Hello and Howdy

🌸 Masterlist 🌸 Hi! I'm Abby | she/her | 27 Asks are always open! 18+ minors dni Mostly Spider-Man, sometimes other stuff That's all, folks!

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

2025 Flufftober Masterlist

🍂🍁 Happy autumn!! 🍂 🍁

I'm attempting my first ever flufftober! These fics will feature many of the characters I've written for before... plus a few new ones! I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful fall. 🧡

1. Anniversary - Eddie Munson x fem!reader

2. Pet Sitting - Bradley "Rooster" Bradley x reader

3. In Vino Veritas

Alt 14. “You kept this?” - Peter Parker x reader

4. Set in another time - Viking!Eddie Munson x Viking!reader

5. Early Morning Walks

Alt 19. First Dance - Carmy Berzatto x reader

6. Late Night Talks

Alt 13. Caught in the Rain - Clark Kent x reader

7. Moving Day - Peter Parker x reader

8. Cursed - Eddie Munson x reader

9. Coming Home - Raymond Smith x reader

10. Set up by Friends - Steve Harrington x reader

11. “Double or nothing?” - Johnny Storm x reader

12. Blizzard or Heatwave

Alt. 5 Only One Bed - Clark Kent x reader

13. Hosting a Holiday Event - Carmy Berzatto x reader

14. Stuck or Lost Together - Eddie Munson x reader

15. “This looks fun.” - “Not the word I would use, but okay.” - Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

16. Pillows, Plushies, Piles of Blankets - Peter Parker x reader

17. Making or Buying a Costume - Johnny Storm x reader

18. “Is this seat taken?” - “That depends...”

Alt. 23 “I hate you.” “I love you too.” - John Walker x Thunderbolts!reader

19. Risky Rescue Mission - Clark Kent x journalist!reader

20. Fake Relationship - Eddie Munson x reader

21. Pumpkin Carving - Joaquin Torres x reader

22. Polar Opposites - Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

23. Group Hug - Steve Harrington x reader

24. Letters - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

25. Cold Hands - Johnny Storm x reader

26. Co-Parenting a Pet - Peter Parker x reader

27. Meeting in the Middle - Matt Murdock x reader

28. “Is that my hoodie?” - “... No?” - Clark Kent x reader

29. Book Shop AU/Library AU - Eddie Munson x reader

30. Sharing Earphones - Carmy Berzatto x reader

31. “Stay?” - Peter Parker x reader

[bellaxgiornata]

Scratching the Surface

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!assassin!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: slight frenemies, American!Reader, dark themes/topics, Reader has a dark past, secret mutual pining

Summary: Raymond never had much patience for you, but that didn't mean he wasn’t curious about the mysterious and eccentric assassin who's powerful father had temporarily given her to Pearson "on loan."

a/n: This is just a short little thing I threw together about the assassin!Reader and Ray because they've been living in my head for a year now. It's just a smidgen of a look into their world. Feeback is always appreciated!

“Sit.”

You pointed a firm finger down towards the white marble floor, watching as the purebred English Pointer immediately sat back on its spotted brown haunches, tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. A satisfied smile split across your lips as you stared down at the animal that you knew was nothing more than another possession amidst the grandness of this estate. Because as you'd come to learn on your outings with Pearson, there was always an overly obedient dog at these places.

“Good boy,” you praised.

You scratched the dog behind his ear and he closed his eyes while making a low, contented noise as your nails hit the right spot. But Raymond's sharp, derisive snort caused your gaze to shift sideways towards him, your smile fading at the condescending look on his face. He was standing near a tufted, deep purple chaise not too far from the bottom of an ornate staircase with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You were both waiting for Mickey to finish his meeting with Duke Whatever the Fuck His Name Was, given commands to stay put while he discussed the business of acquiring another estate for his work. Truthfully, you knew it was solely because your presence had a tendency to unsettle the British aristocracy.

The usual gleam of annoyance lingered in Raymond's blue eyes as he watched you interact with the duke's dog, aware that you were currently his only form of entertainment among all this extravagance. Turning your head over your shoulder as you continued petting the dog, you shot him a pointed look while arching a single perfect brow at him, surprised that he wasn’t intending to completely disregard you as he often did. Raymond was rather vocal about how much he disliked your boisterous, spontaneous nature even if Mickey and Ros deemed you an invigorating and welcome addition.

“You've gotten the dog to listen to you,” he deadpanned. “Well done.”

“You know, other living things might actually enjoy your company if you weren’t such a stringent sourdough,” you countered.

A humorless breath passed between his lips, his head shaking slowly from side to side. But despite the unbothered expression on his face, the way he reached up and tweaked his glasses along the bridge of his nose told you how he actually felt. You'd spent more than enough time silently studying Raymond to have learned each of his ticks, and this one meant that your attempts to needle him were succeeding even though you'd only just begun.

“Can you stop with the bread related insults?” he questioned. “They're rather lackluster.”

“Ahh, yes, because cunt is such an original insult,” you retorted, hand falling away from the dog. “You throw that one around quite liberally, Ray. Maybe it's time you refreshed your offensive vocabulary.”

“I immediately regret initiating a conversation with you,” he said tersely, turning marginally away from you to face the staircase. “You're too aggravating to waste breath on. I prefer the silence.”

“Oh come on, when did you lose your sense of whimsy, Ray?” you teased back. “At the tender age of ten?”

“And when did you lose your professionalism?” he shot back, staring straight ahead.

Your tongue gave a gentle cluck against the roof of your mouth, tsk-ing softly as you shook your head at him. “Poor young Ray,” you replied. “Or are you just jealous of the dog? Because if you'd like to sit on your knees for me, Raymond, I'll call you a good boy, too.”

The corner of his lip twitched to the side twice before you caught the way he blinked a little harder than usual behind his glasses. He uncrossed his arms, shifting on his dark brown Oxfords, before clasping his hands in front of himself. The corner of your own lips slowly drew back into a pleased grin, because Ray always visibly reacted whenever you blatantly flirted with him. While you found him attractive, he'd always verbally expressed his disinterest, but his body language often seemed to claim otherwise.

“Don't.”

“Don't be such a prude crumpet,” you chastised. “I'm just trying to get you to loosen up. You're always so tense. You're allowed to laugh, Ray. I hear it's actually good for your health. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“And maybe Pearson should send you back to the States,” he quipped. His head turned marginally towards you but his body remained facing the stairs. “Back to your father. I think you've served more than your purpose here.”

The teasing smile vanished from your lips right before a cold chill crept up your spine. Always observant, Raymond's head tipped slightly to the side, his piercing eyes narrowing minutely behind his lenses. He knew the mention of your father always caused a shift in your demeanor, it was something he'd picked up on awhile ago. Whenever you really got on his nerves he'd mention him, aware that it would effectively shut you up even if he didn't understand why it did.

But he never pushed to ask the questions you could see dancing behind his eyes. Neither of you had ever done more than scratch the surface getting to know each other. You were just business partners who worked for Pearson, nothing more. You didn't need to know Ray any deeper even if you continually found yourself trying to push him a little past his boundaries.

Admittedly it was because you were envious of him. He lived his life here as Mickey's trusted right hand. He had money and luxury at his disposal, and an employer who genuinely cared about his well-being, yet he squandered all of it for the sake of remaining the tightly buttoned-up gentleman single-mindedly focused on work. You would have given anything for the type of freedom he held, a freedom you would never know.

You would always spend your life underneath your father's thumb. The daughter he didn't want, the one he'd spent his time and countless resources turning into a useful tool for his business, a blade that was an extension of his hand–merely a weapon to be dispatched. If you placed one single toe out of line or dismissed a single order, you'd cease to matter to him. You'd end up another tragic suicide story all over the news stations just like your mother had been when you were eight.

Which was why you spoke so freely ever since you'd been sent to England to help Pearson. You enjoyed the nightlife, saw the sights, explored every crevice of the cities with a wonder that bordered on childlike. You were currently on an indefinite “loan” to Pearson as a way to grow relations between your father's business and Mickey's, and it had been the closest to living your life that you'd ever been allowed, so you'd chosen not to let Raymond's insults dissuade you from it.

“Please tell me mom and dad aren't fighting again.”

At the booming, amused voice of Pearson, your attention snapped towards the massive staircase. You watched him descend the steps in his crisp suit with a broad grin on his face, but you could still feel Raymond's gaze probing at the side of your face as if he was trying to unravel all of your secrets. Forcing a smile onto your lips, you looked up at Mickey, trying to shove aside the inevitable truth that eventually you would have to return to your father's side.

“It only means you get more presents at Christmas if we split,” you joked to Pearson. “And personally, I think a holiday in Miami sounds more exciting than a cold ass winter in London with an uptight, surly baguette.”

Pearson chuckled at your usual playful insult at Raymond's expense, the delighted sound filling the foyer and brightening your mood. At least you weren't going home any time soon, and you vastly preferred Pearson's company to your father's.

“C'mon,” Pearson ordered, tipping his head towards the main doors as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Now that this is all sorted, I have a man I need you two to meet with for me.”

Raymond spun gracefully on his heels, casually falling into step after Mickey. You quietly fell into step beside him, ignoring how the scent of his expensive cologne enveloped you in its warmth and made your chest tighten. But you did make the mistake of glancing sideways at Ray only to discover that he was still studying you closely from the corner of his eye.

His lips had thinned out along his face, and the expression he wore told you that it had nothing to do with the fact that you'd once again called him a surly baguette and everything to do with the things you never said aloud. What was even more unsettling than his stare though was the temptation growing inside of you like a caged animal desperate to claw its way out and answer all of his unasked questions. Something that was desperate to finally see the light of day.

