Slow Burn, Teammates/Rivals to FWB to Lovers but never admit it to enemies to lovers, eventual smut, Roy and Reader fight....a lot. Lian is dead (sorry), Will have good ending!
Longshot post but I'm genuinely so desperate at this point. IF ANYONE HAS THIS PLUSHIE OR KNOWS WHERE TO BUY ONE PLEASE LET ME KNOWđ ITS NOT AVAILABLE IN THE US AND I WILL PAY FOR IT PLUS SHIPPING PLUS EXTRA IF SOMEONE WILL SHIP IT TO MEđđ
I know this is probably going to be an out of the blue question. What marvel/dc characters do you think would use the devils lettuce? Whatever way it may come. Gummies, joints, baked into something or whatever way you can think of.
dc:
You cannot tell me that Dick Grayson does not, every once in a blue moon, indulge in some Rice Krispies, eat way too many, and then get so spooked from Ghost Adventures you have to calm him down on the couch and do deep breath exercises to keep him from greening out. And then to your exhaustion does it again a month from now.
Roy Harper is a connoisseur, I know itâhe has a whole collection of brownies and edibles and gummies that he keeps out of Lianâs line of sight or else heâs so cookedâhis favorite thing to do is to eat some gummies with you and zonk out on the couch with a bunch of Taco Bell
I totally believe that Clark Kent enjoys eating weed gummies simply because they have no effect on him. It used to be a neat party trick at college kickbacks but now he actually loves them. Is the best weed sitter because he never gets affected by them, always super comforting to you whenever u get a little too much
Zatanna loves making a joint every now and then and will also magically imbibe it for you so that the effects are a little more potent with none of the side effects, you cannot tell me otherwise hehe
marvel:
Peter Parker knows all the dispensaries all across New York and absolutely knows where to get the best deal for an ounce, so he always comes through with the best deals for you to smoke a joint and then hook up sloppy styleâŚ.who said that
Remy LeBeau is a tried and true expert; he knows everything that you would like or want and always has a joint tucked away in his jacket somewhere. Heâs always your plug with benefits whenever you want himâand you always want him
Steve Rogers didnât really have it accessible in his time, so now in the modern day bro lovessss to have a weed brownie. Not all the time but itâs just an indulgence for him he always has you babysit him with, just like an adorably muscular golden retriever, running your hands through his hair as you watch a war doc
Emma Frost loves a joint. Loves out smoking you so that she can press kissesâthat youâve already given permission forâall over your body. Saying how lovely you look as you kiss her sloppily back, your thoughts so much more radiant and open and hers
wellâŚâŚ..thatâs all I gotâŚâŚâŚ..adiosâŚ.
In my immense sleep deprived state, I have made some DC characters pokemon teams!! Hope you enjoy these while I work on chapter 4 of the Roy fic!
Each character will have a short little explanation on why I picked each mon
Characters Featured: Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Roy Harper/Arsenal, Selina Kyle/Catwoman, Wally West/The Flash, Barry Allen/ The Flash, Oliver Queen/Green Arrow, Harvey Dent/ Two Face, Oswald Cobblepot/ The Penguin, Eobard Thawne / Reverse Flash, Darius Chapel/Music Meister
There are a good amount of shinies, I see it as since these are superheroes/villains they're just built different cause I said so and have better shiny luck
|| DICK GRAYSON ||
Shiny Alolan Marowak - a pokemon drawn by grief, a young cubone approaches a grieving Dick not long after his parents died. Evolves into Marowak the night he goes on his first patrol as Nightwing. He matches his suit! Alolan marowaks dance to honor the ones they lost i like to think that Marowak will dance while Dick does acrobatic routines to clear his head and remember his parents. The bone also is similar to his batons
Hitmontop - skilled fighter with some goofy moves and fighting style a lot like dick
Riolu - his newest addition. determined to make dick proud he tries his hardests every patrol, he can often be seen mimicking dicks moves while he trains
Empoleon - really cool strong ass bird. formidable and powerful. Dick's ace, they fight incredibly well together
Swoobat - Dicks eyes in the sky on patrol and also a funny homage to Bruce, he found him as a woobat in the batcave with an injured wing and nursed him to health
Brionne - his starter and first pokemon as popplio, a gift from his parents before they passed. both outstanding circus acts now without a circus
|| Roy Harper || - this one is long he's my favorite apologies in advance LOL
Hisuian Decidueye - he got right after the forest fire that killed his father as a rowlett, so its him and little rowlet being raised on the res by big bow and it gives both of them their passion for archery
Lycanroc - was found by a young Roy as a rockruff that was sick while living on the res. he raised it and it evolved into the dusk form. a strange temperment mimicing Roy's and his struggle with his identity. An excellent partner that stays with him through and through
Spidops - From Roy's time on his own when struggling with addiction found as a tarontula in an abandoned house. Now, both Spidops and Roy thrive. Spidops shares its silk with Roy to help make special sticky arrows or will use his silk to create a high vantage point more accessible for a good shot. Shiny!
Meltan is an odd one. Roy is an excellent mind and engineer, fashioning gadgets of all kinds. Meltan eats metal. Roy would work all night on a project and wake up frustrated to find it corroded mysteriously or just gone. He later catches Meltan absorbing his work. Meltan hangs around, Roy dislikes him at first, but an understanding is made, and Roy shares his extra scap with Meltan and Meltan now knows the difference between which metals he is and isnt allowed to consume of Roy's
Cacturne - a sharpshooter with great aim just like Roy, it came to him already evolved as a gift from Ollie. It loves to watch Roy shoot his bow and likes to have little shooting competitions with him. Shiny so it matches his theme a bit
Roy is just as skilled in hand to hand combat as he is in archery, Hitmonlee he obtained to give himself a well rounded team with a guarantee his back will always be protected in close quarters if he's working alone
|| Selina Kyle ||
Shiny Suicune - she got from a trophy pokemon hunter that she was robbing and rescued. she's shiny because she mimics a diamond (selina being a jewel thief) and because the pokemon hunter specifically collected shinies to hunt.
She stumbled upon Shiny Alolan Meowth in an alley
Delcatty she's had since it was Skitty same with Liepard since it was Purrloin, they're bonded.
Umbreon - she rescued from an abuse situation from someone who wanted a sylveon and threw it out.
Purugly - her first she's had since she was a child that she grew up with when it was a Glammeow
|| Wally West ||
Boltund - his starter as a yamper, its shiny, feels kid flash coded and evolves to Boltund when he takes on the Flash mantle showing his growth and speed
Toxricitry cause hes cool and i think wally with an amped one of those is fun
Dedenne - cause bro is always eating with that speedster metabolism, dedenne eats with him and fits the electric type theme
Scrafty - his pre speedster pokemon that was a family pokemon he ended up taking with him. Scrafty also eats with him a lot and carries snacks for him and wally almost always. i like to think wally had a big appetite even before he became a speedster
Luxray - for speed and because its cool - debated shiny for the yellow but eh i like the regular
Raikou - speed and electric type theme, definitely feel like this is a speed force type find. wally gets a cool legendary because im biased and hes my favorite flash and thats one of my favorite legendaries
|| Barry Allen ||
Shiny Heliolisk - found him as a Helioptile and LOVED Barry because his suit matched him and now theyre like best buds
Zebstrika - speed and power, was his starter as Blitzle
Galarian Zapdos - Big bird that runs and is vaguely flash suit colored lol, also fits the type theme. Think it will just look sick af running next to Barry.
