Absolutely Pumped For This Story!!!

I can't wait to see more of this series, these are seriously some of my favorite tropes, and Matt fits each one perfectly! Amazing as always, take care Author!

Break the Tension [Chapter Three: "The Fire"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

[Full summary and series chapter list can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: It has been SO LONG since this one had an update, but here you all finally go! This one might give y'all whiplash. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705 @pazii @paracosmic-murdock @xxdrixx @haydensith @mixedfandomthings @lilbanas @dorothleah

Swirling the beer inside the bottle in your hand, you had been overly aware of Matt’s focus on you from across the manor’s back patio this entire evening. It didn’t matter that he was blind and his gaze was covered by those dark glasses of his, you could tell every time he’d zeroed in on you whenever you’d spoken among the group you'd sat with that evening. It was like he couldn’t resist the sound of your voice, drawn to it every time you opened your mouth. But you’d caught the way his lips had always thinned out along his face at the sound of it, as if it irritated him that he couldn't stop being so aware of your presence even though he hadn’t been among the group you’d been talking to at the time.

You’d admittedly been enjoying his reaction to you for the past hour as you’d sat drinking down your beer and getting warm by the fire. Though recently Marci had come over and introduced you to a woman by the name of Karen, a beautiful blonde who apparently worked with Matt and Foggy as a lawyer and partner herself at their law firm. The pair of them had taken a seat near you, and as the conversation flowed between the three of you–Karen apparently very curious and interested in the fact that you’d also gone to law school at Columbia with her close friends and firm partners–you’d noticed the group you’d been sitting with had quickly broke off. Eventually Matt and Foggy had found their way over to the three of you and joined in on the reminiscing, but it hadn’t failed your notice the way Matt would jump in, still occasionally shooting off rude comments to you whenever he could.

“So how does it feel,” Karen asked, gesturing her almost empty wine glass at you after you’d once again rebuffed one of Matt’s rude comments, “to be one of the few women immune to Matthew Murdock's charm? Because I’ve seen countless women fall prey to it, even opposing counsel on cases. But you seem…surprisingly unaffected. And I’ve never actually seen him be so blatantly hostile before.”

Matt scowled in his chair but remained silent, instead focusing on twirling the beer bottle he held between his hands. At least it wasn’t going unnoticed that he was being a jerk.

“It’s easy to ignore,” you told her, drawing your bottle up to your lips for another drink, “when he doesn't actually have any charm.”

Beside you, Marci sputtered on the sip of wine she'd just taken as you took a drink from your bottle. She coughed lightly into a hand as next to her, Foggy’s eyes grew double their size and  flew over towards Matt in shock. Across the little circle you'd all made, Matt openly scoffed in response. His hands stopped twirling the beer bottle, instead visibly gripping the neck of it in irritation. On your other side, Karen threw a hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle the amused giggle that slipped out of her at your response. 

“The only reason she says that,” Matt countered, tone bitter, “is because I’ve never actually used it on her.”

Swallowing down your beer, you lowered the bottle back to your lap. Your eyes narrowed in irritation at his red lenses and that faint smirk on his lips. As you sat there focused on Matt, you could feel Marci, Foggy, and Karen suddenly sucking in a collective breath, but you paid them no further attention. Instead, you were busy recalling the advances Matt had made on you not that long ago this evening. Clearly he was trying to save face, considering the revelation you’d recently had when he’d barged into your room and tried to sleep with you after the rehearsal dinner.

“Oh really?” you asked. “You sure about that? Sure you've never tried to charm me, Murdock?”

“Yeah, I am,” he replied stiffly. “Though I’m guessing part of your anger towards me comes from the fact that I never flirted with you in college. I guess someone’s just disappointed they were always passed over.”

A humorless laugh slipped out of you immediately, the sound drawing a deep frown to Matt’s mouth. 

“Passed over?” you asked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

By now, Foggy, Marci, and Karen were sitting with rapt attention, their eyes darting back and forth between the pair of you like they were watching a tennis match. But your focus was solely on Matt and the challenge he was once again drawing you into. You weren't just going to sit there and take his insults quietly. 

“You tried to sleep with almost every single young woman you came across on Columbia’s campus, Murdock,” you continued, hoping he could at least feel the glare you were shooting him. “You were nothing but an absolute asshole to me for the duration of our time at law school together. If anything, I was thrilled to avoid the walking health hazard that threw himself at everything with tits and focus on my studies instead.” You shot him a dark smile, drawing your beer back up to your lips. “You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are, I can assure you of that.”

Matt’s lips pursed, his grip somehow tightening on his beer bottle even further. It looked like he would shatter it if he held it any tighter. You noticed a muscle beginning to twitch in his cheek and one of your brows rose in triumph onto your forehead. Because you knew that he thought you’d be some sort of easy lay this weekend, and he was most certainly going to be proven very wrong. If he wanted you–especially if he was going to continue to be an ass–he was going to have to beg you for whatever it was that he wanted. And you'd certainly enjoy the sight of that.

“Whoa…” Foggy breathed out from the other side of Marci. “It’s been years since I’ve seen another woman speak like that to Matt. I forgot it was possible for women to not fall at his feet...” He shook his head, the look of awe washing off his face immediately. “I mean I know you two have always had… issues with each other, but to see that you really are still immune to his cocky smiles and witty replies is truly still a sight to behold. Especially because I’ve witnessed him charm the pants off many, many women over the years.”

You huffed out a laugh, glancing down at your almost finished drink. “And somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” you muttered. “Still a fuck boy even after graduation. What a shock.”

“Fuck boy?” Matt asked in distaste, his lip curling up into a sneer. “I’m far from that, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes before turning towards Karen. She shot you a tentative smile, brushing some blonde hair behind her ear.

“You started off as an office manager for their firm before becoming a lawyer, right?” you asked her.

“Uh, well, yes,” she answered hesitantly.

“And did Murdock ever try to charm you while you were working for him?” you asked her. “Ever flirt with you? Take you out?”

Her blue eyes darted towards Matt briefly before they landed back on you, her lip catching nervously between her teeth. By the look on her face you already knew the answer to your question. 

“Well, we dated briefly,” she admitted. “But things didn’t really end up working out.”

Your head spun back towards Matt, a smug smile on your face. “You tried to sleep with your own office manager, Murdock. My point stands. You’ve always been a fuck boy. Apparently becoming an adult never changed that.”

“And apparently you’re still a bit of a bitter bitch,” Matt snapped in return. 

Marci’s hands flew out in the space between the small circle of chairs you were all sitting in, effectively cutting you both off as the tension palpably began to grow. Your teeth grit together in irritation, anger burning inside of you. He'd never stooped so low before as to call you a bitch, even if admittedly you'd made some low blows yourself this evening. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for a topic change before someone starts throwing drinks at the other,” Marci said with a nervous laugh. “Let's not forget that we're all here for a happy occasion this weekend.”

“You’re right, I'm sorry,” you apologized, rising to your feet. “I think I’ll head to bed now anyway. Seems like a good time.”

Across the circle the five of you had made, Matt abruptly rose from his chair, too. Your eyes fell back on him, your teeth still grinding back and forth together in annoyance. You just wanted to get away from him already.

For a moment he didn't say anything, just stood there awkwardly across from you, one hand repeatedly readjusting the grip he now had on his cane almost as if he was nervous. The gesture had your eyes narrowing at him suspiciously.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Matt finally said, voice tense. “Maybe that's what we both need. Some rest. Do you mind helping me back to my room since it's beside yours?”

Both of your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead in shock at the absolute audacity of him asking you to walk him to his room after he'd just called you a bitch. Even Marci, Foggy, and Karen looked baffled beyond belief as they sat there openly gaping at Matt. 

But that's when you realized the bridal party and members of Foggy and Marci’s family that were sitting nearby had glanced up from their conversations at Matt's request, listening in because both of you standing had caught their attention. If you refused him, you'd look like an asshole in front of everyone. 

The fucking jerk had done that on purpose .

“You want me to walk you back to your room?” you asked through gritted teeth. “Is that what you just asked me?”

“Yes,” he replied with a curt nod. “I'm still fairly unfamiliar with my surroundings here.”

Of course he was going to play up the fact that he needed assistance. What a Matthew Murdock thing to do–one of his tried and true methods back in college.

“Fine,” you grudgingly ground out between your teeth.

You'd barely stepped around your chair before Matt held up a hand, his dark brows rising up onto his forehead behind his glasses. 

“Do you mind escorting me?” he asked. “Makes it easier for me to navigate in a new place. And I'd rather not end up with a black eye because I ran into something and ruin tomorrow's photos for Marci and Fog.”

Your hands curled into fists momentarily at your sides. “Fucking Murdock,” you cursed under your breath. 

“Uh, Matt, buddy,” Foggy said quickly, rising from his own chair before you could answer, “maybe I should just walk you back–”

“That's alright, Fog,” Matt replied casually, shooting his friend a little smile. “I'd hate to take you away from the evening, and since she is already going the same way…”

“It's fine,” you assured Foggy bitterly.

Foggy’s shoulders dropped as he slowly sank back down into his seat. He didn't look remotely convinced that this was a good idea, and honestly, you knew it wasn't going to be, either. More time alone with Matt would only result in more animosity between you and him, but at least in a few days you’d never have to see him again. 

You'd just have to keep reminding yourself that for the rest of the weekend.

Making your way around the circle of chairs and over towards Matt, you reluctantly grabbed the wrist of his outstretched arm before guiding his hand to the crook of your elbow just as you'd always seen Foggy do before. Of course you'd never actually walked with Matt anywhere before yourself, so you didn't exactly know what guiding him truly entailed, but part of you almost didn't care if you saw him trip at this point. 

Wordlessly you began to maneuver the pair of you around the group of chairs, noticing the nervous smile of reassurance that Marci sent you before you turned and headed back towards the building. You carefully led the pair of you around a few more groups of people chatting and drinking before finally reaching the double doors that led back inside to the manor’s foyer. Pulling them open, you guided Matt into the building with you, but once the doors had closed behind you, you realized what a truly horrible idea this was. 

Now you were alone with him. Again.

Making a straight line across the foyer towards the hallway where your rooms were located, you tried to set a brisk pace. Internally you prayed he'd just keep his damn mouth shut for the duration of this walk together, not wanting to hear another word from him today. You didn't feel like continuing the argument you'd both somehow found yourselves in outside because Marci was right, this was her weekend. You didn't want to ruin it.

But of course, this was Matthew Murdock and he just had to fucking open his mouth again.

“About earlier, I–”

“How about we don't talk?” you rudely suggested, abruptly cutting him short. “I think it's better that way.”

A beat of silence passed as your heels clacked loudly along the floor. You heard Matt clear his throat beside you, and then to your great annoyance, he stupidly opened his mouth again. 

“Well I was actually trying to apologize,” he began in irritation. “If you'd just not interrupt me for a single second, you'd have realized that.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at him as the pair of you entered the hallway where your rooms were located. His hand tightened its hold around your inner arm and you desperately hoped you could actually make it all the way to the end of the hall without stabbing him with one of your heels. 

“Sure you were,” you muttered. 

