Miniature Disasters

18 + ONLY PLEASE // Curently writing for Vikings yet if you asked me if I wasted my morning, I'd probably not answer... "Dilemma" Masterlist

[anxietyproblem]

[someplace-darker]

Lingering | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: literally like none. Just a bunch of fluff and Matt taking care of you. This is entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You've been worked to the bone and slept a total of 3 hours, so Matt takes care of you during your burnout.

A/N: there will be a smutty part 2 to this 😌 This was made for ezra and i bc we're tired. Enjoy!

"Sweetheart," Matt whispers, knuckles brushing across your cheek as he pulls you back into consciousness as gently as possible. You had been working on his couch for hours on end, laptop screen now dimmed where it lay on your lap, forgotten as you slip in and out of sleep. His touch stirs you, dreams fading out into the background only to be replaced by the pleasant feeling of Matt’s touch.

Your eyes finally blink open enough that you can focus on him, smiling softly at the sight of your boyfriend kneeling in front of you, his hands warm on your cheeks. The billboard outside his window glows brighter now that the sun has dipped behind the skyline, reds and purples dancing across Matt’s face and you can’t help but wonder how he gets prettier each time you see him.

Then again, maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to you, because the first words out of your mouth are “you look like a skittle, Matty.” He huffs out a laugh, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, wiping away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye “care to explain?” You shake your head and lean further into his touch, fighting back against the urge to let your eyes slip shut again. “The candy, Matt. They come in rainbow colors, and the light outside is making your face purple. Need I say more?”

“No, I guess not,” Matt muses quietly, grin dimpling his cheeks, brushing back the hair that sticks to the side of your mouth from where you had leaned into your hand.

His touch drop from your face to take the laptop and move it to the coffee table, then gripping your waist so he can pull you to the edge of the couch. Your thighs press to his sides and you can feel each breath he takes, steady and a bit faster than your own sleepy breathing. “Sorry I fell asleep, I was trying to wait until you got home,” you mumble, leaning forward to place your forehead on his shoulder, cursing under your breath when your head thumps harder against him than anticipated. Damn your heavy head and sleep-deprived reflexes.

Matt hums in acknowledgment, tapping your arms until you get the gist and raise them to wrap around his shoulders. “You should’ve gone to bed sweetheart, especially if you’re this tired. Mind telling me how many hours you got last night?” He knows he has you when your breath hitches, face pressing further into his neck. You don’t want him to know just how late you had been up the night before while he was out deviling, finishing your notes for the day while you waited until you eventually passed out.

But you know that he’s just concerned, so you press a kiss to the junction of his neck and jaw in hopes that he won’t scold you when you tell him. “About three hours,” you whisper, stifling an obnoxiously timed yawn that almost seems like the universe picking Matt’s side. He sighs quietly, though there’s no real agitation behind it, just concern “let's get you to bed, then.” This time there’s no need for a tap before you wrap your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his hands slide under your thighs to lift.

Matt stands with no sign of strain, even as he holds your weight in his arms and carries you across the living room and into his bedroom, bending over to ease you onto the edge of the bed. The exhaustion that had seeped into your bones weighs heavier the second Matt steps back to rummage through the drawer that keeps your t-shirts, hands moving across each article of clothing to feel the fabric. He picks the one softest against his fingertips and plucks it from its spot, moving back to stand in front of you. He quickly picks up on the way that you’re swaying, eyelids moving slower with each passing second “c’mon angel, let’s at least change out of your clothes.”

Your stomach flutters with affection at the use of angel, a dopey smile finding its way on your lips. Matt reserved that name for you, the highest of praise coming from the catholic himself, love and adoration seeping through the two syllables. He loved listening to the way it made your heart leap to your throat, mapping the mental image of your blissed expression that his senses piece together, tucking it away for later examination.

Matt leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, placing the sleep shirt to the side so he could tug the one currently on you over your head, tossing it into the corner. You take the time to shimmy off your pants while he unfolds the replacement, placing it on top of your hair and tugging it down, placing yet another kiss to the tip of your nose the second the collar passes.

“Can you stay for a bit before you go out, Matty?” you speak in a hushed tone, letting your boyfriend maneuver your arms into the holes, limbs too tired to do much other than grab at him.

“Of course I can- lets get you under the blankets, baby,” Matt presses against your shoulder until you lay back, eyes already closing while he tugs the silk comforter up to your chest. There’s an attempt to open your gaze one more time so you can catch a glimpse of him to admire in all your sleep deprived glory before inevitably collapsing back into the arms of slumber, but you sorely underestimate the intensity of your fatigue, eyelids only twitching with the attempt.

Matt sheds his work clothes, head tilted just slightly to listen to the sound of you, breathing slowing until it evens out completely. The bed dips under his weight as he slides in beside you, reaching around to pull your body flush against his chest. Matt always needs to feel you in one way or another, needed to feel the heat of your form against his, smooth skin pressed to the marred flesh of his chest. You’d trace the scars late at night when it was just the two of you, curving your finger along them like his body was a canvas and you were the mastermind behind the art.

Your lips part, slow intakes of breath filling your lungs. “I love you so much,” you murmur against his neck, drifting away and leaving him to follow.

Matt holds you tighter “I love you too, sweetheart.”

—

Sometime around midnight is when you wake up again, hand thumping on the mattress beside you but finding no sign of Matt, only a lingering heat left behind from where he had laid next to you. You know he would probably resort to smothering you with a pillow if you attempted to stay up for him, so you decide against it, instead dragging his pillow to your chest and inhaling his scent, letting it envelop you as you close your eyes once again.

Somewhere on a rooftop, a few buildings away, Matt is listening to your breathing, pausing only momentarily to ensure that you get the rest you need before continuing on with his patrol. Slinking in and out of the shadows as fast as possible so he can get home to you.

[writeouswriter]

My characters when I try to write a transition scene:

[laverdae]

Ecce Homo by Guido Reni, Pietà by Michelangelo Buonarroti, La Trinidad by José de Ribera // Daredevil

[peakywitch]

No comments, just a gifts from the gods.

[alliecathayes]

THE PUNISHER (2017-2019)

[rileysramblings]

Epiphany [Part 1 // Chapter 3]

Billy Russo x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: She finds herself in a bar, lonely, sad, reflective on her life and her choices. 

CAUTION IS RECOMMENDED - Warnings: angst, anxiety, depression, mention of low self-worth, swearing (a lot).

Side Note: Alright guys, you are the best of the best. I cannot thank you enough for all your messages, your likes and your reblogs. You are all so nice and amazing. THANK YOU!! This one marks the end of Part 1. I already have Part 2 planned out, I just need to move my ass and write it! While that happens, enjoy Chapter 3 and as always please feel free to tell me what you think!

←Previous Chapter

Chapter 3 -- The Name.

Lies. Lies. Lies. Everybody lied. 

The bottle in her hands was half full, it wasn’t her first. Her fingers were caressing the glass, slowly toying with the condensation as she was stuck in a whirlwind of hideous thoughts she’d rather push further down but knew needed to get out. A conversation she procrastinated to have with herself for so long, she was now in such a predicament, her life started to look like the butt of a ridiculous joke. 

Was it attracted to her? Was she somehow a magnet to deceit and misrepresentation? The few relationships she’d had all ended badly. Whatever she did, whatever she changed, it all ended up the same way. Her crying over fast food because of some guy her friends would later describe as ‘that asshole who didn’t deserve her’. 

Then again, somehow it felt like a coward’s way to look at things. Was she supposed to believe she had never done anything wrong? This wasn’t a movie where you knew who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. This was real life where grey areas not only existed but reigned like fucking Kings. 

She wasn’t perfect. She’d had ill-advised responses to strained situations and had said ludicrous yet controlled words to people she had cared about. In other words: stupid shitty things said and done in stupid shitty situations. 

