fandom: house of the dragon. rating: mature. (for now)
characters: OCs, rhaenyra & fam, corlys & fam, alicent & fam
chapters available: preface (1)
Setting her pack on the floor, Lara knelt and began sorting out the supplies they accumulated along their quest. It all belonged to a list Aquila drew up herself to open the entryway. Supposedly, beyond the runes and outlines was a woman so unique few believed she existed. The Whyte Witch. Rumored to be stronger than any priest or priestess in existence, loved and feared by the people she served and a terror to those who scorned her. Incisu had not been sighted for almost a hundred years. She was more myth now than history. Lara didn’t care about any hearsay; all she desired was the same favor she begged Aquila to grant.
Please bring my husband back to me. Being parted is worse than death. He is a good man stolen from existence long before his time. For the purity of love, please, deliver him to the land of living.
archiveofourown: clicky! 💧 sum up: clicky! 💧 fic tag: clicky!
( thank you @kingsroad for this chapter template inspo )
thanks for the inspo & kind words!! ♡ @kingsroad @millie-55 @prosemoireia @fragilestorm @ocappreciation @fyeahhotdocs @fyeahgotocs @samwilsonns @zoyazenik
I love Karen Page. And I'm really frustrated about lack of her POV in first season of "Born Again".
I understand why's that the case, but still, a lot of things seem unresolve for me. Hopefully, Season 2 will fix it, but for now, in the absence of it, all I could do is to try to create it myself in a form of super-long super-angsty fix-it/missing scene fanfiction.
This exchange from 1x09 is what originally prompted me to do this, altho it's not the entire core of it, but I think it has exactly what I wanted to capture and explore. There were a lot of things that bothered me and what I wanted to bring up, so here's a link and a little summary acting as trigger warning for some to what to expect from this pile of text.
Runaway by Creepevan
Chapters: 12/12
Fandom: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Matt Murdock/Karen Page, Frank Castle & Karen Page
Characters: Karen Page, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Minor Characters, Mitchell Ellison, Frank Castle, Scott Lang, Eddie Brock, Kirsten McDuffie, Danny Rand, Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Eugene Patilio
San Francisco... maybe she wanted it to be better in some way. A city where she could get lost. The last few months had turned her world upside down. Did she think that leaving New York would fix everything?
No. She wasn't that naive. She just wanted a change. She was looking for a place that didn't remind her not so much of Foggy as of Matt.
or, Karen's year and a half in California.
So, here's a list of stuff that was my priority during writing, without spoilers, just the statement on themes.
Foggy's death (of course). How exactly it affected Karen and in what way? What Foggy and his loss meant to her? It definitely caused lots of untreated psychological stuff like PTSD, survivor's guilt, avoidant attachments, and how with time it develops, transforms, shapes the character and influences on Karen's actions before her comeback to New York.
Relationship with Matt. I'm biased, so it's heavily Karedevil (AKA Matt/Karen), and it delves a little into things that happened in-between Season 3 and "Born Again" to flesh out the dynamic and explain why exactly Karen has moved in the first place and kept being distant for a year and a half. Of course, there's an elephant in a room in a shape of Frank Castle, and it also has a significant amount of attention, but not as focal.
Unresolved/Uncovered Details. Little glimpse into Karen's past before Season 1, including her family, life in Fagan Corners and drug addiction. and how it still affects her in the present.
Reporter Action. There was criminally small of that professional field despite Karen being a reporter like 60% of her screentime in Defenders Saga. So, several investigations, some dangerous adventures and physical action to show that aspect of a character.
Comic Book Lore. I'm not a comic purist, but this particular circumstance seemed as a great way to implement elements from source material just for it to be canon compliant, and also just expand on 616-Karen stuff and spin it around a bit, with several Karen-centric stories being a source of inspiration (Check the notes at the end of the chapters).
Self-Reflection. I really had to mess up my own head a bit in order to make all emotional stuff feel realisitc in portrayal, the character's voice, thoughts and views on a world with particular intrest in mental aspect of things. So, maybe, it's gonna be a cathartic kinda read for you, just like it was for me? Idk.
Just to Fill in The Gaps. Karen's reaction on certain MCU and "Born Again" events and phenomenons, but also a plausible ground for her character as she re-appeared in the finale, what exactly changed and for what reasons.
