"Not today." Matt moves his lips slighly, which looks like a half of a grin. "I think I've had enough. Tell Foggy I'll see him in the morning." You pick up Matt's last words and turn to look at him already getting up to leave.

"Wait, I'm going too." You gently stop him by grabbing his wrist and his whole body goes stiff.

"Hey, Matt. If there is a God and if he cares at all about about any of us Fisk will get what he deserves." Karen says to Matt while you pull out a 100 dollar bill and give it to Josie. "You have to believe that."

"I do." He replies, still lingering next to the table while you put on your coat. 

"Tell Foggy..." you begin, sliding your hand on Matt's elbow a little too comfortably for Karen's liking, but she just puts you down for being drunk, "tell him nothing, I'm an independent woman. Lights out!" You say and quickly disappear in the street. 

Matt says nothing. His mind was occupied by other things, until you decided to grab a taxi together, but eventually agreed to swing by his place. Why? Because Matt insisted on ordering a takeout, adding "I don't think you ate proper food today at all" in a fatherly tone.

*** 

Foggy's new case was interesting for about 30 minutes, while you two shared a huge pizza. The whole time you avoided acknowledging the obvious, not talking about Elena or Fisk at all costs. Before Matt introduced beer to the conversation, which got you quite tipsy and relaxed; if you're not counting the alcohol consumed at Josie's.  At first it was light talk, jokes, giggling and laughing, trying to lighten up the sour mood, until you felt your stomach hurt, but then, as usual, the conversation turned to more serious topics.

Matt spins the bootle in his hand lazily, legs stretched out on the coffee table, as the laughter dies, his face becomes serious, maybe even curious and you wait for his question. "So, what was that thing with you and Karen?"

"What thing?"

"The thing... You know... Shouting one."

"Oh, that." You take a long sip of the beer, trying to delay answering for as long as possible. "I just don't like others in my business, that's all."

"Why's that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well it's quite a long story... But in short, some guy almost fucked up mine and Pug's internship."

"Don't leave me hanging now." He shoots a shy grin.

"Well, we got lucky with that internship, very lucky actually." You sigh, stretching your legs on Matt's coffee table as well. "And Dave was there too."

"Oof, I hate Dave already." Matt huffs a laugh, "wait, who's Pug?"

"My college best friend. So, anyway, we basically won the lottery with our internship at Latham & Wakins, this is still one of the best law firms in LA, and only very few students get to intern there. Of course, our professor wanted to send as many students as he possibly could to the firm, mainly caring about his own reputation as the best prof in the whole university, but I know that he also wanted us to succeed. So Pug and I, we get internships, we're over the moon, we go out, drink like there's no tomorrow, and then we bump into one guy from our classes." You clear your throat, taking a sip again.

"Dave, right?" Matt asks, with slow movements loosening his tie. 

"Yeah. So he's a total shit-talker, we're absolutely wasted, and somehow he talks us into getting him into Latham & Wakins. Next day, we go to the offices, they walk us around, introduce us to the bosses and blah blah, and this fucker, he befriends our boss. Not only befriends, he sleeps with her." You raise your eyebrows for a dramatic effect.

"No way." Matt lets out a laugh, going to bring more beer, still paying attention to your talk.

"Guess what happened then. He takes all of our cases. Our prof starts getting angry, he calls the firm's boss, I remember this, we were smoking outside his office when he made the call. So, he calls her, he's like 'my two brightest students are interning at your firm, and three weeks later you still haven't given them a case?'. I have no idea what's happening on the other side of the phone, but our prof is just pissed, he smokes two cigarettes during the whole phone call time, and let me tell you, the guy hasn't smoked in 20 years. He says that he fixed it and we can return to Latham & Wakins. We go there the same day, and we still don't get a fucking case. At this point, I'm fuming, I barge right into our boss's office, and there was Dave. Fucking her on her desk."

"No-" Matt gasps, handing you a new bottle and sitting a bit closer on the sofa than before. 

"I wanted to forget that image for years, and I still can't." You shiver dramatically. "They catch me and Pug in the parking lot, beg us to not expose them and promise that we will get all the best new cases. Of course, we agree, holding it against them that we can and will expose their little affair if it's necessary, because she was a married woman. All's good, we get full marks for our internship, we get paid more than we could've imagined, but just as we step out with our internship documents, we call our prof, and expose that bitch."

"She got fired?"

"Not only that, she's suspended from practising law for five years, and Dave was kicked out of university as soon as he returned." 

"That's one hell of a ride." Matt laughs. "Now it kind of makes sense."

"Pug's the only person I trust with my work, he doesn't seek glory at the cost of others."

"What about me?" Matt's lips perk up into a smirk.

"You don't seem like the Dave-type." You smile warmly, noticing the distance between the two of you. "Although, I don't know you long enough to check that out."

"Not long enough? It feels like ages since I beat you in court." 

"Yeah, and now I work for you." You laugh, earning another smile from Matt. 

Matt suddenly changes the topic, "You know what Elena told me one time when you stepped out to smoke?" This immediately gains your attention.

"What?"

"She said that she has never seen someone so in love, but then there were you." His lips twich slightly. "But it sounded way better in Spanish."

"Why did she tell you that?" You smile, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. Being drunk right now was no help at all.

"She wanted me to know that since... you know, I can't really see those things."

"Oh." You sigh, not pulling your eyes away from Matt, "She was a very smart woman."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, she wasn't wrong." You blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand. 

Matt stretches his hand out, his fingers brush against yours, and he gently takes your hand, touching your nails. "What color are they?" He softly asks, scooting closer.

"My nails?" You ask, trying to hide your surprise that he left with his touch. He nods, expectantly. "Red."

"Red like what?"

You furrow your eyebrows momentarily, but then you understand exactly what Matt meant. "Uh, it's dark red, almost like a chilli pepper or... Blood." His touch makes your head dizzy. "Or your glasses. I hate when you wear them." Feeling bold out of the blue, you take off his glasses, "your eyes are very pretty." 

"Can I do something?" Matt asks, turning the talk away from himself once again.

"Depends."

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Series Finale - Vigilante Shit

tags: @ironprincessstranger @americaarse @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // eight // epilogue // masterlist

Pairing: Matt X Reader

Word Count: 13,587 (and you wonder why it took me so long.)

Summary: Ladies always rise above but when one lady’s simply had enough, revenge takes human form in Hell’s Kitchen’s Exodus. With her rightful partner beside her, they take on the Kingpin and his former Bullseye.

“Do you affirm that the testimony you are about to give in the case now before the court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” The bailiff asked simply as you took your seat on the stand. “This you affirm under the pains and penalties of perjury?”

“Yes.” You nodded calmly. “I do.”

“For the record, please state your name.” The judge said.

“I’m Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI SWAT. I’ve been with the bureau for a bit less than a year and all statements made here today are my own. My testimony does not reflect the beliefs or positions of the FBI and I accept any and all consequences my statements may bring.” You answered, keeping your eyes ahead as Tower stood and took his place in front of you. “In the short amount of time that I’ve been with the FBI, I’ve witnessed my bureau, specifically members of my team, fall victim to Fisk’s vicious manipulation.”

“Please explain in detail the crimes you’ve witnessed.” He said simply.

“I’ve witnessed slander and false accusations against one of the Nelson and Murdock attorneys responsible for his first arrest. I’ve witnessed a breach of his house arrest. I’ve witnessed his recruitment of agents and using those agents to kill people, both civilians and other agents. I’ve witnessed him coerce other crime syndicates into complying with a tax to ensure protection from federal prosecution.”

“What agents have you seen?”

“Special Agents Arinori and Poindexter, Special Agent in Charge Hattley. Special Agent Rahul Nadeem and myself witnessed but never participated past that and a few targeted raids. Neither of us pulled the trigger for Wilson Fisk, but we did nothing to stop it. There were others but I didn’t interact with them much.”

“The other agents that were mentioned by Agent Nadeem?”

“I believe so. I don’t remember their names but I could pick them out of a lineup.”

“And how many people were killed?”

“SAC Hattley killed Agent Winn. Special Agent Poindexter killed multiple people, I believe he killed the most. Given his unique skill set, he was a prime target for Fisk’s games. Innocent people died because of Wilson Fisk, good people like Father Lantom, because no one on my team was brave enough to come forward.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Who would believe a novice agent who helped put Fisk away in the first place? He knew no one would believe me if I spoke up sooner, given my very outspoken opinions against him. There was an instance, when he brought up the Nelson and Murdock attorney, that I had caused a scene. My words were driven by my sentimentality regarding the firm since I did have a small stint as an attorney there. From there, it didn’t matter what I knew and he recognized that. It didn’t matter how many times Poindexter brought me along without telling me what was really happening. It didn’t matter who I saw get killed or the fact that I was against him leaving the prison to begin with. He knew my credibility was low and I had no evidence so I wasn’t a threat to his plans… Not until someone else had enough. Agent Nadeem helped give me the courage to come forward with what I’ve seen.”