And those disappointing relationships? Half of those failures were hers to carry. After all, she had adjusted her words, her attitude and even sometimes had tried to tailor her beliefs for those ‘assholes who didn’t deserve her’. 

She sighed and took a sip. The beer was almost flat. Figures. 

It was a nice thought though, reassuring. But telling herself over and over again that it wasn’t her fault may be helpful short term when she was knee deep in burgers, bourbon and Netflix but long term? Long term it was just painfully harmful and idiotic. Yet, the contrary thought was so repugnant she almost felt bile coming up. 

Was she attracted to it? Dishonesty, infidelity. Did she want all of that? Was she looking for it?

Tricks, ruses, illusions. Did it make her feel more, desire more? Did it make her feel more alive?

Despite all those convictions and all those principles, was she one of those persons who needed drama in order to be happy? Maybe she was seeking these people, these inaccessible and damaged people doomed to hurt her. But then again, it always ended badly and it always made her feel terrible. 

Drama didn’t make her happy. It just made her pessimism harsher. 

She twirled the bottle in her hands as another thought came to mind, one that she hated more than all her previous weak theories.

Did she make it happen? 

That would explain why she was sitting in a debatably ill advised bar, drinking alcohol she arguably shouldn't be drinking and was stupidly self introspecting while she could be trying to bring back her relationship from the dead. This will be referred to, in the future, as the Matt debacle. She could already hear herself swear and argue internally on how pathetic she made that whole story end. 

He was a good lawyer and not in the sense that he was good at his job - although he obviously was - but in the sense that he cared for people. He wanted to do good, he wanted to make a difference and she made him a liar. She made him dirty. 

It had to be her. She was the common denominator. 

Maybe she expected too much. Maybe all those bruises and those long nights were none of her business, maybe she had asked too many questions. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut and accepted what he had told her. He was blind, he bumped into things. He was a new lawyer in a new eponymous business, he was working long hours. 

She almost wanted to believe that. In a way, it made it easier. She was the bad guy, she needed too much, had pushed too far. She was to blame. He was the victim. Black and white. Easy. Comfortable. 

Bullshit. 

She knew he was lying to her face. He was too good a person to be a good liar. And even if he hadn’t been, it was all too clear on his friends’ faces.  

Lies. 

Everywhere. 

No. For once, she had been right. Shutting her mouth would have been modifying herself once more. Not asking questions to obvious unusual events was not a normal reaction for someone who cared. And she did care. 

Had cared? Still cared?

Yes. She still cared for Matt. Of course. But it wasn’t enough. Caring wasn’t enough. Not when a certain ex-military was still mentally winking at her whenever someone was mentioning anything salicious. Not when she could still hear a certain businessman laugh in the corner of her mind when a stupid joke was uttured near her. 

She sighed as she ordered a shot of Bourbon with her refill, her gaze never really leaving the bottle of beer nearly empty in her hands. 

“Sounds good, make that two. On me.” 

She heard the voice but it took her a few seconds to realise what was happening.

The smirk had appeared on his face the moment he'd seen her. Sitting at the counter, toying with her drink, just like the first time he had met her. And no Red in sight. His day was getting better and better.

This was his second chance. She was alone. Her feet were stable against the legs of the stool she was sitting on even though her body swayed unconsciously to the rhythm of the song. 

He had inhaled deeply. A few months ago he wouldn't even have had a second thought about his next steps. He would have already been sitting next to her giving her a look that said more than any bullshit he would have charmingly spatted out. 

Yet, here he'd stood, looking at her and hoping she was as unhappy as he was. Because, if anything, he had to be honest about that at least. 

He missed her. He didn't miss people. Ever. But he missed her. 

That was a first. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. He needed to run toward her like a dehydrated fool facing an oasis in the desert, grab her and never let go. He needed to run away like a rabbit having seen the trap a few seconds before his doom, his heart in his throat and his legs heavy like a block of cement. 

Uncharted territories. Unknown dangers.

He had been to war. He had tortured and killed countless people. He had manipulated and charmed his way in and out of dangerous situations. But this. This was different. 

He had already fucked up his first chance. This needed to be the one. This needed to work. It was a challenge in a way. That’s how he had needed to approach the situation otherwise he wouldn’t have moved from his spot. 

Ready. Set. Go.

So he had walked over, his shoulder twitching slightly, and he had ordered the drinks as if she had been waiting for him. Him, unusually late for their date. “Sounds good, make that two. On me.” 

He smirked as they stared at each other. She was looking at him like he had just come out of a dream and he loved every second of it. The number of times he had imagined this moment - he was actually quite ashamed of it. 

The reason for her absence still a mystery to him, his decision of moving on decisive and absolute, yet he’d been lying on his bed - thinking about her. The lines around her eyes when she smiled, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her naked skin against his hands, her tongue against her lips, against his lips, against him. Everything about her was still haunting him and although he tried to resent it or hate it, he couldn’t. 

“You look terrible. No offense.”

Fuck you! She chuckled and her eyebrows shot up in surprise and astonishment. Not only did Billy Russo had the nerve to show up, sit down next to her and assume it would be ok, but he had the audacity to play the charming game and look good doing it.

He was smiling, proud of the effect he had on her, no doubt. She refrained from another chuckle as she shook her head slightly. She wasn’t offended. Maybe that was what pissed her off more than anything else. She wasn’t fucking offended.  

“Don’t get me wrong, your terrible is still quite nice - I just know what you look like on a usual day” Billy continued. She couldn’t stop the next chuckle but she brought her fingers to her lips as if it could cancel the abrupt show of amusement. 

Fuck. You. 

His eyes went automatically to her lips and he inhaled deeply, his smirk unmovable. She felt his gaze and could sense the pink reaching her cheeks. He let his back lean on the chair while his eyes never left her and she bit her lower lip, trying to find somewhere else to focus her attention than the gorgeous specimen that was sitting next to her, making her blush with one look and her heart beat faster with a few words. 

Dammit. This man was dangerous. 

The bartender left the drinks in front of them and took off as soon as he arrived, leaving the two of them to their smirking contest. “Well cheers to that then!” She exclaimed, raising the shot of bourbon in the air before chugging it. Billy mirrored her actions and drank the alcohol before dropping it back on the counter, his eyes still glued to the complexe woman next to him. 

Her gaze left his and he could clearly see whatever troubling reflections she had been stuck with came rushing back. He could almost see the thoughts in her head go round and round, making her sad -  distressed - anxious. Her foot had started tapping the leg of the stool at a rapid rhythm and she scrunched her nose every few seconds as if she was trying to kill the few thoughts she didn’t particularly like along the way. 

“Seriously, how are you?” He asked as her hands had gone back almost automatically to the beer bottle in front of her, her gaze somehow lost in thoughts. When she looked up, she was slightly shocked to see his smirk had lost its spark and had been replaced by a soft and genuine smile. 

“I was just taking a mental inventory of my life,” she started with a not so genuine cheerful smile, “and I’m slowly but surely arriving at the conclusion that I do not make good and healthy choices!” She chuckled, her eyes back on the bottle in front of her. 

“You did stop answering my calls!”

A genuine laugh escaped her and she tilted her head to look at him once more, biting her lip  and smirking. “That would probably not make the list, no, I don’t think so.”

“Ow, mean.” Billy chuckled, bringing his hand to his heart feigning an injury. She shook her head, still smiling, yet dismissing his last comment. 

“What kind of unhealthy choices are we talking about here?”

“Oh you know the usual. Replacing my lack of confidence with putting the other person first even when it means changing myself in the hope the relationship will go on even though it is making me miserable.” She said in one breath not taking her eyes off the beer in her hands. 