So, now you prepared for this product of my sick imagination. Will truly appreciate you reading all that and leaving kudos and comments, I really spent a lot of time writing it and not going insane in the process, so yeah. Have a nice day everyone and remember:
Everything wiil be okay in the end.
And if it's not okay, it's not the end.
(c) Daredevil 3x10 "Karen" (2018)
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ brought to life by the 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 ,
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ by janelle monáe .
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ in the name of love , i charge you to stop . . .
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( crowd booing , throwing tomatoes ) hi guys ! !
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ as a lover of knights , the recent influx of knight
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ enjoyers is very pleasing to me , naturally , i
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ wanted to make a game out of this .
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ for this challenge , write a knight ! au of your fav .
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
unlike my last writing challenge , this one won't be limited to only one fandom ⎯⎯⎯⎯ anyone from any fandom can join as long as i approve of the character . multiple people can write for the same character as the prompts will differentiate the submissions . rpf & ai fics are not allowed . with each character , i will give you a prompt containing a title for your knight . this prompt will set the tone for your work . i attached a sample ask below :3
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ user69
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ hi dulsè ! i wanna write for dex from daredevil pls
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ fuzzy
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ofc anon ! ur knight is Ser Dex the Jackal
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( then u write the character to fit their title
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ with whatever genre or plot u want )
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
read my rules ahead ! all submissions must be at least five hundred words . when submitting your work , tag me & the post with #SGD26 . the more diversity the better , fics centering BIPOC , LGBTQIA2S + , body diversity , cultural diversity are very very welcome ⎯⎯⎯⎯ your work does not have to be a medieval period piece , you can make it as modern or futuristic as you like . most dark fic & mature topics are accepted as long as they are tagged properly ⎯⎯⎯⎯ no underage characters or incest fic allowed . there is no deadline , just tag me when you post !
ELEKTRA & AJAK
↪ (oc halloween challenge, day one)
"I was created out of necessity, to forever remain artificial and unfeeling. But you, my little spark, were formed out of pure love. You were never meant to remain as you are."
DARKEST BEFORE THE DAWN :: AU
( oc halloween challenge, day twenty )
in which Tess Beck loses both her father and the love of her life in one fell swoop and uses her powers to bring both of them back for one last conversation.
But she can still feel them, across the multiverse, and she won't rest until she finds them again.
I’m on holiday in a sunny sandy place and I find I can’t stop thinking about how ludicrously out of place Matt Murdock as a character would be if Karen / Foggy managed to talk him into a trip to the seaside. I understand he’s never really been on a plane too much, with his senses and love for Hell’s Kitchen and all…. But, I would so love a fic about him finally feeling the peace of a seaside holiday… because damn, poor guy needs one.
"Love Leaves A Mark" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, Pure Fluff)
I've been working on this for a bit to celebrate the release of our older Born Again!Era Matt, and happily I can say this one's now done, which means I can finish up another little oneshot I have and then get back around to The Red Thread's next chapter. This is written with TRT!Reader in mind, but I also tried to write it vaguely so it's easy enough to enjoy even if you haven't read that massive saga.
Also if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!
Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Wordcount: 3.8k
Warnings for this fic: None that I know of, they're just being cute and in love as they grow old together. There ARE some vague physical changes described that are standard in aging but that feels pretty normal.
Fic Summary: You and Matt are growing older together, and you're both loving every second of it, including the physical changes that come with it.
“Did you get more toothpaste today?” you called sleepily, lifting one leg to idly scratch at your calf with your foot. You worked your toothbrush over to the other side of your mouth, wrinkling your nose at the taste. Nine years you’d been using your husband’s toothpaste and you’d never gotten used to the flavor, or lack thereof. You’d be damned if you didn’t use it regardless, though. “And Mini’s food?”
“Picked up both.” The low rumble of his voice was sleepy and distracted as it drifted out of the bedroom. Outside the little brownstone you both now called home, the snow continued to fall in thick, heavy flakes, muffling the roar of the wind and the few cars still out on the street despite the late hour and travel ban. You were grateful for that storm. In all the time you’d been with him you’d never had a problem with the Devil’s nightly rounds. Loving Matt meant loving Daredevil, too. But you still treasured evenings like these when he was able to stay in with you, your purring, cuddly husband happily playing the role of your favorite blanket. “I may have also stopped at the bookstore and gotten you something on the way home.”