You glanced around at the jury and found them all - save for the one juror - interested in what you would say next. Tower offered a small, proud smile and Ray listened intently with his hands folded in front of him. He gave you a small nod of reassurance.

“It’s a scary thing, to feel like you have no choice but to do things you don’t agree with. Sometimes you go along for self preservation, sometimes for the people you care about. But at the end of it all, we have our limits. We can only take so much deceit before we have to do something…” You allowed your eyes to water, a shakiness to tint your voice and a slight hesitation between your sentences. “I let him convince me that my word wouldn’t matter, that I- I would just be some voice in the wind. I let him take my conviction. But I’m not going to stand down, not anymore. Wilson Fisk is afraid of what we came here to say because it’s true. The attack on our transport wasn’t a coincidence, nor was it an accident. He attempted to have us killed because of what we know and what we came here to say. If he was truly innocent, why is he trying to cover his tracks?”

“You mentioned repercussions before. Do you worry the FBI will punish you for this?”

“Not the FBI, but the agents Fisk controls. My SAC is in his pocket. My partner is in his pocket. Besides Agent Nadeem, in that hotel, I’m alone. No one protects me the way they protect him… If I lose my job, fine. If I lose my partner, okay. But I cannot stand to lose my loved ones.”

“Thank you, Agent.”

You and Ray were led out after that and you met with your friends in the hall. While Matt chatted with Ray, Foggy offered you a proud smile and moved to hug you but you simply pushed his hands away and began pacing a short distance. You pushed your fingers into your hair and tugged slightly on the ends.

Foggy looked over to Matt for help, but he was still in his conversation with Ray. Knowing that a win today would help ensure Matt stayed on the right track, Foggy decided not to cut in and talk to you on his own. He stepped in front of you and put his hands on your upper arms. You looked at him with your lips pressed together and your eyebrows up.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” Your friend tried, ducking down to meet your eyes.

“It’s shot. The whole thing is shot.” You answered quietly, trying not to gain any more attention. “He didn’t just know about the trial.”

“What do you mean?”

“So what happens now?” Ray asked, drawing both Foggy’s and your attention. His brows furrowed but you stepped past him before he could speak.

You grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him a couple steps away as Foggy answered Ray’s question.

You leaned in to speak quietly with your hand still gripping his arm and Matt’s hand landed on your elbow.

“What do you hear?” You asked softly.

His brows furrowed as he listened in, taking a step closer to the doors. As he focused, the grip he had on your arm tightened. You closed your eyes and cursed quietly.

“No, no, no.” Matt muttered and you nodded. “The jurors.”

“Fisk got to them.” You confirmed and opened your eyes, rolling your shoulders back and regaining your composure. “I felt it when we went in but I was hoping I was wrong.”

You glanced around the halls and felt a surge of emotions outside. Everyone still seemed entranced in Karen’s press conference. You had to give it to her, the woman was brave.

After a few anxiety ridden minutes, Tower came out of the courtroom with an apologetic expression as he passed your group. You opened your mouth to speak but he simply shook his head and headed to the cameras outside. You tapped your implant and listened in on the live broadcast from outside and you felt your stomach drop.

At this time, the grand jury had elected not to indict Wilson Fisk. But this office, under my leadership, will pursue every lead, every piece of evidence that leads us to uncovering the truth. The agents that testified today were incredibly brave and we encourage anyone with evidence regarding this case to come forward.

Everything outside continued to spike as you shut off your device and one familiar feeling stood out among the chaos.

“Karen.” You said to yourself as the boys began moving. You looked at them for a second before making a move to the doors. A hand closed around your arm and dragged you in the other direction.

“No, I have to-“ You groaned and tried to pull away but you were shoved forward instead. Looking over, you saw it was Matt who dragged you with him.

You took one last look over your shoulder before giving in and following the group. They hurried into the closest restroom and you locked the door behind you all. Ray pushed through and took a minute to himself while being quite literally sick to his stomach.

“It’s not gonna end like this, Ray. We’re not gonna let it.” Matt promised while leaning against the stalls.

Foggy stood by the sinks and you slid down with your back against the door until you were sitting up on your toes. You had elbows on your propped up knees and your chin resting behind your gently balled fists. Your eyes were trained on the floor, tracing the grout lines between the tiles.

Your brain was running through every scenario you could. You thought about whether or not he’d send Dex after you and Ray. It’d have to wait. There’s no way Dex could take you both out in a locked down courthouse. Would he go after Karen for her press conference? Or had he already wrecked her credibility? All you knew for sure was that it needed to end.

“The system will work.” Foggy ensured and you sighed to yourself. 

“You still believe that?” Matt scoffed and you looked up at him.

“Stop it.” You said quietly and he offered a sarcastic expression towards you.

“We’ve been here before. We can fix this.. Tower will impanel another grand jury and try again. We’re not done here. Right, Y/N?”

“What keeps Fisk away from them this time though?” You asked simply as you turned towards your friend. “I wanna do this the right way, Foggy, but it’s not looking too good for us.”

“I told you this would happen.” Matt cut in.

“Matt, stop.” You sighed and pushed yourself to stand. “Fighting each other isn’t gonna help.”

“I need to know where you’re going.” Foggy blocked Matt’s path.

“Guys.” You warned firmly as Matt said “I’m gonna find Tower. Make sure he tries again.”

“I’m going with you.” You offered and you saw him roll his eyes behind his glasses. “Unless there’s a problem?”

“No.” He said tightly. “No problem.”

“Good.” You nodded before leaning closer to Foggy. “Take care of him. Don’t let him lose his nerve.”

Your friend nodded and you grabbed Matt’s arm on the way out.

“God, y’know what, we should’ve just done it our way from the start.” Matt mumbled. 

“Our way?” You laughed. “This is our way. The other thing? That’s my way, Matthew. You’ll never be able to do it and it’s not a bad thing. You can’t force yourself to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I almost wanna dare you to try because I know you won’t.”

“A lot has changed, Y/N.”

“Sure, but people don’t completely flip on their morals.” You scoffed.

“Maybe I did. You don’t know.”

“Actually I do, because you’re too strong to do it. You have a certain faith in people that you can’t learn. If you were capable of doing what I do, Dex wouldn’t be around anymore. You believe that people can do good. It’s not the worst ideology to hold on to.”

“Clearly not everyone can.”

You stopped walking and yanked his arm to stop him. He groaned and faced you, a tight grip on his cane and a clench to his jaw.

“This isn’t just about you!” You insisted. “You do understand that, right?”

“Of course I know that. You really think I don’t?”

“Why is it your responsibility then?”

“Because it is!”

“So why didn’t you work this hard to stop me?” You challenged quietly. “If not everyone can be better, why didn’t you try to kill me? I gave you every reason to give up on me, treat me this exact same way, but you never did.”

“You’re not the same, Y/N.” He sighed.

“Thankfully, neither are you and I. There’s always been someone taking people from me. Took my parents, Marc, Frank, Yelena and Nat, Billy, even you - twice - and Foggy, now Dex. I’m not gonna lose you a third time.”

“Y/N, I didn’t realize-“

“No, you never do. You never see beyond what you’re doing. You do this and there’s no coming back from it. Something in your heart is gonna change and you can’t change it back. You can’t undo it.”

“I’m sorry. I just want this to be over with.”

“I know but…” You sighed and looked around, shifting your weight between your feet.

You were hit with a sudden feeling of determination. You turned towards where it came from, the bathroom you left Foggy and Ray in. With a quiet curse, you hurried back, only to find Ray gone and Foggy knocked out.

You screamed out in frustration and slammed an angry fist into the mirror, watching it shatter and become stained with the bloody print of your knuckles. You pushed out of the room and back into the hall, scanning the crowds in an effort to find him. But you saw nothing.

Ray was gone. And the clock was ticking on what kind of countermove Fisk would make against him. Against all of you.

You practically ran out of the courthouse, pushing past various security and reporters. They shouted questions, mentioning your badge and asking what side you were testifying for, but ignored them all. Some yelled that you were working for Fisk, you were one of the corrupted agents, but all you offered them was the middle finger.

From there, you ran home. The sun was already setting and you were running out of time. You changed quickly and used your mask to scan as far as it could.