Billy frowned and tilted his head as if to examine her. As if suddenly he wasn’t quite sure he was talking to the same girl who had danced to Creedence Clearwater Revival in her sexy mismatched underwear in front of him, before sitting on his lap, raising her eyebrow suggestively and quoting Billy the Kid vs Dracula to him ‘But he isn’t a man!’, a laugh threatening to burst before she could finish.

 “That doesn’t sound like you.”

She stayed silent for a second, thinking it over. It was true. It didn’t sound like her. Or at least, it didn’t sound like the girl she had been when with him. When she had met Billy Russo, since the first eye contact, he had been strikingly kind, expertly charming and so effortlessly welcoming that all stress and all overthinking had disappeared. No. Not disappear. It didn’t disappear because it never actually appeared in the first place. 

Billy had made her feel comfortable from the very first second they spent together. That had never happened before, or since. Now, to be fair, she hadn’t been uncomfortable with the others. Matt, for example, had never ever made her feel uncomfortable. Yet, there was always this thing that made it difficult. Extra work. A sort of uneasy-ness. 

She sighed and his shoulder twitched.

The longer she stayed silent, the harder he found it to stay still. He fought every cell in his body to keep his calm exterior when his brain was all but serene. How come a person could be everything she seemed to be at first glance and everything contrary to it as well? 

His understanding of her had collapsed more times that he was happy about. He was usually so good at having a good grasp of a person’s psyche after a few seconds of meeting them that it was as annoying as it was interesting not understanding her. 

Yet, that terrible thought leaving an unforgiving disgusting aftertaste in his mouth raged in his mind. Maybe he had her all wrong since the first moment. Maybe she had been replacing her lack of confidence by putting him first even when it meant changing herself in the hope the relationship will go on even though it was making her miserable. 

Maybe she had been miserable. 

All the smiles. All the laughs. They all came rushing back into his mind giving him whiplash. It wasn’t supposed to be this serious. She was supposed to be a distraction from all his work, from all the worries, from all the deaths. 

But then, she started talking and he would listen. And he would talk in return. Talking about his childhood and how it had changed him. How the trauma of his younger years had built him. All those difficult conversations that no one wanted to have. All those difficult feelings no one wanted to hear, even less feel. He had never even tried to speak about them. He knew better. 

But she had spoken about her childhood, about her fears and broken dreams and somehow, it didn’t feel as impossible to talk about his as well. And he did. And she kept on looking at him the same way she used to do before his ugly tales had escaped his lips. And it had felt better than anything in the world. 

The thought that she didn’t mean it. The thought she had actually lied to him. That she looked him in the eyes and faked understanding his feelings. That she stared at him and faked liking him despite his history. It felt as if he just got shot. The bullet hitting him from the side, piercing his lungs and slowly making its way to his heart every time he tried to breathe.

Was it what it felt like? Betrayal? Love? 

All the smiles. All the laughs.

Lies.

Everywhere.

As per fucking usual.

“That’s probably the worst part. I wasn’t like that with you.” She finally spoke and Billy released the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. It felt like he had been stuck underwater only to be rushed abruptly to the surface. His breath was rough although he tried to hide it and his eyes shot up as startled as he was perplexed. 

She hadn’t lied. Not this time. Not her. He had been right. She didn’t lie to him, to everyone else but not him. And he didn’t manipulate her, everyone else but not her. 

Both of them unknowingly making an exception of the other person. 

The sheer delight of the news was crushed as soon as it came to be when Billy finally heard her words as she spoke them and not as he hoped them. 

The worst part. Her, liking him for who he was. Her, not being afraid of acting like herself. Her, leaving without a word, a text, anything. 

He had been right thinking there was more to it than just a girl not wanting to continue the strange little relationship they had unofficially started. A strange little relationship that still kept him awake in the middle of the night, even after it ended. 

The worst part… The worst part was that she might have not lied when she was around but she still left without an explanation. They had talked about their fears and traumas but it didn’t even cross her mind that abandoning him would not hurt just as much as a lie. Maybe more. 

“Why did you leave?” He asked, the honesty mixed with anger and hurt dripping from every pore of his body and as she looked at him, she let herself feel bad.

It never occurred to her that she might have hurt him that day as she’d left his office, never looking back. But could she have? The question was legitimate. After all, he was the one chasing after other women when they were doing… whatever it was they were doing. It wasn’t like he was doing it in secret, he had made that call right in the middle of his office, his door practically wide open. Alright. Maybe not wide open. Still, he had to know why she left. Didn’t he?

As she looked into his eyes, sitting at the counter of a poorly lit bar, she couldn’t help but feel that he had no clue what had really transpired that day, what it had meant to her and what it had done to her sanity. So she would have to say it - out loud. Just the thought of it made her want to throw up. 

“I was falling in love with you and you weren’t.”

His back was leaning on the small backrest, his right hand holding the beer bottle, one of his feet resting on one of the legs of the stool and his lower lip between his teeth. He took a big inhale and crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving her. 

The lies, or absence of them, didn’t matter any longer. She disregarded everything they had gained - shared - felt and left him with a handful of pieces from a puzzle he didn’t know existed but had had to solve on his own. 

He was hurt. He was angry. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

His words surprised her, shocked her even. Her fingers that had been caressing the glass of the bottle in her hands had suddenly stopped any movement, her legs bouncing rapidly against the stool cessed all actions and without even acknowledging it, she held her breath as if her life depended on it. 

It was bizarre how much power that man held over her. Seeing him so still, visibly irritated or even angry at her. She felt bad as she started to doubt her past actions and thoughts. 

Had she been the one in the wrong? She could have been more open about why she left.  Maybe she should have answered one of his calls to explain and have what healthy people would call closure. Had she been the rude one, the insensitive one? 

No. She took a deep inhale and closed her eyes for a second. Her brain just needed to reset.  

He had no right to be this furious. As much as she would like to think that their relationship had been wonderfully amazing, she couldn’t escape the fact he had obviously been talking - flirting - fucking other girls. After all, putting her feelings aside, it was fair. They had never put down a specific line not to cross. They had never even hinted at a specific line not to cross. Didn’t want to talk about the line. Loved the fact he seemingly didn’t want to talk about the line either. 

And there they were now. Him, obviously upset about how she had ended things. And her, atrociously upset that a stupid incomplete name, not even spoken directly to her, would make her loose that much sleep. 

Maybe they both needed closure in the end. Maybe it wasn’t too late to talk about the line. Maybe they should? 

She sighed as she closed her eyes. She took a big inhale preparing herself to say the words she had tried to forget but had not ceased to haunt her. Two words. One name. The name. 

“Agent Madani.” 

Billy stilled for a moment. “That-”, he started but stopped himself. That day replayed in his mind and he closed his eyes, finally understanding what had happened. Suddenly everything made sense. The awkward half surprised half distraught look on her face when he had opened the door of his office. The clumsy conversation filled with holes that followed. The fact she stopped answering his phone calls and texts. 

He sighed, calculating the damages, weighing in his options and choosing his words carefully. His arms fell to his side and he put his drink back on the counter before speaking. “Nothing happened when we .. were seeing each other.”

She scoffed slightly and nodded as her eyes were focused on her hands holding the almost empty beer bottle. “That is so not good enough Billy. It’s just-” she said as her eyes started to burn and she smiled in a foolish attempt to avoid crying. “It’s just not enough.”

He had made a move on Madani because of Rawlins. The man needed intel. Intel that Madani had or that she was in a position to have. From the moment he had met her, he had seen right through her. As he usually did. And he wasn’t wrong. A personal, physical relationship with Madani would make her more helpful. And as his girl - who wasn’t his girl - had decided to stop answering his calls, he had no unspoken obligation anymore. Perfect timing. 