Alolan Raichu - Got as a Pikachu right after becoming a speedster, Alolan variant cause its fun - and also for something I do with Eobard's mons
Kilowatrel - Electric type bird that looked cool and fast
Pinurchin - acts a bit as a reminder to slow down, or can work when Barry is running laps around a villain, they get confused, step back and boom pinurchin is there and stuns them. Barry is fond of him
|| Oliver Queen ||
Serperior - Fast, sleek, stealthy. Ollie has had her since she was just a Snivy. She's just as cocky as him too
Decidueye - An archer, just like Roy. Has clashing personalities with Roy's Decidueye. As calm as a steady bow, Ollie's Decidueye is the quiet stealthy calm of a fight and never misses a shot. He sent him to track a young Roy and his Rowlett down after being pickpocketed and recruited the boy as his ward
Gogoat - Fast mover and great climber, Gogoat opens a path for Ollie to travel and always provides a place to get a clear shot
Leafeon - More of a companion pokemon, but still a great fighter. Fits the grass theme. Spoiled rotten and does not like Hal Jordan
Kecleon - Freeloader is what Ollie calls him. Hangs around and gets fed and attention. Would hide anytime Ollie tried to kick it out, so he just gave up and let him stay. Once ate Ollie's chili and turned bright red for a week
Meganium - The aroma of the flower can help Ollie focus in battle and ensure he hits his shot, no matter how much stress he is in.
I feel grass types fit Ollie best due to his personality and his political views that center around protecting the environment and just other good things
|| Harvey Dent || - this one is short he was one of the first ones i made sorry lol
Most of these are two face themed, pokemon he got after the attack.
Before when he was still district attorney he just had Houndoom (started as houndour a childhood pokemon)
Noctowl he got sometime during law school, probably while up late studying one night.
The others all have either a second head or a more "nasty" side to them and I don't really much of a reasoning other than I like those pokemon and can see them on his team. Hydreigon is his team's ace
|| Oswald Cobblepot ||
bird themed team
Eiscue - its a penguin and mainly hangs out at the iceberg lounge
Corviknight - a mobility aid for him for travel and to leave quickly from crime scenes and evade batman
I like to think he grew up in an area with a lot of rufflets/braviary and he found vullaby and was bullied for it (braviary and mandibuzz are natural rivals) as a child on top of the bullying for being smaller than everyone and hes very fond of his Mandibuzz now, definitely who he has had the longest. His team's ace.
Talonflame, Swellow, Pidgeot - I like to think Oswald just likes birds, these are strong and fast and often occompany his thugs to keep them in line
|| Eobard Thawne ||
Everything he does is to spite Barry Allen. Multiple shinies because he specifically picked them and searched far and wide all throughout time for the ones he deemed the best
Mimikyu - His first pokemon, the one he had when first met Barry who's Raichu was just a pikachu. Eobard hates Barry, Mimikyu hates Raichu. The two have a strong bond
Shiny Arbok - His first pokemon he gets when he dons the Reverse Flash mantle, the one that started his hunt for shinies. Eobard's Arbok is as cruel as him, often showing extreme excitement when Eobard takes hostages
Shiny Golem - Electric is weak to ground type. Eobard wanted large and immovable no matter how fast its opponent was moving
Shiny Onix - Extreme strength and size but still incredibly fast. This Onix is wild and aggressive and not even Eobard wants to stand in its path when a fight is on
Shiny Donphan - Same premise as Golem with added large tusks to do more damage and impale
Regirock - don't even ask me how he got his hands on Regirock. He's a determined man
|| Darius Chapel ||
All music themed except Meowstic which is for the mind control aspect. Female Meowstic are known to use its psychic abilities to play pranks when it doesn't get its way, i feel like it matches Darius' personality well in that since
Jigglypuff - pretty obvious reasoning for this one
Loudred - Loud sound amplification. Chose over Exploud just cause I like the look, will probably evolve into Exploud anytime soon
Chatot - for the music and ability to carry a tune. Incredible at mimicking human voices, works well to spread what Darius wants to say. He loves to talk
Squakabilly - for its loud noise, i like to think they can mimic like normal parrots and chatot and can also be used for loud broadcasting
Meloetta - he caught because he was amazed by its voice, it is his most prized pokemon and almost nerver makes it fight in fear of straining its vocal chords, it is reserved for performances almost entirely
That's all I've got done right now! May end up doing some more!!
In my immense sleep deprived state, I have made some DC characters pokemon teams!! Hope you enjoy these while I work on chapter 4 of the Roy fic!
Each character will have a short little explanation on why I picked each mon
Characters Featured: Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Roy Harper/Arsenal, Selina Kyle/Catwoman, Wally West/The Flash, Barry Allen/ The Flash, Oliver Queen/Green Arrow, Harvey Dent/ Two Face, Oswald Cobblepot/ The Penguin, Eobard Thawne / Reverse Flash, Darius Chapel/Music Meister
There are a good amount of shinies, I see it as since these are superheroes/villains they're just built different cause I said so and have better shiny luck
|| DICK GRAYSON ||
Shiny Alolan Marowak - a pokemon drawn by grief, a young cubone approaches a grieving Dick not long after his parents died. Evolves into Marowak the night he goes on his first patrol as Nightwing. He matches his suit! Alolan marowaks dance to honor the ones they lost i like to think that Marowak will dance while Dick does acrobatic routines to clear his head and remember his parents. The bone also is similar to his batons
Hitmontop - skilled fighter with some goofy moves and fighting style a lot like dick
Riolu - his newest addition. determined to make dick proud he tries his hardests every patrol, he can often be seen mimicking dicks moves while he trains
Empoleon - really cool strong ass bird. formidable and powerful. Dick's ace, they fight incredibly well together
Swoobat - Dicks eyes in the sky on patrol and also a funny homage to Bruce, he found him as a woobat in the batcave with an injured wing and nursed him to health
Brionne - his starter and first pokemon as popplio, a gift from his parents before they passed. both outstanding circus acts now without a circus
|| Roy Harper || - this one is long he's my favorite apologies in advance LOL
Hisuian Decidueye - he got right after the forest fire that killed his father as a rowlett, so its him and little rowlet being raised on the res by big bow and it gives both of them their passion for archery
Lycanroc - was found by a young Roy as a rockruff that was sick while living on the res. he raised it and it evolved into the dusk form. a strange temperment mimicing Roy's and his struggle with his identity. An excellent partner that stays with him through and through
Spidops - From Roy's time on his own when struggling with addiction found as a tarontula in an abandoned house. Now, both Spidops and Roy thrive. Spidops shares its silk with Roy to help make special sticky arrows or will use his silk to create a high vantage point more accessible for a good shot. Shiny!
Meltan is an odd one. Roy is an excellent mind and engineer, fashioning gadgets of all kinds. Meltan eats metal. Roy would work all night on a project and wake up frustrated to find it corroded mysteriously or just gone. He later catches Meltan absorbing his work. Meltan hangs around, Roy dislikes him at first, but an understanding is made, and Roy shares his extra scap with Meltan and Meltan now knows the difference between which metals he is and isnt allowed to consume of Roy's
Cacturne - a sharpshooter with great aim just like Roy, it came to him already evolved as a gift from Ollie. It loves to watch Roy shoot his bow and likes to have little shooting competitions with him. Shiny so it matches his theme a bit
Roy is just as skilled in hand to hand combat as he is in archery, Hitmonlee he obtained to give himself a well rounded team with a guarantee his back will always be protected in close quarters if he's working alone
|| Selina Kyle ||
Shiny Suicune - she got from a trophy pokemon hunter that she was robbing and rescued. she's shiny because she mimics a diamond (selina being a jewel thief) and because the pokemon hunter specifically collected shinies to hunt.
She stumbled upon Shiny Alolan Meowth in an alley
Delcatty she's had since it was Skitty same with Liepard since it was Purrloin, they're bonded.
Umbreon - she rescued from an abuse situation from someone who wanted a sylveon and threw it out.