“I was,” he countered. “Calling you a bitch was out of line and rude. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. It's just, sometimes you–you drive me fucking crazy .”

A bitter laugh fell out of you instantly. You couldn't believe the gall of this guy. First he's rude to you, then he tries to sleep with you, later he calls you a bitch, then proceeds to apologize while simultaneously blaming you for him throwing out the insult in the first place.

“Anyone ever tell you that you're shit at apologies, Murdock?” you told him, eyes focused straight ahead on your room at the end of the hallway. “Because you are.”

“No, that's–that's not what I meant,” he stammered in frustration. 

Before you knew what was happening, Matt had tugged your arm sharply, pulling you to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Your heels slipped slightly along the floor at the unexpected and abrupt halt he’d drawn you to. If it wasn't for the firm grip Matt still had on your inner arm, you’d probably have tripped and fallen on your ass. 

You'd barely blinked before he'd spun you on the spot, walking you backwards until your back bumped against the hallway wall. A soft, surprised gasp slipped out of you at the impact. You stared up at him in shock and confusion as the elegant wallpaper behind you scratched against the backs of your bare legs.

“Murdock, what the hell are you doing?” you demanded.

Matt released your arm, his hand coming to land against the wall beside your shoulder instead. His other hand was leaning his cane along the wall on your other side, and then that hand too landed flat against the wall beside your hip. It took you a moment to realize that he had caged you in between his arms just before he leaned in towards you. There was an almost pained look on his face as it hovered just inches before yours, the sight of which was only further confusing you.

Your breath immediately came in short at the unexpected closeness of him to you, your own heart thudding heavily in your throat. Half of you wanted to knee him in the balls for whatever he was up to and continue your way on to your room alone, but the other half of you was curious to see how this would play out. Grudgingly you had to admit that he was obnoxiously attractive and you almost wouldn't mind if he finally admitted that he wanted you. Because maybe if he begged you right here and now–just openly admitted in some way that you were right for once–you'd actually take him back to your room and see if he really was a great lay. With the way the buttons were straining on his shirt now, stretched apart just enough to reveal a bit of toned skin beneath it, and the way his stubble accentuated the sharp lines of his cheekbones, you couldn't deny that you were finding yourself turned on.

But you refused to be the one to admit it first.

“You're right, I was being an asshole,” he confessed.

Your mouth fell open in shock immediately. He had never admitted that to you before. Not once had he ever accepted the blame for his actions. What the hell was happening right now?

“I'm sorry,” he added. “Really. You aren't a bitch. I just–just can't seem to help myself around you. You always get so easily angry and riled up with me, and then you make such irritatingly good comebacks like no one else I know that it's like…the comments just come out of me before I can stop them. But this is our friends’ big wedding weekend and…I'll try my best to control myself. To behave.”

Swallowing hard, your focus shifted down to his lips. You figured it had to have been the alcohol in your system making you suddenly want to know what they felt like on yours. It had to be the alcohol that had a heat building inside of you when you watched them move again as he continued to speak.

“So what do you say?” he asked, voice dropping down to a sultry rumble. “Truce?”

Your hands were twisting the hem of your dress, your gaze still lingering along his lips. You'd never truly noticed just how soft they looked before. Or that they were such a pleasant shade of pink.

“I just want to enjoy my weekend,” you answered him, annoyed at how breathless you suddenly sounded. “Celebrate my friends’ wedding. So if you can–can play nice for a few days, then so can I.”

Matt took a step forward towards you, closing the already miniscule bit of space between the pair of your bodies. Your back pressed further against the wall behind you as your hands released your dress, flying forward almost involuntarily and landing flat on his chest. Whether to push him away or just because you wanted to touch him, you honestly couldn't say. But your index finger had somehow landed on a bit of warm skin poking out between the strained buttons of his dress shirt. Now you couldn’t focus on anything else besides how warm and smooth his skin felt in that small little patch. You were suddenly aware of just how solid he was beneath your hands, too. Far more muscular than he even appeared beneath his snug suit coat and dress shirt. 

Your teeth ground tight together as you tried to focus on your breathing, but Matt’s hand slid across the wall and lightly landed on your hip. The heat of his palm settled so resolutely there had a shiver running up your spine. Eyes darting back up towards his face, you’d noticed his lips had parted just a fraction, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“You smell so good,” he whispered.

Legs beginning to feel weak in your heels, you were practically letting the wall hold you steady now. Struggling to take a full breath, you replied, “Well that’s the–” you paused, clearing your throat and hoping he hadn’t noticed the way your voice had quivered. “That’s sort of the purpose of perfume,” you finished lamely.

He began to lean in closer towards you, bringing lips so close to yours that you could feel each passing exhale from his mouth brush over your own. You had no idea what had come over you–though you figured it had something to do with the fact that he’d apologized and called for a truce–but you weren’t pushing him away. You didn’t want to.

Which surprised even yourself.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he murmured. “Tell me no.”

As the tip of his nose faintly brushed against yours, you weren’t sure whether he was asking you to tell him no or giving you the option to. But either way, your mouth couldn’t form a single word. Instead, your fingers dug into his chest, bracing yourself for something– anything at this point. It felt like there was a fire gradually beginning to build beneath every inch of your skin now. You’d never felt anything like it before, but you wanted more .

Slowly–almost painfully so–Matt closed the remaining distance between your mouths. The touch of his lips against yours was barely there, only that of a simple, hesitant peck. He pulled back a fraction, a deep, rumbling noise vibrating in his chest. Your fingers suddenly curled into his dress shirt, drawing him closer to you as your mind could only focus on one thought: you wanted to kiss him.

Matt’s hand on your hip gripped tighter as he pressed you further back into the wall. Then without further warning he dove forward, slamming his mouth to yours like he’d been waiting far too long for this very moment. His other hand was suddenly at your neck, holding you firmly in place before him as his lips connected with yours over and over in such a heated passion that you couldn’t catch a single breath.  

As if they were moving on their own, your hands slid their way up his chest, one of them grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss while the other wound its way into his dark hair. You gripped a fistful of the strands tight between your fingers, your mouth desperately trying to match the feverish pace Matt’s was setting as a lightheadedness washed over you. 

Before you could register he’d moved, his lips were making a trail of kisses down the length of your jaw and towards your neck. Your head fell back against the wall as your grip on him only tightened, your eyes closing in sheer ecstasy. You couldn’t believe how good he was with just his mouth and you fought the moan that was beginning to build in the back of your throat.

His hand on your hip slid its way down, pausing on the bare skin of your thigh just beneath the hem of your dress. Seconds later you felt him bury his nose into your neck, inhaling softly as he dragged it along the length of your skin, his stubble pleasantly scratching against you as he moved. An almost inaudible whimper left him just before his hips pressed forward firmly into your own. You could feel his growing arousal pressing against your thigh now, both of your hands fisting handfuls of his hair as his lips hovered at your neck.

Then that traitorous moan finally loosed itself from inside of you, slipping past your lips when he gently nipped a sensitive spot along your neck. The sound was sinful in the otherwise silent hallway, and somehow that only made it seem louder. With something like a growl, Matt’s mouth moved further downward just before his lips latched onto your exposed collarbone, sucking on the patch of skin. You hissed out a noise of pleasure between your teeth in response just before his tongue began to run along the length of it.

But when his hand slowly began to slide further up beneath your dress, his hips sensually grinding his erection into your thigh in a way that felt far too fucking good, your eyes abruptly flew open. Sense suddenly came flooding back to you as your breath caught in your throat. 

Because you were in the goddamn hallway with Matthew fucking Murdock kissing you.

“Stop,” you gasped out.

At the sound of your voice, Matt immediately froze. His lips released your skin and his hand paused its movement, his fingertips a matter of inches from your panties. You were painfully aware of the faint wet patch that had begun to form, something almost like embarrassment flooding you. Thankfully his hand hadn't made its way near enough to notice, something you were grateful for.

Disentangling your hands from his hair, they landed firmly on his shoulders. You gave him a determined, solid push against them and he stepped back, his hands returning easily to his sides. Though you noticed the way his chest was heaving and how disheveled his hair looked. His lips were damp with saliva and his face was flushed as he gazed back at you, dark brows knitted together in a mixture of what looked like concern and confusion. 

And you could plainly see the bulge still present in his dress pants, which only had your teeth biting down onto your lip. Because you had so easily turned him on, too. 

“I–I told you I wouldn't be some easy fuck,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “Not like all those other women you’ve been with. That's–that's not me, Murdock. I’m not them.”

For a second it almost looked like he’d winced before he opened his mouth.

“Sweetheart, you're–”

You held up a hand, more vigorously shaking your head. “No, don't call me that,” you warned him, still painfully aware of how your blood was burning at the sight of him like this before you. “If you want me you're going to–to have to admit it,” you told him, trying hard to catch your breath. “Admit that you want me, Murdock. That you’ve always wanted me. Without that, things aren’t going any further than…this.”

You pushed yourself off of the wall, aware he was still standing there staring at you in shock and confusion. You skirted around him, no longer trusting yourself to walk him to his room after that heated and unexpected kiss.

“Your room is just about fifteen more feet down the hall and on your right,” you called over your shoulder. “I'm sure you can find your way there from here.”

Picking up your pace, you hurried down the rest of the hallway to your room as well. You just wanted to get away from this confusing moment. Because Matthew Murdock shouldn't have been able to make you feel quite like that. Not nearly as easily as he had. Not after everything you’d endured with him in college and how rude he’d been to you earlier.

It had to have been the alcohol mixed with his apology. That was all it was. Because you refused to believe that you couldn't control yourself around Matthew Murdock–that you might actually want him, too.

Author, fantastic chapter and if possible could be added to a tag list for this?

This is genuinely amazing, the last line? CHILLS

Gorgeous job, thank you! Take Care Author! <3

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.5

a/n: if you guys start suspecting i have a crush on madelyn stillwell, no you don't, you didn't see shit, forgive and forget. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Blood and Violence (fr fr), Homelander being a Fucking Asshole, Very Questionable Corporate Ethics, Plus Size Reader, Explicit Language.

Summary: You know a slaughterhouse, when you see it.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

A series of loud, demanding knocks startles you right out of your dreamless slumber. The borderline panicked, rapid thumping against your door, forces you to open your eyes, squinting with a groan at the morning sun streaming through the gigantic windows of your room. The mascara from the night before sticks in clumps over your eyelashes, and you blink a few times, until black pieces fall onto your cheeks, where they're promptly wiped away by the back of your hand. There's a taste of stale vomit in your mouth, your stomach feels strangely empty, and you don't really want to remember where you decided to dispose of its contents. As you make your way towards the door, your calf cramps up, making you huff a silent curse through your cracked lips. 

- Fucking Christ... Where's the fire? - you croak out, as you open the door, eyes falling onto a familiar head of ginger hair sticking out behind the screen of a tablet. 

- The fucking Internet - Ashley answers not missing a beat - Someone uploaded a bunch of videos of you from the party, including one where you, like a complete dumbass, decided to smoke a joint. And one where...

She cuts herself off, as her face finally rises to look at you, her expression freezing in shock.

- What the fuck happened to you? - she asks, and if you were any less hungover, you'd notice the sliver of concern lacing her words. 