You paused, shifting your gaze meaningfully toward the open bathroom doorway. You probed curiously at the psychic connection between you, a subtle attempt to discern what it was he’d picked up for you. All you got was a playful nudge back. He didn’t even have to try all that hard anymore, smoothly deflecting you with all the ease of swatting away a pillow.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His voice was an amused whisper in your mind. “You’ll have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.”
You scrubbed faster at your teeth, grinning at his laugh in the other room.
“I don’t know how you have any gums left considering how often you do that,” he mused as you leaned down to rinse your mouth out. You quickly shoved your toothbrush back into the penguin-shaped toothbrush holder before flipping off the light and padding out of the bathroom.
“The benefits of genetic tampering,” you said dryly, joining him in the bedroom. He was already settled into bed, sitting up with his back against the headboard, a well-worn book beneath his hand. Down atop his blanket-covered feet, a large, round black void of fur had arranged itself into a perfect circle, no head or tail to be seen. Matt tipped his head as he tracked your eager circling of the room, the barest little smirk quirking his lips. You scanned around for anything new, hunting along the walls and the bookshelves that had managed to migrate their way into the bedroom once your shared office slash library had gotten too full. Books had a tendency to breed like rabbits between you and Matt. “Where?”
“Your nightstand. I figured you’d probably want to dive in.”
You darted over towards your nightstand.
“No way,” you breathed, sitting down on your side of the bed and snatching up the first of the three new hardbacks he’d placed on your nightstand. “This one—I thought it was going to take another week at least before they released it. How did you…?”
“I kept checking with Hanna every time I passed by her bookstore.” He cleared his throat as you flipped open your new copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy to a random page, the much-loved scent of new paper and ink filling your nose. “Eventually she took pity on me and finally let me buy this one early with cash. Although she wasn’t sure why you wanted this one when you have so many other translations already.”
“It’s Palma’s new translation,” you murmured distractedly, dragging your finger down the flowing lines of poetry, your eyes skimming rapidly over the page. You could already spot some of the changes. “I have the first translation he did of the Inferno, but this is the first time he’s done the entirety of the Divine Comedy, and he’s tweaked his previous translation. It’s supposed to mimic the rhyming scheme Dante created more closely. Not easy when you’re shifting it from Italian to English. Dad’s going to have kittens when he hears the Devil got me my copy before he got his.”
Even without looking at him, you could feel Matt’s smug satisfaction. “You should call him so I can hear him swear.”
“Call him yourself if you want to rub it in.” You snorted in amusement at Matt’s neverending desire to goad your adoptive father Ciro, who admittedly had a habit of goading back. At the very least their jabs had become less hostile over the years, the two of them now closer to sparring partners than actual enemies. You leaned over to look at the other two books Matt had gotten you, your brows shooting up. “And you got me Emily Wilson’s translations of the Illiad and the Odyssey? You’re spoiling me, husband dearest.”
“You said last month you were thinking about picking them both up. I figured I’d check if they were there.” There was a rustle of blankets behind you, and a slightly irritated, ‘mrrp?’, presumably as Matt adjusted his feet beneath the fuzzy black hole curled up atop them. “Consider it an early anniversary gift.”
“Not that I’m not grateful, but you and I both know it’s January, dear.” You set Dante back down atop the stack of books before swiveling on the bed to face Matt. You started crawling across the mountain of blankets and silk sheets toward his grinning form. “Our anniversary is months away.”
“The anniversary of our first kiss, then.” His smile only grew wider when you reached him and threw your leg over him to sit astride his waist. It was something he welcomed as he always did, his hands setting aside his book immediately in favor of you. He slid his palms warmly up and down the fleece covering your thighs, pausing here and there to knead at the muscle just because he could. It never seemed to matter that he’d touched you a thousand times before. He treated every moment like this as if it were the first. “A few hardbacks are the least you deserve.”
“Lines like that make me want to marry you.” You sighed, draping your arms comfortably over his broad shoulders, lifting one hand to idly card your fingers through his dark hair. He hummed beneath your touch, tilting his head openly into the fond drag of your fingers like a big cat. “Buying a woman hardbacks? In this economy? Put a ring on me, Mr. Murdock.”
“Now Mrs. Murdock, how would your husband feel about you saying things like that?” His voice was a playful purr, words thick and glutted thanks to the drag of your nails. You were pretty sure his eyes had rolled back behind his closed eyes. “He’d, mmm, hunt me down until his dying breath if I laid so much as a finger on you. As for me, my wife is… not inclined to let me go gently.”