Purugly - her first she's had since she was a child that she grew up with when it was a Glammeow
|| Wally West ||
Boltund - his starter as a yamper, its shiny, feels kid flash coded and evolves to Boltund when he takes on the Flash mantle showing his growth and speed
Toxricitry cause hes cool and i think wally with an amped one of those is fun
Dedenne - cause bro is always eating with that speedster metabolism, dedenne eats with him and fits the electric type theme
Scrafty - his pre speedster pokemon that was a family pokemon he ended up taking with him. Scrafty also eats with him a lot and carries snacks for him and wally almost always. i like to think wally had a big appetite even before he became a speedster
Luxray - for speed and because its cool - debated shiny for the yellow but eh i like the regular
Raikou - speed and electric type theme, definitely feel like this is a speed force type find. wally gets a cool legendary because im biased and hes my favorite flash and thats one of my favorite legendaries
|| Barry Allen ||
Shiny Heliolisk - found him as a Helioptile and LOVED Barry because his suit matched him and now theyre like best buds
Zebstrika - speed and power, was his starter as Blitzle
Galarian Zapdos - Big bird that runs and is vaguely flash suit colored lol, also fits the type theme. Think it will just look sick af running next to Barry.
Alolan Raichu - Got as a Pikachu right after becoming a speedster, Alolan variant cause its fun - and also for something I do with Eobard's mons
Kilowatrel - Electric type bird that looked cool and fast
Pinurchin - acts a bit as a reminder to slow down, or can work when Barry is running laps around a villain, they get confused, step back and boom pinurchin is there and stuns them. Barry is fond of him
|| Oliver Queen ||
Serperior - Fast, sleek, stealthy. Ollie has had her since she was just a Snivy. She's just as cocky as him too
Decidueye - An archer, just like Roy. Has clashing personalities with Roy's Decidueye. As calm as a steady bow, Ollie's Decidueye is the quiet stealthy calm of a fight and never misses a shot. He sent him to track a young Roy and his Rowlett down after being pickpocketed and recruited the boy as his ward
Gogoat - Fast mover and great climber, Gogoat opens a path for Ollie to travel and always provides a place to get a clear shot
Leafeon - More of a companion pokemon, but still a great fighter. Fits the grass theme. Spoiled rotten and does not like Hal Jordan
Kecleon - Freeloader is what Ollie calls him. Hangs around and gets fed and attention. Would hide anytime Ollie tried to kick it out, so he just gave up and let him stay. Once ate Ollie's chili and turned bright red for a week
Meganium - The aroma of the flower can help Ollie focus in battle and ensure he hits his shot, no matter how much stress he is in.
I feel grass types fit Ollie best due to his personality and his political views that center around protecting the environment and just other good things
|| Harvey Dent || - this one is short he was one of the first ones i made sorry lol
Most of these are two face themed, pokemon he got after the attack.
Before when he was still district attorney he just had Houndoom (started as houndour a childhood pokemon)
Noctowl he got sometime during law school, probably while up late studying one night.
The others all have either a second head or a more "nasty" side to them and I don't really much of a reasoning other than I like those pokemon and can see them on his team. Hydreigon is his team's ace
|| Oswald Cobblepot ||
bird themed team
Eiscue - its a penguin and mainly hangs out at the iceberg lounge
Corviknight - a mobility aid for him for travel and to leave quickly from crime scenes and evade batman
I like to think he grew up in an area with a lot of rufflets/braviary and he found vullaby and was bullied for it (braviary and mandibuzz are natural rivals) as a child on top of the bullying for being smaller than everyone and hes very fond of his Mandibuzz now, definitely who he has had the longest. His team's ace.
Talonflame, Swellow, Pidgeot - I like to think Oswald just likes birds, these are strong and fast and often occompany his thugs to keep them in line
|| Eobard Thawne ||
Everything he does is to spite Barry Allen. Multiple shinies because he specifically picked them and searched far and wide all throughout time for the ones he deemed the best
Mimikyu - His first pokemon, the one he had when first met Barry who's Raichu was just a pikachu. Eobard hates Barry, Mimikyu hates Raichu. The two have a strong bond
Shiny Arbok - His first pokemon he gets when he dons the Reverse Flash mantle, the one that started his hunt for shinies. Eobard's Arbok is as cruel as him, often showing extreme excitement when Eobard takes hostages
Shiny Golem - Electric is weak to ground type. Eobard wanted large and immovable no matter how fast its opponent was moving
Shiny Onix - Extreme strength and size but still incredibly fast. This Onix is wild and aggressive and not even Eobard wants to stand in its path when a fight is on
Shiny Donphan - Same premise as Golem with added large tusks to do more damage and impale
Regirock - don't even ask me how he got his hands on Regirock. He's a determined man
|| Darius Chapel ||
All music themed except Meowstic which is for the mind control aspect. Female Meowstic are known to use its psychic abilities to play pranks when it doesn't get its way, i feel like it matches Darius' personality well in that since
Jigglypuff - pretty obvious reasoning for this one
Loudred - Loud sound amplification. Chose over Exploud just cause I like the look, will probably evolve into Exploud anytime soon
Chatot - for the music and ability to carry a tune. Incredible at mimicking human voices, works well to spread what Darius wants to say. He loves to talk
Squakabilly - for its loud noise, i like to think they can mimic like normal parrots and chatot and can also be used for loud broadcasting
Meloetta - he caught because he was amazed by its voice, it is his most prized pokemon and almost nerver makes it fight in fear of straining its vocal chords, it is reserved for performances almost entirely
That's all I've got done right now! May end up doing some more!!
a/n: second fic for the 700 Followers Event! I love writing fucked up love triangles so this was a delight :]
cw: sexual acts/18+ ONLY, noncon/dubcon, involuntary voyeurism, groping of reader to climax (ambiguous gentalia), use of cupcake/sweetheart/honey, description of fight, gn!reader (no description of features/clothing)
masterlist ao3 requests
PREVIEW:
You're in the know of everything that happens in New York's underbelly, which means that Matt Murdock seeks you out in the dayâand Bullseye seeks you out in the night.
What you don't expect is for both of these worlds to collide with fearful symmetry.
Matt Murdock/Reader/Bullseye (18+)
Anyone who knows where to find good intel knows that your office is a must. The term 'office' is certainly a stretch by any nature of the definition, but it's important to categorize holes in the walls, much as is yours.
After all, your hole in the walls is one of many important nexus that rotate through the galaxy that New York City operates under. It is one of those hidden libraries of Alexandria that is mobile. That is, in the sense that what is important is not the housing of the archiveâbut the person that hosts it.
Namelyâyou. You, who sits behind your desk with a laptop that is mere window dressing to the main accoutrement of the shabby bottom floor studio that you pay with the landlord who knows to look the other way. After allâhe owes you a favor. You've helped him out, as you have most everyone who walks through your door in some way, shape or form.
Such as the figure that walks through the door with a good-natured smile as he guides the blunt-end of his cane through the threshold, making way into your space. Not that you needed his presence to notify you of himâhe treads lightly, but never light enough in the creaky hallway that precedes your corner office.
(Two windows on different corners, two exitsâbetter that way.)
He's certainly the most well-dressed of your clients, well-to-do enough that he can blend in enough with the rabble that intersect and crowd the streets surrounding your building. And he's one of the better-looking, tooâthough this does nothing to relax the adrenaline that he summons through the humdrum of your regular routine.
This is why, even though he's unable to see you when you rise from the well-kept office chair you sit behind your deskâyou find your footing all the same and go to meet him.
"Good morning, Mr. Murdock." You say, making way to the door so that you can close it firmly behind you both. It takes a little give to settle into the jamb given the old age of the accoutrements, but it settles in all the same. You twist the lock with an inwards rotation of the wristâand then you can get to brass tacks.
Your first client of the day smiles and places his hands on his cane as he awaits for you to bequeath him with your full attention.
"Good morning." He greets, and his voice is steady and sure as the two feet that he stands uponâsometimes, you theorize that the cane is just pretty window dressing for the man that bears it.
But this seems rude to voice aloud, so you keep it an inside thought. You cross once more back to the desk that your laptop rests uponâone of your more expensive paperweights. Anything of worth is stored in the mental hard drive.
"Got anything for me?" He asks; the typical prologue to any conversation between the two of you. That smile remains evergreen on his face as he looks in your general direction.