Or so he fucking thought. 

He had been angry and hurt and it was all his fault. He had hurt her. The suffering in her eyes would be carved in his brain forever. He could see the damage he had caused and the fresh stubborn wound that wouldn’t close. He had done that. And he had had the fucking arrogance to think he was the victim in that story. 

Billy got closer, he put his elbow on the counter trying to gently force her to make eye contact with him, trying to make her understand how much he meant the words he was about to speak.

“One word from you and I’m all yours.”

His whispered confession made her turn around and look him in the eyes. He looked like he meant it. She sniffled and half a chuckle escaped her as she looked away for a second. Her elbows were on the counter so close to his, they hadn’t been this physically close to one another since the morning before her visit to Anvil. She had almost forgotten how good he smelled, it was intoxicating. 

“See that’s way too much.” she said, almost whispering, not missing the way he was looking at her. So much fucking earnestness it could actually kill her. Her breathing was scattered and she forced herself to keep speaking. 

“I’m sure there are thousands of girls who would kill to hear someone say that to them. You-” she stopped and tried to compose herself. “It’s just words. I can just say a magic word and everything is fine again. It doesn’t work like that. That’s- That’s not real life.”

Billy was still staring at her, watching her every move. She was right. Of course, she was right. This was real life where your actions meant more than the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

He meant them. He meant every one of them. But it was too late for pretty words. She was right. He had fucked up. Now he needed to prove himself. And he would. For her. 

“One dinner.” 

Because he missed her. 

“I’ll work for it. I promise.”

And he never missed anyone. 

“Let me make it up to you.”

She looked at him. She looked into his eyes, his dark - intense - extraordinary emotive eyes, and she held her breath. She should say no. She should stand up, smile politely and go away. She should leave the bar and the man behind, never looking back, never reminiscing about the what ifs. She should stop. It was time for healthy choices. It was time to grow up. 

“Ok.”

-

End of Part 1

Part 2 // coming soon

-

@blackbirddaredevil23, @littlebobree, @profoundme444, @stories-you-wont-hear , @superawesomegeek , @foodnfics4evr18 , @soleilgrec

-

[incorrectvikings]

Athelstan: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers.

Ragnar: Please just say ‘fuck.’

[lemonworldmp3]

ragnar + his obsession with death

i cannot stop thinking about death. death intrigues me. the death of children. the death of friends. but my own death continues to elude me.

[fantasygirl3791]

I understand that Billy Russo was a terrible person but I also recognize that he was also very broken as well.

[rileysramblings]

As much as I love Billy he owns my ass I have a HUGE soft spot for Matt. He’d treat a woman right for sure and I live for the potential of a triangle between Billy and Matt. So excited for part 3😍

Hello there 😊

First of all and most importantly: thank you so much 🥰 I’m so happy you like the story and I truly hope the next chapters won’t disappoint!

Now, I need this on the record: I love Matt and Billy. They are both amazing characters, very different from one another yet both so fucking interesting! I’m not going into details because we could still be here in a week but they are both really cool and that is why even though Epiphany is very much a Billy Russo story, I couldn’t help myself and make Matt guest appear in it!

I do agree with you, Matt is a beautiful human being and would treat his partner with the love and respect they deserve. I don’t want to spoil the story so I can’t really say anything except that Epiphany is angst heavy and I plan on keeping it that way for a minute…

😏

[rileysramblings]

LOVING epiphany, I feel like there’s something more to her meeting with Matt. I was expecting him to ask her about billy or something and him to overhear but it was more angsty without and im loving it. Brooding, jealous, annoyed, butt hurt, heartbroken, disappointed Billy pitying himself for losing “his girl” through his own actions and not realising until it’s too late(or so he thinks)? Uh yes please!!

Loving your writing too, it’s great you’re so talented. Been looking for a good billy story for a while and I’ve definitely found it. Looking forward to more!😍

Holy shit. You have no idea how happy your message made me!! I'm so excited you like the story so far. And thank you so much for the lovely compliments! 🥰🥰

Billy is definitely feeling a bit shitty pre and post chapter 😅 but let's be honest, it's quite deserved.

I feel like 'she' wouldn't want to talk about Billy when on a date with another guy. At this point, a little bit of time has passed since the first chapter and 'she' just wants to move on and concentrate on more positive options.

Now the other option being Matt... only time will tell if there's a connection there!

[rileysramblings]

Epiphany [Part 1 // Chapter 2]

BIlly Russo x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: His ego hurt and his suspicions on high alert, he is in full investigation mode.

CAUTION IS RECOMMENDED - Warnings: angst, mention of sex, swearing.

Side Note: The response from the first chapter was insane! Thank you all so much for the love, I can’t even believe how many of you read it! So here comes the second chapter, I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as the first one. This is a Billy POV chapter, it was challenging to write and I’m quite happy with the result. Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or anything like that, let me know what you think!!

←Previous Chapter

Chapter 2 -- His girl

He had always been alone. He had gotten really good at it. He’d had time to sharpen this particular talent. After all, he’d been alone ever since he was a kid. It was almost an art form at this point. 

Almost.

To him it was more than that. It was how he survived. It taught him to be strong. It taught him to be careful who to trust. It taught him to be smart. He was alive today because of it. 

Of course he had friends, people he trusted - to an extent - with whom he had shared his life, or a morsel of it anyway. Frank was a good example. He’d trusted Frank more than anybody else ever. He had trusted him with his life when in the trenches. It wasn’t just trust too, he liked him. He loved him like a brother. He’d shared more with him than with anybody else. And in turn, Frank had opened his arms and had let him in. He had met his wife and his kids. They would go to the carnival together, he would make Frank Junior laugh and Lisa, little smartalec Lisa would always find a crack in his funny stories and sweet Maria would congratulate her while smiling fondly at him. Frank had made him a part of his life. 

Now, that story had a bitter, complicated and tragic ending but the love had been there. And the trust too. 

Women… Women were more complex. They needed more details, they wanted to meld their lives with his. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need that. He’d had relationships before, obviously, but nothing too serious. Frank always said that he would find a girl one day that would make him change his mind. “Quality over quantity,” he’d said over and over again. Billy had always chuckled at that. 

It wasn’t for him. He had always been alone. He was comfortable being alone. 

And no one would want him anyway. Not completely. He was too damaged. People never saw him, not truly. He was not what he looked like. 

Wait. That was wrong. Maybe it had been true at some point in his life but then the war happened, and the choices he made afterwards. No, it wasn’t like that anymore, who was he trying to fool? 

He was not what he made himself look like. That was the truth. 

His lies, now that was art. He had learned a long time ago how to manipulate the truth to provide him with leeway. At first, that was a way to survive when he was still in the system. Now, it was a way to arrive at his goal. It was almost his way of life. 

Special Agent Madani was a good example of that. The fact she was gorgeous was neither here nor there. She was smart, ambitious but most importantly, she was useful. He had only met her a couple of weeks before and already he had gathered intel that had Rawlins elated. 

Now, two weeks was not long but with his girl not responding to his calls anymore, Madani had unfortunately all his attention - well, all his free time anyway. 

His girl - His Girl - She wasn’t his girl. 

Just the thought of her made him twitch. 

He didn’t completely understand what had happened there. She was hard to figure out as it turned out. She was fun and he thought he had assessed her correctly but then, out of nowhere, she showed up to Anvil and disappeared minutes later never to be seen or heard of - by him - again. He had mentioned plans for later in the week when he would have asked about her visit but when he called to define the date, she didn’t answer. As a matter of fact, she stopped answering any kind of communication coming from him which not only pissed him off but made him suspicious of the entire relationship. 