“You’re goddamn right I’m not.” You sprawled out against his chest, dipping your head. He met you halfway, touching his lips to yours. You gave him a warm, lazy kiss, faint traces of copper and cinnamon passed from his smiling mouth to yours. The familiar taste of him, the softness of his skin, the sweet warmth of his breath in your mouth soothed you in a way little else could, and you drew him deep into you on a slow inhale, humming against his lips. His chest rumbled contentedly beneath you in response, his hands sliding up from your thighs to squeeze and rub affectionately your hips. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
“Never,” he murmured against your mouth, chasing after you to steal another kiss when you tried to lift your head. You ran your fingers through his hair again, sighing at the soft, playful brush of his tongue against your lips, giving it a mischievous nip of your own that made him rumble another pleased noise beneath you. His voice dropped further, all lazy warmth and possessive hunger, shades of the Devil coloring the edges like a painter’s brush. “Mm, my wife, all mine.”
“Your wife,” you agreed fondly. “One who’s cut people before and will happily do it again if it keeps you safe.”
“Your services are very much appreciated.”
“They should be since I fully intend to sit in a pair of rocking chairs with you one day in our old age.” You brought your hand around to scratch your fingers lightly through the coarseness of his beard, making him groan breathlessly in delight, his back arching just a little beneath you. He’d been letting his beard grow in for the past week or so. You were unsure if it was by choice or if it was simply that he’d felt too busy to take the time to shave. It had been a while since you’d last seen him with a full beard, though, a few years at least. And to your pleasant surprise, there were a few changes. Your fingers petted curiously over the small patches of silver scattered around. “I’ve even kept you alive long enough that you’ve got grey here in your beard now. That’s new.”
His brows rose in surprise, his eyes fluttering open where they’d fallen closed. “Really?”
“Yup. It’s very handsome.” You stroked at the prickly grey strands before your hands slid back and up to his temples, tracing the few strands of grey there just as affectionately. His cheeks had even turned the tiniest bit pink at your praise. “Some here, too. Just a little at your temples. You gonna be my silver fox, Matt?”
“I guess so. That’s what I get for letting you pet all the color out over nine years.” He heaved a great sigh beneath you as if his care sheet instructions didn’t require at least ten minutes of petting each day, without which he would wilt away. “You made me look old.”
“Oh please. You don’t look old. You look human.” Your fingers left his hair so you could poke him pointedly in the chest. He threw you a wounded look, all furrowed brow and big sad eyes that you weren’t falling for even a little. “Also, you gave yourself those grey hairs, thank you very much. You’re the most stressed man I’ve ever met. Half of what you put yourself through would have turned anyone else’s hair white by now.”
“Fine. I’ll admit that I may have done… a few things that were somewhat stress—”
“Got a building dropped on you. Fought Nobu in tissue paper. Got shot in the head. Used a neti pot to snort some fucking rusty tap water full of amoebas and tiny shrimp—”
“That last one still really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“You have no idea. One day I’m going to kiss you and taste brain shrimp, I just know it.”
He snorted. “You say that like I don’t have my own list of all the things you’ve done that have almost given me a heart attack.”
“Alright, so my list is also… a bit long.” You tilted your head, watching his eyes shift absently around. After so many years with you, he was no longer self-conscious about letting you watch his eyes this closely, much to your delight. In the low light of the bedroom, his eyes were a soft, dark brown rather than the green or grey they could shift to during the day. Beautiful as always, especially with the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, lines that now seemed permanent even when he wasn’t smiling. You brushed your thumb over a few of those lines, your playful tone falling away into something more serious. “What if I like it, though? These parts of you that are getting older? Like these laugh lines.”
He furrowed his brow pitifully. “Now you’re telling me I’m wrinkly, too?”
“Oh, fuck you!” you huffed, his body shaking beneath you as he laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. Stop deflecting, I’m serious.”
“I’m know you are, even if you’re telling me I’m a grey, grizzled, wrinkled husk.” He groaned theatrically, rolling his head back. “You should just bury me if I’m that old.”
“Not a chance. Not when I love everything I’m seeing. Like these…”
You leaned in and planted a kiss on the laugh lines in question, feeling them grow deeper under your lips as he smiled.
“And these…”
Another kiss, this time against one of the grey patches in his beard, making him sigh.