But that was a beast that remained under lock and key.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

AAAHHH Bella I love love love this dynamic!!! I know that man hides a soft spot for her under that suit. Ugh he gives such guard dog boyfriend vibes — I just wanna watch him beat the shit out of the reader’s father.

And I love reader learning all his little quirks. Obsessed

[cerleansky]

The legacies people leave behind in you.

My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.

I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.

I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.

I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.

I learned to love books because my father loved them first.

How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.

[speaklavenderthoughts-deactivat]

absolutely obsessed with these tags

[bellaxgiornata]

Right Here, Right Now

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Matt had been working hard on a case for over a month now, meaning the two of you had barely seen each other in weeks. After he, Foggy, and Karen finally have their win in court, he invites you out to Josie's to celebrate with them. Though it soon becomes apparent to you that he has something in particular on his mind tonight.

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, public fingering, and Matt being a little shit along with his filthy mouth also deserves a warning

a/n: Just a last minute smut fic I threw together as a little spicy treat for Valentine's Day for y'all. Hopefully you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @petrovafire39

Thumbnail caught between your teeth, you chewed it fiercely as you sat in the booth at the bar. Because ever since you'd come to Josie’s to meet up with Matt and your friends over an hour ago, he'd been doing nothing but intentionally working you up.

And he had been anything but subtle about it. 

Earlier today Matt, Foggy, and Karen had finally won their case in court, a case that you knew they'd been endlessly toiling away on for over a month. You'd barely just gotten back to your apartment after work when Matt had called and told you the good news, urging you to meet them down at Josie’s. Having been excited to celebrate with everyone–especially since you'd barely seen Matt in weeks–you'd hurried straight there. You hadn't even bothered to change out of your work clothes before you’d left because you’d been so eager to finally have a chance to see Matt again, which left you still wearing one of the dresses you occasionally wore to work on incredibly hot summer days like today. 

You knew Matt loved your dresses, he'd told you that plenty of times by now. And while you were very aware of the fact that the pair of you had barely spent time together since their firm had initially taken this case many weeks ago, you hadn't anticipated the reaction he'd be having to you tonight. 

At first you hadn't noticed much out of the ordinary when you’d arrived at the bar. Matt had wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in close to the side of him as he ordered your drink. Though you had noticed how he held onto you tighter tonight than he usually did whenever the pair of you were out together, as if he needed to have part of you constantly touching him this evening. Not long after you'd gotten your beer, Matt's hand had begun to dip lower and lower on your waist, the tips of his fingers teasingly grazing the top of your ass. You had almost choked on the sip of your drink you'd just taken when his fingers began toying with the waistband of your panties through the thin fabric of your dress. Struggling to remain focused on the conversation at the time, all you could think about was Matt's damn hands peeling them off of you later. Every slight snap of the material from his teasing fingers had your breath catching in your throat and your cheeks beginning to flush.

But if his wandering hands hadn't already been enough, he'd also been taking moments to lean over and whisper things into your ear whenever Karen and Foggy were talking. You'd slowly lost the ability to pay attention at all to what those two were saying as the things Matt's deep voice kept purring into your ear gradually became filthier and filthier.

At first the comments had been sweet; mainly Matt telling you that he'd missed you and how he was looking forward to finally having time to spend with you now that he wouldn't be working on that case anymore. But then he'd begun to tell you how good you smelled this evening. Which eventually led to him telling you how much he had missed you in his bed over the past few weeks and what he was looking forward to doing once the pair of you left Josie’s tonight–in explicit detail. 

That's when he began to tell you that he knew how aroused you were becoming; that he couldn't just smell the dampness forming between your legs, but that he could hear the slickness with every shift of your body beside him. It wasn't as if you could help it though because his voice alone always had an undeniable effect on you–which he damn well knew. And him catching the scent of your growing arousal only seemed to amplify the obscene things he kept whispering into your ear while he still wore that innocent smile on his face for Karen and Foggy. But there was one comment in particular that had been rolling around in your head over and over for the past hour now. You couldn't stop hearing it repeat in your mind in that same sultry growl in which he'd first said it in.

Before we even leave this bar tonight, sweetheart, I’m going to soak that dress and those panties more than they already are. I can promise you that.

You remembered the fresh bit of wet heat that formed between your thighs the moment those words had left his mouth, his hot breath dancing along your neck. You'd shuddered, becoming incredibly aware of every inch of your side he had pressed up against his. With the way he kept whispering in your ear all night, you figured that was his plan for the evening. To turn you on solely with his voice and the dirty things he was saying before leaving the bar tonight. But the moment everyone had sat down at the booth Karen had pointed out, you'd realized he might've had something else in mind.

Which is when you knew that you were in far more trouble tonight than you could have ever realized. 

For the past twenty minutes Matt's left hand kept touching you underneath the table, oscillating between one exhilarating touch after another. A firm squeeze to your knee, his palm just beneath the hem of your dress. His hand resting on your thigh, the warmth of it seeping through your dress and growing the heat already building inside of you. And, a few times, he'd actually slipped his hand up beneath the fabric itself, languidly sliding it deliciously slow until you felt a gentle graze of fingertips along the inside of your thigh, just below your already wet underwear.

You were without a doubt already a flustered mess in the booth. Yet Matt didn't seem remotely satisfied, his hand still relentlessly teasing you under the table while he continued on conversering with his friends like nothing more was occurring. He was drinking back his beer and actively participating in the conversation while occasionally flashing you knowing, devilish smiles. Meanwhile, you could still barely focus on the conversation long enough to add much to it. 

It was the sound of Foggy’s phone a little later alerting him to a text that finally caught your attention, tearing it away from the way Matt's index finger was currently drawing circles over your right knee. Both of your hands were fidgeting with your beer bottle above the table, your face feeling hot as you watched him pull the phone out of his pocket.

“It's Marci,” Foggy announced, still reading the text. “She's back from work and wondering when I'll be home.” He glanced up from his phone screen, a slight frown on his lips. “I should probably get going, I don't want to make her wait up for me.”

Beside him, Karen glanced down at her own phone on the table, unlocking the screen and checking the time. “Maybe I should head out too,” she said. “It is starting to get kind of late.”

A flood of relief instantly washed over you as you perked up across the table. If both of them were calling it a night, that meant you and Matt could leave, too. Which also meant you could head back to either of your apartments and do something about all the growing sexual tension and Matt's incessant teasing, because by now you were becoming desperate for some sort of relief. But just as you shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth and eagerly agree with the idea of leaving, Matt's hand tightened around your knee. Your brief hesitation gave him a chance to respond first.

“You both head on out,” he began, tone far too casual as he spoke. “I think we might actually stay a bit. It's been awhile since we've really gotten to spend time together with everything going on these past few weeks.”

“Just don't stay up too late tonight, kids,” Foggy joked, already sliding out of the seat across from you and Matt. “We've got a meeting bright and early tomorrow morning!”

Matt chuckled good-naturedly, his hand inching up under the hem of your dress as he did. You straightened in your seat at the touch, spine pressing against the back of the booth as you wondered why in the hell he wanted to stay.

“You don't have to worry about me, buddy,” he assured him. “I'll be ready for tomorrow morning.”

Karen slid out of the booth behind Foggy, one hand brushing some loose blonde hair out of her face as she sent you and Matt a warm smile. You returned the smile as best as you could, hoping neither of them had noticed how unusually quiet you'd been tonight. 

“I know how much we've been hogging Matt the past few weeks,” Karen told you, readjusting her purse strap as she rose to her feet beside the booth. “So I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Thanks, I'm–I'm sure we will,” you replied, trying to fight back the quiver in your voice as Matt's thumb slid across the inside of your thigh. 

“Oh, we most certainly will,” he told her with a smile, his hand giving your thigh a slight squeeze.

Hips shifting along the booth's bench, you tried to ignore the growing ache between your legs, finding it hard to remain casual with how Matt was making you feel. You weren't sure what his reasoning was for not getting up and leaving right now with them, but you sure hoped you could convince him to get out of here fast once they'd left.

“It was good seeing you both again tonight,” you told the pair of them. “And congratulations again on winning that case.”

“We'll see you at the next big celebratory win!” Foggy said, shooting you a wave.

You sent them both a wave in return before they turned and headed towards the exit to Josie’s, the pair of them walking side by side. Matt's hand remained on your thigh as you watched them go, his other hand picking up his half-finished beer from the table. Your attention shifted to him beside you, watching as he drew the bottle up to his lips, taking a deep pull before he set the beer back down. Your gaze remained on his mouth, watching as the tip of his tongue slipped out and ran along his lips. The thought of that skilled tongue being put to use had your cunt pathetically clenching around nothing.

“You're so damn wet I can barely taste my own beer,” Matt said, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “All I have been able to taste for the past hour is you and your dripping cunt.”

Fighting a shudder threatening to roll down your spine, your own hands tightened around the neck of your beer bottle on the table. “That's your own doing, Matt,” you pointed out, sounding more breathless than you'd have liked. “You're the one who won't stop teasing me tonight.”

“And you're the one showing up in a dress,” he countered, his covered gaze finally landing on you. “You know I can't resist when you wear them.”

“I didn't feel like changing before I left,” you replied, heart pounding a little faster as you felt his hand begin to glide further up beneath your dress. “I was excited to see you and I hadn't thought–” you paused, eyelids fluttering momentarily when one of his fingers finally swiped ever so gently just over your soaked underwear.

“Hadn't thought what, sweetheart?” he asked cheekily. 