Which explained why he was standing in a dark alleyway, watching his girl coming out of a cab all dressed up and entering a fancy restaurant. He scrunched up his face slightly as his first thought entered his brain. She was on a date. Or, it looked like she was on a date. He couldn’t trust anything she was doing now. He wouldn’t let himself. 

He hadn’t assessed her correctly. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

She followed the waiter to a table in the center of the room and a man stood up as she approached his table. Billy tilted his head slightly to the side as he couldn’t get a good look of the man but had a perfect view of his girl in that gorgeous dress. 

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?” 

The voice of the waitress caught his attention for a few seconds, enough time to smile and charm his way to the bar where his line of sight was largely improved. He had never seen that man in his life. Brown hair, light stubble, red tinted glasses, cheap suit, red tie. 

“Stay down,” Billy stated, his voice calm and collected, acting as there were no communication devices in his ear. His breathing was deep and controlled as his eyes did not leave the table in front of him. 

She bit her lower lip as she looked at the menu, a frown starting to appear on her face. Billy tilted his head slightly again but this time amusement was showing instead of frustration. If this was a date, it was not going well for Red. 

She chuckled and brought the open menu closer to her body as she leaned towards Red seemingly saying something about the restaurant being luxurious. No. That wasn’t it. He was too far away to actually hear them and there were too many people between them for him to get a good read.

 “I have to admit, I understand maybe half of this menu!” she said, or something along those lines. 

Billy smirked. His assessment hadn’t been completely false after all. 

Red chuckled, replying something about understanding a third of it himself. Billy’s gaze deepened as he looked at the both of them exchanging smiles, giggling. Now frustrated and irritated, Billy watched them stand up and leave. His shoulder twitched again as she offered her arm and Red took it as they exited the restaurant. 

Was Red blind? He better be. 

“On the move, stay alert.”

Billy followed them from afar, Red’s hand was still on her arm and they seemed lost in a pleasant conversation as they walked fairly slowly towards Central Park. 

He remembered the first time he saw her. She was sitting at the bar, drinking a beer alone. She had seemed lost in her own little universe, a little notebook placed in front of her, her fingers playing with a pen in her hand. He remembered how delicately she’d push a strand of hair back behind her ear and how she’d lick her lower lip before capturing it delicately between her teeth. Her foot had been swaying impatiently on the stool she was sitting on and her finger caressing absentmindedly the beer bottle in front of her, her mind a million miles away.  

His girl. Except not really. 

He inhaled deeply. 

They stopped in front of a small restaurant and entered under BIlly’ strict surveillance.

He could stay outside to continue his stakeout, having the advantage - and assurance - of seeing without being seen but he couldn’t hear anything. If this was not a date, if he had indeed read her completely wrong and if he was right to be suspicious, then he needed to hear the conversation. 

Billy gave his instructions and his man entered the restaurant, leaving a mic near the table she was sharing with Red before sitting at the bar and ordering a beer, not to look too suspicious. Billy's attention was absolute, his eyes never leaving them. 

“Work. She wrote an article on my boss… well ex-boss now, obviously.” She said with a chuckle, her fingers playing nervously with her napkin. 

“Oh, so she made you lose your job. That’s a nice beginning for a friendship.” Red replied smirking, his head tilted slightly to the side.

“What can I say, I’m weird that way, I love it when I’m forced into unemployment!” She joked, shrugging out of habit, forgetting for a second her date couldn’t see her. 

“What about you?” She asked, her eyes staring at him with a certain intensity that put more weight on Billy's chest. Had she ever looked at him that way?

“Same,” Red joked in return which earned him a giggle from her and an exasperated groan from Billy. “She was falsely accused of murder - We made it go away.”

The more he was listening, the more he was certain he had read her correctly the first time around. She hadn't lied to him. But, weirdly enough, the realisation did not help his current physical state. The weight on his chest was still pushing through and his breathing was beginning to get out of control.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think he cared. But he knew better obviously. 

She was nice, funny, charming and sexy. He had a good time with her, that's why he called her back after that first night, that's why he'd stay the night at her place, that's why he'd have breakfast the morning after on several occasions. 

But that was it. A good time. Nothing more.  

“Wow - Knight in shining armor action.” She exclaimed, raising her eyebrow in a suggestive manner forgetting again he wouldn’t be able to see her. She instantly looked worried he wouldn’t get the joke, or that she had just made an ass out of herself, as a light blush colored her cheeks.  

She seemed to like Red. She was definitely acting like it. She kept touching her hair, placing strands of it behind her ear every couple of minutes. She kept her eyes on him with that stupidly gorgeous smile plastered on her face. She freely bit her lower lip on a regular basis and her foot would sway nervously when she was speaking as if it helped her with the anxiety of it all. 

“To be accurate, it would be: lawyer in cheap suit action” His eyes were slightly misdirected from her face but his smile was kind and genuine.

“I like your suit.” she stated, her lower lip between her teeth again. Her smile grew when she saw the light pink appearing on her date’s cheeks. 

Billy's rictus was almost imperceptible. His eyes went from him to her to him to her again to finally end on the pavement. "Shit."

It was a date. And she liked the guy.  

Like she used to like him. 

Like he used to like her. 

Like he still liked her. 

His shoulder twitched as the meaning behind those words sunk in. He hadn't seen it coming. She'd snuck in little by little, day after day, night after night, smirk after smile and chuckles after giggles. Slowly, she had made a nest, got comfortable, got him used to seeing her, feeling her. 

And then, she'd snuck out. Without as much as a word, an explanation, anything. 

He wasn't sure if something had happened that he was unaware of. He would have noticed if anything out of the ordinary had transpired. Wouldn't he?

But now that doubt had entered the realm of possibilities, he wasn't sure if it wasn’t about him. Maybe he had done something or said something to deserve such a response, or lack of one more precisely. He wasn't the boyfriend type. Had barely ever been one. And he had never really been hers either. This wasn't the type of relationship they had shared. No. 

But they liked each other. Before her visit to Anvil, before they had gone their separate ways at her place, everything was good. 

He remembered that morning vividly. He had woken up before her, which was not unusual. She’d looked peaceful, the ghost of a smile on her face as her breathing had been slow and regular, her hair a lovely mess and he'd felt slightly guilty to move her hand off his chest when he had gotten up. 

He'd started preparing breakfast when she had appeared in the doorway only wearing her underwear and his shirt she had not bothered closing, the light fabric doing a bad job at covering her curves. 

He’d smirked as she’d rubbed her eyes sleepily, not quite aware of what she was doing to him. Not yet anyway. 

He had turned off the gas, keeping his breathing regular although it had deepened considerably since her arrival. But when his attention had come back to her, although his appearance remained calm and serene, his hunger had started to rise. 

She had said his name, her voice still hoarse from sleep and he'd had to hold a groan, settling for a hum instead. 

His hands had found her skin easily, his fingers delicately caressing her stomach as they'd made their way to her hips moving the fabric of his shirt gradually revealing more skin, more curves. As his fingers had been moving slowly but effectively across her skin, he had made her take a few steps back until she had been leaning on the doorframe.

As one of his hands had been left toying with the elastic of her underwear, the other had left her body to follow the opening of his shirt. “That’s mine,” he had whispered and he’d heard a whimper coming from her as his fingers had arrived at her breast. She’d taken a deep inhale and as she did so, his fingers - unmoving - had pressed lightly onto her. 

“I am going to need it back,” Billy had smirked as she had closed her eyes. He’d slid a finger under the light fabric of her underwear, caressing the delicate skin underneath and she had hummed, biting her lower lip. 

In a swift move, Billy had swooped her into his embrace, one hand firmly grasping her ass while the other guided her legs around his waist. 

When he’d kissed her, it had been passionate, hungry. She’d sighed against his lips and he had pulled her closer, tightening his grip. He remembered how she liked to drag her fingers through his hair and how he’d groaned trying to close the nonexistent distance between their bodies. 