- What do yo...?

Your eyes follow her inquisitive gaze down, and there, your left tit stares back at you, peaking out of an almost finger shaped tear. Huffing in exasperation, you try to amend the situation, pushing the fabric around to cover yourself, only to feel the last of the stitches give out. You catch your destroyed t-shirt at the last second, as it all but falls off of your body. 

- Shit, I'm sorry - you mutter, giving up on salvaging the shirt, and focusing on saving what's left of your dignity. 

Ashley blinks a couple of times, her eyes dragging themselves back towards your face, as she swallows thickly. 

- Miss, um... - she clears her throat, frowns - Miss Stillwell wants to see you in her office, as soon as you can.

You nod in understanding, still too dazed to be properly worried by this sudden summoning. 

- Give me twenty - you attempt to smile, but your face hurts, and your throat is drier then the Mojave desert.

- Take thirty.

With that, Ashley turns to leave, not before throwing you one last, strange look. 

 Closing the door behind her, you let go of the shirt, letting it pool in scraps under your bare feet. You don't remember much of the previous night, but you sure as fuck know, how you've managed to end up looking like you do. Thankfully, you remember the exact moment, when you slipped out of Homelander's penthouse, your memories fading well after entering the elevator. The mention of the videos from the party being uploaded, stirs some form of morbid curiosity within you, and you pace around the living area of your room, trying to find your phone, before remembering, that you did, in fact, lose it. 

Scratching at the back of your neck, you grab your costume from the closet, and decide to take a shower,  after sniffing at yourself and realizing, that leaving the room smelling like a waste bin would be criminal. An hour spent under the hot water and a thorough teeth-brushing later, you're standing in front of Madelyn Stillwell's office, fingers running through your still slightly damp hair. She lets you in as soon as your fingers thrum against the door, greeting you with that familiar, corporate smile. Despite that, you'd have to be completely blind, not to notice the tension between her plucked eyebrows. 

- Ah, Fireball - her voice is strange as well, a measured expression of something stirring just under the surface. - Take a seat, please.

Her office is just as much of an overstimulating mess, as you remembered, and this time you plop down onto the large couch, noting, that it's much softer, than the one in your room. Stillwell paces the office, filling a glass with water from a dispenser, and placing it in front of you. Then, to your surprise, she grabs her laptop from her desk, and puts it next to the glass, the screen facing you.

You stare at your reflection in the black, and you're not sure who's looking back. Was hangover the domain of Fireball? Or Smirnoff? Perhaps that secret third thing, which almost gave Homelander what he wanted last night. A fight, a struggle, a quick fuck. As Stillwell sinks into the couch right next to you, you start to wonder, if you're going insane. Most likely. There is none other explanation for the turmoil you were experiencing. 

- I'm sure you're aware, why I invited you here today - she says, her slender hand dancing on the keyboard of her laptop. 

She's about to show you the videos from last night, you think with a sigh, already trying to brace yourself for the inevitable stern talk you're about to receive. This, and another several hours spent in media training with Ashley, which, might as well kill you at this point. And then, the screen flickers to light, and your heart stops in your throat. 

There, a freeze-frame from a CCTV camera looks back at you. A washed out, pixelated image of yourself, t-shirt torn, makeup running, you're sneaking away from Homelander's room, holding the scraps of fabric to your chest. The wobble in your legs is visible even through the shitty quality, and your heart sinks with the realization, of how exactly this situation looks like. Of how close to the truth this assumption really is. 

You swallow thickly, as Stillwell presses play, and the video version of yourself springs into action. Supporting yourself against the wall, you begin to make your way towards the elevator. 

The video plays footage of the empty corridor for a moment longer, but before you voice your confusion, the whole image glitches. Your eyes blink rapidly, as you observe with a shocked expression, as the wall next to the door cracks, pieces of paint and plaster falling to the floor in a cloud of dust. It doesn't take a genius to know, the impact has been made from the inside, and your brain does a flip inside your skull. 

Twenty sped up seconds of footage. That's how close you were to getting your head, supposedly, caved in by the Hero of America. The Mental Health King.

 Strange. You were sure you've navigated the situation the best you possibly could. Deescalated, rewarded good behavior, removed yourself as soon as possible. Perhaps you should've given him more? Physical contact most likely wasn't the smartest idea, he would've used it as an excuse, surely. But some more words of encouragement, something to calm the fire within him. Your thoughts are interrupted by the realization, that at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. You're alright, nothing happened. You did what you could, with what you had, and look at you, still standing, dignity (mostly) in place. 

Another reward, that might be the key. Homelander seems to be quite addicted to praise, and as much as you'd love to write him off as an imbecile, you know he's anything but. Before your mouth can open, however, Stillwell slides a folder towards you on the glass table. Your eyes fall onto the papers, and something twists inside your gut. 

- No matter, what you think happened last night. I would like you to sign those documents. - Stillwell says, her whitened teeth staring back at you.

Think?

Your eyes narrow, as your face turns towards her.

- Miss Stillwell - she cocks her head to the side when you address her - I assure you, nothing has happened.

She blinks a couple of times, her eyes involuntarily floating back to the footage displayed on the laptop.

- Homelander gave me a lift from the party, we talked for a bit. That's all. 

That is most certainly not all, and Stillwell knows. She must've done this before, her practiced expression of corporate politeness slipping for only a smidgen. Her lips smack against each other, and then the mask is back full force, her hand pushing the documents closer to you.

- I would still very much like you to sign this agreement - she says - Or, we will have to terminate your contract, and consequently withdraw all benefits enclosed in it.

- I just said, nothing has... - you cut yourself off, because of course. 

This isn't an NDA protecting Vaught and by extension, Homelander, from his actions last night. It's an insurance against future incidents. Which are apparently expected. 

You frown, hard, a pit forming deep within your stomach. Previously, perhaps foolishly, you thought your contract offered some sort of protection. Something, that would ward off potential advances. Stillwell has put so much effort in getting you to sign, to join Vaught if only temporarily, you were convinced you'd answer to her first. Stupid, that was plain stupid. After all, this isn't some wholesome family business. You're working under a corporation, that, for the most part, runs America like the fucking navy. 

You know a slaughterhouse when you see one. 

With a shaky hand, you grab an elegant, probably filthy-expensive pen, the overwhelming realization, that you're truly alone, hitting you like a truck. Next time Homelander decides to get his hands on you, no one will back you up. You're completely and utterly on your own. 

This can't be worth it. Your brain races in your skull, as you try to quickly form some sort of plan of action. Anything, that would help you face the incoming doom. 

- Miss Stillwell - your throat feels impossibly dry, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see her blonde waves move - I left my purse, and my phone back at my friend's house. Perhaps, you could arrange a meeting? So I can get it back?

- As soon as you sign - she says evenly, her manicured hand pointing to the documents with more urgency. 

How many times can you sign your soul off to the Devil, before there's nothing left? 

You're not sure which one of you lifts the pen, which one pushes your hand to glide the ink over this new pact of silence. It can't be worth it, it simply can't. No matter what you try to tell yourself, the vision of your happy friends from the party slips further, and further away from your grasp. You've always thought martyrdom is stupid, laughed at the Saints, at the historical figures sacrificing their lives for the greater good. And yet, here you sit, with Madelyn Stillwell's perfume in your nose, pushing away all sense of dignity in favor of what? A better wedding dress for your friend? Ridiculous. 

- Thank you - Stillwell swoops in, taking the pen away from your rigid fingers and swiping the documents from the table - That'll be all for now. You should get ready for the photoshoot after lunch. I'll get back to you about that meeting. 

Another thought wakes you up from your stupor so suddenly, it feels like a bucket of freezing water dumped over your head. Your knees crack, when you stand suddenly, nearly knocking your hip on the table. 

- Can I ask you one more thing? - your voice raises an octave as you speak, nerves bubbling up in your throat. 

Stillwell turns to you, her hair bouncing over her shoulders, and for just a second you're struck with how unabashedly stylish this woman truly is. Such a contrast with your usually disheveled appearance. 

- I need one more day off this week, or at the very least a couple of hours.

She frowns slightly, a barely visible twitch of her plucked to perfection eyebrow.

- Whatever for? - she asks, and you find a striking familiarity between her and Homelander, in the fakeness of her cheerful tone. 

There's no point in lying, not in this case at least, and you take a step forward, your platform boots padding softly over the fluffy carpet. She watches you carefully, holding your gaze with ease. 

- I'm sure you've read my file - you start casually, your voice growing more and more serious - It's a family matter. 

A flicker of recognition crosses Stillwell's features. Her lips pull back into a thin line, as she regards you in thought, toying with the pen in her hand. Manicured fingers scratch at the grooves in the metal casing, tap at the ferrule. Finally, she takes a deep breath, the satin shirt shifting over her chest. 

- I'll see what I can do - she concludes, ditching the corporate smiles, and the artificial nonsense, her expression bordering on sympathy. 

Anyone would be fooled, you're almost convinced yourself. But once again, this is not a family business down the street. This is an exclusive butcher's shop, and you're the new, hot, cut of meat, displayed in a case, ready for the taking. And as such, you give her a curt nod, the biggest display of gratitude you're capable of in this situation. Her eyes shift towards the doors of her office, and you take your cue with a polite smile. You both had things to prepare for, and you couldn't waste any more time sitting in one place, as the detrimental task of figuring out, how to navigate your approach to Homelander has been thrusted upon you. 

The door clicks softly behind you, as you exit the office, your legs carrying you towards the gigantic portrait hanging on the wall. Blue eyes stare back at you, pupils almost the size of walnuts. Nothing, not the lens of the camera, the printing paper, not even the sheet of glass can hide you from the empty, passive gaze looking past you, through you. In this picture, he looks almost human, his skin moderately textured, his hair in carefully styled disarray. An image of all that's American, all that's always been out of your reach. 

But you've seen the truth. The panting, hungry, terrifying superhero. You've seen his laziness, the unwillingness to work for anything of substance. Your eyebrows furrow, as you lean closer to the portrait, until the reflection of light disappears from sight, until you can see the texture of the paper beneath the glass. 

- If you're looking for a flaw, I'm afraid there are none - Homelander quite literally manifests himself in your peripheral vision, voice filled with arrogance.

Your entire body flies a couple of steps from the portrait, your heart doing flips so close to your throat, you're worried you'll actually throw it up onto the floor.

- Motherfu...! - you stop yourself, hand pressed against your chest - Don't do that.

He laughs in response, a casual sound, that definitely doesn't fit any of your previous encounters. Especially the last one. But to preserve your own sanity, you decide to play along for now. You're not about to hand yourself over, stick your neck between his teeth again. Besides, Stillwell is right behind that stupid wall, he wouldn't do anything too outrageous with her so close. Hopefully. 

- Whoa, jumpy aren't you? - his smile grows slightly sharper, as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back - Let's have a little chat, before the photoshoot. 

With that, before you have the chance to react properly, he grabs you by the elbow, his hold just tight enough, that there would be no chance of slipping away. Your feet stumble against each other, as you try to regain your bearings, being dragged through the corridor. Your mind is already going haywire with all the possibilities, all the different ways this interaction may go, and you scramble to find a suitable plan for every scenario. Homelander looks thoroughly unaffected, his face devoid of any signs of tension, hell, you'd risk saying he seems quite relaxed. Which is beyond worrying. 