You had finally heard from Rick and you were talking to Seema while wandering the streets.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Seema asked towards the end of the conversation.

“I wish I could tell you for sure… But I can’t. What we’ve done has put a massive target on us and our loved ones. All I know is that yours and Sami’s safety is all he cares about.”

“Tell him I love him.”

“I will. When I find him, he’ll call for goodbyes and then you can send a pin to that number I gave you. After that, ditch the phone.”

It wasn’t until hours later did you find him.

He went home.

You practically sprinted through the neighborhood to get there. The front door was open, side gate cracked, and the police tape was stretched from someone pushing it aside. The house was empty but you could see two figures in the backyard.

“…I can help you cut a deal with the DA.” Ray tried. “We can take him down, us and Y/N.”

Dex gripped his gun tightly, though he hadn’t lifted it yet. His entire body was tense, practically vibrating with the anticipation of what he would do next. There was still a heavy apathy from Dex but there was an undercut of hesitation. Ray was still his friend, and that meant something to him. Not enough to change his mind, but something. Something you might be able to use against him.

“No.. That’s not gonna happen, Ray.” Dex shook his head with a small scoff.

“Dex.” You said carefully, pushing your mask up and lifting your hands in surrender. You walked slowly, putting yourself between the two former friends. “Think about this.”

“Move.” He answered tightly.

“I can help you, if you let me… Don’t make me your enemy, please.”

You tried to emphasize that hesitation but he would shove it back down as soon as it came up.

“I feel more myself than I have in my whole life. Fisk gave me that.”

“This isn’t you talking. This?” You gestured slightly between the two of you. “This is Fisk. He’s gotten in your head, Dex, and he’s turned us against each other. Don’t let him win! ”

“You don’t know me!” He shouted and you instinctively woke your Bite. “See?” He chuckled humorously. “You don’t really trust me.”

“What happened to the man that helped save my life?” You pressed gently with a pleading expression, taking a tentative step forward as you lowered your hands. Your devices still glowed at your wrists and Dex’s grip on his gun shifted. “At the carousel, remember? You rode with me in the ambulance, stayed at the hospital until I woke up. Where’s he?”

“That wasn’t me. It was you. It was your games.” He spat and your brows dropped and your jaw clenched.

“She cared about you, Dex.” Ray said from your side with a hand on your shoulder. “We both did. The only person that changed that was you.”

“Let me help you.” You tried that soft spot again. “I can’t do anything for you after this. I won’t.”

“I don’t care.” He shook his head and you nodded slightly, slowly moving a hand to reach one of the weapons at your belt. “I don’t need your help.”

“As long as I’m alive, my family’s at risk.” Ray admitted, though there was no hesitation.

Sadness, definitely, but it wasn’t any sudden revelation. Instead, it was acceptance. Understanding.

“Ray?” You asked over your shoulder.

“It’ll be alright.”

“Let’s go, Ray.” Dex said, lifting his gun. You sidestepped to put yourself in front of Ray again as you drew your own weapon. “Move, Y/N.”

There was a slight plea in his expression, though his body language didn’t falter.

Something human was left in Dex, some tiny flicker of light. Something like that used to be enough for Matt to believe in, to give them a chance to change. Without him honoring his own prior morals, you realized that was part of why you didn’t give up on Dex.

Not the sex or the friendship. But the hope, hope that months of running around with the altar boy vigilante attached to your hip pinned to your own conscience. The ability to see something good in someone so far off their path. You never understood that ideology until recently but now… Now it felt like that was your own code.

But clearly, the flicker wasn’t enough. And you couldn’t work by someone else’s morality.

“Thought you were good enough to shoot around me.” You taunted as you lined up your own gun.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Dex.” Ray said and you felt that wave of acceptance again. “Whatever you need to do, you do it here.”

Ray had accepted his own death. And the only way you could stop it would be to kill Dex. You turned to face Ray, purposefully putting your body in front of his with the hopes that Dex wouldn’t shoot through.

“We can still get out of this.” You tried, feeling a deep regret settle in your stomach. “I can-“

“And do what, run? I can’t put my family through anything else, Y/N.”

“Ray, please. I can’t bring your family back to you if you’re in a body bag.”

“Hey.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “Just do this the right way, alright?”

“Seema wanted me to te-“

Before you could get the sentence out, the gun fired behind you. The bullet nicked your ear but hit its mark.

You backed away with unsteady legs while Ray fell to the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead. Your gun fell from your hands as you collapsed to your knees. Almost instantly your eyes watered as you stared at the now corpse of your friend. It was almost enough to make you scream as you sat beside the man that risked everything to stand up to Fisk, to stand up for what he believed in. To protect his family.

His family.

Your heart broke for Seema and Sami, and you thought about who would give them the news. The news that you had failed. You didn’t keep him safe.

“She loves you.” You said quietly as your entire body ran cold. “Seema wanted me to tell you she loves you.”

Your hand shook as you reached for your scar and pressed it, sliding along until you heard the dial tone.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“This is.. This is Exodus.” You spoke shakily with your accent, fighting to keep control as the tears fell down your cheeks. “I’m at.. Fisk had him killed. He’s- He’s dead. I need.. I need an ambulance or police or something. Just send someone!”

“Exodus? Okay um…” The line went quiet as the operator spoke to someone else on the side, probably asking advice with a vigilante on the line. “Where are you? Who’s dead?”

“Special-“ Your voice broke. “Special Agent Rahul Nadeem. He shot him in his own backyard.”

“Did you see who killed him?”

“No.. No, he was gone before I got here. I just heard the shot.”

“Okay. We have units en route. Can you stay with Mr.Nadeem until they arrive?”

“No, I- I have to go. They’ll arrest me. I- I have to- I have to go. I can’t be here when they arrive.”

“Wait.”

“He has a wife and a son. Just tell um, tell Detective Brett Mahoney to contact Nadeem’s legal team. Someone has to tell them.”

“Ma’am, please, just wait until-“

“I can’t… I can’t, I’m sorry.”

You ended the call and looked down at Ray.

“I’m sorry, Ray. I’m so sorry.”

You sat back for a moment to pull your knees to your chest. You wrapped your arms around them and rocked slightly as you let yourself cry. You tried to keep the noise down, but small wails left your throat. When you heard the sirens down the street, you had to pull yourself together and collect your gun. With one last look, you hopped the fence and made your way back to the apartment.

You tried to push the guilt away but it came back to gnaw at you. You should’ve just killed Dex. You shouldn’t have tried to reason with him. You should’ve taken him down when you got there. Why did you reveal yourself? Why didn’t you kill him? Why didn’t you do anything?

You had your own ways for a reason. Using Matt’s wouldn’t bring back the man you knew. And it wouldn’t save anyone.

Now Ray was dead and it was your fault.

All you could do was keep moving forward. But there was nothing more Y/N could do. The chance with the law and by the books was over. You wanted to stay on the path, to do things Foggy’s way - the right way - but you were at your wits end. Every time you tried to do things right, you lost. You wouldn’t lose again.

You wouldn’t dress yourself as Exodus to serve a villain. You wouldn’t dress as Exodus to serve the innocent. You would dress for revenge. You would dress to renew the sense of fear that your vigilante persona - just her name - used to invoke. To make Ben Poindexter pay for the lives he took. To make Wilson Fisk pay for the crimes he’d committed. And if they paid with their lives, so be it.

You wouldn’t be nice any longer. Both men had pushed you too far.

Killing people was easy. Making them suffer was an art, and you had spent years developing your craft. You would make them regret the moment you were made their enemy.

You ignored the phone calls from Foggy. His voicemails all said he needed to talk to you and he didn’t want to say it on a message, so you knew Brett told them what happened. Other numbers you didn’t recognize called but you ignored them too. Reporters, you figured.

On your way home, you were distracted by the distinct taste of fear. With a small noise of interest, you followed it. You weren’t necessarily shocked to see Matt was there at the source, but it was a surprise to see him with Felix Manning.

“Should’ve called.” You told him as you got to his side.

“Didn’t have time.” He shrugged with that smirk he always used to have back when you found him when you two didn’t know each other’s identities. When things were a lot simpler. “You hear what happened?“

“To Nadeem? How we fucked it up, again.”

“Yeah.” He answered in a whisper.

You nodded quietly and he frowned slightly. He reached for your arm but you crossed them over your chest and peered over the edge, looking at the knot that held Manning’s ankle. You gave the rope a small shake and the man screamed with a new wave of panic.