There was definitely something between them. Electricity. Hunger. It was invigorating, drove him insane. 

He had to be honest. Their bodies pressed together, the feel of her heart beating faster and faster against his chest, her breath on his skin as he kissed her neck, her legs tight around his waist and her moans in his ear. He had thought it. He had hoped it. 

Mine.

And now, she was on a date with a lawyer in a cheap suit that she liked and that feeling in the pit of his stomach would not go silent. His shoulder twitched again.

He could still remember her taste, her lips dancing with his, her nose nudging his as she pressed her body against him drawing a growl out of him. She tasted like strawberries and lime. Flavored lip balm. If someone had told him he would miss a fucking lip balm, he would have laughed. 

Maybe it wasn't something he had done but something he didn't do, something he didn't say. There was a lot he didn’t say. He frowned as he saw her smile at her date. She looked happy. Did she look happy when they were… seeing each other?

The ghost of her body against his haunted him, his hand on her throat, her eyes closed and her mouth opened and him inside her, so deliciously inside her. Their bodies moving in sync, they knew each other, they knew what they liked, what worked, what made her moan his name, tainting his skin, scraping him raw. Her moans, bringing her screams, mixed with his groans as they collapsed onto another and stayed there, close together, not quite ready to part ways. 

The strawberries on her lips stained his skin, the sweet peaches in her soft hair contracted his chest and the verveine on her body blew his mind away. He could remember it perfectly still. Hell, he could almost taste it. 

He couldn’t think straight. 

He was tired. He didn’t have a good night of sleep in ages, adding to that Rawlins whispering into his ear and Madani’s investigation going forward, he needed to be clear headed. 

He heard her laugh. 

- strawberries - peaches - verveine - 

He clenched his jaw. 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what happened, how it happened or why it happened. All that mattered was that it did happen and that he had a job to do. He had eliminated the doubt that she might be his enemy. She wasn’t. 

Moving on.

-

@blackbirddaredevil23, @littlebobree, @profoundme444

- 

Next Chapter →

[underragingwaves]

[rileysramblings]

Epiphany [Part 1 // Chapter 1]

BIlly Russo x Unnamed Female Character

Summary: She’s on a quest to return a possibly valuable object and discovers a secret.

CAUTION IS RECOMMENDED - Warnings: angst, mention of sex, mention of low self-worth, swearing, self introspection.

Side Note: This is my first try writing for The Punisher (or Netflix’s Marvel for that matter). This would be a “Her” point of view kind of chapter but, nonetheless, I hope you’ll enjoy my first attempt at writting Billy.

Chapter One: Less Than Five Words

She wasn't big on having long conversations about her feelings or any grand gestures showing off whatever was bubbling inside. What she was good at was ignoring red flags and being tragically unaware of any kind of hints thrown her way. 

Unfortunately the only logical solution required to meet someone who would find these qualities endearing… while that someone remained alluring to her.

Those requirements were difficult to meet. The few dead relationships under her belt had mostly been shared with people who complained either of her inability to talk, coming across completely emotionless or, and that was the one she wished she could completely eradicate from her memory, too emotive. 

So when she met Billy, it felt like the universe was finally working with her instead of against her. She hated that feeling as much as she enjoyed it. The idea that a higher power was playing around with her life irritated her deeply but, with that fact acknowledged, said higher power giving her a tap on the back whispering "enjoy" as Billy Russo came into play… well, let's just say the situation wasn't giving her hives. 

He didn't care if they didn't talk about their feelings, it felt like he was grateful for it more than anything else. If anything, the less they talked, the better. Not that they would just meet to have sex and go their separate ways immediately afterwards, even she would have seen that red flag. No. 

They had fun. Granted, their evenings ended naked, out of breath, the sheets sticking to their exhausted yet exhilarated bodies but there was a full evening before any of that came into play… or at least a few hours.

They made each other laugh. All she needed was one of his smiles while he stared directly into her eyes. The evenings where his shoulder didn't convulse slightly upwards and he gave her a genuine laugh, even one of his small ones, the ones that had a shyness to them, those nights were particularly good. Special even. 

Yes. She had been lucky to have met Billy Russo. Obviously, his good looks had been noticed on their first interaction. He was attractive. He knew it. He played it to his advantage. He was well groomed, made a point of looking his best even for a night in. 

But it wasn't just that.

He was respectful and nice, he was thoughtful, affectionate and never said anything derogatory towards her or her life even though they lived very differently.

He was a self made man, he had ambition and knew exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. He was hard working and wouldn't let a comfortable 8 hours sleep in his bed get between him and his social status. 

Now, she was no stranger to overtime. She was a hard worker and would not spit on a promotion but she would not lose the little sleep she got over work and even less over her social status. 

She wasn't perfect. Far from it. And she had stopped attempting it years ago. That being said, whether it was mentally or physically, she didn't let herself go; she only let go of that ideal to try to look like a supermodel and act like what she thought other people might prefer. 

And it was ok. 

She wasn't perfect. And she had learned to like that about herself. Obviously, there were days where she felt insignificant and worthless of even the smallest niceties. But there were days where she felt amazing, days where she could almost hear a badass soundtrack to her every move. And those days were gaining numbers and significance. 

That is how their lives differed again. She had accepted perfection would not be a part of her life while she felt Billy was desperate for it, even if it was only an illusion. 

But she didn't like to think about that part. So she shook the idea out of her immediate train of thoughts and continued to toy with the usb key in her hands. She sighed when the cab stopped in front of Anvil but got out quickly wanting to keep the disruptive thoughts at bay. 

This was alright. She had never been to his place of work before but Billy had mentioned it a few times, showing how proud he was of his accomplishment. His own company. A glint in his eyes had never failed to appear every time he had mentioned it. 

She smiled at the thought. 

But her reflection in one of the glass windows nearby made her stop in her tracks. It was those disruptive thoughts again. 

Maybe she should have called him beforehand. Or maybe just a text "You forgot something this morning?" with a picture of the key. 

After all, Billy had never invited her over or even mentioned the address of his company. He probably didn't want her there. Why would he? And she wasn’t even dressed properly for it. She should have spent more time figuring out what to wear before leaving her flat. Now, here she was, standing in front of a building she should not be standing in front of, wearing the wrong clothes and either too much or not enough make-up. She felt uturly stupid. 

She definitely should have called. Yes. She’d call. She’d find his name in her contacts, call him, tell him she was in the neighborhood and that he’d forgotten something possibly important in her flat. Easy. 

But wasn’t it too late now? She was literally standing in front of his company’s building, usb key in hand. Wasn’t it ridiculous to even think about turning around and calling him, lying to him about something so absurd? Yes. 

Yes it was. 

It was just those disruptive thoughts again. She couldn’t just listen to these abusive and ugly words swirling in her mind. She wouldn’t. She knew better than this now. Everything was alright. This was alright.

She straightened her back, forced herself to hold her chin a little higher, took a deep inhale and entered the building. The inside of the structure was mainly that: structure. All wood, bricks and metal. It looked exactly like what it was. Anvil was a warehouse, made to further train soldiers. It was simple. It was good. 

She walked with purpose and it only took a few steps for her to notice the grand office upstairs. The big glass windows held by steel were towering over the trainees and when she saw Billy’ shadow move across the room, she smiled. 

She started her journey to the top as she chuckled at Billy’s inaptitude of subtleness. He was principled and fair but as a lieutenant, she figured he could be difficult. He was a hard working man and no doubt he was looking for that same quality in his men. And even if he never said it out aloud, which she highly doubted, it was said right there with the mere presence of his office, elevated and imposing for anyone in the building to see. He was working hard. His employees should too. And if they didn’t, he’d see it.