The room he pushes you into is completely empty, with some tables arranged into a circle and a bunch of chairs placed around them. A conference room, with the uglies fucking carpet you've ever had the misfortune to lay your eyes on. And then, after taking in the whole environment, your eyes zero-in on a small, black box, right in the middle of the table. Unassuming enough, but you know better. There's no such thing as innocent, as far as your "mentor" is concerned, and as images of the cracking wall flicker before your eyes, you bite down on your tongue. Homelander closes the door with a soft click, lingering for just a second, before turning to you, bright smile in place. 

- I just realized, I don't know the scope of your powers - he says casually, crossing the room, and standing in front of you - Soon, we'll be sent on missions together, I'd like to know what I'm working with. 

Fair enough. You are slightly surprised he even needs clarification, as before signing the contract, Vaught took full inventory of your abilities. The idea of being alone with him in a room still makes your fingertips tingle with nerves, but you swallow it down, like you seem to be doing to most things these days. Pushing your hair out of your face, you nod slowly, pretending this sudden shift in his behavior is not throwing you in a loop. 

- I'm pretty strong - you say, keeping your expression even, and don't even flinch, when he scoffs at your words - I heal faster. And I can use mild telekinesis, although it's really not... Um... Polished. 

To be quite honest, all you've managed to do, is move some objects around. It's not even useful enough to aid you in your day-to-day life. Usually it takes less effort to just, pick the damned thing up. Which is all that he should know, because Vaught knows. 

- Show me - it's not a request, his voice filled with a demanding tone, bordering on arrogance. 

You almost tell him to say please. Your mouth opens, the words ready to jump out from between a small smirk playing on your lips, but you swallow that thought thickly. There's a time and a place for educating his ignorant ass, and being locked in a tiny conference room might not be the right one. So, you shrug, the movement pushing your hair back over your eyes. 

- Which one? - perhaps, you'll allow yourself a cheeky smile, as a treat.

His smile sharpens to a worrying degree, and he claps his hands in front of his chest.

- I'm so glad you asked - his feet carry him straight to the box, and you might get a whiplash from all the confusion you're experiencing - I read your file. 

That raises an eyebrow. Realistically, you knew he would have access to your documents, your wole life exposed to his greedy eyes. And as such, this line of questioning surprises you. Although perhaps, it shouldn't. Since the very first moment you've met him, you had a sneaking suspicion, that he's just... Well... Lazy beyond belief. And your last interaction proved to you the sheer scope of his unwillingness to put any work in. With a raised eyebrow, you watch him open the black box with a soft click, taking out it's contents, his shoulders rolling, like he's preparing to lift some weights at the gym. 

Then, he turns back to you, a gun secured in his leather grip. 

- I'm interested in your healing abilities - he says, smile never faltering, the muzzle staring at you expectantly.

Now that gets your heart racing, but the reason might surprise him. Pain has been a constant companion in your life, and after discovering your powers, probably one of the few ways to keep yourself in check. That's why, your eyes light up at the sight of the gun, and all caution is thrown to the wind. You know, deep down, this is a test. How much can he do, how much can he hurt you. But you'll deal with the consequences after. 

If this will help placate him, lead him away from whatever happened between the two of you last night, you're more than willing to put yourself on the line. Better than the alternative, better than making use of that NDA you just signed. 

- Once, I got hit by a car - you remember with smile - And the next day went to class like nothing happened. 

The gun digs into the soft flesh of your stomach, as you step closer, looking up at him with an impassive expression, and Homelander's eyes light up like a kid's in a toy shop. Dangerous, your brain supplies, so very dangerous, but you've never been shot before, and to be quite honest, you're curious yourself. 

- Lift up your shirt - he says, voice dropping just a fraction - Wouldn't want to arrive to the photoshoot with a hole in that pretty costume, would you?

You do as he says, with a bit of a struggle rolling up the faux leather of your corset top. His eyes fall down in an instant, tongue darting out to wet his lips, as he drinks in the sight of your pliable flesh peaking over the hemline of your skirt. His free hand darts out, as if on autopilot, gloved finger running across the whole expanse of your belly, revelling in the way your muscles contract at the contact.

Too close, you face twists, as his touch brings back memories from last night, your body freezing up for just a second. You need to keep him occupied in some other way, and as such, your eyes roll on their own, whether pushed by Smirnoff or Fireball is anyone's guess.  

To your credit, when you grab the gun out of his hand with an almost laughable ease, he gasps, eyebrows furrowing at the sheer audacity of your action. But before he can have the chance to voice his irritation, you flip the gun in your hold, pushing it into the exposed flesh of your stomach. It's cold, hard, and your pulse spikes, as the anticipation flares within your veins. 

- What are you...? - you cut him off, squeezing the trigger.

The shot rings out, the bullet goes into your stomach, and the force of the impact sends you falling over the table. And, fuck, it hurts like motherfucker on a stick. The smell of blood floods your nostrils, and through your momentary shock, you try to blink back tears welling up in your eyes. 

- What the fuck?! - he cuts himself off again, a bewildered laugh sneaking past his lips, blue eyes drinking in the sight of your trembling form.

- You were taking too long - you try to sound indifferent, but your voice comes out as a broken whisper, spasm after spasm wrecking your body.

Blood trickles down your stomach, soaking into the fabric of your skirt, and as the wound slowly starts to close up, you can feel the bullet travel up, through the tissue. The sensation might be worse then the initial shot, and your face twists, as cold sweat pools over your creased forehead. Seemingly, you hadn't nicked any important organs, or so you hope. 

- Oh, does that hurt? - you barely register his mocking tone of voice, as he comes closer to your heaving form.

Homelander crouches down, wrenching the gun from your hand and throwing it on the floor behind him like it's a piece of used tissue. Then, with mild interest, he inspects the wound.

- Your bleeding - he notes, and you'd be foolish not to note the slight tinge of disdain coloring his words. 

- I'm not fucking bulletproof - you huff out, doubling over with a groan - I just heal faster.

He cranes his head to the side, eyes gliding over your pained expression. You're too focused on steadying your breathing, to notice the way his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek in thought, but you're alert enough to recoil, once his gloved hand wedges itself under your chin, pushing your face ever so slightly upwards. You wish you didn't catch his gaze. The unrelenting curiosity, mixed with barely contained disappointment at your limited abilities. 

- Let's try one more thing, hmm? - he asks, although noth of you know, there's no way for you to refuse.

Homelander grabs you by the shoulder, hoisting you up, despite the weakness in your legs. You groan, as the bullet finally falls out of the wound, creating a small, bloody print on the carpet. His eyes float towards the slowly disappearing dent in your skin, his thumb rubbing over it with a bit more force than necessary, as if he's trying to milk as much pain possible, force you to react again. 

You don't give him the satisfaction, your eardrums buzzing, as you sway on your feet. Then, two things happen at the same time. His gloved hand pushes against your shoulder with enough strength, to force your body to uncurl, expose itself to his greedy eyes. And then, the center of your chest erupts with unimaginable, searing pain, as Homelander's eyes shoot red right at the middle of your collarbones. 

It's a quick, blink-and-you'll-miss-it kinda impact, but it sends you flying backwards, colliding with the table, and then straight to the floor. For the first half a minute, you can't breathe, your chest collapsing like a faulty mineshaft. The smell of burning flesh fills the conference room, and you would retch, if you could do anything more than flail your arms weakly, legs kicking out. 

He must've hit your trachea, you think, when your lungs fill with boiling blood. 

Homelander comes to stand next to your body, moving languidly, as if this is the most regular of interactions. His face blurs in front of your eyes, the fluorescent lights illuminating his blonde hair from above. You want to say something so bad, something smart and cutting, that would throw him off his rhythm again, but all that manages to push past your lips, is a broken gargle, as blood gathers behind your teeth. 

His face twists again, eyes taking on a freezing indifference, that is colder, more terrifying than any snowstorm. Looking at you for a moment longer, he finally snaps himself back to reality, a scowl placed over his features. 

- Get your shit together - he spits out through gritted teeth - The photoshoot starts soon.

The disgusted look he throws you, as blurry as it is in front of your eyes, makes your lips curl back into a snarl. You should've known better, you did know better, but it doesn't matter, because for some reason, when it came to him, you just can't stop your mouth from running wild. So, before he even reaches the door, your gargles form a single, spiteful word, that cuts through the smell of blood, and flesh, and burning. 

- Bitch - you seethe, blood gathering in the corners of your mouth, and you hear his boots stomp over, before you can see him. 

There's a moment of outrage, his eyes burning with that all too familiar, red burn. But then, it melts into something worse, something cold and self-satisfied. He lifts his boot ever so slightly, placing it down on your chest, keeping your body from moving on the floor. Homelander lingers like that for a split-second, eyes flickering all over your pained face. You know what he's looking for, and you refuse to give it. 

- I'll tell Madelyn to reschedule the photoshoot - he muses, lips curling back into a cruel smirk.

And then he pushes down with his foot, slowly, so you can feel every single creak and crack of your bones under his heel. He drinks in the silent scream, that tears through your body, as your ribs break under the pressure. Your eyes roll back into your skull, damn the car accident, you've never felt pain like this before. 

- Take the rest of the day off, alright kiddo? - he quips, his voice deceivingly kind.

Giving one last shove of his foot, he finally lets up, shuffling out of the room like nothing has happened, the cape swishing over your broken body, like a blessing from America itself. The door clicks softly, somewhere over your head, and finally, you give yourself the luxury of crying. Heavy, salty tears run down your cheeks, mixing with the remnants of last night's mascara. At least he won't see you like this. You try to ignore the possibility of him using his X-ray vision to preserve your own peace of mind. 

And as you lay there, feeling your bones, your tissues connect under the never stopping waves of pain, you realize something, which brings upon a new wave of tears tumbling down your cheeks, soaking into your hair, into the ugly carpet. 

This is the first time you've felt truly alive in a long, long time. 

Omg please tag me in this, I am LOVING all the Daredevil x Vampire AU's recently!!!!

Carpe Noctem [PREVIEW]

Main Masterlist

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Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Nun!Reader

Warnings: (additional tags to be added/changed) Dead Dove Do Not Eat, religious imagery & symbolism, vampirism, Dark!Matt, blood consumption, corruption kink, SMUT (18+), pain kink, blood play, ANGST, canon typical violence, physical assault, allusions to sexual assault, hunter and prey vibes, allusions to stalking (possibly full-on), scent kink, marking, blasphemy, no happy ending

Summary: Over the past centuries, nothing could have stopped Matt Murdock from wanting, craving, everything, even what he could not have; money, power, and sex, among other more materialistic things, but nothing has him in quite a chokehold like the insatiable hunger for blood he was cursed with the night he died. Nothing could have stopped him from getting what he wants until one day in March, you enter his life.