You find your hands crossing over the seam of your slacks that meet the junction of your legs. You take repose on the edge of your desk as you try to ignore the rigidity that is lacing through the sinew of your body at the inquiry.
"Depends on what the asking price is that you're offering." You supply readily to him. After all, he's not one of your usual clientele, who scatter into the darkness of the streets when you're done with them. He returns to his gilded towersâand all the powers that be that come with them.
You're aptly reminded of this when he replies with casual wit, "The best I can give you is the knowledge that you did a civic duty and you're upholding the inner workings of society."
You humph against the full of your lipsâwondering if this is something characteristic that all lawyers choose to operate by. Unsettling beneath the skin to coax out something of meat.
"Something a little more material, Mr. Murdock." You assert in perfunctory reply to him. His smile grows at the fact that you aren't willing to provide without tĂŞte-Ă -tĂŞte. "I can't let the city know I have a bleeding heart for free."
And you're not for freeâand Mr. Murdock should know that best of all. If you provide information sterling in its worth, then he must provide something of equal value.
And this is why you lock the door when he comes. And this is why he arrives during the day, inclining his head at ready angle as he raises a thumb to scratch the underside of his nose.
"Then it would behoove you to know that Mr. Carpathia of such-and-such is going to a parole hearingâ"âYou catch a glimpse of Mr. Murdock's eyes behind those opaque red lenses and feel a sense of the uncannyâ"âAnd he is not going to get out."
You mull over this kernel of information that at least twenty different people in the Irish Mafia will pay through the nose to know a week in advanceâand think of the ripple effect that it will have thousandfold upon all the inner workings of the city that never sleeps.
You don't have much time afforded to stow it away before Mr. Murdock allows the lapse in moral judgement. He straightens to full height again, which is impressive acreage over you even from where he has taken sporting stance at.
"At least, that's what the ear kept low to the ground is telling me." Matt says, and his smile takes on crooked quality. Another street rat that doesn't have the privilege of stable office for their services. "Is that of something that's of interest to people?"
"It certainly is. I'll be sure to pass that along to the necessary parties." You're already mentally recounting the different avenues that you will have to pass along this information through corridors and alleyways and word-of-mouth as your fingers amble across the acreage of the desk you lean on. They don't pause until they reach the Manila envelope that sits at the corner and fold it under the crook of your bent arm.
"And here isâ"âYou cross over to Mr. Murdock, who is already holding out a free hand that doesn't wield his cane like noble sword to his causeâ"âSomething that might be of interest to you."
He makes a close-lipped laugh that is low in invocation as he looks at the envelope impressed with brailleâone of your finer touches. Quality is manifested in manners you ensure for all clients, no matter how high their rung their ladder goes.
"Oh, and how well-blessed I am to have someone like you in my retainer." Mr. Murdock informs you as he smiles from parcel to passee. You find an eyebrow involuntarily cocking up, though he lacks faculties to notice it.
"To be a retainer would mean that I was employed under you, Mr. Murdock." You correct his wording, ever-true to the spirit of the freelancer. You don't note how your conversational partner valiantly resists a facial reaction at your choice of words. You're already turning back to lean on the desk that is your retreat of kingly reclination.
"Which," You cross your arms back upon your chest, battening your hatches down, "I am not."
"Yes, because that would be breaching all types of moral and ethical standardsâ"âMatt shifts from one foot to another as he philosophizesâ"âThat sharing information about the criminal underbelly of New York would otherwise undercut."
"Exactly. You understand." You offer dryly as you always do when Mr. Murdock waxes poetic.
"Then is colleagues better?" One of the corners of his mouth turns up in genial interest. You shake your head though he will not notice.
"Too familiar still by half, Mr. Murdock." You tut, trying your best to delay the dangerous avenue that this conversation is approaching.
"Then how about partners in crime?" He inquiresâstill yet to find departure from your humble accommodations.
"Just as long as it stays the collegial type of partner, Mr. Murdock." You correct, offering ample clarification for the handsome lawyer that stands before you. "You're too squeaky clean for me."
"Ah, shame." Mr. Murdock inclines his head to the hardwood in over-exaggerated disappointment. "Here I was hoping I'd be able to take you to candlelit dinner."
You don't resist the laugh that tumbles from your lips at his jape. "Maybe you should go for stand-up if lawyering doesn't work out for you."
He smiles, though you don't know if he's pleased at your amusement. He's quite interesting, this Mr. Murdock. "I'll be sure to let you know."
There's only one other client that you find yourself needing to lock the door for. This is not due to your desire to ever be in closed-quarters with him, but due to necessity. The knowledge that Mr. Murdock the Lawyer seeks out your services would be a blow to your business, but one that you'd recover from.
If people knew that Bullseye sought you out on regular basis, you'd lose all your customers overnight. And the problem with him in contrast to Mr. Murdock is clear. While Mr. Murdock always provides auditory precipitation of his visitsâBullseye never does.
You're only given notification of his appearances when the door closes shut; never loudly, but audible enough to garner your attention. You look up to see Bullseye filling up the doorframe on the other side of the door, watching you with a smile similar to predator finding prey directly in their sights.
This time, he seems to be in quite excellent spirits, as his fingers turn the lock of the doorknob shutâshutting you both in, together. He allows you to admire the visual capability of his physical might, all lethal sinew, from where you sit behind your deskâthe only obstacle between he and you.
"Evening, cupcake." He says, and the darkness from your outside windows settle upon him with nefarious Stygian quality. He takes one step towards you that, were it anyone else, would be benign. With him, it is carnivorous.
"Evening, Bullseye." you greet. A client is a client, no matter what else they may do when they depart your office. "What can I do for you?"
He's at the edge of your desk within few rapacious steps. His eyes have yet to ever part from the distinguishment of your form. He's smilingâa bad sign.
"Isn't it what can I do you for?" He asksâharangued by the particularities of semantics. Also a bad sign.
"Not with you." You return back with neutral quality. He doesn't appear dissuaded by the professional veneer. He leans a rather trim hip on the desk's shoulder to allow you to purview every muscle the profile of his body can sport.
"Breaks my heart when you say that." He returns back with glib candidness. "What's a guy gotta do to get a chance?"
For some reason, you find the late hour eroding your sense of proprietyâthe echoes of your conversation with Mr. Murdock return back to you in odd parallel.
You ask him with wry delivery, "Are you a fan of candlelit dinners and moonlit walks on the beach?"
The joke is not lost on himâhe chuckles, an unkind noise. His eyes are still absolutely fixated upon you. "For the right person, I might be."
Danger, Will Robinson. Tread ever-so-lightly. You cock your head at himâas if in effort to emulate human behavior, he mirrors you, almost a mockery of the act.
"Isn't there something you're supposed to be here for?" You inquire, narrowing your eyes to clarified quality. Anything to ensure that Bullseye leaves posthaste.
"Can't I be here for two things at once?" His voice is silken as he knuckles his broad fist onto the surface of your desk. There is a flex in the tendon of his arm and you watch the column of unadulterated strength that rests so casually.
"I only want you to be here for one thing." You say, skirting in the limited harbor of Bullseye's patience. "Which would beâ?"
At this, you tilt your head at him, prompting him to provide the question that appears to be on his lips. He's still smiling as he asks you with pert enthusiasm, "Where's Vincenzo?"
"What're you going to give me?" You ask calmlyânot with the same pressing need that you required for Mr. Murdock. You and Bullseye come from the same social shoalâthis means that you speak the same language.
"Some sugar for sugarâ"âHe can't resist the jibe as he produces a thick envelope in familiar rectangular shape to your awaiting hands. You ignore the way that his calloused finger feels as it brushes against your hands, allowing you time to check the contents and confirm proper number. It is, as always, abundant.
"You have any other gentleman callers?" Bullseye asks as you are mid-countâyour eyes dart up to him in mild bemusement. This is a question that he should already know the answer to.
"Why?" You ask in monotone deadpan. "You worried I'm stepping out on you?"