 He almost had to be fair and understanding with that statement so boldly established. 

His office door was not entirely closed, it got her to pause but not enough to make her reassess her movements. It’s only when she heard his voice that she stopped in her tracks. “Special Agent Madani,” he called but no one answered. He was probably on his phone. 

For a second, she thought of turning around, leaving and going back to plan B: using her phone, even just to leave a message telling him about his stupid usb key and going back to her place to scream into a pillow about her inaptitudes to have normal interactions with people. 

But then, Billy continued speaking and she stopped everything, stunned. 

“If you're not busy saving the world, I thought you might want to take me out for a drink sometime.”

Everything went quiet and she fought back bile as her eyes started to burn. It was one thing to know that their relationship was doomed to be fleeting, that he might be thinking, looking or even fucking other people but to hear it, to know it. That hurt. And she would have ran out of the building if her body was responding to her demands. 

His voice resonated in his office once again and if she had thought the first part of the message was hurtful, the end would actually maim her. “Oh it's Billy Russo by the way."

The feeling of devastation did not come from his audacity of requesting a woman to ask him out, what was overwhelmingly annihilating was that timid pause followed by those simple words that said so much. 

He liked her. 

She heard him hang up and she exhaled a little bit too loudly for her own peace of mind. She heard his light footsteps get closer and she went into hyperdrive. He heard her. She straightened up again, closed her eyes for a second taking back as much control of her emotions as she could and she managed to look as if she had just barely made it up the stairs this instant. 

When his eyes met hers, he frowned and it took a lot from her to force a smile on her face. “Wow, hey!” She managed to sound surprised by his sudden action. 

He said her name as if it was foreign to him, his face unreadable. She clenched her jaw trying to forget the few words she had just heard, trying to remember why she was standing in front of him, in a building she should not be in, wearing the wrong clothes and either too much or not enough make-up. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, not quite back to her normal self. “You forgot that,” she continued with a voice a bit stronger yet still lacking confidence. In the palm of her hand, the usb key that had been strayed was displayed as proof of her innocence and she hoped that the demonstration would distract him long enough for her to regain her composure. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” she said when he didn’t make a move. He stared at her hand for a moment before directing his gaze to her eyes once again, his face still unreadable. 

And then, all of a sudden, his entire demeanor changed. His features softened and his eyes showed affection once more. He looked like the Billy she knew again. “You’re not,” he reassured her, a small smile appearing in the corner of his mouth. He took the key and turned around leaving the door of his office wide open, a silent invitation for her to follow him. 

She didn’t think twice about it and entered the office as if working on autopilot. She watched as Billy walked straight to his desk, placed the usb key on top of it and turned around to face her, leaning on his desk, arms crossed, a certain amusement emanating through his entire body. He didn’t ask anything but the question was there nevertheless. 

What the hell are you doing here? 

“Is it important?” she asked, avoiding the obvious silent inquiry but moving her head slightly toward the object now settled safely on the desk behind him. 

“You didn’t look?” he asked, his frame unmoving but his eyes not missing any changes either on her face or body.

“It’s not mine” she stated and frowned, almost resentful he’d think she would invade his privacy so freely. 

Billy’s eyes perked up slightly and he looked behind him for a second, as if to make sure the object in question had not disappeared, or maybe to hide the expression on his face. “Not sure yet,” he answered her previous question, licking his lips, the smirk now unmistakingly present on his features. 

She nodded absentmindedly and took a deep inhale. She moved her attention away from him, finding that watching him smile at her made her want to punch him in the face, or maybe worse, maybe beg. So she looked away, taking a few steps around his office noticing the decor, slightly looking down through the windows to the training area.  

“I really didn’t mean to interfere with your day. I’m gonna go. Things to do.” She eventually said as she shot him a quick look, long enough to see the smirk was still in full effect. She was starting to move towards the door, closing her eyes, counting down to ten in an attempt to keep her cool and hoping this awkward interaction would be over soon. 

She mentally slapped herself for not paying attention because she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his hands on her waist and his warm breath on her neck. “Are you doing something tomorrow night?” 

Not only did a smile appear on her face without her rational and smart consent but her hands slid on top of his as Billy tightened his embrace and she was ready to start a fist fight with her apparent need for affection. 

“Not sure yet,” she echoed his last answer, gaining time, trying to find a viable excuse as quickly as possible. “I might be needed at work.”

He hummed in the crook of her neck before laying down a sweet, small kiss. 

“Nice place you got here by the way,” she exclaimed, getting out of his embrace and gesturing to the building. Her heart rate was accelerating and she needed literal space between her and this man. 

He smirked as he straightened up again, whispering his thanks. 

She turned around as she was leaving his office, one hand on the door frame, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, not caring if the sadness that had taken over suddenly was showing. He smiled back yet he obviously noticed something was off. But before he could say anything she spoke therefore ending the conversation, the visit and probably their relationship with less than five words. 

“I’ll call you,” she heard herself promise, already knowing she would break that vow. 

And she left.

She focused on her breathing as she climbed down the stairs, her hand firmly grasping the handrail while she closed her eyes at regular intervals to try to calm herself. As she finally stepped one foot onto the ground floor, she started to breathe a little bit easier. Every step she took away from him was relieving her from that weight on her chest. 

She moved to her right, avoiding crashing into an ex soldier and by doing so, her eyes caught Billy’s as he was watching her leave from above and she saw the office in another perspective. Yes, it was towering over the workers, making sure everything was running smoothly but he was also a nurturing presence, as nurturing as you can be when in the military. 

It was a reminder for everyone working for Billy, for everyone who was considering working for Billy. A reminder that he knew what they had gone through, that he knew they deserved better than the military afterlife they had been given, that he was watching over them, protecting them. 

She gulped as she felt the tears threatening to fall and she left without turning back. That was not the kind of thoughts she needed at that moment. A reminder that Billy fucking Russo was not an asshole. Great. Not useful right this second. But thank you anyway. 

She took her phone out to call a cab and as she walked away from Anvil toward the meet-up point, she started to hyperventilate. The relationship she thought was working so well was actually just a scam. She thought he liked her. All those times spent laughing, all those times naked in bed post-coital talking about their favorite obscure body part, or that time where they laughed their asses off when watching Billy the Kid versus Dracula. 

Had he been faking his interest this entire time? Had he just gone with the flow just for the sex? 

I mean, the sex was great. But that was not the point. 

Her train of thoughts barely stopped as she entered the taxi. She stared at the view from the window as the car drove faster away from him. 

She should have seen it coming. She knew it, it wasn’t a real surprise now that she was thinking about it. After all, she knew this relationship was a wreck the moment it started. Everything was out of balance. Billy wanted excellence. He worked in absolute. He needed perfection, even if it was an illusion. 

Everytime that thought came into her mind, she would bury it deep inside her brain thinking it would stay hidden. 

He wanted someone he could show off, he wanted to be seen, envied. She wasn’t that person. She wanted to feel important, yes, she needed to feel important but not to everyone, to someone specific. 

And now that the cat was out of the bag, she could be brutally honest with herself. She thought that person could be Billy. 

They should have talked. As much as she hated the thought, they should have had a conversation before… well, before she fell. 

Because she did. There was no avoiding that cruel fact. She had fallen for Billy Russo and hiding her feelings even to herself, not telling him, not having a conversation about any of it was the reason why, now, she felt heartbroken.

-

Chapter Two

[jolalibrary]

Nights, To Morning Kisses

Matt Murdock x (Fem!)Reader Words: 1.8k AN: Minors DNI, I'm an 18+ writer. And, Yeah, it's been a while since I've written for Matt, so be kind.

On appearance, Matt Murdock seemed like the sort of man who followed the rules. He’s a catholic, devout one when the time suited him; he was a lawyer, following the rules set out.