Matt has stolen, beaten and killed without care, but corrupting a child of God is a line he dares not cross. You, a nun. It’s unthinkable. The part of him that longs for the life he was torn out of—the boy still riding the waves of Catholicism, that Matt Murdock—would rather see him impaled on a wooden stake than allow him to take your blood. Your blood, your innocence, and all that you are; the aroma of rosemary and sanctity that surrounds you is a siren’s call that draws him inevitably closer. The same walls of Clinton Church that house you would incinerate him, and he still wants you. He wants you, but he can’t have you.

Devoting yourself to the church saved you from the abyss, but it may also lead to your eternal corruption at the hands of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt Murdock. A vampire. Soon, you find yourself not only on the verge of losing your innocence to this angel of the night but your life, too, and your world drastically changes for what you realize might be worse than death itself.

(18+ MINORS DNI!)

A/n: I’m back, back, BACK again! Vampire!Matt brainrot is real, and this idea was so dark in my head and kind of ironic, really, I had to put it out there for you. I will be doing my research on Catholicism religiously (pun intended) to make this as accurate as possible, but it’s still an alternate universe and I like making up my own rules. Everything I write is my personal playground, and I invite you to join me for this steamy piece of angst. So far, this is only a concept, but I will get to writing it as soon as I can! The idea is there, and I’ve got some things planned out already. So, if you’re curious, do stick around!

AESTHETIC.

Matt.

You.

RELEASE DATE: TBD!

(If you want to be tagged to know when I release it, as always, feel free to let me know. I don’t bite. Well, only sometimes.)

Friendly reminder with DareDevil Born Again coming to us…

MATT MURDOCK IS BLIND, HE’S NOT FUCKING FAKING IT.

Matt’s other senses are heightened, but he is in fact blind. Every time a new seasons about to roll through we see the he’s faking it posts :/

𝖠𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖠𝗇𝗇𝖺-𝖫𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝖲𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗇 | 𝖨𝖦: 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺_𝖺𝗋𝗍

Oh god why would you do this to me Bella!? This is heartbreaking 😭💔

Don't Walk Away [Part One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frank is a good man–you learned that the day he brought your dog Lucky into your life. The two of you soon began a relationship afterwards, one that was rather unconventional with how often Frank was always on the road. But one night when he's back, you're hit with the realization that you're in love with him. Noticing your nerves, Frank eventually pulls the truth out of you–and then you're left confused and heartbroken when you wake up to find him gone the next morning.

Warnings: 18+; Angst with a happy ending (in part two), emotional hurt/comfort, smut (in part two), love confession

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: This was going to be a one part thing but I wanted to give this story everything I needed to which meant it was growing into something bigger. So there will be a part two coming that has the happy ending and smut. For now, this is angst. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Humming absently to yourself, you sealed the lid on the tupperware container of the leftover pasta you’d made for dinner. A crisp breeze made its way through the open windows in your kitchen, that comforting and familiar scent of autumn soon approaching wafting inside and filling your house. You loved this time of year when the nights finally cooled off and you didn’t have beads of sweat rolling down your back from the scorching heat of the day. There was something serene and calming about having your windows open at night, the sounds of the crickets outside a peaceful background to your evenings. 

As you made your way over to the refrigerator, you heard the sound of a car rolling to a stop somewhere along the street out front, the noise louder than usual with your windows wide open. You saw Lucky raise her head from off the kitchen floor, perking up at the noise as you opened the refrigerator door and placed the container of leftover pasta inside. Lucky let out a soft whine from the floor next, your attention fully turning down towards your dog as you shut the fridge.

“It’s just a car, girl,” you told her. “Nothing to be worried about.”

Making your way towards your dishwasher, you pulled the door open and slid out the bottom rack. Turning, you began pulling the dirty pots and bowls out of the sink from this evening and setting them one by one inside of the dishwasher. The loud thud of a car door closing outside rang out through your kitchen and Lucky jumped up from the floor. You paused, half-bent over the dishwasher as your focus shifted to her. She was standing perfectly at attention facing the living room, her entire body absolutely still except for her cropped tail. It was doing that hopeful, eager wag she would get where her tail would wag exactly three times before it stopped for a couple of seconds only to wag three more times. 

And she only ever acted like this when she noticed Frank was back.

“Is your daddy here?” you asked Lucky.

Her head turned back towards you, a happy glint in her eyes. You couldn’t contain your own excitement either, a large grin slipping onto your lips as you slid the dishrack back before closing the dishwasher door. Heading to the sink, you washed your hands, your smile only growing when you heard Lucky softly whining in barely contained joy.

By the time you were drying your hands on the kitchen towel, you heard a knock coming from the front door. Lucky bolted off towards it immediately, her excited barks loudly echoing through your previously quiet house. Making your way out of your kitchen and to the living room after her, you could hear Frank’s laughter coming through the open windows. The warm, resonate sound of it had you picking up your pace as you headed to the front door. It had been awhile since Frank had last stopped by and you'd certainly missed him. 

Unlocking the door, you hurriedly pulled it open to reveal Frank Castle standing on your doorstep–or Pete Castiglione as everyone else in the world knew him as. But you had come to know him for exactly who he was shortly after the night you met him eight months ago now. 

He was the one who’d brought Lucky into the animal hospital you’d been working at late at night. She’d been in terrible shape, barely holding on from the abuse she had clearly suffered from, and she had been covered in injuries from what appeared to be dog fights. He’d been in a panic about her, begging you to do whatever you could to save her that night when he’d barged in through the front doors carrying her limp body in his arms. Frank had barely left the animal hospital’s parking lot for the entire week she’d been in your care. He had always been checking in on her, asking if there was anything he could do. 

It wasn’t long before you’d looked into who he was, curious about the man who cared so much about an abused dog that supposedly wasn’t his dog–and then you’d managed to uncover his past. You’d been a bit wary of him at first, but Frank had only ever been kind and respectful to you and your colleagues. It was clear he had a big heart judging by how much he cared for the dog he’d rescued and couldn’t seem to let go of. Though when she was finally ready to go home and recover, you’d expected he would want to take her with him, but he’d surprised you when he had told you that he couldn’t. He was apparently living on the road for now, traveling from state to state without a real home, trying to find where he belonged. He had stayed only long enough to make sure she was healed and safe before he left.

You had ended up taking her in and naming her Lucky–because she was lucky Frank had been the one to find her and rescue her that night. But you’d also referred to her as your good luck charm because two weeks later, Frank had returned to the animal hospital you worked at and was asking about her. When he learned you’d been the one to give her a home, he’d asked if he could see her again. It was Lucky who had ultimately brought you and Frank together; she was the reason the pair of you had eventually fallen into the unconventional relationship you’d had for months now while Frank continued to live his life on the road trying to find himself–though you always wondered if he was really just punishing himself. 

Pulling the screen door open, Frank stepped inside with a broad smile spread wide across his face, his warm brown eyes focused on you. The sight of him had your heart feeling ready to burst, a large smile spreading onto your own lips in return. Lucky quickly began excitedly hopping around by Frank’s legs, demanding attention as happy barks flew out of her one after another. She only quieted when he'd finally tore his eyes from you and focused his attention on her.

“Hey girl,” Frank greeted Lucky. “You missed me, did ya?”

He took two steps inside before swiftly dropping down to his knees on the floor beside her. Lucky was quick to bombard him in a series of kisses straight away, only further encouraged by his large hands scratching behind her ears. Laughing lightly at the pair of them, you closed the front door and locked it before turning and leaning against it, watching the both of them with that smile lingering on your lips. Lucky’s entire lower half wiggled back and forth in delight as Frank continued to enthusiastically scratch behind her ears, muttering sweet words of praise to her. The reunions between the two of them had always went like this whenever Frank showed back up at your place, and it always warmed your heart to watch them together.

It was a few minutes before Lucky finally calmed, lowering to sit on her haunches in front of Frank with her tongue happily hanging out of her mouth looking as if she was smiling herself. Frank glanced up at you, one hand still absently petting Lucky as he directed that broad smile still on his face at you. The sight of it had your heart almost skipping a beat–it had been two weeks since you'd last had the opportunity to see that smile in person.

His attention not leaving you, he slipped his duffle bag from off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor by his feet. “How’s my favorite girl?” he asked.

“Feeling a little left out of this reunion,” you teased.

“Well I can’t have that now can I?” he mused.

He gave Lucky two more pats on her head before he rose back up to his feet, eyeing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly sauntered towards you. You quirked a brow at him, the corner of your lips curving even higher upwards. The moment he was within reach, his hands were on your hips. You could feel the warmth of them seeping past the thin fabric of your sweatpants, his fingers firmly gripping you in an almost possessive way. He stepped in closer to you, closing the distance between you both as his face hovered just before yours. Your own hands rose up, landing on his chest just over his dark jacket. Your eyes locked onto his brown ones, spotting that familiar light in them they always had when he was with you. Though every time he said goodbye to you before heading out to his truck, ready to get back on the road again, you swore you saw that light extinguish behind his eyes.

“What about you, beautiful?” Frank asked, his voice a gentle rumble in your ears as he cocked his head to the side. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone, Frank,” you assured him, hands snaking their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him in closer to you. “And I’m always happy to see you.”

“Is that right?” he murmured.

Frank lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his eyes closing. Yours closed seconds later, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips in anticipation of your greeting from him. He was so close to you that his lips brushed yours when he spoke next. 

“How much did ya miss me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, your arms pulled him in the rest of the way to you as you tilted your face up, capturing his lips with your own. It surprised you that his lips were always so soft every single time you kissed him because everything about Frank usually screamed the opposite of soft. And right now those lips of his were moving so deliberate and slow against yours over and over again, the feel of them finally back on yours making you suddenly breathless. You quickly found yourself getting lost in him, your body melting into his as he pressed you further back into the front door. The scent of leather and gasoline and smoke filled your nose as your mind went blank to everything else but him. Frank took another step into you, his hands sensually sliding their way down your hips and around towards your ass as he kissed you exactly like a man who'd been gone for two weeks would. 

Kissing Frank for you was vastly different than kissing anyone else you ever had before. With Frank, every kiss and every touch from him always felt full of passion and something more . Something more than just lust and desire and the urge to scratch an itch. You’d never experienced that with anyone else but him, and you’d always been left wondering what that had meant.

When you felt Frank’s tongue drag its way along your lower lip so painfully slow and purposeful, you couldn't resist the faint moan that fell out of your mouth. Frank swallowed down the sound before he squeezed your ass in his large hands. Then he pulled away from you just a bit, chuckling at the whine you emitted in protest. 

"Much as I'd love to continue this, beautiful," Frank murmured, pausing to place a sweet kiss back to your lips, "It's been hours since I ate. Been drivin' all day trying to get back to you before you went to bed. D’ya mind if we catch up while I eat?"

Your right hand withdrew from its place around his neck, gradually making its way towards his face where you began to affectionately stroke his stubbled cheek. Frank’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you did. It was a moment before you answered, just enjoying the slight rasp of his beard against your fingertips, content that he was here again. Though you loved the slightly outgrown beard he always showed up with, clearly not having had a chance to shave in a few days each time you saw him again. 

"Only if you don't eat that packaged shit in your bag," you replied, gesturing your head at his duffle bag with a grimace. "I just finished dinner a bit ago, I can reheat you some of the pasta I made."

Frank's smile widened further, his hands gripping your ass firmly again. "You're too good to me, sweetheart," he told you. 