You could feel your pulse pounding in your own aching cunt by now, your body tense as it desperately begged for more stimulation than that light touch. Breath coming in a bit sharper, you tried to focus your thoughts to answer him.

“Hadn't thought you'd react like this,” you whispered. 

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out, turning more towards you in the booth, his hand still lingering on the inside of your thigh, fingers dangerously close to where you wanted them. “Well it has been awhile since I've had the opportunity to properly take care of my girl because of that damn case. I suppose I just couldn't resist you tonight.”

“So then let's get out of here,” you urged. “My place or yours tonight, I don't care, Matt. Just stop teasing me because I can't take it any longer. I miss you.”

You heard the sharp intake of breath that came from him at the sound of your plea. Behind his dark lenses you saw the way his eyes had closed, his jaw tightening.

“Please, Matt,” you begged, hoping the distress in your voice would help convince him. “Let's just go.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, his nostrils flaring sharply as his eyes opened once more behind the red lenses. “I do love how you sound when you get like this,” he murmured. “But if you're that needy for a release already, why wait, sweetheart?”

Brows drawing together on your forehead, you eyed him in confusion. “What?” you asked.

The corner of his lip tugged up into a sinful smirk. “Why not let me get you off right here, right now? Right in this booth,” he suggested, tone darkening. 

Your eyes darted around the bar, the thought of Matt’s fingers on you right here raising goosebumps along your arms. While there were a handful of patrons scattered around Josie’s tonight, some were playing pool while others were at the bar, drinking down their drinks. There was no one even remotely near your booth. A nervous laugh slipped out of you as you focused back on Matt.

“You're not actually serious, are you?” you asked. “We're in the middle of a bar , Matt. And we aren't exactly here alone.”

He shrugged a single shoulder in response. “So?” he asked. “I can be discreet if you can be quiet.”

Lips parting in surprise, you sat there in stunned silence. The devilish smirk only grew on his lips as his right hand once again lifted his beer bottle from the table, bringing it slowly up to his mouth for another drink that he took so irritatingly calm and casual.

“Though it's entirely up to you, of course,” he continued after he'd swallowed, lowering the bottle back to the table. “You know I'd certainly never want to make you uncomfortable. So if you'd rather us wait until we've walked all the way back to my place–the closest option–then we most certainly can. Or,” he purred, his finger once again lightly gliding along your cunt over your wet underwear, your eyes nearly rolling back at the touch, “I can take care of you here. With my fingers. And then fuck you far more thoroughly back at my place after.” 

He shot you a charming smile that had you feeling weak already. He damn well knew what he had been doing to you all night, especially with those senses of his. Had this been his goal all along? To work you up so much that you'd actually want to do this? Because truthfully, it had worked. You were considering it.

“The choice is yours, sweetheart,” he told you. 

Once again your eyes darted around the bar, unable to believe that you were actually contemplating his offer. But this was Matt and you'd often found he had a way of making you comfortable and willing to try new things–like letting him get you off in the middle of a dive bar that the pair of you often frequented. But no one here was even remotely paying the pair of you any attention where you were sitting in the corner of the bar. If you kept quiet, no one would be able to see anything that was happening beneath the table. And did you really want to wait the ten minute walk back to Matt's apartment building? And then another few minutes on top of that while you both made it up to his apartment before getting any sort of release? 

No, no you really didn't. 

“Okay, you win,” you whispered.

Matt rested his right elbow up on the tabletop, his stubbled chin coming to land in his palm as he focused on you. That damn smile was still on his mouth.

“You're going to have to tell me what you want,” he replied. “I'm not a mind reader.”

You rolled your eyes at him and the way he was purposely drawing this out. He could be such a goddamn tease when he wanted to be.

“I want you to touch me,” you said. “Get me off here and then take me home after, Matthew. I can’t wait any longer.”

His head tilted to the side in his palm, his dark brows rising playfully up above his glasses. “You sure you can manage to keep quiet enough?” he asked.

With an irritated huff, you rolled your eyes at him again. “Yes, now can you stop toying with me and– fuck .”

A satisfied smile spread across his mouth as one of his fingers landed directly on your swollen clit over the fabric of your damp underwear. He'd only applied a faint bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, but already it had felt so damn good in comparison to the burning ache you'd been dealing with most of the night. 

“I told you we'd have to save that for when we got back to my place,” he teased, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don't think we'd quite manage to get away unnoticed in the booth doing that .”

“You're such an asshole, Matthew,” you breathed out. 

He chuckled in response, his finger making a circle along the sensitive bud beneath it. “You sure now is the time for insults, sweetheart?” he asked. “Because I can stop.”

Your eyelids closed as you weakly shook your head, every part of you focused on the delicious pressure of his finger. “No,” you nearly whimpered. “Please don't stop, Matt.”

He hummed out a pleased noise in response, his finger continuing to circle your clit over the top of your underwear. Your breath was coming in sharp, short gasps as you fought to reopen your eyes and keep them open, remembering that you were both still in public and that you needed to keep your composure. Though keeping your expression neutral was difficult with Matt's smirking face directly in your line of sight. He looked so smug as his finger continued to gently rub against you. 

But he wasn’t doing nearly enough to ease the growing desire between your legs and get you off. And it was becoming obvious that it was purposeful.

“Come on, Matt,” you whined. “Haven't you teased me enough tonight? Can you please stop already?”

“Alright, sweetheart,” he replied. “If you insist.”

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling it to the side and out of his way. Two of his thick digits soon slid between your soaked folds, running back and forth along the length of them as he gathered your slick. A rumbling growl vibrated in Matt's chest as the expression on his face abruptly darkened, that teasing smirk quickly vanishing.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he snarled between gritted teeth.

Your mouth went dry instantly at the sound of the Devil’s voice. You hadn’t expected that.

“Need me that bad, do you?” he growled low. “Already soaked your panties because you're so eager? And all it took was my voice?” 

The tip of one of his fingers lightly brushed over your clit in a series of quick, gentle strokes. Your body gave a jolt in the booth, your breath hitching in your throat at the feather-light assault. 

“Maybe I should make you soak my fingers along with that dress, hmm?” he purred. “Right here in this bar. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?”

Hands releasing the bottle of your beer, they immediately clamped down onto the edge of the table. You had a feeling you were going to need to hold on to something if the Devil was about to play with you in the middle of Josie’s.

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, spreading your legs a little wider beneath the table in open invitation. “Please.”

The corner of Matt’s lip pulled up into something feral as you felt his finger leave the little swollen nub, instead lining it up with your dripping entrance. You’d barely had a chance to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come before he plunged that lone digit straight inside of you. Teeth clamping down on your bottom lip, you fought back the noise that nearly flew out of your mouth, managing to trap it in the back of your throat instead as your hands gripped the table.

“That's right, keep quiet, sweetheart,” the Devil rumbled out. “Don't want anyone here to know that I'm touching you, do we?”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head.

His finger began to pump into your cunt painfully slow as he slid even closer next to you in the booth. His thigh pressed up right against yours and a whine managed to faintly slip out of your lips. The moment you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear though, a lightheadedness washed over you.

“You're doing so good being quiet for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear with each word as his finger continued its unhurried rhythm. “Should we see just how quiet you can be?”

Your eyes clamped shut, your body feeling like it was burning up beside Matt's. A shuddering exhale left you as your hands clung tighter to the table as if that would somehow help you keep from making a single sound. 

Before you knew what was happening, Matt plunged a second finger inside of you. A surprised gasp flew out of your mouth, your eyes flying back open. His fingers increased their pace, the soft, obscene squelch of your wet cunt meeting your ears over the faint chatter of the bar and the quiet classic rock that was playing. Matt moaned quietly beside your ear, his hot breath cascading down the side of your neck only making you feel even more dizzy. 

“Good girl,” the Devil praised beside your ear. “Keeping so quiet for me while I fuck you with my fingers.”

A moan once again started in the back of your throat at his words, one you were desperately trying to hold back. But it was becoming difficult to stay aware of your surroundings and the need to not make a noise when his fingers started to curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that had white beginning to dance at the corner of your eyes. Matt's own ragged breaths in your ear wasn't helping your situation. You could tell he was becoming increasingly worked up beside you, too, at the sound of each of his own sharp growls.

“Should I let you cum already?” he whispered into your ear. “Would you like that?”

You nodded frantically in response, eager for the promise of a release from all the tension that had been building up inside of you tonight. 

“Yes,” you begged. “Please, Matt, please.”

Another rumbling growl from him met your ears and your cunt clenched around Matt's fingers. He groaned low beside you in response, the sound deep within his throat. 

“I love it when you beg, sweetheart,” he whispered. “And you have been so good for me tonight. So I want you to cum. I want you to drench my fingers here in the middle of Josie’s. But,” he continued, the Devil’s tone turning to that of a warning as you felt the pad of his thumb land on your clit, “you better not make a fucking sound when you do.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded obediently as you attempted to mutter out an affirmative response. Though it was hard to form much of a thought with the way his two fingers kept diligently fucking you now combined with the tantalizing movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit. His voice in your ear and the feel of his hard body against the side of yours was already pushing you over the edge now. 

Your climax was within reach, you could feel that familiar pressure building to its peak deep inside of you, begging to be let loose with each thrust of his fingers and brush of his thumb pad. Your hands had grown clammy as you fought to hold onto the table, your back arching in the booth as you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling back in ecstasy. 

But the closer and closer you inched to your release, the harder and harder it was becoming to keep silent. Whimpers and whines were falling out between your quivering lips, the sounds mingling with each wet thrust of his fingers inside of you and his own labored breaths in your ear.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. “You're so close, sweetheart. I can feel it. Just let go for me.”