“What have you gotten so far?” You turned to Matt, though the mask did little to hide his expression. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He opened his mouth for a joke but you smacked his arm before he could get a word out. He laughed quietly and put his hands up in surrender.

“Fisk’s gathering a bunch of figureheads for a wedding.” Matt explained.

“Vanessa’s gonna marry him?” Your brows furrowed and Matt gave a nonchalant shrug. You leaned over the edge and yelled to Manning. “Do we get an invite?”

All he could do was scream.

“Sounds like a no.” Matt answered and you almost smiled, though Manning’s screams were rather distracting.

You groaned loudly before reaching forward. You made a small pulling motion and felt the fear draw out of him. The yellow smoke came to your hand and swirled up your arm and you felt the tingle down your spine as you absorbed it.

“I can give you something better.” Manning called from the end of the rope.

You hummed in interest and climbed to sit on the ledge, feet kicking idly as Matt sat beside you with his ankles crossed. If it hadn’t been for the man dangling just a few feet down, it would’ve been a nice moment together.

“We’re listening.” Matt said simply.

“I witnessed Ms. Marianna order the murder of Agent Nadeem. And Fisk ordered many!” He shouted and you felt a new wave of anger run down your spine. You ground your teeth and balled your hands into fists. Matt’s hand came up to your jaw and pressed gently on the joint to make you release the tension. You made a small noise and took his hand off your face, holding it between your own and dropping into your lap. “Agent Winn. Julie Barnes. I could testify!”

“Где был этот парень раньше?” You muttered and Matt nudged you with his shoulder. “Мог бы позволить ему умереть вместо Рэя.” (Where was this guy earlier? Could’ve let him die instead of Ray.)

“Будь милым.” Matt said with light amusement in his voice. He knew what happened to Ray upset you and he figured you would blame yourself. But at least your words were what he was used to. “Мы могли бы его использовать.” (Be nice. We could use him.)

“Hang on..” You realized and peered over the edge. “We know Winn and Nadeem. Did you say Julie Barnes?”

“Yes! Yes, he did!”

You let out a laugh in celebration and the sound seemed misplaced in the current situation. That was exactly what you had been waiting for. Confirmation. Confirmation of the one thing that could snap Dex, in every sense of the word. Confirmation that Julie Barnes, the woman that he had been obsessing over since before you met him, was dead and that Fisk was to blame.

“Help me get him up.” You told Matt quickly as you climbed back to the roof.

“Why?” Matt asked, though he followed suit.

“Ты хотел подтолкнуть Декса на грань? Вот как мы это делаем.” You answered quickly and he nodded quietly. (You wanted to push Dex to the brink? This is how we do it.)

You got Manning to tell you everything you needed to know about Julie. How she was killed. Where she was killed. Where her body currently was. Everything you needed to throw in Dex’s face and break whatever was left.

A day or two later, you were standing at a press conference at the bureau. It was an official statement regarding Ray and Agent Winn’s deaths. Hattley claimed Ray was mentally unstable, that Karen was a liar and the alleged 911 call from Exodus was fake. You almost laughed when Hattley had to redirect questions about Exodus finding the body, but she admitted it was an agent who killed him, under the guise of self-defense.

You tried to duck out of the office following the press conference but a hand wrapped around your arm tightly. You let out a small wince when you were yanked back before you were redirected and pushed towards one of the conference rooms. You were able to yank your arm free just outside the door, where you saw Seema sitting inside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked sharply as you spun on Dex. “You wanna rub salt in her wounds?”

“She came to us, said she wants to see Ray’s lawyers.” He explained simply.

“So what?”

“So call them.”

“Why? So you can put a bullet in them too?”

“If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in you.”

“You should’ve done it last time. Too late now.”

“Really wanna do this here?” His brows raised. You glanced around, noting the mostly empty hall. The only other agents were ones you remembered seeing at that meeting. You were outnumbered and while you could likely handle the ordeal, a shoot out in the office wasn’t something you wanted to instigate with everything else you had going on. “You’re so paranoid, Y/N/N. I’ll call him myself. Not like anyone’s gonna hurt him.” Dex smirked and began to back away.

“Dex.” You called out and he paused, allowing you to move closer. “Are you happy now? Ray’s dead. Seema and Sami are alone. Fisk is getting married. Daredevil’s image is shot… Is that what you wanted?”

He chuckled weakly and nodded. “I thought all this empathy crap was done.”

You gave a weak shrug. It wasn’t even an attempt to change his mind. It was just you being an asshole. “One last shot, I guess… Maybe you were right after all. You don’t love me, not anymore at least. You’re incapable of loving anyone, of feeling anything.”

“Careful, Y/N. You’re getting predictable.” He tapped a finger under your chin and left.

You huffed a sigh and shot a quick text to Foggy, asking him to come to the bureau. You headed back to the main office and began busying yourself with some paperwork until your friend arrived.

A sharp whistle drew your attention and you looked up to see Dex waving you over. You got to his side as Foggy lifted his phone to take a picture, one you were just in time to smile for.

“Posted to my campaign webpage, and the tens of thousands of police officers that know that I’m here. With you. Helping.” Foggy said firmly and you tried to hide the proud smile.

“Relax, Mr. Nelson. You’re not in any danger.” Dex said lowly, a hand landing on your lower back that you almost jumped away from. “Agent Y/L/N even came to help put you at ease.”

You jammed an elbow into his ribs and he laughed slightly.

“Besides, you’ll be very useful when you’re the next district attorney.”

“Why am I here?” Foggy looked to you.

“Because you and Ray were friends.” Dex answered instead and you rolled your eyes.

“If you’re expecting him to answer questions, it’ll break privilege, even if the client’s dead.” You explained.

“I’m not asking him to.” It was Dex’s turn to roll his eyes. “Follow me.”

Dex led you and Foggy back to the room where you saw Seema waiting. You wanted to offer her a sincere apology, to comfort her and admit that it was your fault Ray was dead, but Hattley’s presence made you keep those thoughts to yourself.

“We’ll give you the room. Take all the time you need.” Hattley said after a brief exchange between Dex and Seema.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You managed and she looked at you with slight tears in her eyes. “Ray was a good man.”

Dex’s hand fit tightly to your elbow and he dragged you away. You all left Foggy with Seema and stepped back into the hall.

“Suck it up.” Dex sneered.

“I’m only doing this because I have to.” Hattley snapped back before the two split ways. You let out a sigh and headed back to your desk.

You decided you were going to leave again at lunch, figuring your time at that job was limited anyway so why be a good agent anymore. You had just dropped into your chair, a small cloud of blue proofing out as you did, when Dex grabbed your arm and hauled you away again. You sucked in a breath between gritted teeth and you knew there’d be a bruise there by the end of the day. When you two got to a secluded area, he pushed you against the wall and put his call on speaker. He held a hand against your mouth and your brows furrowed, though you showed no other reaction. You decided against fighting back, knowing it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Plus, you were intrigued.

“I’ve got some free time now. Why don’t we meet up?” Dex said, keeping eye contact with you while pressing that forearm against your chest near your throat as a threat.

“I have a question.” Matt’s voice came from the other side and your eyes went a bit wider. Dex offered a slight smirk as he caught your expression. “Did you enjoy the feeling you got when you killed those birdies? Is that why you’re still killing?”

“Birdies?”

“The ones you killed with rocks. I bet it felt good at first, right?”

“Stop.” You tried, your voice muffled from behind Dex’s hand and he pushed your head to bang against the wall.

“Then it’s never the same after that.”

You put one hand on his chest and the other on his wrist and tried to push Dex off. He growled slightly and pressed harder, causing you to release a small noise when the pressure hit your chest and then a sharp sensation erupted from your still healing stab wound.

“Who was that?” Matt asked suddenly.

“Your little girlfriend.” Dex taunted and you struggled against him, but he leaned into you with more of his body weight. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? ‘Specially when she’s helpless.”

“What do you think Dr. Mercer would say if she could see you now?” Matt continued and you sighed. You wondered if he was purposefully not showing a reaction or if it just didn’t bother him.

You leaned back into the wall and Dex noticed your shift away from him. Dex’s eyes darted between yours but you knew yours were empty. There was no feeling behind your eyes when you looked at Dex, and he recognized that. He recognized that you no longer saw him the same.

Slowly he leaned away but held a finger to his lips to gesture for you to keep quiet. Maybe it actually hurt him for you to give up on him.

Good.

“Got a second?” He spoke finally. “I need a tissue for all the tears I’m crying over my shitty childhood.”

“Have you heard from your friend Julie lately?”

“Что ты делаешь?” You whispered as your brows furrowed, trying to figure out Matt’s plan. You two had talked about bringing it up to Dex together so you could guarantee neither of you were at risk. Why do it now? (What are you doing?)