"Well somebody needs to make sure you're eating more than tuna fish from a bag and beef jerky," you shot back, nails playfully scratching along his jawline. "I need to make sure you're not malnourished out there on the road."

"Oh do you now?" he asked, his hands releasing you.

"Mhmm,” you hummed out as Frank stepped back from you, a grin forming on his lips. “You make sure you take those dirty things off before you make yourself comfortable, though," you told him, gesturing a finger down at his black boots.

Frank's grin curled up even higher before he dipped his head once in a single nod. "Yes, ma'am."

You hummed out a pleased noise before turning and making your way back to the kitchen. It came as no surprise to you that Lucky didn't follow after you, choosing to stay behind with Frank as he gathered his bag and took his boots off. 

Opening the refrigerator door, you pulled out the container of pasta you'd only minutes ago put away before setting it on the kitchen counter. Next you reached up into a cabinet, pulling down a bowl and then grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer. Afterwards, you began scooping a generous portion of food into the bowl–you knew damn well Frank ate like shit when he wasn't with you. You also knew he loved your cooking. 

As you opened the microwave door, you heard Frank's tired feet shuffling their way towards the kitchen. By the time the pasta had begun reheating in the microwave, Frank was at your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling the back of you into the front of him. He buried his face into your neck and you tilted your head, giving him easier access as your eyes fell closed. He nuzzled quietly against your skin for a moment, the scratch of his beard almost a tickle.

“Missed you,” he murmured into your neck.

Your hands landed on top of his arms where they were wrapped around your waist, a contented sigh slipping out of your lips. You missed him every single day he was gone, constantly checking your phone for a new text or a call or a voicemail from him. Always desperate for anything at all from him. For the past few months you’d found yourself wishing he’d just stay one of these days instead of always slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder in a few days’ time, carrying your heart off with him as he drove away in his truck.

“You know you don’t always have to leave,” you told him quietly.

Frank inhaled an audible, deep breath, holding it for a long moment before he expelled it roughly. He soon drew his face from your neck as his arms began to unwind themselves from around your waist. Your stomach nervously twisted in knots at the physical distance he was clearly creating.

You’d had this conversation with him two times before. The first time it was mostly one-sided with you doing most of the talking. The second time had resulted in a fight. Frank had gotten incredibly upset with you and you hadn’t exactly understood why before he’d grabbed his bag and disappeared. You thought that was the end of things until he’d called you a few hours later apologizing profusely. Though you didn’t see him for almost three weeks after that. 

Before he could respond with anything, the microwave beeped loudly. The sound cut through the tension that had formed in the kitchen. Clearing your throat, you focused on grabbing the hot bowl from the microwave.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll grab you a beer?” you suggested, shooting him a strained smile over your shoulder.

For a moment Frank stood there silently just a foot behind you, an unreadable expression on his face. You could see the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he ground his teeth together–in anger or something else, you had no idea. It was a bit before he finally nodded, turning and shuffling his way towards your kitchen table. You watched him slide out a chair before sinking down into the seat. Lucky was at his side instantly, resting her head on his thigh.

With the steaming bowl of pasta in one hand, you made your way to the refrigerator and opened it. As you pulled out a beer for him, you could feel the weight of his stare on you.

“So what stories did you bring me back this time?” you asked him, trying to diffuse the tension as you shut the fridge door. 

Almost instantly his face lit up with a smile, another one of his deep, rumbling laughs filling your kitchen. Your nerves quickly melted away at the sound as you headed over towards him, depositing the bowl of pasta and beer in front of him on the table.

“Oh I got plenty of stories, sweetheart,” Frank told you, straightening in his chair as he grabbed the fork, hungrily spearing a few noodles.

Pulling the chair out beside his, you settled down into it before resting an elbow on the table. With a bright smile back on your face, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, listening intently as he began to animatedly fill you in on his past two weeks.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Slowly waking, your eyelids fluttered open only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom. It took your brain a moment to register the warmth that was at your back, though you smiled in the darkness when you remembered Frank was curled up behind you with his large hand resting on your hip under the sheets. 

The tension had quickly vanished between the pair of you while Frank had eaten and the two of you had caught up. Shortly afterwards, Frank had grabbed a shower while you’d been hurriedly closing up all of the windows in your house. Then you’d made your way to the bathroom and slipped out of your clothes, joining him under the warm spray where the two of you caught up with each other in another way. 

Now he was fast asleep behind you wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers. His breathing filled your bedroom with each soft and rhythmic exhale from his mouth. You always missed having him in your bed whenever he was off on the road. It always felt too big and empty without him here sharing it with you.

That thought hit you hard right in the chest and you winced. It had been nearing a year of this long distance relationship with Frank now, and even though you’d been aware of his situation of being on the road when you’d started it with him, you’d recently come to feel differently about it. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust that he wasn’t with anyone else–though at first you’d wondered about that–but there was something there that you hadn’t been able to put your finger on before. Some other reason that his constant coming and going had started to feel different to you. That you’d stopped being so open to it.

You slipped a hand up out of the sheets, rubbing the heel of it against your eyes. That nagging feeling was back again. It was the same one that had you feeling restless and like there was something missing whenever you thought about Frank lately. With a sigh you shifted in the sheets, carefully trying to maneuver your way out of the bed and away from him without waking him up. Though you knew he was usually completely exhausted whenever he turned up on your doorstep and would sleep through just about anything.

Quietly you made your way down the side of your bed, sneaking past Lucky who was contentedly passed out in her dog bed, curled up in a tight ball. You continued to tiptoe towards the door, exiting your bedroom before continuing to make your way down the short hallway and into your kitchen. You could feel that nagging, unnamable feeling eating away at you again as you stopped beside the kitchen counter, reaching a hand up and opening a cabinet before pulling down a glass. 

Silently you made your way over to the sink, filling the cup halfway with water before you turned, resting your back against the counter. You drew the glass to your lips, sipping on the cool liquid as your eyes focused on the dark hallway nearby. Despite the stillness of your house, if you listened closely, you could hear Frank’s even breaths drifting out of the bedroom. The sound of it brought a faint smile to your lips.

And that’s when it hit you. 

Your hand tightened around the cold glass as the realization came crashing into you all at once, nearly drowning you in the revelation. You wondered how you’d been so blind to what had been right in front of you for so long.

You had fallen in love with Frank.

It had happened somewhere between all those phone calls and text messages you’d shared with him these past eight months, along with those impromptu camping trips he had brought you and Lucky with him on. Somewhere between the nights he’d cooked you dinner and taken you to bed, showing you just how much he’d missed you while he was gone. All those times he’d shown up on your doorstep–sometimes with a bouquet of flowers or with breakfast and coffees in hand–you’d fallen for him. 

There was no denying it.

Though you immediately became terrified of the realization. You knew about Frank’s past. You knew he’d been married and he’d had two children. You knew that all three of them had been brutally murdered right in front of him. And you damn well knew he still thought about them everyday–he still had nightmares some nights when he was with you. Horrible ones that made you feel useless to help him in any other way besides offering him comfort as he wept into your shoulder in the middle of the night. 

How the hell could you tell him you loved him? Did you even tell him that? 

A nervous churning began in your stomach as your eyes dropped down to the almost empty glass in your trembling hand. You were in love with a man who wasn’t a physical constant in your life. Sure, Frank kept in touch with you on and off throughout the day every single day that he was gone, but he wasn’t here with you every day. And that’s what it was you’d found yourself wanting lately. But with what he’d lost and how he seemed to keep spending his days searching for something out there on the road, could he ever even be here with you?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you turned and dumped out the last bit of water in the sink before setting the glass on the counter. With a quivering exhale, you wrapped your arms around yourself before quietly tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Though the moment you entered, Frank began to stir in the sheets. You stopped instantly at the foot of the bed when you saw his head rise from off the pillow, his brows furrowing together.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Frank’s groggy voice asked.

Nervously you tucked some hair behind your ear, continuing back towards your side of the bed. You shook your head as you pulled the sheets further back, aware of Frank’s eyes following you through the darkness.

“No,” you answered quietly. “Just needed a glass of water.”

You slipped back onto the mattress, laying on your back this time as you turned your head along the pillow. You sent Frank a tight smile as you pulled the sheets back over yourself. A moment later you felt his hand sliding its way carefully up your neck, coming to cradle the side of your face. He carefully drew it further towards his, his thumb absently stroking your cheekbone with such tenderness that your heart stuttered in your chest. You swallowed hard, that tight band of nerves that had formed at your recent revelation in the kitchen a minute ago twisting noticeably in your gut. 

“You sure?” Frank asked.

Your brows twitched together briefly at his question. “Yeah, why?” you asked him cautiously.

“You seem…on edge,” Frank pointed out, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “Did I do somethin’?”

Instantly you shook your head, though your immediate denial only seemed to further pique his interest. He shifted on the mattress, drawing himself up onto an arm as he gazed down at you, brushing some hair from your face.

“What’s goin’ on.”

It wasn’t a question. You heard it in the tone of his voice, he knew something was wrong. Internally you cursed that Frank was such a perceptive man. 

Swallowing hard, you shook your head again as your gaze dropped down to his bare chest. The marks from your nails were still visible along his skin in the dimly lit room and your cheeks heated at the memory of your time with him in the shower earlier. But that heat quickly gave way to your nerves under Frank’s heavy stare.

You knew Frank had only ever been with you after the passing of his wife. He had never let anyone else in–he had never even slept with anyone else besides you after Maria had passed. And he’d opened up to you about a lot of the pain he carried over these past few months, too. But what you didn’t know was how he would react to this thing between you both suddenly being something more than what it had been for the past eight months. 

“Tell me,” Frank ordered.

“I just–”

You stopped, biting your bottom lip as those knots in your stomach from earlier twisted tighter and tighter. Fingers curling around the bedsheets, your eyes snapped shut. You weren’t sure if you could get the words out.

“You just what?” his gruff voice gently pressed.

Inhaling a trembling breath, you tried to find the courage to answer him. You knew he wouldn't drop this now. Maybe he’d surprise you–you hoped so–but if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to reciprocate your feelings. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that, either. Could Frank ever even love you? Maybe not now, but possibly someday? Would he ever even let himself feel that way for someone that wasn't Maria? You admittedly weren't sure about the answers to those questions, and you weren't certain Frank himself even had the answers. And that scared you now more than it ever had in the past.

“Talk to me,” Frank urged when you remained silent.

“I don’t–don’t exactly know how to say this,” you whispered, the words falling out of you in a rush. “I guess I never really let myself think about it before so I–I didn’t realize it until…just now. I mean, you’re always coming and going so I’ve never really–really let myself think about the possibility that I–” your voice broke off mid-sentence. Even you could hear the tremble in your words. Closing your eyes tighter, you tried to push the words out, unable to look him in the face as you bore your heart to him next. “I love you, Frank. And I–I don’t expect to hear you say that in return to me. But I–” you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as you repeated the confession aloud to him, “–I love you.”