"Noâ"âHe makes over-exaggerated sniff. Part of you wonders if it's just for show or, if like the apex predator he is, he can actually make olfactory distinctionâ"âJust smells like Italian leather and Catholic guilt in here."
Accusingly, his eyes alight back down to yours and his smile seems to widen. He's awaiting your answer, and Bullseye is not one to be kept waiting. You manage to keep even-keeled as you so always doâthough your thoughts are in recollection back to the lawyer that you attended to in the shelter of the day.
"That would be me reconsidering my life of crime." You return with enough sarcasm to sell it.
"Heaven forbid." He returns, putting disgusted, affronted hand to the span of his chest. "I like you too much in the shadows with me."
From the way that you are given spectacular display of his teeth, you know that he's telling the truth. You're unsure if you're happy about this or not.
"Hear anything on the street lately about Bullseye?" Mr. Murdock asks you later in the week on a crisp, colder Thursday. You find yourself caught in unexpected crosshairs as you look up to the lawyerâthough he lacks sight, it seems as though he's able to perceive you with unnatural quality.
Though this is untrue. Mr. Murdock hasn't seen an iota on the color spectrum since he was 12 years oldâyou know that because you read it with your own two eyes.
This is why you regulate your breathing, why you engage in the particulars of keeping absolutely still as though you are looking down the barrel of the person that he speaks ofâand not the person that he absolutely isn't. Mr. Murdock, it seems, is barking up trees that he shouldn't.
Your voice is of absolute restraint, of careful, genteel mannerism. You interlock your hands underneath your chin and lean onto them. Your voice is of reticent articulation as you speak.
"Who hasn't heard anything about Bullseye?" You ask, and then tilt your head downwards, staring up at that chiseled jaw through the fan of your eyelashes. "Why do you want to know?"
Mr. Murdock is supremely calm as he shrugs, a slow, deliberate movement restrained by the fine down-layered jacket that he's come wearing to visit.
"I'm looking for his whereabouts as of late." Mr. Murdock replies with gentility in his voice. As though he is aware of the dangerous waters that is wading intoâwhen you know he knows anything but.
He leans forward. He's not daring into the territory of your desk, but circumventing closer than ever before.
"And considering that you know where everyone who's anyone isâ"âThose opaque crimson lenses flash with the reflection of the muggy day outsideâ"âI figured you would know best."
You offer a chirruping laugh that tumbles out of your lips, assessing the lawyer in new light. Not necessarily better lightâbut stupider one, for certain.
"Looking to hire him out, Mr. Murdock?" You ask, and try to keep the amused quality out of your voice, so as not to scare off your customer of the hour.
"Matt." He correctsâyou pause in cautious meter.
"Excuse me?" You ask, interrupting the brief silence that elapses tight between you both.
"We've worked together so longâ"âIt's almost cavalier for Mr. Murdock how he tries to forego this carefully set boundaryâ"âI assumed that we would enjoy using our given names."
How very Catholic of him to assume so. How very indecent and scandalous of him to try and dare forward over this.
"That assumes I keep you around for your good looks," you return, informing him of a truth that he's certain to be somewhat aware ofâ"âInstead of our quid pro quo relationship."
"Shameâ"âYour rejection does little to abash his prospectsâ"âI had hoped it could be both."
How very interesting, that he's not solo in the running. You wonder what Bullseye would think were he witness to this vaudeville of sortsâyou do your best to chase these thoughts from the foreground of your mind.
It's also time to provide your client with response, lest he assume that your silence is purview for something wholly more inviting. You clear your throatâsomething better to provide as prelude to your response.
"I prefer currency to monogamy, Mr. Murdock." You inform him. You duck your head out of courtesy for the mild awkwardness of the situation. "I'll be your person in the chair for now."
Lines redrawn, lines resetâall in a day's work. Mr. Murdock isn't used to failure, though, it seemsâall this does is provide ammunition for his next line of attack.
"As well as Bullseye's person, too?" He's curious, but there's a touch of playfulness that interwoven into the means that he asks. He's askingâbut he's testing you at once. A two-fold attack.
"I have many clients, Mr. Murdock. If Bullseye happens to be one of themâ"âFor the particulars of plausible deniability, you make sure to emphasize 'happens' with prominenceâ"âI can't risk client confidentiality."
Mr. Murdock is so very barrister-like in approach as he advances. "So he is one of yours."
"If he wasâ"âYou stare down the smoking revolver that has yet to fire another warning shot into the airâ"âHe'd be one of hundreds."
You provide nothing more. The defense cannot progress with lack of evidence, or prior assumption. You know that there's nothing that he'd be able to leap upon with steadfast capability.
"Now is there anything else I can help you with?" You ask, making it clear that this boulevard of conversation is concluded.
"In case you consider otherwiseâ"âMr. Murdock, it appears, is one to take multiple defeats with good cheer that otherwise may not behoove himâ"âTake this."
It's a fluid, expert motion providing an embossed business card you've seen in the hands of many different charity cases, clutched in the grip of someone on their hard luck. Though, it is a sight to see it in between forefinger and thumb of the originator as he holds it out to you.
Best not to keep a blind man waitingâyou reach out to take the business card of Murdock and Nelson. You only offer it cursory glance before you glance back up to Mr. Murdock with dubious quality.
"I know my way to your law firm, Mr. Murdock." You inform him. How could you not know an address that the many martyrs of New York City have crawled to in their vaunted desperation?
"Yesâjust in case you forget." Mr. Murdock says, his statement veiled in everything that he means to say, yet doesn't. "Or you'd like to pay me a visit."
The smile that he gives you is almost knightly, chivalrous. The champion at tourney seeking who best to bestow his token of affection upon.
"Subtle, Mr. Murdock." You state, unsure of what to think of these continuous developments. Perhaps a search for another soul to impart redemption upon.
"Something a good lawyer always prides themselves on." He returns, never one to be failing in the matter of humor.
"And what does Matt Murdock pride himself on?" You ask. Were he less honorable, you're certain he would provide you with a bevy of inappropriate answersâagain, your mind harkens back to your client of the night.
Matt's smile is enigmatic in angle as he looks to you. "His ability to be an excellent conversationalist."
You can't help but laugh as he gives you a smile paired with nod of his head, and makes his departure to the door.
"You're a hot commodity, Bullseye." You assert to him as you stand on the other side of the desk, perched as you lean back upon the ledge of your window. You never find yourself sitting in Bullseye's company if you can help itâfor some reason, it feels more to your beneficence if you sit in one of the sole means of escape.
"Oh? By who?" Bullseye asks. He's running the edge of his nails over the fringe of a wicked bladeâwhen his eyes find you, you swallow involuntary shiver that seems to be summoned by instinct. His eyes are so very bright even in the dearth of light in the office at this late hour.
"Anyone I know?" He asks, adjusting his posture from where he sits on the your desk's edge. You don't swallow, show hesitation at this next part that you must progress to. It would permit him too of much the upper hand.
"You brush shoulders with Murdock the lawyer?" You ask, already expecting the tick that his jaw sets, the way that his eyes narrow in disharmonious squint upon you. Less desirable is the way that he straightens up from the table and begins to make treacherous roundabout the desk towards you.
"Not unless I like scrubbing the sleaze off me." He says, making his disgust with aforementioned character quite clear. "Why? He giving you trouble?"
There's a momentary flash of emotion that will otherwise remain indiscernible, lacking introspection until you have the time to process it laterâa heat of sensation that thrills up the length of your body.
"Are you offering protection?" You ask, leaning back on the ledge. The breeze ghosts through the room and settles in cool manner upon you both. "I'm flattered."
"Protection comes at a fee, sugar." Bullseye continues, not one to miss a beatâor to bestow you with the nickname that he's become fond of regaling with you as of late.
He's closer now, within the meridian of few paces between you and he when he pauses. Puts a hand on the supple v of his hips, regards you carefully. "What're you willing to give me if I do?"