“You wanna talk to Dr. Mercer, asshole? Keep talking. Or I could send your girlfriend instead.”

“What do you think she’d say if she knew about the innocent people you killed?” Matt continued. “I bet she’d be disappointed, Dex.”

“If she was still alive.” You mumbled.

Dex’s attention snapped to you and a hand was quick to come around your throat to force you back against the wall. The air left your lungs while his hand gripped you tighter and you cursed Matt for starting problems.

“If you hurt Julie-“ He threatened lowly and lifted so your feet could barely reach the ground.

“I never touched her.” You choked out. “She was innocent.”

“Did he?”

“Fisk had her killed. He knew what she meant to you so he killed her, gave himself a chance to replace her as your North Star.” You answered quickly.

He was quiet for a moment while he took in your expression. When he believed you weren’t lying, he eased off.

“When he realized he couldn’t kill me, he went after her… She was an easy mark. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do.” You added while rubbing your tender throat and he gave a slow nod.

“Don’t tell me that’s sympathy in your voice, Ex.” Matt said.

“Shut up.” You snapped quickly.

“Don’t feel bad for a guy who’s tried to kill us both, multiple times.”

“Shut. Up. It’s not about him.”

“You should stick to beating on people in alleys, cause you’re not gonna get in my head.” Dex said tightly, though you could feel something underlying in his words. It almost felt like.. grief.

Maybe there was something more than a flicker left in Dex. But that wouldn’t change anything. It couldn’t.

“You don’t have to believe us.. Then again, you may wanna ask how I got Manning’s phone.”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Dex answered sharply.

“Julie wouldn’t approve of your killing people, Dex.”

“Stop. Saying. Her name.” Dex practically growled. The familiar heart of his rage hit you. The soft spot he had for you may have faded away, but he’d always feel a certain way for Julie.

“You said you got some free time? You may wanna check out 16 Canal Place.”

“Why?”

The line cut out after that. Dex slowly turned to face you and your sidestepped carefully to ensure your back was no longer against the wall.

“What’s at Canal Place?” He asked tightly.

“Julie…” You answered quietly. Beneath the surface you were adding to the pressure of his anger, trying to break him. “I’m sorry, Dex. I know she was important to you.”

“What the hell is your deal?” He asked angrily and you took another step back. “What- What- What do you gain from all of this?”

“I had no part in this.” You countered firmly, forgetting about your game for a moment. “All of this-“ You gestured between you two. “-was done without me knowing.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed.

“I wouldn’t taunt you with this. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t believe me then.” You shrugged. “I don’t care anymore. I tried being nice, didn’t work. I tried being a bitch, kind of working. I tried empathy, didn’t work.” You pushed past him.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“Away from you.”

That night, you took a trip to Canal Place dressed in your latest, modified vigilante costume - compression shirt and vest. You still hadn’t patched your full suit and top. You arrived a few minutes ahead of Dex, but he wasn’t your point. You made your way to the roof and found Matt already there. You made sure to keep your distance, knowing you’d punch him in the teeth if you got too close.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was on the phone?” You asked simply.

“I knew he wasn’t gonna hurt you.” Matt reasoned as he pulled the black mask off.

“That’s not the point. We were gonna do it together.”

“I needed to make sure.”

“Of what?”

“That you hadn’t gone soft.”

“So you play with my life?”

“C’mon, Y/N/N.” He scoffed. “He wasn’t gonna kill you.”

“The bruise around my neck says otherwise.” You countered angrily.

His body language shifted and you saw the flex of his hand. He ran a stressed hand over his mouth before he spoke again.

“You said it yourself. He loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“That’s not what-“

“Well I was wrong.” You cut in quickly.

“You’re never wrong about this stuff.”

“You think that excuses any of that?” You laughed and moved closer. “You think that excuses you pushing him when I’m the one that would’ve had to deal with the fallout?”

“You could’ve protected yourself if he tried anything.”

“So that’s it? You put me in the line of fire and taunt the most unstable man I’ve ever met, just because you can? Just because I can fight back.”

“Were you honestly afraid?” He asked carefully, head cocking in interest.

You thought about the interaction and didn’t remember feeling afraid. In fact, you felt completely in control without touching your abilities in that regard.

“He felt something.” You said instead. “When you talked about Julie… Grief.”

“So what?”

“So that means there might still be something worth saving in him. That used to be what you stood for, Matt. That chance used to be enough.”

“Oh come on.” He scoffed. “What happened to the woman that was ready to kill him?”

“And what happened to the man that didn’t wanna kill anyone? What happened to the altar boy that believed everyone could change, that just a small piece of goodness was enough for another chance? Where’s the man from that rooftop with Frank, who had a gun to his head, but still insisted on preaching about giving people a chance to change?”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” He asked loudly. “You want me to- to take the guy to therapy? Hold his hand and promise it’ll be okay? The guy’s psycho! And he’s dangerous.”

Your remark was cut off by a loud scream. A sound of pure agony that you almost swore was accompanied by the sharp sound of a snap and a shaky wave of heat. It was an uneven, broken feeling that had bits of cold air weaved in between. It was as if the anger was cracking and the sadness was patching the gaps.

You turned to face Matt again but he was already holding a ringing phone in front of him. You took a few steps closer.

“When I find you…” Dex threatened lowly.

“Like we said, Fisk killed her and we all know it.” Matt countered smoothly.

“Think about it, Dex.” You added on. “Who got Julie the job in the hotel, right after the detail starts? Who started following you? It’s all been Fisk.”

“You let him turn you into a murderer!” Matt kept going. You knew you should stop him, that he was pushing too hard. You started to feel a bit of regret for what you had to do to Dex, but you also knew you needed him to turn against Fisk.

Besides, you didn’t owe him anything anymore.

“He wasn’t gonna let someone like Julie get in the way of that.” You offered, gentler than the venom Matt spoke with. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Dex asked lamely, as if everything he had - everything that mattered - was gone. And for him, maybe it was.

“Aw, Dex..” You said quietly, more to yourself than either of the boys. Matt scoffed lightly and stepped away, adding a comment about Fisk and the wedding before ending the call.

“You can’t tell me that you really care about him still.” Matt said angrily. “After everything he’s done to us.”

“I’m allowed to feel bad for ruining a man’s entire mental state just to take down a different man.” You answered sarcastically. “Regardless if I care about him or not.”

“You didn’t ruin that guy. There was hardly anything to ruin.”

“There used to be..”

“Who’s side are you on, Y/N? Because you can’t have everything.”

“No, but I can remember the guy he was before. Matt, he helped save my life, kept me from bleeding out on the way to the hospital.”

“That makes up for everything. Why didn’t you mention it sooner?” He offered sarcastically.

“Why are you so bitter?” You shouted. “You have everyone back and it’s still not enough.”

He simply shook his head.

“Why are you so hell bent on destroying him?”

“He killed Father Lantom!” Matt screamed, new anger rolling off him. “But that doesn’t matter, right? Because he lost someone too.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I cared about Lantom, too.”

“Not like I did.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but-“

“But nothing. Just because you slept with him doesn’t make him worth anything.”

“Say that again.” You said lowly, your head tilting with a slight challenge. Your muscles tightened and your hands flexed as you crossed your arms to wake the devices around your wrists. “I dare you.”

He sighed heavily and lifted his hands in surrender.

“Y’know, you’re making it so hard to want to help you. And at this point, I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or if you are just that pathetic now.”

“I’m pathetic… Okay.” He mumbled with a scoff before turning away from you.

“I may be a bitch and I may be a killer, but at least I don’t willingly treat people that love me like shit. At least I feel bad when I’ve hurt someone I used to care about… But I guess you just don’t care anymore, right? You left your conscience under Midland, right?”

“You know that’s not true.” He sighed, almost visibly deflating. “I’m doing this because I-“

“Don’t give me that shit.” You cut in firmly, taking quick strides to stand in front of him. “I’m so goddamn tired of that excuse from you, Matt.” Your finger jammed into his chest. “You’re not protecting anyone by being an asshole.. All you’re doing is becoming exactly what you want to protect this city from. You’re becoming what Exodus used to be. Now I look like the soft one. The weak one.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to! Jesus Christ, how many times do we have to have this same conversation before it gets through your head?” You tapped his temple quickly before pushing his head away.

“I understand that we’re different now. I never said we could go back to what we were. You’re the one who said you can’t have both.”

“I never said that.”

“In the van with Ray. You said that you had to give up certain people and you looked right at me.”