Silence met your ears. You felt the way Frank’s thumb paused its repetitive movements along your cheek as he stiffened beside you in the bed. You kept your eyes clamped closed, too afraid to see his reaction. But the longer the silence dragged on in the bedroom, the worse that feeling in your stomach grew. Maybe you should have lied and not said anything at all. Even if you didn’t expect to hear him say it in return, you still expected something .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–”

You were cut off by Frank’s hand on your cheek pulling you towards him before his mouth was suddenly on yours. You rolled over onto your side, your right hand snaking its way around his waist and up his back, fingers digging into his hard muscles. His hand held you to him, firm but gentle, as he kissed you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before. You’d barely had a chance to register much else before he sharply broke away from you. 

Your eyes flew open at the abrupt end to that passionate kiss, confusion written all over your face. Though seconds later Frank was pressing his forehead to yours, his own eyes closed. He remained silent, not saying anything in return as his thumb began its affectionate path along your cheekbone again. For now, you took that as a positive response, one that briefly quelled the rising nerves in your stomach as you brushed your nose up against his. 

Frank pulled away from you after a moment, his lips placing two long, lingering kisses along your forehead before he settled back on his pillow. His hand released your cheek to instead wrap around your waist, drawing you further into him. Easily obliging, you snuggled up against the front of him, relaxing into the heat and comfort of his body as your eyelids briefly lowered.

He may not have said it back, but you figured that kiss meant something good, at least. You figured you had tomorrow to talk to him about it all. You’d make sense of things then. For now, you just wanted to curl up against Frank and drift to sleep in the safety of his arms.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucky’s high-pitched whine met your ears first. You rolled over, burying your face into your pillow and trying to block out the sunlight seeping past your curtains and hitting the back of your eyelids. You groaned, throwing a hand out to your right and hoping to pull Frank closer to you–but your hand hit the cold mattress. Instantly your head rose from your pillow, your eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to adjust to the bright light in your room. 

The space beside you was empty.

Frowning, you pushed yourself upright on the bed, your eyes surveying the bedroom. Lucky was sitting beside the bedroom door, her dark gray ears drooping as she ducked her head. She whined again as she looked back at you.

“Frank?” you called out.

When you didn’t get a response, you kicked the sheets off of yourself and hurriedly threw your legs over the side of your bed. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you stood up and made your way out of the bedroom and down the short hallway with Lucky following after you. Though you immediately came to a stop in the living room. Frank’s boots were missing from where he’d set them last night by the front door.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes flew to the couch next. His duffle bag wasn’t where he’d tossed it on the cushions before his shower last night, either. Your heart began to pound in your chest, the beating of it uneven and erratic.

“Frank?” you called out again.

No answer.

Lucky walked past you, making her way to your front window. She nuzzled the curtains out of her way as she looked outside. Feeling like you were moving in slow motion, you made your way to the window after her. Reaching a hand out, you pulled the dark blue curtains back. 

Frank’s truck wasn’t parked out front where it had been last night.

A sharp gasp fell out of you, your hand dropping the curtain and flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled a couple of steps backwards. You could feel the burn of tears building in your eyes, a tightness forming in your chest.

Frank was gone. He must’ve slipped out of bed sometime last night or early this morning and just left without a word. A strangled noise slid out from behind your hand at that thought and you pressed your lips firmly together, trying to keep from crying. 

A desperate, hopeful thought ran through your mind next. Maybe he’d run out to grab breakfast and didn’t say anything because he thought he’d be back before you’d woken?

Hurrying back down the hallway towards your bedroom, you headed straight to your nightstand and practically ripped your phone from the charger. You unlocked it, noticing there weren’t any notifications from Frank. Opening up your contacts, you quickly found his name and dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear with bated breath.

Though it didn’t ring. Not even once. Instead, your call had gone straight to Frank’s automated voicemail.

Slowly you lowered the phone from your ear and down to your lap as you blankly sank down on the edge of your bed. Your finger ended the call as your vision began to blur from the tears quickly welling in your eyes. It wasn’t long before they began to spill forth, hot and wet as they raced down your cheeks. Lucky’s head gently lowered to your left knee as she softly whined again. Almost instantly you crumpled in half, throwing your arms around her neck as you sobbed into her fur.

Frank had left you. All because you’d gone and fallen in love with him.

i can't have beef with the power of friendship trope because if someone wanted to hang out with me i'd probably reconsider my stance on turning the city into the 10th circle of hell

Gosh I've read so many fantastic fics today! The authors of AO3 and Tumblr are blessing me 🙏

AHHH reader got kidnapped (YAY), the drama is increasing, the plot is thickening, and the plot is spinning. I can't wait for more!!

You are amazing, thanks for this beautiful chapter, and Take Care! <3

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Sixteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and angst. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Sixteen

You tried to wipe away your tears but your hand was trembling too much, and the moment you heard the elevator moving it only got worse. In the three minutes that followed your brief conversation with Lissa, you’d changed your mind at least a hundred times and you were already practising all the ways that you might tell her that you didn’t want to leave after all. 

You didn’t want to go, you didn’t want to leave Billy, but you knew you had to.

That thought was what would carry you through this difficult moment. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to turn his life more upside down than you had already. This was best for both of you.

By the time the doors slid open and Lissa stepped into the penthouse, you’d managed to force yourself into a calm and detached state, not wanting to make it any harder than it needed to be. Your suitcase was at her side and on top of it was the outfit you’d been wearing when you arrived, neatly folded for you.

Lissa was silent for a moment, taking a measure of you but, somehow, you kept your nerve.

“You’re aware that once you do this you will not be able to change your mind?” She asked, finally, as if she’d decided that you were serious about it.

“I am.”

“And you’re aware that you will receive no compensation for your time?”

“I know,” you answered, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

“Are you sure you have everything that you wish to take with you? Once you leave, there is no coming back.”

It was then that you realised that there was something you wanted, something that you just couldn’t leave behind.

You quickly excused yourself, half-jogging back to your bedroom, taking your clothes with you. After quickly changing, you found yourself looking at your bed, your heart broke knowing that you couldn’t take the large bear with you, but you grabbed the stuffed beagle, Bill, and clutched it to your chest, trying to ignore the tears that were starting to well in the corners of your eyes.

You took a minute before stepping back out into the penthouse and facing Lissa again. She gave you a curious look when she noticed the stuffed toy but didn’t say anything.

“There’s something I need you to do for me before I go,” you said, barely managing to hold her cold gaze, “I need Karen Page’s phone number.”

“Of course,” Lissa answered, giving a wave of her hand towards the elevator.

For a second you froze, not wanting to move, not wanting to leave. All you could think about was Billy and how heartbroken he’d be when he realised you were gone. Even if it was for the best in the long run, there was no way of doing this without causing him pain and you hated yourself for that. But it was better to hurt him now than spend decades at his side only to slip away due to age or illness.

“I take it you didn’t discuss this with Mr Russo,” Lissa offered, watching you as you finally took a step and started towards the elevator.

“No, I didn’t.” Those three little words conveyed far more shame than you would have liked.

“It’s not my place to ask why but -” for the first time since you’d met her, Lissa seemed to be thinking twice about speaking her mind, “- I was starting to think you might actually make it through the whole year.”

You knew what she was trying to ask; she wanted to know what happened, she wanted to know what he’d done to finally push you over the edge. You’d made it past the six months mark though, by this point, you’d broken pretty much all of the rules.

“I thought the job would be easier than it is,” was all you dared to offer as the elevator doors slid shut, trying to distract yourself by shoving Bill the Beagle into the top of your suitcase, leaving his head poking out.

“As far as I’m aware, Mr Russo has been happy with your service, perhaps if you were speak to him -”

“No, please, I - I just want to leave.” you abruptly interrupted, before struck with an uncomfortable thought. “Have you spoken to him?”

“No. Staying has always been your choice and it is not Mr Russo’s place to try and influence that decision. I will however have to inform him of your resignation the moment you leave the building.”

If you didn’t know any better, you might have assumed that she was trying to talk you out of leaving, as if she could see through all the bullshit and knew exactly what was going on. Dread coiled in your stomach at the thought of him hearing the news from Lissa. You’d at least hoped you’d be able to ask Karen to be the one to drop the bombshell.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t at least like to wait until morning?” She asked a moment later. “If you need somewhere to stay or tickets arranged, I could -”

“No. It’s fine, Karen offered me a place to stay if I needed it.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either; she had offered you a place, but you had no intention of staying there. 

The elevator door opened and you stepped out in the atrium. Lissa handed you your phone which, surprisingly, still had charge. (Perhaps she’d kept it charged so it would be ready in case you ever needed to leave.) Then she gave you Karen’s number and wished you good luck. 

You felt sick as you slowly started towards the doors, suddenly terrified of the outside world and a life without Billy. You didn’t dare look back until you were outside and your stomach nearly turned itself inside out when you saw Lissa lifting her phone to her ear. All you could think about was Billy, how angry and devastated he would be to hear that you were gone.

Your own phone was buzzing non-stop, alert after alert from six months of messages, voicemails, missed calls and social media notifications. It was almost enough to make you switch the damned thing off again.

Taking a breath, you called Karen, briefly explaining the situation, and asking her to meet you at the bar she’d taken you to before hailing a taxi. On the ride there, your phone started to light up with an unknown number, over and over again. Your heart threatened to stop when you realised that it must be Billy. The number appeared over and over, then the text messages started, pleading with you to answer, asking you not to leave.

Karen was waiting for you outside Josie’s when you got out of the taxi, her arms folded across her chest, and the look on her face was anything but happy.

“What the fuck is going on?” She asked, looking at you and then at the suitcase at your side.

“I’m leaving, I just wanted -”

“I know that part,” she almost snapped, “Frank told me. He says Billy’s worried sick.”

Again, you found your stomach knotting, suddenly feeling sick. Maybe it had been a mistake to want to see Karen, maybe you should have just left town.

“Does he know we’re here?” You dared to ask, hoping that he wasn’t going to show up and stop you from leaving.

“No. I told them I’d talk to you but that if you really wanted to leave, I’d let you go,” she said, not exactly sounding happy about it.

The relief you felt was palpable and Karen seemed to notice. For a moment more she just stared at you before finally relenting and ushering you into the bar for a drink. 

You sat at a table by the window, aware from the noisier patrons, your eyes moving to the door every time that it opened. Karen sat opposite you, cradling a drink and waiting for you to start talking and, eventually, you did. You told her everything - everything that Billy had told you and everything that had happened between you - and she quietly listened, barely holding back the growing confusion on her face until you were finally done.

“So you fixed things with him, slept with him, told him you love him, and then you snuck away the moment he left for work?” She didn’t sound impressed, and when she put things that way, you couldn’t blame her.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” you tried to explain.

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

“You don’t understand...” you tried again, “you didn’t hear him when he told me how scared he was of losing me, how I was going to grow old and die, and how he’d be left on his own.”

“You’re leaving him on his own now,” she said, stating the obvious and making you feel worse. “And what about your family? What’s the actual plan here?”

“I... I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve got enough to get a bus ticket out of the city and then... I guess I’ll just see where I end up.”

“You know there’s only one place you can end up if you do this. If the Maggia are looking for you -”

“I know,” your voice broke, “but what choice do I have? This thing with Billy, I can’t let it get any deeper. I can’t do that to him.”