"If I need itâ"âYou give him testy look that only encourages the spread of that smile to bloom againâ"âWhich I don'tâI'm only passing along information as best I can."
You straighten up, maintaining your posture to something of rigid demeanor to convince him of the bearings of your words. He makes a noise that you would qualify as affectionate, and makes the distance between you smaller with another step towards you.
"Looking out for me, sweetheart?" His teeth are in perfect manufacturing in the setting of his smile. "Thought you didn't like me."
"I don't have to like you to want you to be safe." You reply, making the bearing of your words very very impartial indeed. He takes another step forward before he produces the bladeâand this is when you realize that you yourself are wandering away from the oasis of this carefully crafted desert you have isolated yourself upon.
"Seeâthat's the thing about killing peopleâ"âYou admire him in double from enunciated reflection of the refracted bladeâ"âYou learn the tells."
You make a noise of derision at his choice of words. "Kill me? I thought you liked me more than that."
He holds up a hand with the one that doesn't wield the blade in manner of virtuoso. His face is patient as he informs you. "Easy, sweetheartâthere's a lesson in here if you listen."
He dares closer, knowing that although this is your territoryâit becomes his to rule roost over whenever he takes residence in it. As you know when the tip of the honed blade approaches and you look at the reflection of your eyes staring back, blankâscared.
"Knowing your way around a body tells you," Bullseye coos, reminding yourself that you must will yourself to look back at himâ"âIf someone's a crier, a screamerâa groaner."
The blade is centimeters from the apple of your cheek, but you don't reward it so much an additional side glance.
"And what's the tell for me, Bullseye?" You ask, knowing what he desires for you to ask of him.
He chuckles, a deep, masculine noiseâyou can taste the whiff of cheap cologne that he wearsâpart of you idly wonders if he wore it for the occasion of darkening your doorstep.
His eyes don't move in erring from you once as he says, "I know you're a moaner."
He's not talking about torture.
You are so very painstakingly dispassionate as you reply to him, "I could've sworn you were here for something other than wasting my time?"
He laughsâand again, it's a cruel, merciless noise. You wonder who has had the particular pleasure of being before him with the blade held before them in such fearful symmetryâand heard this sound.
"With me, babyâ"âHe informs you, and the laugh has not reached his eyesâ"âIt's never a waste."
When he leaves, you can still feel his eyes on you.
It's a few days later when you've officially closed up shop for the nightâthe door is open, but the late hour should denote that your services are at rest. You're packing away all of the necessary baubles that you stow away with on the journey home when you hear it. There's the familiar inflection of footsteps that inform you that someone is arriving in procedure of your office.
You look up for a secondâthere's a voice in your mind that informs you that Mr. Murdock is approaching, as delineated by the tempo that familiar steps are made in rhythm of.
"Mr. Murdock," You assert as you open up your messenger bag, staring into the abyss of the leather folds as you tuck in your laptop, "Isn't it past yourâ"
You glance up and freeze. It should stand to reason, you assume, that the late nighttime hour has eroded your ability to be able to determine client from clientâfor you have never seen this person that stands on display in the doorway, watching you.
You've only ever seen him on shaky video feeds or by the fearful hearsay. Your mind draws blissful, suspended blank as you find yourself finally staring upon him in the flesh in the raw flesh.
"Not quite," Daredevil says, and the husk of his voice is something that is evocative of another's that you've heardâbut you have little time to tarry the point now. "I wanted to speak to you."
You find yourself standing with perfect uniformity, every synapse and neuron urging you to take action.
The first thing you say is, "I cannot be seen with you."
"Then I'll be brief," Daredevil replies in that damning fashion that all do-gooding vigilantes say.
And then he further impugns the quality of your business by stepping in further. "I need your assistance in finding someone."
"There are people all up and down Hell's Kitchen that are champing at the bit for the chance to help you," You brusquely tell him. You walk around the edge of the desk, as if this last stand that you take will convince this wall of power to go back the way he came. "But this place of business will not serve you."
"Please," He says, and the veneer cracking makes you draw still. You've never heard of Daredevil begging before but something about this, for damnable, indiscernible reason, makes you pause.
"I'm looking for Bullseye." He reiterates his case to you.
"I don't know where he is," You reply in automatic denial. "He's not someone who asks for my help."
"That's a lie and you know it," there is veracity in his voice as he continues. As he ascends upon you, into your spaceâmaking you retreat. He's so much taller, so much more powerful than youâwhat ends would he search to for his means? Your eyes widen as you step back against the immovable structure of your desk.
"Everyone who's anyone comes to you for help," Daredevil grits through his teethâyou watch at the plateau of that strong jaw that sets as he pleads clemency from you, "If anyone's heard anything, it would be you."
He takes another step and you find yourself clutching onto the edge of the desk for support, your heart in your throat as you stare into those opaque, implacable lenses. You wonder what eyes are piercing back into you, that have such surety of gaze upon your face.
"Where is Bullseye?" Daredevil asserts with tenacity that he is a man not to be denied.
"If it isn't my ol' buddy Daredevil," drawls a voice from the doorwayâand the two of you look to a face that summons mounting dread in the pit of your stomach, "Lookin' for lil' ol' me?"
You can make visual register of Bullseye's face from where he stands in the doorway, rolling a dagger over the ridge of his knuckles in practiced, smooth rendition. You've worked with him enough to know the acuity of his face to know that he's drastically misinterpreted what he's seen. What with you and Daredevil standing in such close proximity, in flagrante delicto.
You realize now what Bullseye has been gearing up in nefarious means for. To see the jealousy that blooms nascent on his face, the anger that is making its way to the forefront. To see that when he steps into the room and Daredevil turns back, things are rapidly escalating out of control.
"Dexâ"âYou begin in plaintive plea towards Bullseye; Bullseye appears nonplussed at the means that you use his given name, holding up a hand to silence you. This is when you know that there's no stopping what's happening.
"In a second, sweetheart. Let the big boys talk it out for a second." He returns with penultimate glee for the bloodbath about to occur. Daredevil appears to be standing his ground, finally having located his charge.
This is when you realize that there are two people between you and the most significant exitâand you've closed both windows to leave for the night.
There's no preamble. There's no conversation. You can feel the taut hatred that elapses between the two of them as they silently gauge advantages, considering past weaknesses are still vital deficiencies. All is noiseless as you feel like you are the fly trapped in amber, unable to move.
It's Bullseye who produces the first strike with deadly aimâDaredevil ducks the blade by a hair as it lodges itself into the corner of the room with a dull thunk. This is what convinces you towards the window, as Daredevil moves to face the center of the battle. It's your only chance.
You're barely cognizant of the way that you see Daredevil's fist crack across Bullseye's jaw, making blood flow instantlyâBullseye laughs. There's an exchange of vicious blows, made with intent to kill but you can't spare them attention. Your fingers are scrabbling for desperate purchase on the window but it's stuckâthe weather has frozen the outside solidly shut.
You make momentary glance at the reflection to witness escalation of battle behind you, and take reckoning of the panicked, trapped ken in your eyes that watch it all occur.
Daredevil bashes his head into Bullseye's nose, their wrists locked in immutable standoffâsomething cracks but his opponent is still laughing as Bullseye swings his leg up into the pillar of Daredevil's leg.
There's a punched-out groan of pain as Daredevil's grasp slackensâthough he does make means to shove Bullseye back. It's for naught. Bullseye stumbles, and you look back to the second interloper to your office.
And you see that he's staring at you with something that you realize he's been regaling you with every time he's sought your audience. But you barely have time to process it. And Daredevil is still too focused on his opponent to realize the intention of the maneuver, thinking all aim is given with thought to him.
But this one isn't. And you're helpless to stop it, cornered up against the wall. Bullseye clears your desk with frightening alacrity, sending a swift jab that sends Daredevil in momentary reel. But this is enough to push the advantageâyou're unwitting to resist.