Your body was beginning to shake under the strain of remaining composed in the booth. The pleased, encouraging noises coming from Matt weren't helping your efforts either, especially as that moan inside of you began to build just as your climax unexpectedly slammed into you like a brick wall. 

You'd barely opened your mouth before Matt lunged at you, his own lips practically crashing onto you and smothering yours. The moan you'd been about to loose throughout the bar was quickly muffled by his own mouth as he swallowed the sound of it down his throat. With his mouth feverishly attacking yours in a mix of tongue and teeth, his hand continued to work you through your climax beneath the table, dragging it out and drawing you through it. One of your hands released the death grip you had on the table, landing on Matt's thick thigh just beside yours. You dug your nails into his muscle through his dress pants as your body trembled along the bench, a low moan once more barreling out of you and straight into his mouth one last time as you came hard on his fingers. 

Gradually Matt's fingers slowed to a stop, your body sinking back into the booth as if it suddenly weighed far too much. His mouth broke away from yours, his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, still trying to recover from the body-shaking orgasm he’d just given you in public. His face was flushed, his cheeks slightly reddened. It almost looked like there was even the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“That was not exactly quiet, sweetheart,” he lightly chastised, carefully withdrawing his fingers from inside of you. “You’re lucky I noticed before everyone else here did.”

You shot him a blissful, tired smile, your head resting against the back of the booth as you gazed back at him. “Thank God for your senses, then,” you joked, still a little breathless.

The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked up into a smirk as he continued to focus on you, the lenses of his glasses glinting under the red neon sign on the wall beside your booth. His left hand appeared from underneath the table moments later, coated and obviously glistening with your slick under the red light. He raised both fingers up to his lips before slipping them inside his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them with a satisfied moan that sounded low in the back of his throat. A shiver ran up your spine as you watched him slowly slide his two fingers back out from between his plush lips, his focus never leaving you.

“I don’t think it’s God that you should be thanking right now,” he murmured, the Devil once more grinning back at you. 

Your cunt immediately twitched back awake at that voice, bottom lip rolling between your teeth. Matt's tongue slid out between his lips, sensually running along the length of them before an impatient growl rumbled out of him.

“Now what’s going to happen next,” the Devil began, his voice raising the hair on the back of your neck, “is you’re going to get out of this booth like nothing happened,” he told you. “And then I’m going to take you and that deliciously drenched pussy back to my place where I’m going to have my fill of you. And this time, sweetheart?” he continued, the red of the neon light washing over his face as he leaned in towards you. “I want to hear every goddamn sound you make. You got that?”

Swallowing hard, you immediately sobered up in the booth beside him. You nodded in response, already eagerly beginning to slide out of the booth after him, incredibly aware of how pathetically wet you still were beneath your dress. But you weren’t about to deny the Devil what he wanted when you loved playing with him as much as you did.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

I can’t believe I’ve never read this! Hooo boy, what a treat 🥵 I never complain when the devil comes out to play, that cockiness really gets me haha. Thank you for this wonderful fic!!

[finnabinthepitt]

HAPPY BABY JANE DOE WEEKEND 🎇

[by-ilmater]

YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU CAN CRAFT A COMPLETE SENTENCE! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOU USE THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF COMMAS! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! YOUR PROSE IS GOOD AND RIGHT! YOU'RE A REGULAR WRITER! EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS YOUR VISION!

[rhettroblues]

You can't hold it in all alone. No one can. We have to let it out. We have to spend time together. And even if it doesn't make the emptiness go away, I promise you it will feel lighter. THUNDERBOLTS* (2025) — dir. Jake Schreier

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living |Chapter Five|

Pairing: Matt x mutant!fem!Reader Word count: 5k [Series Masterlist] [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

tags/warnings: 18+; dark themes/content, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, PTSD, smut, plot twists, fluff and angst, torture, mentions of sexual abuse, canon divergence, Reader has a fake name & is Matt's neighbor

a/n: And we're back with another chapter! All comments and reblogs are very, very appreciated!

Tag list: @kmc1989 @let-it-go-and-live-again @paracosmic-murdock @fries11 @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @frenchtoastix @1988-fiend @daisy-the-quake @energerstar @lilianashomaresparza @spn-reader @delusionalgirlwritingfanfic @steviebbboi @sunshine-daydreams0809 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @avengersfan25 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @goldenstrwberries @sheisredd @uselesstutor09 @ilocuras24 @kneelforloki

“...not exactly like I planned that to happen!”

“You can’t just go around attacking people!” 

"Well she clearly knows something!"

“You could’ve killed her!”

A quiet, pained groan rumbled in the back of your throat as you caught two heated voices arguing nearby. You attempted to open your eyes as their words drifted around you, but your eyelids felt leaden and useless, barely fluttering open a crack. With your mind steadily returning to you, you became painfully aware of how battered and worn the rest of you felt. Your back was stiff and sore, your muscles protesting the slightest movement as you shifted on whatever uncomfortable surface you were currently on. Inhaling a sharp, ragged breath into your aching lungs, the voices that’d been fighting nearby came to an abrupt stop. 

Eventually managing to blink your eyes open, you stared up at the dull, white ceiling above you. Brows knitting together in confusion, your sluggish mind was able to distinguish that this ceiling was not your ceiling. So where were you? From what you last remembered, you’d been out on a run around the city. You’d just finished and had been heading back to your apartment to make dinner, but then–

The ambush in the alley catapulted to the forefront of your mind, and you suddenly recalled the woman who’d attacked you out of nowhere before you’d passed out. Jolting upright in a rush, your vision temporarily swam at the abrupt movement, and a sharp, throbbing pain lanced its way through your skull. You winced at the sensation as your vision gradually grew clear again, but you didn’t recognize the dingy orange futon that you were sitting on, and you certainly didn’t recognize the apartment you were sitting inside. Though you did recognize the dark haired woman standing in front of you as the one who’d attacked you in the alley, and while you didn’t recall the blonde beside her having been present, she also looked oddly familiar. 

But the sight of them standing there staring at you caused your hackles to raise. Despite being drained from your run, feeling decimated after being thrown around and strangled, and only just regaining your faculties from returning to consciousness, you anticipated another fight to break out. Because whoever this dark-haired woman was, she’d just kidnapped you, and you weren’t about to take that lightly.

“Stay the hell back!” you warned, trying to fight the slight sway of your body along the futon. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Despite the threat in your words, you admittedly felt far too weak and exhausted to do much to them. The alley fight had taken it out of you, especially with how you’d been slammed around a few times too many. And you were quite out of practice with summoning forth your abilities without completely losing control and weakening yourself further. But you still had your fists–though you had a feeling her punches would land harder.

The dark-haired woman scoffed at your warning, rolling her eyes dismissively in irritation. From beside her, the blonde shot her a sharp, reprimanding look over her shoulder before she turned her attention back on you. Gripping the edge of the torn futon, your nails dug into the cushion as you fought to steady yourself, but the small smile suddenly overtaking the blonde’s pretty face caught you off guard. 

“Relax,” she said gently. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Her hands slowly raised from her sides in a placating gesture as the friendly smile remained on her face. Beside her, the dark-haired woman let out a long, heavy sigh of annoyance before reluctantly raising her own hands in a half-hearted imitation of the gesture. She took a definitive step backwards as if to emphasize the point, putting more space between herself and you before she crossed her arms over her chest and fixed you with a scowl.

“That’s a little hard to believe,” you bitterly replied. “Considering you’ve already attacked me and dragged me here.”

“Which was a mistake, one that shouldn’t have happened,” the blonde persisted, shooting the other woman a pointed look. “All we want to do is talk, I promise.”

Still trying to keep yourself steady on the futon as you weighed the truth in her words, you began to look around the room, taking in the tattered state of the apartment you’d been brought to. On the far right of the futon sat a desk which was mostly littered with empty bottles of alcohol. Papers were messily strewn about, some even haphazardly covering what appeared to be a laptop. Beside the desk sat a garbage can which was overflowing with even more empty bottles of alcohol, the sight causing a crease to form between your brows. Whoever lived here certainly drank far too much.

Glancing around the rest of the space, you could just glimpse a messy kitchen covered in dirty dishes and more bottles of alcohol from where you sat on the futon. Shifting your attention to the left, you spotted a door which you assumed led out towards a hallway, the glass pane displaying the words ‘Alias Investigations’ along it. At least now you’d discovered the exit, you just needed to find your opportunity to bolt.

Your attention eventually returned to the two women standing before you, but your gaze lingered on the blonde. She stood cautiously eyeing you with that friendly, disarming smile still drawn over her lips as if she expected you to trust her. Eyes narrowing in contemplation, it finally clicked as to where you’d seen her face before–plastered all around the city.

“You’re Trish Walker, aren’t you?” you asked, tipping your chin at her. “You’re the one on all of those bus ads.”

Her smile turned sheepish as she nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s me.”

“Great, so now that you know who she is, why don’t you tell us who the hell you are?” the dark haired woman impatiently snapped. “And how about this time you avoid passing out, yeah? I don't really have time for that.”

Glancing over at the dark-haired woman, you saw her leaning against a wall across the room still scowling at you. A frown settled onto your face at the rude, demanding way she kept speaking to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the apologetic look that Trish sent you, and your gaze slowly slid back over to her. You didn’t understand how Trish Walker–someone that seemed to have status in the city–could be found in a place like this, or why she’d be spending her time with someone like the angry, rude woman. Nothing about this situation made much sense, but you’d started to figure that the only way to get any answers was to cooperate for the moment. Which meant participating in answering their questions.