“For the love of..” You muttered before a disbelieving laugh. “I wasn’t saying that I wanted to give you up. I meant that you gave us up. You won’t let yourself have it both ways.”

“Right, because you’re not one to self-sabotage to try torture yourself? You- You don’t ruin anything good in your life to try and make up for all the bad shit you’ve done?”

You stood in silence for a moment, mouth opening to defend yourself but your voice keeping quiet. You wanted to talk back, to tell him that he was an idiot. You wanted to scold him for not truly understanding why you had done everything you had, why you had sabotaged so many relationships in the past. But that was what he wanted. He wanted to keep egging you on that way, maybe you’d be pissed off enough to be like the old you. The one who was so angry with the way the world was that you were going to kill anyone you thought would fix it. And as tempting as it was, as justified as you felt your anger would be, someone needed to keep a level head.

But also, it wasn’t for his sake. It was Ray’s voice lingering in the back of your mind, serving as the safety on your otherwise unrelenting trigger finger.

Just do this the right way, alright?

“Whatever. Think what you want about me.” You shrugged and your devices disarmed. He must’ve heard the current shut off because his brows raised with interest. “I’m gonna go patch my suit and head to the Presidential. If I see you, you better have your goddamn head on straight.”

“Держись подальше от меня сегодня вечером.” He said simply, causing a small scoff from your chest. (Stay out my way tonight.)

“Забавно. Я собирался сказать тебе то же самое.” (Funny. I was going to tell you the same thing.)

You headed home after that, ignoring whatever snarky comment he made when you turned your back. You got home quickly and pulled your suit from the closet. It was the first time you had seen it since the attack on the church. The blood was still soaked into the fabric, the gaping hole in the center. It brought you back to that night and the scar on your stomach burned.

You pushed through it and gave it a thorough wash before repairing the damage, not perfectly but enough to get through the night. You fit it in place and zipped the familiar top over it. As you were sliding your gloves on, you found the small insignias you had carved into the forearm plates. A small skull and two overlapping D’s.

Matt and Frank, Punisher and Daredevil. The two men that were able to sneak through your guards and understand who you were. The two men who knew what you stood for and stood beside you.

The two most important people left in your life.

You fit the rest of your equipment on; boots, Bites, belt, staff pack, and mask. You thought a lot on your way to the hotel. You thought about your relationships with Dex and Matt.

There was no way to repair the damage between you and Dex. You wouldn’t be friends or anything romantic when the night ended. The latter you could deal with, but losing the former was a bit of a bummer. Dex was damaged and your influence probably made it worse. You had a hand in breaking whatever structure and balance Dex had. You used him as a pawn in your game with Fisk and he was ultimately the one to suffer.

You and Matt had been back and forth since he came back. One night he’s begging you to stay and the next he tries to make you the bad guy for being human - for being exactly what he wanted you to be when you had first met. Despite that, despite his uncharacteristic bloodlust as of late, you couldn’t turn your back on him.

You still loved him, after all.

You moved through the parking garage with ease. You came across an abandoned SUV and when you went to check it, you instantly regretted it. In the passenger seat sat Julie’s frozen corpse.

“We really did it this time, didn’t we?” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the groans of the nearby agent on the ground. You moved to his side and grabbed his face to turn him towards you.

“Where’d he go?” You asked firmly, to which he continued his pained sounds. “Where is Poindexter?” You urged again.

He pointed weakly towards the door to the stairwell so you left him on the floor and began your climb. As you climbed, you called Matt.

But he didn’t answer.

You tapped your mask to track the microphone you had left him with and saw he was already a few levels ahead of you. You blew out a sigh and decided to call Foggy instead.

“Hey.” He said with a relieved sigh. “Please tell me-“

“He’s already here.. They both are.” You cut in as you leaned over the bar to angle a shot for your wire towards one of the higher railings. “I’m on my way to them.”

“You have to stop him, Ex.”

You smiled to yourself as your wire looped around the metal. You climbed over and began a quicker ascend.

“Well I’ve tried that, a lot, and it’s not working.” You said simply, mentally counting off floors as you passed. “We need to try something different.”

“Like what?”

“Like a bluff.”

“A bluff?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… I’m not following.”

“Clearly.” You mumbled as you swung your feet over the final railing. “What I’m saying is what if I stay out of his way.”

“You wanna let him do it?”

“You really think he will?” You asked simply as you unwrapped and tucked away your wire.

“Right now, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“The guy we know is still in there.. I know it sounds crazy but it’ll work. He wouldn’t know whether I mean it or not. He can’t read me the way he reads everyone else. I don’t let him.”

He was quiet for a moment, likely getting Karen’s opinion.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if.. we lose him forever?” 

“You gotta trust me.”

“I do but… Is it worth the risk of losing him?”

“I get it. But I don’t see any other option. He has to see for himself that he’s too good to do it.”

“If he can’t, are you going to?”

“Not unless I have to.”

“Will you stop him?”

“I don’t know.”

You ended the call, not allowing any other argument from Foggy. Instead, you pushed into the hall and practically sprinted to the ceremony. As you were coming up on the doors, your implant picked up on Ray’s voice. You didn’t know what it was, some sort of deathbed confession maybe, but it made your chest tight.

As you moved, you passed agent after agent on the ground. Labored breathing or groans of pain came from the bodies and you were moderately relieved that they weren’t dead. At least he had some restraint left, whichever one did all of it.

“I’d like to make a toast.” Dex said shakily from the stage as you entered the ballroom. “Julie and I wish you the absolute best.”

Dex pulled back to throw the microphone so you sprung into action. A serving tray came flying in front of Fisk and the microphone bounced off as you were passing by. Dex looked between you and who you assumed was Matt. You noticed his attention on something behind you and you turned just in time to see the agents lift their guns.

You dropped to the floor and ducked behind one of the tables. When the shots faltered you came out and hopped the table. With both hands on the surface, you kicked out and sent one agent falling into the one behind him. You took a disc from your belt and tossed it, highly charged bolts shooting out of the small device at the two agents. They fell with tight convulsions before Dex threw silverware that landed in their necks.

Matt took off and you were quick to follow him, leaving Dex and the remaining agents in the ballroom. The gunshots echoed throughout the halls as you ran and it sent a chill down your spine.

You noticed the annoyed shake of Matt’s head but you said nothing. You followed him up to the room that covered Fisk’s control center.

He burst in first with you close behind. He acted quickly and threw one of the men towards you. You reacted instantly and pulled a staff. You had to duck his flailing arms so you swung the weapon to knock his legs from under him. Once the agent fell to his back, you slammed the weapon against his temple. You flicked out the blade and moved at the agent Matt threw to the sofa.

Acting quickly, you slammed the blade through his shoulder and pin him to the furniture while you woke your Bites. Aiming one at the man beside you and one over Matt’s shoulder, you fired both and the men fell limp.

As Matt spoke to the woman, you recollected your weapon and placed it back in the pack.

“Подожди.” You called as Matt was headed to the stairs. (Wait.)

“Don’t try to stop me either, Ex.” He said tightly.

“Я не собирался.” You offered but he turned away from you. You groaned and moved forward, grabbing his arm to force him to stay put. “Я просто хотел сказать, что я с тобой... Что бы ты ни решил сделать.” (I wasn’t going to. I just wanted to say that I’m with you… Whatever you decide to do.)

“Правда?” He asked carefully, a hand handing on your arm and his fingers landing between the plates. “И если я действительно убью его?” (Really? And if I actually kill him?)

You gave a small smile as your other hand landed on his chest, right over his heart. You heard the door close as the woman ran off.

“Whatever you decide.” You said honestly.

He offered a small smirk before taking his hand off your arm and moving it to your neck. Before you could voice a question, his opposite hand slid the zipper down a few inches so the fingers on your neck could move under the collar of your suit.

“Tell me one more time.” He said lowly and for just a second, it was like old times. “Just to be sure.”

With a small smile, you let your meticulous control drop. For the first time in months, you were completely vulnerable. Every emotion, every physiological reaction, every tell you could possibly have, it was all on the table for Matt to read. And he knew it.

“I’m on your side, Matty. No matter what.” You said truthfully. And you knew the night would end in a way that favored you and your friends.

He gave a small smile and let out a sigh of relief. His hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled you closer. The other arm looped around your waist and your arms came loosely around him.

You fixed your mental guards and allowed a moment to survey what Matt was feeling. There was tension in his muscles, likely anticipatory for what was to come once you entered that suite. He was determined but also worried. There was an underlying excitement, the subtle type he always seemed to get before a fight. There was also a hint of confusion.