Especially as that forceful hand rucks about the span of your waist, his fingers sinking into the flesh of you. As you feel the inclination of the blade that slinks over the pulse of your throat, into the tender column of your flesh.
"Don't." Daredevil demands, but there's a plea in his voice that he doesn't want to make clear. But it's one that the pressure of the situation summons forth.
Blankly, in detached mannerâas though you can be spared by this situation through dissociationâyou wonder if Daredevil begs this way for all of those caught in the crossfireâor if you are particular exception to the rule.
Bullseye chuckles, soft and restrained, in the shell of your ear. He heaves a breath that you feel pressed up against the column of your backâand this makes you aware that something is tented to life, pressing against the cleft of your ass. You don't swallow down the shudder that is making means up your body.
"Oh, Daredevil," Bullseye chuckles, "Trying to take my slice of the pie?"
The blade urges further into youâyou make protracted gasp, the composure that you so continuously fight for finally cracked. The fear drawn wide over your face has a a degree of it reflected in the way that Daredevil rises a hand. As though this will stay Bullseye's.
"You know I don't like to share." Bullseye says. It's only now that you're aware his hand that has grappled around your waist has slunk to the button of your jeans, working the tortoiseshell through the fabric.
And then you realize just exactly how much the situation has devolved past the point of your understanding.
"Time to see if I knew what I was talking about, sweetheart." Bullseye croons into your earâyou're frozen. Stiff where you stand as you feel his fingers start to encroach down the seam of your waistband. Both you and Daredevil are left captive to the machinations of the man that holds you in proverbial and literal grasp.
His fingers are warmâfamiliarâas if they have known the nuance of your skin before. As if they have wanted nothing more.
"Don't touch them," Daredevil growls. In return, Bullseye makes a shhh that sends a shiver open-mouthed from your lips. A noise that has you involuntarily bucking your hips into his hand starting to search down the plateau of your skin, underneath the spread of the cloth.
This is when the terrible truth is established for all the three of you to see and realizeâthat you want this. That you've wanted his touch as it wanders down into the junction of your legs, as it searches out the heat that your body offers to him. As he makes it clear from the throaty chuckle that he creates. As the blade coaxes into your vulnerable, tender, skin, with the electric sensation that is unspooling down your body.
"Oh, there we go." Bullseye gloats with slick satisfaction as his fingers work around youâas you make stuttering moan with the way that his hands coax such unexpected pleasure from you, determined in the path of damnation they are pressing you down. Your body burns with shame that seems to emulsify and drown you, and all the while, Daredevil watches him have his way with you.
As it registers through the expressionless spread of his mouth that he sees that you want this. As you take in through disconnected, dissociative perception that the vigilante himself is hard as he takes in the sight of you coming undone by Bullseye's ministrations.
"See?" Bullseye brags. You're scarcely cognizant of the way that his fingers are working in hasty, protracted manner to summon another moan that falls from your mouth.
You arch against the immutable surface of that muscular back that holds you steady, tempted towards the path that his hand works over your flesh, over your body. As the knife continues to tease against you, and serves as warning to Daredevil to stay his groundâthough he is rooted in different manner as you are.
"It's all about being a people person," Bullseye adds insult to injury as his fingers flexâyou gasp, the heat pooling under your skin and rising in the dark, sinuous pool behind your abdomen. It blossoms in frissoning physical euphoria through your veins.
"Really knowing how to network." He continuesâthe tip of the blade encourages itself up to the underside of your jaw while his other hand keeps working at youâas you feel your thighs tremble. As you feel yourself basking in some terrible combination of coalescing shame and wonderful torment that is growing to undeniable zenith.
"And knowing, Daredevil ol' boy," Bullseye chuckles as his fingers curlâand you angle your head back against him to the ceiling, a breathy noise escaping you, "How to not touch what's yours."
Something is buildingâsomething humiliating, something wonderful, something foul and perfect. You feel it as he keeps his fingers working, as Daredevil is made to watch.
As Bullseye continues to pour salt in the wound for you both, through terrible audience that you both are made to be held to. As the knife continues to make itself known by pushing into youâby the breakage of skin that you could care less about. Not when his hand is making such devolved work of you.
"And," Bullseye concludes, "Knowing that you're never going to see them again."
And you comeâhard. You can't relax, you can't collapseânot when he holds you to him, not when you are both hostage and liberated at once with the way that his fingers have made you.
Not even as he forces you out of the room with Daredevil made to helplessly watch your escape, and you powerless to prevent it. As your eyes, still glassy and hollow with the comedown that you're being forced to depart throughâas you see that he is still painfully, stiffly hard. Your skin is tacky, exertion beads at your temple in sinful, painful baptism to this new chapter of your life.
Breath is labored but you can only focus on the hand that sneaks from your waistband and holds you at your hip. Proprietorial, demandingâpossessive. He will never let you go.
As you walk backwards with him through the threshold of your office, you know that you cannot resist. And part of you doesn't want to.
Summary: Recollections and awkward talks from two people separated by time and brought back together unexpectedly. Both yearn for that unspoken connection that was once there, but after so many years apart and constantly fighting when they weren't, can that ever be recovered?
2,354 words
FINALLY locked in and finished writing this. I switched to second person POV cause that's easier for me to write so sorry if it's odd LOL.
Reblogs welcome!
Masterlist || Prev Chapter || Ao3
Before beginning the trip to New York, you and Roy stop at your apartment. Itâs dingy, the same apartment you had lived in after the initial falling out. Itâs not the best part of town but at least it wasnât Crime Alley. The whole room smells of mildew, and wallpaper is peeling off the walls, but itâs really not too bad. 2 bedroom, 1 bath, and rent was cheap as hell. Afterall, itâs right in the middle of notorious crime lord Two Faceâs territory, so it worked well for you.Â
âNot the best looking place, but hell, weâve both been in worse. Iâm sorry for earlier.â
âYouâre sorry? For what? Iâm the one that snapped at you over being a criminal.â
âFor using Lian in an argument, Iâm sorry, I- I didnât know.â
Roy goes silent for a beat, âItâs alright. I wish you couldâve met her, I think you two wouldâve gotten along well.â
The apartment stays quiet for a seemingly endless amount of time as you finish packing up your things, broken only by Roy seeing a picture placed on the island in your kitchen.
âYou kept this?â
You turn to look at him, seeing the small frame in his hand. You didnât need to ask what picture he was holding, you knew exactly which one it was. In Royâs hands was a slightly blurry picture taken by Wally showing the Titans in plain clothes. Donna and Garth with big grins, Dick mid laugh, Wally a speed blur with an ever bigger grin, and then you and Roy. You were sitting on Royâs lap, your face buried in his shoulder in a laugh, his arms wrapped around you with the smallest smile gracing his lips. There was always something unspoken between the two of you, plenty of physical, but no words. The team never questioned when one of you left the otherâs room, and you two never brought it up. Unless it was a fight or an argument, we never talked about it either.Â
âOf course I kept it.â
âJust figured you wouldnât want a reminder of everything that used to be between us.â
âWe were teammates before whatever else we were.â
âWe were something more there.â
âWere we?â
Another beat of silence. You leave the room again and grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. You grab a box and start putting the small little trinkets you have around the apartment.
âJust toss the picture in here when you're done looking at it.â
Roy nods, setting the image down in the box âDo you still have those polaroids? From when we lived together after we both quit the Titans?â
âNo.â A lie. You had wanted to throw them away, burn them, shred them, anything you could, but couldnât bring myself to. They were in a shoebox that you had already packed into one of the boxes. There were hundreds of pictures of you and Roy. Half of which neither of you remember taking. Photos of the two of us at parties, alcohol in hand, others with a joint for each of us, others with something much worse. You didnât want to remember half of them, but it was nice not to be alone during. Pictures of Roy with sharpie on his face while he slept, another few pictures of each other taking turns with a tattoo gun, eyes red and puffy, tattooing the otherâs superhero symbol somewhere on their legs. Part of me wonders if he got it covered up, another part of you knows he didnât.