“My name is Olivia Allen,” you said, giving them the fake one you’d chosen a few years back. Gaze sliding over to the rude woman you still didn’t know, your brows raised expectantly. “And you are…?”

The dark-haired woman continued to stare at you, the tension palpably increasing in the small apartment. It wasn’t until Trish waved a hand at the woman in an urgent motion, encouraging her to answer you, that she finally relented.

“Jessica Jones,” she stated flatly. “Now focus on answering my questions or I’ll be forced to break a few of your bones.”

“Jessica!” Trish scolded.

“Who are you to Kilgrave?” Jessica continued, ignoring the way Trish was roughly shaking her head at her. “And why does he have a framed photo of the two of you? Why the fuck are you jogging around my block? Are you the one he’s got watching me?"

Fear had the little hairs along your forearms raising at the mention of his name, and a chill made its way through your sore, beaten body. Swallowing thickly, you tried to remain in control of yourself. Wherever he was in the city, he wasn’t here in this room with you. You were safe for the moment.

“I was on a run,” you answered, the words coming out slowly. “I live just a few blocks over, and this is on my route. I’m not watching anyone. I’ve never even seen you before.”

Jessica huffed at your explanation, as if the idea of jogging for exercise was ridiculous. “So what’s with the picture then? The one of the two of you that he keeps framed?" she pushed. Uncrossing her arms from over her chest, she stuffed her hands into her jacket pocket and pushed off the wall. “What’s the reason for that, hmm?”

Lips pressing firmly together at her continued probing, you fell silent beneath her glare. That was a question you particularly didn’t want to answer. That photo was during a time in your life that you’d painstakingly tried to forget. The nightmares you’d been having about him lately were already bad enough, the memories of your time with him plaguing you as much during the day as they did at night. You weren’t exactly fond of the idea of drawing them to the surface by recounting them for complete strangers. 

As if sensing your distress, Trish took a careful step towards where you were sitting on the futon. Tensing immediately at her approach, distrust passed over your features.

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” Trish assured you. 

“Maybe I don’t want to,” you sharply countered.

Jessica took a single, intimidating step forward, her hands still casually lingering in the pockets of her leather jacket. “Well,” she replied cooly, “I really can break a few bones if that would help loosen your tongue.”

“Jess,” Trish warned, her head whipping towards the other woman. 

“This is Kilgrave, Trish!” Jessica snapped back, rage contorting her features. “Kilgrave! You know what he’s capable of, and you know what he’s already done. If she’s not going to tell us, then I’m going to–”

“What?” Trish demanded, cutting her off. “You’re going to beat her to make her talk?” The blonde swung a hand in your direction, her stare still fixed on Jessica as she heatedly continued. “She’s clearly not working for him, can you not see the way she reacts when you mention his name? It’s the same goddamn look that’s always on your face when he comes up!”

That took you by surprise. As the two women stared each other down in silence, you slowly began to piece everything together. Jessica must’ve been another victim of Kilgrave’s mind control. She must’ve experienced something similar to what he’d done to you, and if someone was watching her for him, then you could understand where all of her violent anger was coming from–paranoia and fear. 

“We were together,” you blurted, cutting through the tension. “A long time ago.”

Jessica’s head whipped in your direction, a myriad of emotions crossing over her face. Surprise melted into something that looked vaguely like understanding and sympathy before her expression became suspicious and guarded.

“He forced you to be with him?” she asked.

Guilt burned acidic in your stomach at the question, and your tongue pressed hard into the back of your teeth. You slowly shook your head in response, watching how her eyes narrowed into dangerous, disbelieving slits.

“You mean you chose to be with him?” she hissed incredulously.

“It’s–it’s not what you think,” you stammered, trying to defend yourself. “He found me years ago. When I was…”

Your words trailed off, your teeth clamping down onto the tip of your tongue. Kilgrave was the only one who knew about your past, who knew the truth about who and what you really were–at least as much as you knew. He knew what you were capable of, he knew how different you truly were, he knew the secret you’d been trying to hide ever since he’d freed you from The Facility. You’d spent years hiding and trying to pretend that the other side of you didn’t exist, it wasn’t something you ever willingly shared with people because you’d wanted to erase it all. 

But Jessica also seemed different. She was far stronger than any normal person should’ve been, capable of feats that a woman her size shouldn’t be capable of–like throwing you across an alley with one arm. Maybe she was like you, which would’ve explained Kilgrave’s interest in her.

“You were what?” Trish gently prompted.

Tongue darting out to nervously wet your lips, you contemplated the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in. Both of them seemed to despise Kilgrave as much as you, so it was unlikely that they were working with him. You doubted they’d give him your location, not with how they were speaking about him. And if Jessica was different like you, maybe she’d be understanding of your own situation instead of terrified of the things you could do. 

Unable to look at either of them as you tried to gather the courage to confess something you’d never told anyone before, your focus shifted towards your fidgeting fingers in your lap. “I grew up in a laboratory,” you admitted quietly. “Undergoing experimentation against my will, for as far back as I can remember. Because I’m different.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jessica cursed.

Trish let out a surprised gasp before taking a few steps back, struggling to control the shock written on her features. When she backed into the desk littered with alcohol, she leaned her weight against it as if she needed it to help keep her upright while staring expectantly at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“It was a horrible place,” you told them, aware that was the biggest understatement. “Kilgrave he–he killed the doctors who’d been responsible for the experiments on me. And at first, he’d scared me because of what I’d seen him do to them. It was horrific. But then he’d been so gentle with me afterwards.” 

As the words you’d never really spoken aloud before started to pour out of you, you were determined to make them understand. Determined for them to hear you out before they judged you for the relationship you’d had with him. They couldn’t even begin to fathom the horrors and pain you’d been subjected to over the course of your entire life, the way you’d been trapped in a cage like an animal until only a few years ago. They had no idea the sort of sheltered life you’d led, and how desperate you’d been to escape it. 

"He freed me from that place,” you continued, nervously looking up at them from beneath your lashes. “He forced them all to forget about me so that I'd be safe from them. And then he took me with him, far away from the nightmare that I’d always known. He fed me, clothed me, gave me shelter.” You shrugged weakly, aware of how awful the rest of it would sound. “I’d seen him use his powers to tell people to do what he wanted, but I’d never seen him hurt anyone besides those doctors who’d spent years torturing me over and over. He kept telling me that they deserved it for how they’d hurt me, and I believed him. I didn’t know any better at the time. I-I spent my whole life in that place. Trapped in a small cell. He was the first person to show me any kindness. To give me freedom, to give me a chance at a life.” 

The guilt burned hotter within you, and you could feel it sitting like a ball lodged in the back of your throat. Your vision grew watery, but you quickly wiped the heel of your hands against them, forcing the moisture away. You needed to finish explaining what happened. 

“Eventually, I developed feelings for him,” you reluctantly admitted. “Just months after he’d freed me. I hadn’t seen him for who he really was yet, and we had a romantic relationship for a time afterwards.”

“But he was grooming you!” Jessica growled. “That asshole kidnapped you from some fucking labratory and kept you like a fucking pet! You didn’t know any better!”

Trish glanced over her shoulder at Jessica, and whatever face she made only seemed to piss her off even more. Shaking her head at Trish, Jessica strode towards you, her eyes burning with an intense fury as her boots stomped across the floor.

“I hate that son of a bitch,” she snarled. "He took advantage of you, of your situation. You were scared and alone and he used that to his benefit!"

“Jess,” Trish firmly reprimanded. “Let her finish.”

Jessica frowned but fell silent, arms crossing over her chest again as she shifted irritably back and forth on her feet. When Trish turned her attention back to you, she offered you yet another encouraging smile as she waited for you to finish. 

“We were together for maybe four months after that,” you admitted uncomfortably, your hands still nervously fiddling together in your lap. “That was when he started pressuring me to use my abilities for things he wanted. But I didn’t want to do the things he asked me to, and then he started to get so furious with me when I denied him.” Closing your eyes, you tried to block out the memories from resurfacing as you continued. “I told him I wanted to leave, so he–he threatened to kill innocent people if I did. He told me he would kill everyone in his path if I didn’t stay with him. And that’s when he started giving me this–this pill.” Shaking your head roughly, you opened your eyes and focused back on Trish and Jessica. “I don’t know what it was, but it weakened my ability against him. I assumed it was something he’d gotten from The Facility.”

“Wait, what?” Jessica asked. She crossed the rest of the distance between you in three quick strides before dropping down in front of you, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “What did you just say? It weakened your ability against him?” she asked, her words coming in a rush. “As in you can fight him off?”

Nodding slowly, you saw the shock continue to linger on her face. Jessica’s head whipped over her shoulder before her and Trish exchanged a look with each other. You couldn’t understand what they were saying without using a single word, but you had a feeling you could guess. They’d probably never thought someone could be immune to Kilgrave’s power. 

“How?” Jessica demanded, her attention abruptly returning to you. “How can you fight him off?”

“I have some abilities,” you answered carefully. “I overheard the doctors at The Facility say I'm psionic once, whatever that really means. But I was able to create a sort of shield to keep him out of my head when he wasn’t drugging me. And I can also do what he does, to undo commands he's given. It's just…not as easy for me as it is for him. It takes a lot out of me.”

“Holy shit,” Jessica breathed out, eyes widening even further. “Does that mean you can mind control him then?” 