That was what you were looking for. Something to pull to the surface that could interfere with his initial plans.

Slipping a mental hook into that feeling, you pulled away and tapped his arm to follow you. You moved up the stairs and zipped your shirt the rest of the way up. When you hit the door to the suite, you woke your Bites and gripped one of your blades tightly. Matt’s hand landed on your lower back and when you turned to him, he gave you a quick nod.

You took a steadying breath before opening the door and walking in, ensuring your head was high as Matt followed behind you. As you entered the hall, Fisk and Vanessa came from the other end.

The tension in the air grew thicker with every breath. Fisk’s eyes went wide for a minute, flicking to the gleaming blade in your hand and the ominous red glow of your favored devices. Vanessa swallowed hard and took a fearful step back to try and hide behind her new husband.

“It’s over.” Matt said lowly, the familiar gravelly voice of the Devil coming through.

“Run.” Fisk said to Vanessa, pushing her back the way they came.

“This ends.” You warned with words tinted in your accent.

Fisk snarled slightly before bracing himself. Matt shifted beside you and your stance widened while you shifted your weight to your toes. They screamed at each other before they charged, Matt slamming into Fisk with enough force for them both to crash into something in the bedroom. You hurried in the same direction and caught Vanessa trying to race down the stairs.

You wouldn’t kill her, only sparing her life to fulfill your promise to Ray, but you’d have some fun in the meantime.

You flung your knife and watched the tip bury itself in her dress and pin it to the floor. As you were coming around the ledge, Matt and Fisk crashed through the wall. You were going to intervene but Matt fought back so you turned back to Vanessa.

You gripped the railings on either side and kicked both feet into her side. The sharp rip of fabric sounded as she tumbled down the stairs with loud exclamations. You recollected your blade and hopped the railing to follow her just as Matt sent Fisk tumbling the same way.

You landed in time to see Vanessa backing away from the door, a familiar bitter taste settling in your tongue. You spit on the floor in an effort to clear it but it lingered as you saw Dex enter the room.

You groaned inwardly as your small crowd seemed to freeze at his appearance. When it seemed no one else would move, you did. You moved around the table to put yourself in front of the bride.

As you rounded the table, you placed a hand on the ledge to allow you room to spin your legs and connect both feet with Dex’s jaw. He reached angrily for you but you threw yourself backwards. From the far end of the table, you saw Matt land from the upper level and move in against Dex.

You slid off the table and dropped to a low crouch. You snuck beside Vanessa and kicked her legs from underneath her. You pinned a knee against her chest and aimed one of your devices. You angled for a well-placed shot that would hurt but not kill her, only to be thrown off by Matt’s off balance body.

You groaned in annoyance and shoved your partner off you. In your own lull of action, you heard Fisk and Dex going at it from the other end of the room. You paused for a second to watch, only to realize that your former partner had little to no defense against Fisk. The best he could do was evade and try to put distance and gain an advantage.

He was sloppy, uncaring even. He wasn’t just broken. He has completely fallen apart.

You looked between a still fallen Vanessa and the quick paced fight ahead and decided on something more exciting. When Fisk threw Dex against the stairs, you inserted yourself.

You grabbed both staffs before getting to the side of Fisk. You stepped up the railing and reached around his neck to cross both sticks. You quickly moved your feet to be on the back end of the plexiglass and extended the limbs, holding tight with your staffs to pull the man off Dex. His ragged coughs drew an old, sadistic smile from you and the manic daze you knew all too well began to cloud your mind.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Dex stand and attempt to charge at you and Fisk. With a quick move, you jumped the railing and dug an elbow into Fisk’s spine for stability. When Dex was close enough, you slammed both feet into his chest. The impact sent him stumbling through the glass behind him and you were pushed the other direction.

When you hit the ground, you released the cross of your staffs and snuck between Fisk’s legs. You hooked a stick around either ankle and pulled forward as you slid your other leg through so you would spin to face him as he fell to his back. One staff was returned to the pack as you flicked out the long blade of the other.

“Ты больше никому не обидишь” You said simply and you placed a foot on his stomach. (You’ll never hurt anyone else again.)

You gripped your weapon with both hands and lifted it high above your head, the tip of the blade on a direct path to his chest. You let out a loud scream, one born out of pent up rage and pain that seemed to add heat to the blade in your hand, while you began to drive the knife down.

As your blade was mere inches from penetrating, you were slammed into from your side. The collision sent you rolling and your staff clattered from your hands. You heard the commotion continue and you pushed yourself to your elbows to see Fisk and Matt back in a fight, Matt getting body slammed through the table.

For a second, you hoped it would knock some sense into him. But that thought was shortly entertained because you were yanked to your feet by your hair.

You were spun roughly and a hand fit your throat, backing you up until you hit the wall. You let out a manic laugh when you saw it was Dex.

“Was it worth it?” You sneered. “Killing Julie.”

“I didn’t kill her.” He nearly screamed in your face before slamming you back again.

“But you did.” You nodded fervently. “If you didn’t try to make her love you-“

His free hand collided with the brick near your head and you acted quickly.

You grabbed the wrist around your throat and braced a foot at the bend of his hip. Your thumb dug into the space between bones at his wrist and he winced as his grip faltered. You stepped up using his own leg as leverage and hooked the other leg around his shoulder. You balled one fist in the suit material of the base of his neck and pulled to reveal enough skin that you could wedge you let Bite against. You fired the device and he yelled loudly while his hands gripped the back of your knees.

He slammed your body into the hard brick wall and you coughed roughly as the impact sent a jolt through the old fracture in your ribs. He pulled back to slam you again but you pulled the foot you had against his leg to flatten against the wall and change the angle of your body.

You slid your hands to grip the suit before kicking off and throwing yourself to the floor while Dex landed beside you. You quickly knelt on top of Dex and landed heavy hits to his face, forcing head to bounce off the ground. One of his hands were flailing to find something to use as a weapon and before you could block, he found your other staff and swung it at your jaw. You fell off and got to your hands and knees before he threw your staff at the glass chandelier above where Matt and Fisk were fighting.

Matt was quick to get out of the way, which left Fisk vulnerable to Dex’s barrage of attacks. You hurried over to the wreckage and recollected your staff before you decided what to do next. Dex’s focus shifted to Matt, which allowed you to go after Fisk. You turned to find him and saw him give Vanessa his jacket, a product of Melvin’s handiwork you assumed.

She met your eyes in a panic as you jumped the couch and began your assault. You alternated your hits, switching hands and angles. You mixed in body shots and elbows and knees. Vanessa’s hand landed on your shoulder and you reacted almost instantly.

You grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm outwards. You hooked a foot behind her ankle and slammed your other arm against her chest to knock her to the floor. She coughed heavily from the impact and you reached down for your knife. You smiled as you pressed the tip against the underside of her chin.

“You had Ray killed.” You spoke lowly, a heavy venom dripping from your accented words. “I should kill you for it.”

“But you won’t?” She managed, jerking under your weight in a desperate attempt to get you off of her.

“I do enjoy revenge.” Your head tilted as you pierced the skin slightly and you watched the steady stream of blood across her skin. “But using you to torture him is much more fun.”

You heard Fisk’s heavy footsteps behind you so you moved quickly. You quickly jumped to your feet and dragged Vanessa up with you, locking an arm around her throat while other held the tip of the knife against her sternum,

“Let her go, Y/N.” Fisk said carefully, hands out in front as if to soothe a wild animal. “She’s done nothing.”

“You consider Rahul Nadeem nothing?” You spoke sharply, pressing the knife a bit harder to hear a sharp gasp from Vanessa. “What do you say, hmm? A life for a life.”

“You don’t trade lives!”

“Исход делает.” You shrugged. (Exodus does.)

The loud shatter of glass beside you stole your attention for a second, but it was all Fisk needed. He yanked your hand away from his wife’s chest and pushed her away. With a tight grip on your wrist, he bent it back to point your own knife back at you. He backed you against the wall and you had to use your other hand to keep your own weapon away. His fingers locked around your own, not allowing you to drop your blade.

With a sly smile, you allowed your powers to reach out to the boys that came crashing through the window moments ago. You found that soft spot they both had for you, one was much easier to find than the other, and you yanked it to the surface. You projected a fear, a helplessness, while refusing to break eye contact with Fisk,

“You have no power here.” You said quietly as you heard the glass shifting. “You’ll lose.”

“Not until I’ve buried you.” He spoke roughly, pushing the knife again and you felt the tip poking through your suit and into your shoulder.

“I’m not afraid to die.”