He was anything but a rule follower at night, however.

If anything, he knows he's a fucking nuisance.

To make it worse, he's very aware of the fact. Without the daily reminders from Foggy or Karen.

For all the good he did in the day, his nightly activities were what made him feel alive. It strengthened him for the day how the city came woke up as soon as the sun went down.

Now, he just waits for the sun to rise. To kiss the bruises on his chest and back, to warm up his apartment and stir you awake. He leans over, kissing the bare skin between your shoulder blades, the soft scent of perfume and sex meeting his nose. He's waiting for the morning alarm to ring on his phone, signalling him to get up and each second it doesn’t, he thinks of waking you up by kissing each inch of you. A way of an apology.

Even if it'll do very little.

The wound on his abdomen aches, like a reminder of why he'd let you down once again. Wincing as he sits up, he clasps a hand over the bandage, the tape pulling at the hairs on his stomach as he composes himself. It wasn't like him to not act quickly enough, but he'd been too busy; too focused on the whimpering child to avoid the nick of the blade.

He could, and likely should, have called Claire, but he didn't.

He called you.

The undisclosed person in his life who didn’t want complicated or labels, yet stitched his skin together and bandaged him as good as a hospital. The one who disapproved, but didn't say much. Didn't even ask questions. Still stayed even after what he greeted you with months ago.

How even last night, you didn't inhale in surprise, didn't shake or tremble as you connected the needle with his skin. How you'd become so used to it, so immune to what he could present to you. And then, worse of all, you didn't fight him when you let his lips brush against yours, his finger snaking under your skirt as you whispered his name into his ear. How you realised he wasn't made of glass, especially as he carried you to his bed.

Matt didn’t need to see you to know he’d struck a diamond. He felt it. He heard it in the groans of other men when they see you with him; he even heard it in Foggy’s heart rate the first time you both met.

For a Catholic, Matt found himself around a lot of beautiful women. None of which remained just his friend for long.

It’s the glasses. The glasses? Yeah. I’m literally with you for the shades. Not the smile. Not the winning charm.

He didn’t want to be corny and say you were different, because each woman he dated was different. But you, you didn’t care about the big stuff. Rolling with each revelation, only a wild increase in heart rate and a second of processing when you learned of the side-devil role.

You bring shit to my door— I’d never. You do. You will. For a man of God, you lie a lot. Never to you. I'll never lie to you. Because your big lie is already out of the bag, Murdock. Don't pacify me.

But, even with your level of nonchalance, he guesses last night has been too much.

No call. No text. Nothing until he's a bleeding man and his wound needing stitching. Even as he thinks it, he knows it’s too much. He thinks of how you’ll do it, if you’ll leave him as he showers; he wonders if you'll wait for him to exit, steam rising from his scan as you tell him it's over.

Matt even considers if there’s a way he can you’d to give him another chance as he makes coffee. Because, he's attached. A little bit too attached, even for him.

So he doesn't shower, he stands in the kitchen. Making any secret escape of yours impossible.

He hears you rise before your feet meet the floor. Hears your finger swipe along the screen of your phone before your heart flickers and changes with whatever you read. Then, it's the soft sound of feet on his floor and a groan as you stretch, that he stops abusing his powers. Letting you have a second to yourself as he thinks about the things he could promise. Things he knows he can keep.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” he smiles, placing a mug down opposite him.

He catches the sound of a shirt crinkling as you move before the scent of it hits him. It’s him. A recent one, likely yesterdays before he left for the night. His own mouth goes dry, as he closes his senses, imagining how many buttons are done rather than seeing them in his own way.

“You been up long?”

“Not at all.”

You slide into the chair at the counter, mug catching over the surface before you lift it. “You should have woke me.”

“Thought you deserved the sleep.”

“Now you’re thinking about what I deserve?”

It’s playful, but stern. An odd blend of tones many wouldn’t be able to carry, but you do. You do it when you want to complain, but don’t actually want to complain. A tactic he’s growing used to; a recognisable statement which tells him he’s on thin ice.

“You should know—“

“You were bleeding,” you say, cutting him off as you take a sip. “Quite badly too. You’ve ruined my blouse.”

Matt places his own mug down. “You don’t want me to apologise though?”

“Well. No. Not for that.”

“For not replying?”

The air tenses, and he picks up on the way you seem to inhale and skip a beat all at once. It takes him a second to recognise it, to be able to read what it is. Because you’re not easy to read; you’re a complicated array of processes and emotions he can’t decipher.

You’re one of those people he needs all of you, frown lines and eyebrow furrows, to begin to understand. Your responses are different, more calculated and hidden, as if you’re always on guard knowing what he has always been.

“I don’t... I expect it with you.”

That much he knows is true. He knows deep down your unbothered by his lack of contact, as confusing as that it. You’d be offended if he brought you flowers or doted on you in the quiet moments you spent together. You talk, you both share, but he feels he knows more of your body than he does your mind.

An experience he hasn’t dealt with except with Elektra. Elektra who hid behind smoke and concealments, who shielded herself from honesty because it made life that bit safer and interesting.

With you, he doesn't know.

“I care, period.”

He swallows. Not expecting that.

“But, I don’t want to care about you, Murdock. Because if I care for you, I’ll love you, and if I love you there’s no saving either of us,” you continue, and he hears your nails anxiously tapping the mug.

He laughs, hearing your shoulders relax, hoping you smiled. “Is that all so bad?”

You let out a soft sigh, one he knows he shouldn’t have heard. “Yes.”

“Ouch.”

“Can you love me?”

He frowns, feeling his brows furrow as he tilts his head. “Of c—“

“I only ask because you love the city, a lot. You fight for it it day and night, rain or shine. You bleed for it; you fight for it. Literally and figuratively,” you say, the tapping stopping. “And, I don’t want you to resent me. I don’t want to make you stop doing the good you’re doing.”

He moves around the counter, thankful you don't move. His hand finding the mug, taking it from you with little fight as he places it down. Matt considers holding your hands, but instead takes yours and places them both on his heart.

"I can tell if you're lying."

"Matt, I know."

He smiles, holding both your hands to his heart with one, the other cupping your cheek. "But you can't tell if I am."

"I mean, you're a pretty terrible liar. So I think—"

He smiles wider, almost grinning. "You misunderstand me. This, us. It scares me too. But I do care about you, I could, can, and probably will fall in love with you. How could I not?" He welcomes the sound of your heart increasing in speed, the way you inhale so silently as if trying to hide it from him. "But, I don't want to ruin any more of your blouses, tarnish any more evenings, or leave you here alone more than I already have."

"So, we're at an impasse."

Smirking, he snorts. "I guess we are."

"Maybe you should kiss me then."

He frowns, feeling you step closer, your elbows brushing his abdomen as you do.

"Things seem a lot less complicated when you kiss me," you say in a whisper. "Plus, I'm only with you for your mouth."

"Oh?" he laughs, feeling your lips ghosting his, "Is that so, I thought it was the glasses?"

"Well, they add to the whole package of you. But, you have an excellent mouth, Murdock," you continue, "Both in the courtroom, and in the bedroom."

He grips your wrists a little tighter, stroking his thumb over your cheek as feels your eyes brush over him. "You sure you want me to kiss you?"

Your head nods, nose brushing the tip of his and his lips as you do.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't press me against the coat hooks again, and we should be all good—"

"You know what I mean."

You sigh, the air brushing his skin ever so gently. "I know. But, I think it'd hurt me more to leave you now I know you."

His head straightens, lips parting. Of all the things, he doesn't expect that. He thinks of something to say, usually so good on his feet when it comes to thinking fast, so he's glad when you reach up, kissing his lips. Taking the choice from him.

[vikings-ragnar]