“I did once. The last time I saw him,” you told her, nodding. “I’d never done it before and I don’t know how I did it then, but somehow I managed to make it work on him. I couldn't take anymore of what he was doing to me, so I told him to let me go. Said that he wasn't allowed to hurt or kill anyone because of me, and that he could never look for me.” Your fingers played with the hem of your shirt, twisting the fabric nervously around them. “I forced him to hand over some money so I could book a flight and try to build a life, and then I just left him.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jessica cursed under her breath. Suddenly elated, she rose up to her feet and began pacing, a smile spreading over her lips. “You’re his fucking weakness–you’re his goddamn kryptonite! With you we might have a chance to bring him down!”

Remembering how she’d thought you were stalking her for him, fear crept its way up your spine like a trail of cold fingers. You didn’t like the thought of him being this close to you again–of being in the same city–not after everything he’d put you through. Not after how long it’d taken for you to move on past what he’d done to you.

“He’s here? In New York?” you asked her nervously. "You're sure of that?"

“Have you seen the news?” Jessica said, abruptly turning towards you and halting her pacing. “The Hope Shlottman story?”

“I wondered if that was him,” you admitted shamefully, hating that he’d found another victim to abuse. “I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“He’s been looking for me,” Jessica continued, her expression turning grim. “Six months ago I managed to get away from him, too. He discovered I had abilities–super strength.”

“That explains the alleyway before I passed out,” you muttered.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jessica apologized, grimacing slightly. “I found out where he’d been staying the other day, and there was a room with pictures of me printed out everywhere. Like serious stalker vibes. He showed up and I almost had him. He’d gone back for a framed photo of the two of you that I’d found. So when I saw you running around my block?” She shrugged sheepishly. “I thought maybe it was you following me, taking the photos for him. Spying on me for him."

“I get it,” you replied. 

Adjusting your sore body on the torn futon, you sat more upright. Jessica attacking you made far more sense now. She’d endured something similar to what you had with Kilgrave. She’d been trapped under his control, doing things against her will for months. Things that probably still haunted her. You couldn’t hold it against her that she’d assaulted you and demanded answers knowing that he was chasing her down, because honestly you’d have likely done the same thing.

“So what’re you going to do about him looking for you?” you asked her curiously.

“Well, I need him alive,” Jessica replied, running a hand through her hair. “He went after Hope to get my attention, and she became his victim because of me. It’s my fault she’s involved. So I need to find a way to prove his powers are real and that he really did force Hope to kill her parents. I need to find a way to prove that she’s innocent. She doesn’t deserve a life in prison because of what that asshole did to her just to get to me, and maybe there’s a way he’ll get justice in the process.”

“How are you going to prove it?” you asked curiously.

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered bleakly. “The media is crucifying Hope like she’s insane already. But her lawyer is a…friend of mine, if you want to call it that. I’m trying to get her ahead of the bullshit, help fix Hope’s image while I try to figure this all out. We’ve been lining up people to come forward, to testify against Kilgrave and the things he made them do, but it’s not easy. So many crazy fuckers are just making shit up to take the blame off of themselves for crimes they’ve committed. But even with the legitimate testimonies, it won’t be all that believable if I don’t have actual proof of his abilities. And I can’t–I can’t fuck this up. It’s all my fault that Hope is in this situation.”

“I’ll help,” you said, the offer tumbling out of you. “Whatever you need, I’m in.”

One of Jessica’s dark brows slowly rose curiously up onto her forehead. Pushing away from the desk she’d been leaning against, a grin spread over Trish’s lips in something that looked rather triumphant.

“Yeah?” Jessica asked skeptically. “You’d willingly get involved with him again? Put yourself in his path even though you know what he's like? What he can do?”

“I should have stopped him a long time ago,” you shamefully admitted. “Instead of just running off to save myself, I should have dealt with him. I should have done something to stop him from hurting anyone else. And maybe now it’s time I do something about it.”

Sympathy flickered across Jessica’s face briefly before it vanished behind a hard exterior. “Suppose we might have a shot to pull this off then. Especially since you’re immune to him as long as he’s not drugging you with those mystery pills,” she mused. “But there was also a doctor I met while interviewing others who’d been subjected to Kilgrave's powers. He said Kilgrave forced him to save his life by taking kidneys from someone else. Had the doctor perform surgery in an ambulance while he was awake because Kilgrave refused to be put under. Which has me thinking–”

"That anesthesia hinders his powers?" you guessed.

Jessica nodded, a slow grin spreading over her lips. "Yeah,” she answered. “So I'm trying to figure out how to get my hands on some Sufentanil. Maybe it'll work on him, get his guard down. Leave him weak. And having you around with your abilities would be helpful."

With your initial fear finally melting away at discovering that your enemies were actually allies, a small smile slipped onto your lips. Rubbing a hand over one of your sore shoulders, your head tilted curiously to the side.

“I've never met anyone else like me before,” you admitted. “Someone who was different, I mean. Besides Kilgrave and outside of that lab.”

“Well don't go getting any ideas,” Jessica replied. “I'm not some hero. I just lift heavy shit and punch really hard.”

“And save an innocent girl from a terrible, undeserved fate,” you added lightly.

The corners of Jessica’s lips twitched, but the smile never came to her face.

You finished rinsing off your toothbrush and turned off the faucet, your body exhausted, sore, and itching to crawl into bed for the night. You were hoping for a dreamless sleep, though after the events of this evening, you highly doubted Kilgrave wouldn’t be tormenting your unconscious mind. But as you reached over to set your toothbrush back into its place in its stand, you glimpsed your reflection in the mirror from the corner of your eye. 

Eyes drifting back up to your own face, you stared at the woman looking back at you. Ever since the conversation you’d had with Jessica and Trish earlier tonight, it felt as if Kilgrave had wrapped his own fist around your throat, his presence nearby now entirely undeniable. You could see the guilt and shame lingering in your eyes as you stood there studying your reflection.

What Kilgrave had done to Hope Shlottman wasn’t Jessica’s fault at all, no matter how much she obviously blamed herself for the girl’s situation. Kilgrave might have been using Hope as a way to get to her, but it was truthfully your fault that he was still loose in the world preying upon whoever he wanted. You'd been a coward for the way you'd fled from him, for the way you'd only thought about getting away and protecting yourself. You’d never tried to stop him, too terrified of what he might do to you if you’d tried.

“And now look what he's done,” you said, your own reflection scolding you. 

Who knows how many countless others he’d tortured, controlled, assaulted, and killed. All so that you could have your freedom. So that you could try to deny that other side of yourself in an attempt to be normal. But you weren’t normal and you never would be, it didn’t matter how hard and deep you’d buried those pieces of yourself, you could never completely erase them.

You weren’t normal. You weren't like everyone else. And maybe it was time you faced that head on. Because if you were going to help Jessica and Trish take on Kilgrave–to bring him to justice–you’d need to embrace that part of yourself again. You’d need to dig it back up from where you’d so deeply buried it away inside of yourself. 

Still staring at the face in the mirror, the one you'd only glimpsed growing up in the reflection from your glass cell, you leaned forward and rested both of your hands flat on the bathroom counter. The cool stone beneath your palms sent a pleasant chill up through you, and that snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. You needed to focus, to prove that you could still control what was inside of you. 

It had been years since you'd truly used your abilities, years since you'd truly tapped into that power hidden in the far recesses of your mind. Inhaling a deep breath to stabilize yourself, your eyelids gently lowered as you reached out in search of it. Holding your breath, you concentrated inward, digging around inside of your own mind. But it was only seconds before you found it sitting there in the back of everything like an electrical current buzzing with energy. 

The more you focused on it, coaxing forth the familiar prickle of energy, you started to feel it pulsing within your head, buzzing between your temples. The sensation gradually trickled down your spine like a gentle vibration beneath your skin, the hum of power causing your body temperature to increase. Curling your hands into fists along the cool countertop, you felt it flood you with warmth like the summer sun on your skin.

Exhaling the breath you’d been holding, the air came out in a long, steady stream between your lips. Relief washed over you as you realized that even after years of denial, it still felt like second nature to slip back into this energy. Opening your eyes once more, you stared back at your reflection in the mirror just two feet away as you leaned forward over the sink. 

Except now the same eyes you’d just been staring into moments ago weren’t the ones you saw. Instead of the familiar color of your irises watching you, all you saw were the whites of your eyes with their eerie, faint glow. 

“There you are, little dove. Welcome back.” 

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Wow. Truthfully, I’ve never seen Jessica Jones, but I feel like i didn’t even need to! I’m so hooked on this fic — and the reader’s backstory!!? I can’t wait to see where this goes… and how Matt will fit into all of it 🧐 wonderful writing, thank you for sharing it :)

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living |Chapter Four|

Pairing: Matt x mutant!fem!Reader Word count: 4.2k [Series Masterlist] [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

tags/warnings: 18+; dark themes/content, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, PTSD, smut, plot twists, fluff and angst, torture, mentions of sexual abuse, canon divergence, Reader has a fake name & is Matt's neighbor

a/n: Can you guess who's made an appearance at the end of this one? All comments and reblogs are very, very appreciated!

Tag list: @kmc1989 @let-it-go-and-live-again @paracosmic-murdock @fries11 @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @frenchtoastix @1988-fiend @daisy-the-quake @energerstar @lilianashomaresparza @spn-reader @delusionalgirlwritingfanfic @steviebbboi @sunshine-daydreams0809 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @avengersfan25 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @bunnymurphey @sheisredd

Sitting cross-legged on the small bed in your confined quarters, a tray of food lay balanced along your lap. It consisted of the same three things that you were always given for dinner–plain baked chicken, steamed vegetables, a scoop of bland brown rice. Healthy, flavorless, simple. Your enjoyment wasn’t factored into meals, only your nutrition. 

