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too-scared-to-do-this · 3 years

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Of the Devil’s head

Chapter five - Mushy brains and heartbeat flairs

Sander’s side fanfiction

Wordcount: 1340

Ships: still just prinxiety

TW: well mentions of blood, wooziness, cursing, mentions of various forms of ridiculous torture. I think that should be all. let me know if I missed any :)

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter five - Mushy brains and heartbeat flairs

Roman was too preoccupied with senseless babbling to notice the guard coming back. He didn’t even notice when the keys chimed as the cell got unlocked. What he did notice though was when the bars, he was heavily leaning on, succumbed to his weight.

Well not exactly, but the thief has lost a lot of blood. He fell forward, landing on his hands and knees. “Wow… the ground is very hard…” he mumbled.

Derius look at his sibling with a weirded-out expression. “Is it good?”

Murede shrugged. “How should I know.” And grabbed a babbling Ro under his arms.

Somewhere in his fogy brain he knew this was bad. He knew this demon figure was trying to take him somewhere. So he put all his effort into grounding his feet. Which just ended up in him being dragged out of there. He pulled on his arms, squirming as much as his injuries let him. “Where are you taking me?” he heard himself ask.

Nobody answered.

“Let- go of me!” he tried, tossing in their grip. But the guards didn’t even flinch. So Roman was either extremely weak at the moment, or they were too strong. He opted for the first one. (No demon is stronger the Roman.)

“I want to talk to your higher-ups!” he screamed in a final attempt to free himself. Glaring daggers at the pair of siblings.

“You’re in luck.” a booming voice cut through his struggles. Both guards stopped and Roman lifted his head to see who had spoken. “Here I am.”

Virgil sat on his throne, sprawled out as always. His daggered staff in one hand and the crown proudly on his head. A deadly gleam in his mismatched eyes and the smirk on his face.

Roman’s mind went completely blank. “Woah…Pretty boy….” he mumbled.

Wait! Did he actually say that out loud?!

Judging by the complete and utter shock written on the Devil’s face, he guessed yes.

Virgil cleared his head, ignoring the way his heartbeat flared again and forced his expression back into that cool smirk. He had a part to play. “So you’re the one who dared to come down to Hell, hah?”

He got up from his throne and walked over to them, circling Roman. Like a vulture, he eyed his pray. “You don’t seem strong. Nor are good at stealth, apparently. And your brain…” he lifted Ro’s chin with his fingers. “I can’t tell if it’s really that mushy or if that’s just from the fall.” he let go.

Roman watched in awe, as his captor walked around him, criticizing him. Why didn’t anybody warn him the Devil was this hot?

Virgil made one more circle and stopped directly in front of the thief. “Tell me… why did you come here?”

Oh right…! Roman was here for something! Something about steeling -

He felt himself lean forward, hanging from the guards’ arms, face inches from the head-demon. And looked him dead in the eye. “To steel your heart.” he grinned, as charming as ever. (Or at least he hoped so.)

The king’s eyes went wide. Some weird eek-ing noise left his mouth and he stepped back. And was the haze messing with Roman’s mind again or was that blush on his face?

“My-my heart?!” the Devil gulped, staring at the stranger. How dare he-

Meanwhile Remi in the back by the throne was losing his shit! “Pffff… This is priceless!”

“Uuuuhum…” Roman swayed a little, woopy smile hanging from his lips. “You have very pretty eyes…”

It seemed like the thief’s self-control was barely holding. With his permanent filter off, his mouth was free to say whatever it desired. Even if on the expense of his ego. But Roman’s brain was getting too fogged up again to notice any of this.

“Well I-“ the crowned one stuttered. “I-“

“Ow…” the thief mumbled suddenly, loosing interest in everything around him. “My head hurts…”

“Are they-“ Virgil looked back at Remi, completely uncomfortable. The mind reader wasn’t much of a help, laughing his ass of somewhere in the corner. “Why are they-“ he looked back at the guards completely helpless.

“I want to go home…” the intruder wined again.

The guards shrugged just as much clueless as their leader. “I think it might have lost too much blood for its Human system to compensate in such a small amount of time.”

Yeah… Looking at the poor babbling fool, Virgil could see where they were coming from. Tears and scratches everywhere. Knees and hands scraped. Bandage on his head. Clothes dirty and coated with blood.

His eyes softened looking at the clueless mortal. “Why did you come here?”

“Hm?” Ro jerked his head up smiling dopy-ly. “To steel your heart silly.” he giggled.

Yap. He was completely gone.

“Yeah, right.” the king nodded, looking away. And that was certainly not blush on his face!

He looked at the guards, stern expression in place. “Take him to my suit. Give him a change of clothe and show him the shower.”