“...and goddamn do I love all this, too,” you murmured, sitting back so you could drag your hands hungrily down the front of him. There was no part of him you didn’t love, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little obsessed with the dark hair now edging up past his shirt collar—so much of it now that he’d finally given up on shaving his chest and let it all grow back—and the slightly thicker lines of his abdomen and hips, both of them a touch softer than they had been almost a decade ago when you’d first met him. You’d know; you’d been laying on him almost every night for most of that decade, barring a few rough patches and business trips.
“Mrs. Murdock,” he breathed in feigned shock, as if he wasn’t aware of exactly how much you enjoyed both his chest hair and the whole of his body from top to bottom, “are you insinuating something about me?”
“You mean like insinuating I’m the reason you now eat regularly and aren’t so dehydrated that I can practically draw a map of your veins by sight?” You squeezed at the meat of his abdomen and hips greedily, your voice growing smug as you kneaded at him. Your touch made him chuckle and squirm beneath you, only drawing more protests from the cat trying to sleep on top of his feet. “Yes. Yes, I am. You’re welcome for the health, by the way. You’re aging like a fine wine, husband dearest. And it makes me happy.”
His face softened at that, one hand leaving your hips to lay against your sternum. “If your heart wasn’t beating so steadily, I’d say you were just trying to flatter me,” he mused. “But… me getting older really is making you happy, isn’t it?”
“It is. I…”
You paused for a moment, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. His hand at your hip edged up under your shirt until he could rub his thumb soothingly at your skin, content to wait while you figured out how to say what you wanted to say.
“I think it’s that… there was a time when I wasn’t sure if you’d live long enough for me to see you grow old with me.” You cupped his face in your hands, treasuring the way his eyes fell slowly closed and he leaned into your touch so openly, so easily. It had taken so much work to get him here, where he felt comfortable accepting your love and your affection, but it had been worth every ounce of effort. You traced over his laugh lines again with your thumbs before skipping down to the faint smile lines at the corners of his mouth, a mouth that pursed to kiss your thumb when you swept one over his lips. “But you did. I’m getting to see it. That’s special to me. I want to see that… that you’re still alive, that you’re living long enough for these things to happen. I want to see all these little grey hairs, and wrinkles, and the way your body has gotten a bit softer, because every little piece of you that gets older represents a moment I didn’t know if I’d get with you.”
He drew in a shaky breath before his eyes fluttered slowly open again. And in the dark of his eyes there was such a reverent joy, such a bone-deep love filling their depths that it almost took your breath away. You’d never tire of seeing it, even if you both lived for another fifty, another hundred, another thousand years, joined in this lifetime and in whatever came next. Religion had nothing on being loved fully, wholly by Matt.
“I could say the same thing about you,” he breathed, his hand at your sternum sliding up to cradle your neck, thumb sweeping gently over the thin skin above your pulse. He pressed just a little, just enough to tug your skin back and forth. A moment later, he tugged you in until he could feather a kiss against your pulse where his thumb had been, lingering there as you nuzzled into his dark hair. “And spots like right here.”
“What’s changed there?”
“The texture of your skin. How much it moves when I touch it. I like to think,” he whispered against your throat, “that your skin’s a little looser here now, more worn in, because I’ve stroked at it so much that I’ve changed you permanently. It’s a sign of just how much I’ve touched you, how many times you’ve trusted me and let me put my hands here. It’s never mattered to you how scarred those hands were, how covered in blood. You let my love leave a mark.”
He tightened his other hand against your hip next, taking hold of the curves that had changed as you’d journeyed through the years with him. “And you’re softer now, too, just like me.” From there he smoothed his hand affectionately upwards over your ribs and up past your breasts, mapping over all of the places your body had begun to show your age like his: stretchmarks and small wrinkles where once skin had been smooth and tight, scars from old battles now faded and ragged with time. The journey his hand took was made with reverence, tender and heavy with intent, his smile so very soft and almost… wondrous. “I may not be able to see you, but I can feel you growing old with me, too, sweetheart. More curves, a few wrinkles. It’s like I can feel your body sinking deeper and deeper into a life with me.”
“That’s what happens when love winds up being your gravity.” You leaned in to kiss his forehead lines. “A decade of being drawn in by you.”