With a fork in hand, you half-heartedly speared a steamed carrot and brought it to your lips, but when you caught movement outside the clear glass of your cell from your peripheral, you paused. Looking up from the tray in your lap, you spotted Doctor Barlowe making her way down the hall dressed in her typical pencil skirt and blouse, the outfit partially covered by the white lab coat she always wore. Those thick, black glasses sat perched on her nose, and her hair was pulled up high into a tight bun. But it wasn’t Doctor Barlowe who ultimately held your attention, because someone else was trailing along just at her heels.

You’d seen the young girl plenty of times throughout the years that you’d grown up here, though you’d never been allowed much opportunity to speak with her. They referred to her as Test Subject 648, and she appeared to be around the same age as you. You assumed that was why you both were occasionally paired up to complete your studies while sitting adjacent to each other in the study rooms, but the study room rules were clear–there was absolutely no fraternizing allowed.

You'd never been allowed to say much to each other, and any time you’d ever tried to initiate a conversation, you were harshly reprimanded and severely punished for it. But that never stopped your growing curiosity about her. You wanted to know who she was, why she was here, and if they did the same things to her that they did to you. You wondered if she was like you, if she could do the same strange things that you could. You assumed she must, otherwise why else would she be stuck in The Facility?

Eyes tracking the girl as she continued down the hallway, you quietly studied her as your fork remained hovering beside your mouth. She looked a little different, as if her hair somehow had gotten even darker in the unknown length of time that'd passed since you’d last seen her. Brows furrowing a little in confusion, something felt off about her appearance as she walked down the sterile, white hallway outside of your cage. 

It was still her, though. You could tell by the profile of her face and that timid way she carried herself behind Barlowe. She always moved around the same way when you saw her–fearful, anxious, uncomfortable. As if she was afraid of being caught doing the wrong thing, her head often ducked as she hid behind the curtain of her dark hair. You'd come to learn that fear of punishment worked well to keep her in line even if you occasionally toed it.

As if she could feel your eyes on her as she passed by your cell, her head marginally raised and her dark hair fell away from her face. Turning her head a fraction over her shoulder, she looked over at where you sat on your bed. Both of your eyes locked through the thick pane of glass, and the corner of her lips drew back so minutely that you barely caught the faint smile she’d sent you. You were quick to return one of your own before she abruptly ducked her head again, obediently following after Doctor Barlowe as if that miniscule interaction hadn’t happened. 

Except it had. And you knew what it meant–an unspoken offer of friendship.          

Slowly returning to consciousness, you awoke to the monotonous drone of infomercials coming from across the room as the memories of your childhood faded away. Nose scrunching at the sound of a nearby television, confusion flooded your groggy, sleep-addled mind. Beginning to blink your eyes gradually open, you squinted at the instant barrage of sunlight that hit them and your confusion only increased. Your bedroom was never this bright when you woke in the morning, and you didn’t have a TV in there. This wasn’t your bedroom, so where were you? 

Feeling the stirrings of fear trickle its way through your veins like ice, your heart started to thump a frantic rhythm inside of your chest. Terrified that you’d been dragged somewhere else while you’d been asleep, you sucked in a sharp breath and held it. But as you opened your eyes again and they adjusted to the bright light, the familiar sight of your living room came into focus just before last night's events fully returned to you. 

You’d simply fallen asleep on the couch in your living room. You were still safely inside of your apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, no one had carted you off anywhere else against your will. Letting your eyes fall shut at the realization, you took a few deep, steadying breaths in an attempt to calm the sudden swell of panic that’d surged within you.

You were safe. You were home. There was no reason to be afraid.

With your body back under control, you opened your eyes and recounted the night before as you stared at the infomercial on your screen, barely aware of the nonstick pan being marketed. You figured that Matt must have left sometime early this morning after you’d passed out. But considering how you were laying across the entirety of the couch now, you assumed that he must’ve laid you down and made you comfortable before he’d gone back to his own apartment across the hall. Your stomach dropped at the realization that he’d had to navigate his way out of your place alone without his cane, though there was nothing you could do about it now. 

Pushing yourself groggily upright on the couch, you threw a hand up to stifle the yawn that fell out of you. Turning to look over the back of your sofa and into your kitchen, the time on the stove glared back at you in green: 6:57. Surprised that it was almost seven already–which meant you needed to get on your computer and log in for work before you were late–you started kicking the blankets off of yourself. Turning off the television, you darted up from the couch and hurried across the living room before roughly collapsing into your computer chair and turning on your computer. 

You managed to clock into work just one minute before you were officially considered late. But unfortunately, having woken up so late this morning meant that you’d have to wait for a shower until you’d finished for the day. With a heavy, defeated sigh, your shoulders sunk as you opened up a few programs and started to settle in. But as the first few minutes of the day dragged by, you found yourself staring blankly at your screen, unable to focus on the lines of code in front of you.

Your mind kept drifting back to Matt’s unexpected visit last night. You thought about the strange sensation that always seemed to pass over your skin when he was near you, that gentle tickle that absolutely baffled you. You’d certainly felt something akin to static electricity when he touched you last night, when he’d let you guide him into your apartment. In all the time you’d interacted with people–which was admittedly limited–you’d never felt that before with anyone else. You’d never encountered someone who’d had such an odd effect on you.

Part of you wondered if it was just the effects of having a crush on someone, because you assumed that’s what you were experiencing now. Not that you’d ever really experienced that before, because it wasn’t like you’d had the opportunity to form positive attachments to anyone while you’d been trapped in The Facility. You’d read about crushes in books though, and you’d heard plenty of characters talk about them in movies and television shows. Maybe that’s all it was. A simple crush on your neighbor. One that you needed to ignore and push aside.

Sliding your desk chair back, you decided that you needed a coffee. Some caffeine would help you concentrate on work instead of on your attractive neighbor. The attractive neighbor that you needed to remember was solely your friend and nothing more. Trying to shake the thoughts from your mind, you crossed the short distance into your kitchen and stopped in front of your espresso machine.

You pushed a button and the machine whirred to life, beginning to heat up while fresh beans started to grind out into the portafilter. Reaching up into the cabinet above you, you grabbed a coffee mug and pulled it down. Going through the familiar motions of tamping down the grounds and attaching the portafilter to the machine, your mind still continued to drift and wander this morning. You placed your mug on the drip tray, and while the shot began to pour out, you turned and rested a hip against the kitchen counter.

Your tired eyes inevitably found their way back to the couch in your living room, your plush green blanket strewn along the cushions in a mess from where you’d kicked it off of yourself. Despite your best attempts to concentrate on something else, you could still recall the warmth of Matt’s solid body pressed against your side as you’d sat together on that very couch watching a movie last night. He’d smelled just faintly of cedar and clove, a comforting scent that’d gradually relaxed you after the nightmare that you’d woken from. 

Your eyes slowly closed and you couldn’t help but remember the soft baritone of his voice beside your ear each time he’d spoken, and the pleasant way his hot breath brushed over the side of your face. Teeth pulling at your bottom lip, you wondered how it would feel to snuggle up against him on the couch after a nightmare instead of just sitting beside him. You wondered how it would feel to have those thick, strong arms pull you into his lap and have those calloused fingers soothingly running over your arms as they calmed you. You wondered if his skin smelled even stronger of that warm, rich scent, and if you buried your face against his neck, you were certain you could get lost in it.

But the face in your mind’s eye abruptly shifted without warning, and the illusion was quickly broken. The soft, gentle hazel eyes you’d been able to admire last night became the frightening dark ones which constantly haunted you. Plush lips quirked into a friendly smile turned into a thin, pompous grin. All the strong, warm features of Matt’s face twisted into the sharp, cold angles of another. 

The second his face grew clear in your mind with that familiar twisted smile, your eyes snapped back open. Your pulse jolted as you cowered back against the counter behind you, your hands anxiously gripping the edge of it. The espresso machine softly sputtered as it finished pouring out the last bits of the shot, and all of your muscles went taut at the sound.

“Little dove, little dove,” he cheerfully sing-songed.

“He’s not here,” you reassured yourself, quickly shaking your head back and forth. Your eyes began sweeping your apartment, scanning the large, open space for any trace of him. “He's not here,” you repeated. “It’s in my head. I’m just imagining it. This isn’t real.”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

Clamping your eyes firmly shut, your jaw clenched tight as your teeth grit together. The palms of your hands grew damp against the counter, and you felt your grip on it beginning to slip. The hair along the back of your neck prickled in fear when you swore you inhaled the expensive sharp tang of his cologne.

“You’re not here!” you shouted into your kitchen. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“You were meant for me.”

You felt something brush against your cheek–the lightest graze of fingertips–and your eyes flew open in a panic. A shrill scream crawled itself from your throat, echoing around the empty apartment. With a trembling hand, you grabbed your coffee mug from under the espresso machine and threw it across the room. The steaming brown liquid of freshly brewed coffee rose out of the mug in an arc before splattering along the floor, and the ceramic cup shattered in pieces moments afterwards.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled. 

Nothing but the sound of the traffic on the street far below came in response to your panicked plea. Finally losing your grip on the counter, you began to gradually sink down to the floor, your back sliding against the cabinet behind you. Burying your face in your hands, a choked sob fell out of you as tears sprung hot and wet along your waterline before spilling over and dampening your palms.

“Just leave me alone,” you begged softly, voice cracking. “Please, just–just leave me alone.”

Still wound up from last night's nightmare and this morning’s far-too-real scare which had you launching a perfectly good coffee mug across the kitchen, you'd left on another run after you'd finished work. You’d needed an outlet for your pent up nerves, something to help calm you down and settle your mind because you couldn’t risk losing control over yourself. It had taken you far too long and cost you far too much to suddenly go backwards because of your nightmares.