“Yes sir.” they nodded and dragged a half-conscious Roman away. He was still babbling on about how he’s going to win over that hot demon king and make him his!

Virgil let out a long sigh.

“Uuuuuuuuh!!! What’chu gonna do with it, babe? Tear it limb to limb? Fuck it senseless and then burn it alive? Uuuh! I know! Make it feel suffer endlessly and then throw it into the pit while still alive!” Remi run up to him completely giddy with energy. “And theeen maybeee…. we couldgogetthatStarbucks?”

The Devil looked back at him with a questioning look. “Shut you hole, dimwit! And you won’t get your coffee!”

“Satan damn it! I hate Hell!”

“Everybody hates Hell. That’s why we’re all stuck here.”

Roman was taken into a spacious room, shown to a shower and given clean clothes. To say he was back to normal after the shower would be a major over-statement, but he did feel a bit better. Enough to finally realize he was in the Devils bedroom!

What was the embodiment-of-all-evil planning to do with him? And oh god! What the hell was Roman thinking, babbling all that stuff!

Oh god! He surely made a fool of himself…

What is he thinking! He should be searching for an escape! He is about to be killed!

But these clothes are so soft… He has never in his life seen fabric like this… And the bed was so comfortable…

Surely the king wouldn’t get back until later. He’ll just close his eyes for a second…

Somewhere in the back of his mind the red alarm was going off. This wasn’t safe. This was stupid. This was dangerous! But the fog pushed drowned all that out.

And Roman fall asleep.

Virgil found him like that, sleeping soundly in his giant bed. He watched as the Liveling turned in a restless sleep and mumbled something incoherent.

He sighed. This creature was so strange. Everybody usually ran the moment they saw him - well that was maybe ‘cuz they saw him in his demon form, but let’s leave that aside. This measly little Human stayed.

It even dared to look him in the eyes! “Pf…” he shook his head slightly. “You came to steel my heart, hah?”

“Sad to say I don’t have one. No one in hell does. It’s a Mortal thing.” he shrugged slightly, walking over to the bed. Sitting on the corner he watched his sleeping prisoner.

His brown brows were furrowed, hair still wet and tousled from the shower. He had sharp features. Sharp and worn. Thousands of tiny little scars covered his skin, the slope of his nose.

Virgil found himself entranced by the creature laying in front of him.

To steel my heart. Right… He snickered to himself. “What will I do with you?”

And those were the words Roman awoke to. Blinking his sleepiness away, he opened his eyes. And he found himself staring into two mismatched eyes. To very frightened and caught of guard mismatched eyes.

Shit.

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Just imagine both of them thinking it at the same time.

I’m sorry if my jumping from viewpoint to viewpoint is confusing. I tried to make it as little confusing as possible, but it’s still kinda messy.

I have a question - would you like longer chapters or is this enough? ‘Cus like I know I’d like to finish in under 10 chapters, but if I’ll continue this way I probably won’t...

Let me know, okay :3

I really hope you liked it, though!

Oh and, guess what! Now apparently I have a tag-list! XD

So: Tag-list:

@romano-hottopic

@alice-only-me

#of the devil's head #Virgil the king of hell #Roman the thief #demon/thief au #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remi aka sleep #ts remi #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #Sander's sides #anxiety sanders #creativity sanders #sleep sanders #what else should I tag?

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 19: MJ is NOT a super hero

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Mary Jane is an incredibly gifted woman who you don’t want to mess with. But do those gifts really make her a hero, one who could take on Mysterio?

I was initially planning on looking at Mary Jane’s combat record in this post. However, before doing that there needs to be a dash more context to really put things into perspective.

I could simply cite Sen v2 #32 to prove my point. In this issue the Parker family are on the run since Peter unmasked and opposed the Super Human Registration Act. At her wits end MJ contacted Sue Richards for guidance.

During their conversation MJ opens up about how stressed she is. She even refers to Sue and other heroes as ‘you people’, clearly demarking a difference between them and herself.

Sue basically tells MJ to toughen up, referencing herself, Jessica Jones and Storm, the (then) wives of Reed Richards, Luke Cage and Black Panther respectively.

However, at the end of the conversation MJ points out the difference between herself those women was that she didn’t have powers to fall back on.

There you are. MJ herself acknowledging she has no powers and is not a super hero.

End of discussion.

Well no, because we can dive much deeper.

Let me start with this irrefutable statement: Mary Jane is a bad ass.

She truly is.

Mentally, emotionally, physically, she’s pulled off some truly impressive things.