“Mhm. And up here.” He shifted his hand at your throat to cup your face like you had his, his thumb tracing the corners of your eyes. “Laugh lines. Because our life’s made you laugh so much that it changed you. They weren’t there the first time I put my hands here. But they are now. Signs of how happy you are with me. And there are more every year, because you… love me enough to stay.”
“Hey, my Devil-Man,” you whispered, tilting his head up until your forehead could meet yours. He didn’t bother to hide the vulnerability in his eyes, this old wound of his. It was mostly mended now, when it came to you, but sometimes that furrowed scar inside his heart still made him ache. “Do you need me to remind you again? I’m not going anywhere, husband of mine. There’s nowhere you’ll go that I won’t follow.”
“I know.” His eyes fluttered as you stroked at his skin. His arms left your face until he could wind them tighter around you, pulling you in tight against him until his every breath became yours. That seemed to settle him some, the weight of you against his chest, especially when you dropped your head to his shoulder, nuzzling in against his neck. “That’s… that’s just it. With me, you see… moments you didn’t think you’d have because you didn’t think I’d make it. And I didn’t think I’d have this with you, either. A home, wrinkles, greying hair. Not because I didn’t think you’d live long enough, but… but because I never thought I’d find someone who could love me enough to stay this long. To love me this long. Long enough that I could feel you grow old with me.”
“Loving you has never been a chore, Matt.” You breathed in the scent of his skin, soap and the faint copper of blood, traces of cinnamon and just him. It was a scent you knew better than your own. You lifted your hand to run your knuckles down his cheek, tracking your way through his greying beard, hoping that your touch would help your words sink in. He slid his hands up under the back of your shirt to drag his palms smoothly down your back, comforting himself with the feel of your skin as he tilted his head, listening to your heartbeat. It wasn’t because he thought you were lying, that much you knew. But he’d told you once he found the truth soothing when hearing something that might make him feel otherwise vulnerable. Something like this, this old wound of his, absolutely qualified. “And it never will be, no matter what comes at us. If you need me to remind you of that every day, I will. I’ll tell you that over and over again, until the day we die and get buried in matching coffins.”
“The same coffin,” he said quietly, tipping his head to nuzzle at your temple. “There’s a reason we took ‘Till death do we part’ out of our vows. No parting, even in death.”
“Do they even sell double coffins? If so, I’m down.”
“Even if they don’t, I’ll tell Foggy to make sure I end up in yours with you.”
“I think I should end up in yours.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone will just assume your coffin’s extra heavy due to your goddamn audacity.”
He burst out laughing beneath you, his body shaking and almost throwing you off him entirely.
“I’m just saying,” you continued, trying not to grin as he choked out more laughter, “you live your life in a very particular way, man without fear. ‘Christ, why is his coffin so heavy?’ And our friends can just say, ‘well, you know, it’s Matt Murdock’ and it’ll explain everything. No one will notice me shoved in underneath you so you can lay on top of me forever.”
“It’s a date,” he said, still huffing in amusement. A pointed paw tapped at your back before starting a walk up your spine. “Speaking of which, looks like someone’s eager to get in on the cuddling.”
“Behold, offer to cuddle and both Matts will appear,” you snorted as roughly twenty pounds of scarred black cat trod his way stubbornly up and onto your shoulder, rasping out an indignant meow that sounded like he’d been smoking a pack a day for the past seven years, because how dare the two of you do this without inviting him. “I’m about to be sandwiched, I think. Hello, Mini-Matt.”
Sure enough, Matt’s smaller clone enthusiastically rammed his head against your temple, making you grunt, before doing the same to Matt’s chin. He was already purring like an old motorcycle engine in a request to get in on what seemed like a nice, cozy cuddle pile, as if Matt would ever turn the cat down. Sure enough, Matt leaned in, planting a kiss to Mini’s big fuzzy forehead before turning and laying a much gentler kiss on yours as Mini draped himself over your shoulder, stretching one paw out to pat Matt's face. “Something tells me you don’t mind, though.”
The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its archives: Chapter 163 of The Red Thread.
Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Chapter Summary:
"The person I'm tracking… It has to do with Project Beagle." You grimaced as Matt abruptly straightened next to you, his inhale sharp and startled. "I'm looking for the brother of my old handler. Anthony, from the journals. He might be hiding in Queens, according to S.H.I.E.L.D.. His brother's lived there for decades, and they think he's stashed Anthony somewhere. If I can find the brother… I find Anthony."