But having only managed a few hours of sleep over the past few days, you were noticeably drained this evening. You’d already lost track of how long you’d been out running, having circled your way around Hell’s Kitchen and towards a nearby park that you often jogged through, but you could finally feel your lungs stinging from the cold air. 

Eventually slowing to a walk, your hands fell to your hips as you attempted to catch your breath. Your legs ached and burned from how hard you’d pushed them tonight, and you knew it was time to head home. You needed to shower, make dinner, and hopefully pass out into a dreamless sleep for once. And you certainly didn’t want to be out after the sun had fully set. 

Breathing heavily, your chest continued to rapidly rise and fall as you maneuvered your way out of the park and back into the city foot traffic. Letting the soothing music in your earbuds help calm your earlier nerves, you navigated your way through the sea of people all around you. New York City was nothing like Anchorage, Alaska. Despite having enjoyed the more remote city where you’d spent a bit of your hard-earned freedom, you'd come to feel comforted among the endless sea of people that lived in New York City over the past couple of weeks. This was a place where someone could blend in and disappear.

Beads of sweat dripped down your back, gliding down the length of your spine beneath your shirt as you slipped past a woman loudly complaining on her phone. Continuing down the street in the direction of your apartment building, you contemplated what to cook for dinner with the minimal energy you had. But as you passed an alley, something darted out and latched onto your arm before roughly yanking you off balance and straight off the sidewalk. The force of the pull had managed to knock your earbuds loose from your ears, and the little purple devices descended to the pavement. 

Before you even had an opportunity to react to the situation, you were ripped off your feet and thrown straight through the alley. Your back slammed forcefully into a brick wall right between two dumpsters, and the impact knocked the air completely out of your lungs. Wheezing for breath as you doubled over, a distorted, gargled noise came out of your mouth as pain shot itself through your body, your muscles stinging from the blow. You’d hit the brick with a devastating force. 

You needed to get control of the situation. You’d been trained to fight your entire life, so you shoved your surprise aside and began to straighten. Though whoever had attacked you hadn’t given you time to recover, and something dark appeared in your line of sight just before you felt a hand wrap itself around your throat. Fingers squeezed around your windpipe before your feet were dangling in the air, your back scraping along the jagged brick behind you as someone lifted you single-handedly by the throat. The weight of their grip cut off your airflow, and as your vision grew hazy and splotchy, your mind abruptly flashbacked to the straps that used to restrain you at The Facility. Beginning to kick your legs wildly in a frenzy, you thrashed violently in their hold, desperately struggling to break free from it. 

But it was no use. Their hand only tightened further around your throat, causing you to choke and sputter against the wall. White dots began to cloud your vision as your hands grabbed onto their wrist, tugging and pulling in an attempt to break their grasp on you. But nothing you did seemed to have any effect on them. Whoever had grabbed you was abnormally strong. Far stronger than the average person, and far stronger than even you. 

Had they finally found you then? Were they dragging you back to your glass cage? Were you never to see the sunlight again, doomed to be endlessly tormented and tortured until they finally killed you? Panic shot through you like lightning and your nails began viciously clawing at their wrist as a familiar tremor vibrated in your skull. It was no longer a debate about whether to use your abilities or not, staying out of The Facility was worth ruining all those years of trying to be normal, but a voice beneath you cut through your attempt to concentrate.

“Who the fuck are you?” your attacker demanded. 

Ignoring their question, clarity washed over you in an instant as you struggled to breathe. You would not go back to that cage. You would not go without a fight. Trying to quell the rising panic, you became keenly aware of the fact that you were running out of time before you fell unconscious from the lack of oxygen to your brain. You didn’t know what would happen to you then, but you could certainly imagine plenty of horrible scenarios. So you would survive by whatever means necessary.

Switching your focus away from the searing pain in your empty lungs and the failing buzz in your mind, you stopped kicking your feet and carefully pulled your legs up beneath yourself. With the soles of your shoes flat against the wall behind you, you abruptly pushed off of it with all of your remaining strength, successfully surprising your assailant. In their brief moment of shock, you were able to remove their grip from your throat before twisting their arm behind their back as they fell face first onto the cement. You fell onto them from behind, contorting their arm at an unnatural angle behind their body. Placing a knee into their back, you pressed with all of your weight and forced them to stay down.

Gasping for air, you tried to fill your burning lungs with oxygen again. As you sucked in each large gulp of air, you were finally able to get a look at your attacker. It was a woman. Slim with dark hair. Not someone you’d ever seen before, no one you recognized. Able to think more clearly now that you weren’t being strangled, you also realized that someone working for The Facility wouldn’t have asked who you were because they’d have already known. So why had this woman ambushed you? What did she want from you?

“Who the hell are you?” you pressed, though some of the bite was lost due to your breathlessness. 

The woman let out a grunt beneath you, and before you knew what was happening, she swiftly swung the arm you’d been holding behind her back. The force of her throw was so strong that you once again went flying through the air as if you weighed nothing to her. This time your back slammed into the metal dumpster with a loud bang. The metal molded slightly around your body at the violent impact, and you were yet again left choking for air, tears stinging at your eyes as you sat helpless on the alley floor. You had clearly underestimated her strength.

“I’m pretty goddamn sure I asked that first,” she spat, pushing herself back onto her feet. 

Readjusting her leather jacket, the dark haired woman crossed the distance towards you, her eyes narrowed into a piercing glare at where you sat slumped against the dumpster. Still fighting to catch your breath, you were incapable of doing much to stop her approach.

“And after witnessing what you just did,” she continued. “I’m definitely going to need an answer. So who the fuck are you?”

You shook your head, chest still heaving as you panted pathetically on the ground. “Why–why do you want to know?” you hoarsely croaked out. “What do you–you want from me?”

Her lip curled back in irritation as she stopped just in front of you, towering over you on the ground. “I want to know if you’re working for him,” she growled. “Because I think you’re the one who’s been stalking me, aren’t you? The one taking all the photos of me for him?”

The woman dropped down to one knee in front of you, her hand darting out fast before her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt. She balled it into her fist before yanking you towards her like a ragdoll, but your mind was still spinning and trying to process what she was talking about. None of it made sense.

“What are you to him?” she snapped. “One of his mindless zombies? Someone he tricked? Or are you as sick of a fuck as he is?”

Forehead creasing in absolute confusion, you gently shook your head despite the pain it caused. You had absolutely no idea what the hell she was raving about. “Who?” you asked. “Who’re you–?”

“Kilgrave,” she spat the name. “Why does he have pictures of me? And why does he have a framed picture of the two of you? One he risked his life to make sure he took with him." 

Without warning, she slammed her fist into the metal dumpster so forcefully that the metal indented just inches from your head. But you’d barely registered the metallic crunch beside your ears, your entire body reacting to the single name she’d just spoken. 

"Who are you?” she snarled. “Tell me!”

With each question that tumbled out of her mouth, it caused the world around you to shift and spin. Your chest constricted, closing around your lungs like a vice. Throat feeling as if it was abruptly closing up, you felt your entire world shatter and crumble around you.

His face appeared in your mind for the second time today. That twisted, dark smile and the dangerous glint in his brown eyes. You could smell the expensive cologne he always wore, the scent of it rolling into your nose like a deadly poison.

"Little dove."

Beginning to hyperventilate, each breath felt like a knife stabbing you straight through the chest over and over. With every rapid beat of your heart violently hammering inside of you, tears began to burn your eyes. When your body started trembling, the woman’s hand instantly released your shirt, but whatever she’d said came muffled and distorted through your ears. All you could see was him now, grinning back at you as if he’d once more invaded your mind.

"You belong to me, little dove."

“No,” you whispered.

His laugh echoed in your ears, and you swore you felt his warm breath fanning down the back of your neck. Eyes snapping shut, your hands rose and started hysterically clawing at your throat, nails scraping against your skin so hard they’d leave marks. Because this couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be here. You’d gotten away from him.

“You’re mine, little dove.”

“No,” you gasped, choking on the word.

A second voice called out through the alley, so faint that you could barely hear it. With how fast your blood was rushing through your veins, and how hard you were gasping for air, you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breaths. Everything began fading around you, as if you were falling deeper and deeper down a tunnel. But you couldn’t make it stop. You couldn’t quiet the sound of muffled screaming, not aware if it was coming from you or if you were imagining it. 

Only one thought came muddied through the glaring panic overtaking your entire body before everything went dark: Kilgrave was in New York City, and you were no longer safe. 

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Oh my god, the lore, the angst, the suspense!!! I’m basically watching an actual episode right now. I love this story, thank you for continuing it!! ❤️❤️

[catchymemes]

MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE

[kosmogrl]

once again overreacted and panicked for the whole day and it ended up being alright. no I will not learn and it will happen again

[kosmogrl]

oooh I get it it’s always gonna be because of the environment I grew up in

[babydoll-4444]

[shamebats]

They should invent an economic system where I don't have to choose between having enough income to live off of and being able to feel joy

[e-rose]

[fixing-bad-posts]

work leaves people with many issues and problems.

[orchidocs]

am I your girl?

bf! dennis whitaker x gf! reader texts

summary : a small collection of texts between you and your boyfriend/coworker dennis

contents : suggestive content (mdni !!), cursing, jealousy, allusions to cheating (it doesn't actually happen), attempted humor

ᯓ★ a/n: this man has been on my mind since before I even started watching The Pitt so I just wanted to put out something for him even if it was quick and silly lol, hope you guys enjoy!!