“What about -”

Her phone started to ring and your heart stuttered when you saw his name on the screen. You looked at her with pleading eyes, but it didn’t stop her from answering the call. Your gaze dropped to the table as she started to speak.

“Yes, she’s here with me, she’s -” you could almost hear him frantically speaking over her, “- she’s safe. Yes, I’m -” she stopped and looked at you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Despite the way you shook your head, Karen still held out the phone to you. You refused for a few seconds before finally taking it from her.

“Billy...”

“Please don’t do this,” he pleaded.

“I can’t stay, I -”

“Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry.” He said, and the hurt in his voice caused your eyes to well with tears. “I - I love you. I should’ve said it back, I should’ve just told you that -”

“No, Billy, it’s not that,” you interrupted.

“Then what? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you were right. I don’t want to be a vampire and I don’t want to make you watch me grow old and die,” you told him, trying to stay strong.

“I’d rather have you for sixty years than just six months. Please, hummingbird, I know what I’m getting myself into, we can -”

“I kissed Matt.” It fell from your lips and caused Billy to immediately fall silent and Karen to glare at you. Your cheeks warmed and your stomach continued to twist and churn, and you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“What?” He finally asked.

“The night of the party, we kissed -” you sighed, “- I’ve broken all of your rules, Billy. All I’ve done since I’ve got here is cause problems for you and all your friends and I’m so tired of feeling like I’m in the way, like I can’t even look after myself.”

Your gaze was fixed on the table again, not wanting to see what Karen thought about any of this.

“No, you’re wrong. No one thinks that. I don’t think that. I can’t let you go. I won’t,” he tried to tell but all you could hear was your own heartbeat echoing in your ears, “I don’t care what you did. I’m coming to get you, I’m -”

“Goodbye, Billy.” 

Without further warning, you hung up, put the phone on the table and got to your feet.

“Where are you going?” Karen asked.

“You told him where we are, didn’t you?”

“What? You heard me talking to him, I never -”

“He said he’s coming to get me. I heard him getting into a car.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Even though she’d always tried to be there for you, Karen was Billy’s friend before she was yours and you didn’t want to blame her for protecting him, but it stung. You’d wanted more time, you’d wanted to be able to say goodbye properly.

“Look, if this is really what you want, then I won’t let him take you back,” Karen told you. “But you should at least talk to him.”

“I just did,” you answered, hating how difficult this was becoming. “Please, just let me go. This is best for everyone.”

“Wait -”

“I’m sorry, Karen. I can’t,” you tried so damned hard to keep yourself from falling apart. “Please, don’t follow me.”

She tried to say something, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You headed for the door.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you almost walked into someone. Or, rather they almost walked into you.

”In a hurry?” 

The voice sparked a glimmer of recognition in you, a memory that you could only half remember. When you looked, your stomach turned itself inside out.

”Oh, so you do remember me?” Krista smiled, her hand wrapping around your arm. “Come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

At first you tried to pull away from her, but then her eyes caught yours and she spoke again. Everything around you seemed to melt away and, soon enough, it felt like Krista was the only other person in the whole wide world, and the only thing you wanted to do was whatever she asked you to.

”You want to come with me,” she told you, her tone soothing, convincing. “You want me to take you away from all of your problems. You want to be free of this whole mess.”

As much as you wanted to fight it, you found yourself stepping towards the curb, your suitcase and purse quickly abandoned as you were ushered into the back of a limousine before you came to your senses and realised what a mistake you’d made.

“I told you there was nowhere you could run that I wouldn’t find you,” he smiled at you as Krista closed the door behind you and watched as the limo pulled away from the curb, leaving you trapped with him.

***************************

He’d been staring at the clock for over an hour and, every time he looked away, he was sure it skipped back a couple of minutes. Frank was still talking. He’d been talking non-stop since he’d first walked in Billy’s office, starting with the boring financial stuff and then going on to trying to update him on a couple of Anvil’s on-going missions.

But Billy didn’t care about any of that. 

All he could think about was you, picturing you curled up in his bed, waiting for him to get home.

He was thinking about the way you’d moaned his name, how good it had felt to come inside you, and how much he was looking forward to doing it all over and over again.

“You even listenin’ to me?” Frank barked, jolting Billy from his thoughts.

“Yeah, Frankie, the senator wants security for his fundraiser,” Billy answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and affect a smart-ass tone about it. “And congressman Steven’s is -”

His heart threatened to stop the moment his phone lit up with Lissa’s name. He couldn’t think why she’d be calling, unless something had happened.

Had you been hurt? Were you sick? Panic and dread warred inside of him as he answered the phone, but nothing prepared him for what came next. He answered frantically, nothing giving her a chance to speak at first, asking if something had happened, if something was wrong.

Lissa explained the situation, telling him that you’d left.

Billy was beside himself at the news.

“You didn’t try to stop her?” He demanded, ignoring the look that Frank was giving him from across the room.

“My job is to ensure that the letter of the law is followed in these arrangements, you know I am not allowed to hold people against their wills,” Lissa answered back curtly. “I did, however, ensure that she had Ms Page’s number.”

“Karen? She’s gone to Karen?”

Mention of Karen suddenly had Frank’s attention.

Lissa started to say something but Billy quickly cut her off, thanking her for letting him know and quickly hanging up.

“The fuck’s goin’ on, Bill?” Frank asked, and Billy quickly explained.

“Call Karen, find out where the hell she is,” he told his friend, his desperation quickly prompting Frank into action.

While Frank tried to get through to Karen, Billy found your number on your employment records and started to call you, getting nothing but a full voicemail. Then he started to text.

Please, let’s talk about this.

Don’t leave me.

I don’t want you to go.

Why are you doing this?

Please, talk to me.

“Karen won’t tell me where they’re meetin’,” Frank sighed, “says she wants to talk to her first and find out what’s goin’ on.”

“Can we track her phone?”

“I’m not lettin’ you track Karen’s phone, Bill. You outta your fuckin’ mind?” 

“Damn right I’m out of my mind,” Billy snapped. “I can’t lose her. I’m not going to lose her. Not now.”

He kept trying to call you, kept sending messages, thinking over all the places that you might end up. Eventually, he tried calling Karen and was genuinely shocked when she answered. In the background he could hear the tell tale sounds of a bar; people talking, music, and the clatter of a pool table.

“Is she with you? Is she okay? Is she safe? Has she told you what’s going on?” Billy didn’t give Karen any time to answer. “You’re at that place in Hell’s Kitchen, aren’t you? The place with the pool tables - the one you and Murdock go to. Josie’s.”

And, a second later, Karen said yes.

“Put her on, let me talk to her. Please, Karen,” he pleaded. “I need to talk to her.”

He was already halfway out of his office when he heard your voice, and the conversation that followed caused his chest to ache. No matter what he said, you seemed set on leaving him, and Billy couldn’t let you. He couldn’t just give up without a fight.

He didn’t even realise that Frank was following him to the parking lot until you hung up on him.

“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this, Frankie,” Billy warned as he got into his car.

“I’m just comin’ along to make sure you don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

It didn’t take long to reach Josie’s. You’d only been gone five minutes by the time he got there. Both men were rushing towards the door, hoping that, somehow, Karen had managed to keep you there, but Billy stopped in the street. Something caught his attention; an abandoned suitcase and purse by the curb.

“Bill, what’s -” Frank started, watching Billy veer off.

“This is hers,” he said.

“How can you tell?” 

His heart almost stopped completely when he tugged Bill the Beagle out of the case.

“I gave her this.”

Frantically, he started looking up and down the street, trying to figure out where you might have gone and why you might have left your things behind. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. 

He barely heard Frank muttering something about Karen before charging into the bar to look for her.

Billy tried calling your phone, only for it to start ringing in your abandoned purse and he knew that there was no way that you would willingly leave your things like this. There was no way you’d take the stuff beagle from the penthouse if you didn’t want it anymore.

His ears started to ring, a sense of panic filling him. He’d lost you. You were gone and he was pretty sure that something bad had happened to you. He clutched the stuffed toy to his chest as his vision started to tunnel.

You were gone.

You were gone.

“No,” he muttered, “no-no-no...”

He could practically feel the thing inside of him clawing and trying to get out. You were his and you were gone. Someone had taken what was his and he would tear down the whole fucking city to get you back

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back from the brink, but it didn’t stop him from snarling, from grabbing Frank by the collar and shoving him backwards, lashing out for the sake of lashing out.

And then he saw Karen.

“Where is she?” His tone was sharp enough to cause her to step back. 

A moment later Frank had him by the throat, forcing him back.

“Get your shit together,” he told Billy, keeping a tight grip while Billy thrashed against him.

“Where is she?” He snarled again.

“I don’t know,” Karen answered, holding up her hands in surrender, trying to soothe him. “But we’re going to find her, okay?”

Billy kept squirming, kept fighting against Frank, desperate to rip and tear and shred his way across the city until you were safely in his arms again. Frank shook him, pushing him back until he was pressed against his car.

“You’re wastin’ time fuckin’ about like this, Bill,” he told him, “you want to save her, then you’re gonna have to calm the fuck down an' think rationally.”

Part of Billy knew that Frank was right, but the noise in his head felt too loud. He forced a couple of deep breaths, knowing that he couldn’t help you if he couldn’t figure out where you were.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

Reluctantly, Frank let him go, but his eyes stayed fixed on Billy, watching his every move. Everyone knew that he wasn’t entirely back in control, but they all seemed to agree that they couldn’t waste any more time if they wanted to find you.

“What happened?” Billy asked, and Karen quickly recounted everything that had happened and everything you had told her.

“She asked me not to follow, so I didn’t,” Karen said. “I thought she was going to head to the bus station, but there’s no way she’d leave without her things, unless -”

She fell instantly silent, leaving both men staring at her.

“Unless what?” Billy prompted, his sharp tone earning him an equally sharp look of warning from Frank.

“She asked me not to tell you...”

“Karen, c’mon, she might be in danger,” Frank prompted before Billy could lose his temper again.

Karen sighed. “The guy that’s been claiming to be her fiance, he’s part of the Maggia.”

“What?” Billy dared to take a step forward, but immediately stopped when Frank tensed.

“Her parents owe him money. He wanted her as a partial payment. She didn’t want you to know,” She explained. “She didn't say a lot, but I know she’s scared of him.”

Billy felt sick. It felt like the world was spinning too fast and he was barely hanging on. All the little comments you’d made about not having a choice with this other guy slowly playing over in his mind. He had to get you back.

He had to kill whoever had taken you.

“How are we gonna find this prick?” Frank asked.

“I have an idea,” Karen offered, “but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to Billy.

“Agent Dinah Madani, Homeland Security?” Billy read out. “Why the fuck do you have some Homeland agent’s card?”

“It’s a long fucking story and we really don’t have time for it,” Karen answered.

End Note : Sorry to keep ending things on cliffhangers. I'm not entirely doing it on purpose (just mostly). Thanks so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, I haven't had time to reply to things yet I'll hopefully try to do that later. As I said last week, I've been busy this week so I'm really behind 😅 As always thank you so much for reading/liking/commenting/reblogging and generally screaming about all of Billy and readers bad choices throughout this. Hope you have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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