You let your other hand drop and the knife pierced your shoulder completely with a sharp cry of pain. At the same time, two glass shards came flying in and punctured his abdomen. You offered a salute to Dex as a way of thanking him before Matt began an offense against him again. You turned back to Fisk as he pulled the bloody glass out.

You made a small noise of interest as you moved in, momentarily forgetting about the knife in you. You threw a sharp kick at the open wound and he cried out. You laughed slightly and kicked again. And again.

You reached forward and pressed your knuckles against the wound and watched the blood spurt across your hand. You pulled back and grabbed the man by his face, the other grabbing his shirtfront, and slammed him to the ground.

“You’re pathetic.” You sneered. “You’re nothing without your toys.”

You saw Dex fall from the corner of your eye and when you glanced, you saw him already locked in on Vanessa. You groaned to yourself and pushed off Fisk, hurrying up the stairs to yank Vanessa out of the way. The ceramic ashtray flew by your heads and shattered against the wall. You gripped Vanessa by her throat and threw her back against the plexiglass, leaning a knee into her chest to pin her down.

You turned back to the fight in time to see Fisk slam Dex into the corner of the brick. Your pressure on Vanessa eased slightly as something dropped heavy into the pit of your stomach. You shifted the glow to your Bites to blue and slid your knee over to allow a clearer shot to her chest.

Once Matt and Fisk found each other again, you hopped down the stairs and knelt on Dex’s chest. Your other foot pressed on his shoulder as you drew your gun. You pressed the barrel under his chin and he gasped for air beneath you.

Something was wrong. You knew it immediately, before you even got close to Dex. As your weight was bearing down on him, you were tense as you waited for a response. You waited for him to try and throw you off, to pull a knife or a gun of his own. You expected him to toss you around like a rag doll, only for you to come back at him relentlessly. But he did nothing…

“Fight back.” You demanded softly, your voice seemingly gone.

“Y/- Y/N.” He choked out.

The cold seemed to radiate from his chest and stick to the fabric pressed against him. There was regret, likely stemming from whatever injury the impact caused, and sadness. He truly had nothing and he finally understood that, laying on the ground with his former partner pressing a gun to his head.

“Dammit, Poindexter. Fight. Back”. You pressed the gun harder.

“Can’t.” He managed weakly.

You stood slowly, keeping a foot on his wrist and your gun aimed while the other hand hit your mask’s side button. You glanced over his body and saw the complete shatter of his vertebrae.

“You owe whatever pathetic life you have left to Ray… I won't offer this mercy again.” You said simply.

“Stop it, please!” Vanessa shouted desperately.

You turned quickly and saw Matt had Fisk on his knees and was pounding on him. You turned the aim of your gun on Vanessa and moved to stand beside Matt. Despite looking away from the woman, your gun stayed up as you faced Matt and yanked your blade from your shoulder.

His hands were positioned to finish it, to snap Fisk’s neck. You found yourself frozen in place as you waited for what he would do next. Part of you, the part manufactured from the Red Room, wanted to see him do it. You wanted to corrupt the Devil, to bloody his hands in a way he’d never clear.

But the more important part, the part you thought you had lost a long time ago, knew you didn’t want to see him do it. Seeing him do it would make it too real and it would change the way he saw himself and the way you would see him. The things that made him Matt Murdock would break if he did it.

Yet you did nothing. Not until he screamed. A sound of pure rage and agony that was paired with a blast of searing heat. Matt fell to his knees at your feet, reaching for your hand. But before he could take it, Fisk’s words drew your action.

“I will never stop hunting Karen Page or Foggy Nelson.” He warned, though there was defeat in his words.

You moved to stand in front of him and placed the gun against his forehead. He simply glared up at you, covered in his own blood. “I will tell the world who both of you really are.”

“I don’t care about the world.” You spat back, pressing your knee against his chest to knock him into the wall. You leaned your weight down and he coughed as the bony part of your leg dug into his sternum. “It has taken enough from me… You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Wilson.” Vanessa tried from the other end of the room.

“Vanessa, please go. Please!” He shouted around you.

You turned quickly and fired a shot at Vanessa’s feet, to which she jumped back and screamed. You pressed the now hot barrel back to its prior position as Matt got to his feet.

“You.. You want us to kill you.” Matt realized through heavy breaths. 

“No prison can keep me.” Fisk taunted and you had to grind your teeth. “You know that… Come on, kill me! Isn’t that what you always wanted, Exodus?”

Your trigger finger itched but Matt spoke before you could act.

“No!” Matt yelled in response. You made a face to yourself and knew you should pull the gun back you didn’t, not even when Matt came to your side to yell at Fisk. “God knows I want to, but you don’t get to destroy who I am.”

You almost smiled in relief, but the thump of worry lived in the back of your mind. You could feel Vanessa’s concern for Fisk, her worry that he would die in front of her. Her helplessness plagued you like a magnet to metal and for a moment, you remembered when you felt the same way.

When Luke dragged you to the elevator without Matt. When Fisk said Matt’s name in front of other agents.

“You will go back to prison and you will live the rest of your miserable life in a cage, knowing you’ll never have Vanessa. That this city rejected you, it beat you. We beat you!” Matt demanded and you were proud he found a way back to himself.

“You will keep our secrets.” You spoke simply, putting your gun away to yank the man to the ground. You flicked one of your shock discs at him and pressed a foot against his broad chest. You leaned into your foot and twisted to ensure the small circle engaged and he groaned loudly as you heard the electricity crackle while you leaned the entirety of your weight against him. Matt knelt beside you and lifted his mask before he spoke.

“And you won’t harm Karen Page or Foggy Nelson or anyone else.”

“If you try it, I will go after your wife. And I will prove that she ordered the murder of Agent Rahul Nadeem. And if she’s lucky, she’ll spend the rest of her life in a cell, same as her miserable excuse of a husband.”

You stepped off his chest and tapped Matt’s arm before taking a few steps away. Matt replaced his mask and came to your side as Vanessa inched closer, her uncertainty coming off in shaky waves.

“Thank you.” She said shakily, reaching for your hand.

“I didn’t do it for either of you.” You said sharply. “And I will not extend this mercy again, to any of you.”

She nodded quietly before moving away, leaving you to stand beside an unsteady Matt. His hands were on his head and he was radiating anger. He was mad at himself for not being able to go through with it, but he was also glad that he didn’t. He understood what the consequences would’ve been and he knew that keeping that part of himself was more important than revenge.

“You’re okay.” You said gently to your partner, a hand landing on his shoulder. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

“What if I didn’t?” He said weakly.

“We’re still in it together, Devil.” You shrugged. “Anyone comes after you, they come after me.”

“If I agree to your demands, you leave my wife alone.” Fisk countered, now kneeling beside Vanessa.

“You misunderstood me.” You warned. “There is no agreement. You have no leverage.”

“You leave Vanessa free!”

“You didn’t care about taking a father from a ten year old boy!” You shouted angrily, the sound of the bullet firing on Ray replaying in your head. Your anger burned down your spine and across your skin until it swelled in your palms, searing through the wound on your shoulder. “You took a husband away from his wife! Why should yours be free?”

“I was protecting the man I love.” Vanessa countered with false confidence, despite the darting eyes and trembling hands. “Could you tell me you don’t do the same?” She nodded to Matt though her eyes remained on you.

“I owe you people nothing. If it were up to me, you’d both be a puddle of your own blood right now.” You spat. “But I promised Ray I would do this the right way, and I promised the Devil I’d let him decide.”

Matt stepped forward and held a hand out to Fisk.

“If you keep your word.” He said simply.

Reluctantly, Fisk shook Matt’s hand. 

“Then it’s a deal.” He spoke bitterly, moments before the heavy banging came from the door.

“We should go.” You grabbed Matt’s arm lightly.

He nodded quietly before taking your hand. You two hurried up the stairs to the upper level and paused to see Brett enter with his team. You watched as they unmasked Dex and you weren’t fully listening to the words they were saying. You were distracted by the pained look on Dex’s face, what looked like tears in his eyes.

“Я оплакываю своего друга, который умер, когда ты надел этот костюм…” You said quietly, more to yourself than anything but you knew Matt heard. “Человек, которого я вижу сейчас, ничто.” (I mourn my friend, who died when you put on that suit… The man I see now is nothing.)

Matt grabbed your hand without a word and led you out the same way you two came in, avoiding cops until you made it to the rooftop. Through your lenses, you saw Fisk being shoved into the car and Foggy and Karen out in the courtyard.

You let out a small chuckle of relief when you could finally accept that you had won.

You, with Matt and Ray’s help, beat Wilson Fisk.

Again.