Silence hung heavy in the air, thick and heavy as a shroud. Then Matt blew out a slow breath, letting go of you so he could scrub his hands down his face.
"Shit," he said softly.
Wordcount: 7.6k
Warnings for this chapter: for once this chapter is ENTIRELY SAFE, I even added some extra cuddles for all of you, and there is a WONDERFUL CAMEO I have been waiting to get to at this point in my outline, so go forth!
Read me on AO3 where Matt's suddenly realizing there might be too many things going on for him to handle all of it
Story Synopsis: Elizabeth Herrera and Matt Murdock go way back. Friends since college, the two have known each other for ten years. But as a couple, they’ve been together for four and lately, their relationship is hanging by a thread, and the two are desperate to make it work.
Will their relationship survive? Or will memories of their past hinder them from healing? MATURE.
Author’s Note: Well, hey there! A new chapter of 'Dissolution' is here. I honestly thought this chapter would take me longer to finish, seeing as I mentioned it would be long, but when the words came to me, I just let them take control, and here we are! I hope you enjoy it, and I can't wait to read your thoughts.
Also, Did you notice the new thing I tried out regarding El messaging? What do we think? I think it reads more naturally, but I'm open to hearing what you think and whether it should stay or change back to the old format! 💗
Read Part 28 of ‘Dissolution’ HERE
Excerpt from Part 28
Tiredly, Matt shook his head.
I sat more comfortably beside him, crisscrossing my legs before moving my hand to his forehead to check his temperature. I moved my hand behind his neck before grabbing his hand into mine. “What happened?”
“I just got a little lightheaded,” he whispered.
“Did you get up too fast?”
He nodded.
“You didn’t fall, right?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What else is it?” I asked. I felt his thumb brush over my knuckles. “What else happened?”
“What makes you think something else happened?” he asked softly.
Chapters: 28/?
Fandom: Bridgerton (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Theo Sharpe
Characters: Theo Sharpe, Eloise Bridgerton, Bridgerton Ensemble, Original Characters, Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Lady Whistledown (Bridgerton), Agatha Danbury, Benedict Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Francesca Bridgerton, Alfred Debling, Lord Cowper (Bridgerton), Michaela Stirling
Additional Tags: Theo Sharpe-centric, Class Issues, Autism Spectrum, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Unreliable Narrator, Slow Burn, Bridgerton (TV) Season 3, Minor Cressida Cowper/Alfred Debling, Minor Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Minor Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Minor Francesca Bridgerton/Michaela Stirling, Minor Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I, Bridgerton Family Dynamics (Bridgerton)
Series: Part 2 of Genesis
Summary:
They attend Lord Fuller’s ball, a couple make an announcement and using this as a distraction, Eloise, Theo and Benedict sneak away to an assembly.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: ½
Fandom: Daredevil (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Characters: Matt Murdock, Karen Page, Franklin “Foggy” Nelson
Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Karedevil Bingo, out of control powers, Sensory Overload, matts brain is a mess, Sick Fic, Tiny bit of praise kink, Matts real superpower is Karen, Mutual Pining
Summary:
A particularly self-indulgent night shift leaves Matt with a concussion..
Karen, you're not originally from the Capitol? No, I'm not Trish. I moved here from District 11. Ohh, Agriculture, it's a pretty district, I've been there. Yes, it . . . gets small fast. You were hired to be a district escort, but you asked for a different district than 11? I believe in what Matt and Foggy are doing. They really want what's best for the tributes. It's not just about the games. They help out a lot in their district all year round. The role of escort has changed over time, what do you do? I do the reaping, obviously. We bring the kids back to the capitol and it's sort of like --- being a parent in a way, for a while. I help them most with their interview, but a lot of that is the stylists too. Then . . . they go to the arena. I try to earn them sponsors and supplies while they're there. Escorts actually do more during a victory tour than any other time. What if you don't have a victor? Then I take them home.
When an unusual amount of bodies — including a Gamemaker — begin showing up in the Capitol shortly before the annual Hunger Games, an unlikely group of people band together across their Districts to solve the mystery. 🔍
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Work title: Lost
Rating: Teen and up
Warnings/Content Notes: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst
Bingo Prompt: Fell of the face of the earth
Author’s Note:
A shout to the amazing @irelandhoneybee for keeping me going through this!
Summary: Matt is missing when Karen wakes up.
@daredevilbingo this is my entry for the Daredevil bingo prompt: Fell of the face of the earth