âI guess it makes sense to toss those, not a lot of good things tied to those pictures.â
âYeah. Why am I making this drive again? Itâs a good 130 miles and Iâm kinda low on gas money. Canât Ollie just like, send a private jet to come get you or something.â
âOllie hasnât quite given me those privileges back.â
A groan as you pick up another box. âGuess Iâm ready to load up then.â
Roy grabs one of the boxes from your hands, his fingers brushing against the inside of your arm as he does. He glances at you but you avoid his eyes and pull back slightly, walking towards the door. Your car is pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment building and you open the door, pushing it the rest of the way open with your knee before Roy grabs it and opens it the rest of the way. When you set down everything in the backseat and move out of the way for Roy, he closes the door and moves to go towards the driver's side of the vehicle.
âWhat are you doing?â
âIâll drive.â
âYou are not driving my car, absolutely not.â
âI can guarantee you havenât slept in at least 24 hours.â
âWhat are you stalking me now?â
âNo, but I know you were sitting up on that billboard watching me for at least eight hours.â
âIf you knew it was me, why did you wait until I approached you?â
âI didnât know it was you, just that I was being watched.â
âYou must be getting rusty, my suit hasnât changed since I quit.â
âIt was dark.â
âI get that we are in Gotham but it wasnât that dark.â
The both of you laugh and you look towards your feet as I yawn, slightly embarrassed that he was right about how long it has been since the last time you had slept.
âI guess you can drive, but I swear if you so much as put a single scratch in this carâs paint, you owe me a shit ton of money. I mean it.â
âYou know Iâm a good driver.â Roy flashes his teeth to match his teasing tone.
You scoff at his remark, âRight, ok.â
You sit down in the passenger seat and watch as Roy adjusts the seat to his liking before checking the mirrors and pulling out. The drive was quiet save for the low mumble of whichever Gotham radio station the car was tuned into droning on about the oncoming rains. Roy makes a comment about how all it ever does in Gotham is rain and can never understand why anyone would willingly live there, but heâs met with silence. You stare out the window, watching the street lights as we get onto the interstate. Itâs late, or rather early. Late enough for no one to be on the road save for a few cars, but early enough to beat any morning rush traffic. The sky itself is dark, but Gothamâs skyline lights everything around us up. This was the last way you had expected to leave Gotham, the most common in my brain being in a casket. But in your car, leaving willingly, with Roy Harper of all people? Yeah, you would have never guessed that would happen. In the distance, as the two of us leave the lights of Gotham behind, you watch as the Bat Signal flicks across the sky. A small smile graces your lips at the thought of the poor chump about to be beaten into next week by Batman, and you realize that you will almost miss the dingy charm of Gotham. The hum of the tires and the lack of recent sleep slowly begins to lull you to sleep and your eyes drift closed.Â
You wake to a small shake and a tap on your shoulder and part of you almost jumps when you open your eyes and are greeted by Royâs face,but you quickly remember the earlier events that led up to this point.Â
âWe are here.â
âAlready? I fell asleep like ten minutes ago.â
Roy laughs, âItâs been a few hours, I even stopped for gas twice. I asked if you wanted anything from the gas stations and you didnât even rustle in your sleep.â
âI guess I was pretty tired.â You smile as you stretch your legs out in the passenger seat and look out the windshield. âWait, this place is really nice, youâre living here?â
âItâs one of Ollieâs places, he lets me stay here.â
âHeâs uh, not here now is he?â You werenât really ready to face Ollie, or any of your old mentors really, if they knew you werenât dead they knew what your occupation was. You didnât want the scolding. It was a miracle how long you were able to avoid Bruce in Gotham before you got his lecture, all thanks to Jason snitching on your location to him because you didnât help him with a job.
âNo, heâs in Coast City, Hal is in town. He and Dinah went to visit him while he isnât up in space.â
You nod, opening the car door and getting out, and Roy does the same shortly after. The both of you begin to grab the few boxes of stuff you have and start to carry it inside the townhouse. Roy leads you up a flight of stairs and down the hall to a cozy room tucked nicely at the front of the house. Thereâs a window that looks out to the street, and brings in a nice amount of natural lighting to the room.
âYou can have this room, I know you always liked window rooms. The kitchen is downstairs, thereâs a bathroom at the end of the hallway, but the shower is in the master bath on the next floor up. The living room and TV are downstairs too, but if you want, I can probably get you a TV for in here.â Roy spoke, standing in the doorway behind you while you set the box down on the ground.
âThanks Roy, this is really nice. At least Harvey didnât throw me into a total shithole.â You grin, âBut this doesnât mean Iâm going back to hero work with you, or the Titans. You know what Iâm here for. Itâs just a relocation, thatâs all.â
Roy sighs, âAre you sure? Weâd all love to have you back, I mean Wally still probably thinks youâre dead. Two-Face isnât a good guy, youâre hours away from him. You donât have to work for him anymore.â
âThe worst he has ever treated me is when he relocated me just now without warning. All I am ever in charge of doing is just making sure no one is skipping out on what Harvey is owed.â
âAnd what is he owed? Drugs? Dirty Money? Peopleâs lives?â Royâs voice raises
âSo what? The problems will never stop, Roy! Since I started working with Harvey, do you know how many young heroes Iâve stopped from getting hooked like we did? There will always be heroes to break up those drug rings, but if those rings are let run unchecked, whoâs there to stop the heroes from falling on tough times like us? Who helped us get clean, Roy? It wasnât Ollie, it wasnât Bruce, it wasnât Clark, or anyone else from the Justice League. It was ourselves, and the only people that understood, villains. Harvey helped me, and I know you claim you got clean all on your own, but you had Jade. Killer Croc even sponsored you in AA for a while. What I am doing may not be legal, but it is saving lives.â You canât help but feel tears begin to water in your eyes. Roy was the last person you thought you would have to explain yourself to, but he has always been the spoiled one who was never wrong, even since we were kids. You can tell he has grown out of that a lot, but you and him always fought. Fighting to you two was like air. Maybe itâs why no matter what, you would end up back around each other.
Roy doesnât say a word, he knows youâre right, usually heâd come back with some shitty quip, but heâs tired and he doesnât want you to run off again. Itâs been too long since heâs seen you, and he canât mess up again. He sets the box heâs holding down and goes to leave, but he sees a corner of a polaroid peeking out from the corner of a shoebox inside. A small glimpse of red hair, his. So you did keep them, he notes in his head.
âYou donât have to work with us, or be on the team again, but you donât need to ostracize yourself from us. Iâll let you have time to settle in, but everyone visits here a lot during down time.â
âThatâs fine, I do miss Wally and Garth, and I suppose I miss golden boy Dick too. Just keep on the down low about what I do? I donât need to hear the same lecture from everyone else, especially Dick, itâll be like a scolding from Batman all over again. He sounds just like him when he goes into his âteam leader modeâ.â The both of you laugh at that before it gets quiet again. âI missed you too Roy.â
âYou arenât running off from me this time, I canât lose you again.â
âBig words for an old friend.â
âYou know it was more than that.â
âYou keep saying that, but if it was, I donât think either of us would have ended up where we are now.â
Roy doesnât say anything, once again. You almost wished he would, your heart aching for him to fight you more on this, to prove you wrong. Neither of you have the balls to cross that line, never did, and to cross that line years later? Not a chance that would happen. You watch as he turns around and leaves the room, leaving you in the cool silence of the bedroom.
âGoodnight Roy.â
âGoodnight.â
You unpack in silence. Once youâve got everything put in the correct place, you sink onto the large bed and sigh. Oh this is so much better than the shitty box spring back at your apartment. Slipping under the covers, you turn off the lamp on the bedside table and fall asleep shortly after. This was your life now, at least until Harvey called you back to Gotham.
Guess who figured out how to add the read more link mueheheh
Chapter 4 in the works, probably a small timeskip with a little party with titans plus reader and some drunken exchanges to build up tension mayhaps