But the thing is those things she’s pulled off…they wouldn’t be that impressive (if at all) if say, Wonder Woman did them. Or She Hulk. Or Mockingbird. Or Batgirl/Barbra Gordon. Or you know…Spider-Man himself.

So why do fans gravitate towards these things, these feats of heroism, self-defence and protection of others?

Because they are impressive considering Mary Jane is NOT a super hero.

You see it’s all a matter of scale.

The Chameleon is a trained and experienced mercenary but doesn’t possess any super human powers beyond the ability to change how he looks. In what has become one of her most iconic moments, Mary Jane defeated him with a mere baseball bat. This occurred when she knew what to expect, when Chameleon was underestimating her and when he was unarmed. That is impressive no doubt.

But were the situation the same but Batgirl was substituted for Mary Jane it wouldn’t nearly be as impressive because Batgirl, even with just a baseball bat, is at worst on a similar power level as the Chameleon. But in all seriousness is almost certainly his superior in terms of combat proficiency. She’s thoroughly trained in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, strategy, thinking on the back foot and highly experienced.

And experienced against people who’re actually much more physically dangerous than the Chameleon, such as Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy or the Joker. When you remove Chameleon’s stealth and weapons you are left with someone who is highly violent and could kill the average civilian if given the chance…but ultimately not someone as dangerous as most of the famous super villains from Marvel or DC.

If anything arming Batgirl with a baseball bat would be needlessly excessive, she could defeat Chameleon with just some punches or kicks.

Now apply that same scenario but substitute in Mockingbird, who can dent steel with her bare hands and has an accelerated healing factor and arguably superior fighting skills to Batgirl. Or how about She-Hulk, someone with vastly more strength, an even better healing factor and immensely more durability. And as Wonder Woman…she is literally a millennia old demi-goddess with divinely empowered durability, strength and speed, fast enough in fact to easily deflect bullets. *

If you were told any of these women defeated the Chameleon with ‘just a baseball bat’ would you be impressed? Would you feel that’s a huge accomplishment for any of them?

Of course not.

Because on even an incredibly rudimentary power scale common sense would clearly define for you that Chameleon wouldn’t be a physical threat to any of them.

Because they are actual super heroes wit either physically enhanced physiologies or advanced equipment or highly practiced expert level combat training.

The reason MJ dispatching the Chameleon has been celebrated for over 20 years is because none of that applies to her.

Let’s unpack exactly what MJ does and doesn’t have in her arsenal.

Mary Jane lacks any bona fide super human abilities or advanced combat training.

She has experienced being targeted directly by criminals or being caught up in criminal encounters. But these are intermittent experiences resulting from either her association with people the criminals have a grudge against (typically Spider-Man) or plain bad luck. She does not regularly in her day-to-day life deal with such things nor does she even deal with them on a weekly basis in her life. If she does they are likely the result of simply living in Marvel’s version of New York city, which thereby means most of her experiences are the same as the average resident of the city.

Apart from these intermittent experiences (and exempting her seeking help from others) the traits she possesses that might (in one capacity or another) be applicable in a dangerous situation are as follows:

She is a physically fit woman approximately aged between 24 and her mid-30s. But nowhere close to being Olympic athlete levels of fitness.

Excerpt from ‘The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe: Spider-Man 2004’

In terms of conventional/stereotypical beauty standards she is generally considered to be stunningly attractive. She is 5’8” and weighs in at 120 lbs. Her outward appearance then could potentially be used to make her would-be assailants underestimate her or even be dazzled by her beauty as a distraction

Mary Jane is not blind to the harsher realities of life and has developed proficient street smarts. But it’s not like she knows where to find stool pigeons and how to go about shaking them down for information, nor the inner workings of the criminal underworld.

She is a skilled actress particular practiced at adopting the façade of a seemingly carefree and simple party girl

She is at worst rather experienced when it comes to flirtation. Arguably we could extrapolate this into her being decent at general seduction but that’s debatable

She has good at improvising

She is exceptionally skilled in social interactions

She has a pretty decent ability to read people’s personalities, but is not a fully trained psychologist or any similar field that’d make her an expert at reading people very quickly and taking advantage of them as a result

She has certain basic self-defence skills gleamed from classes most people can attend

She has had at exactly one basic training session with Captain America, where the focus was more upon mental discipline and focus. The session never implied he taught her any practical self-defence moves and the session was geared more to instructing Peter not Mary Jane.

She has demonstrated/developed certain basic and unrefined (albeit often proficient) self-defence skill. These primarily consist of using melee weapons (typically objects not actually designed for such a purpose, like baseball bats) and to a lesser extent firearms, and to an even lesser extent hand-to-hand attacks. Mary Jane for instance has never been shown to practice using a handgun, although she does know how. She can slug someone in the jaw, but she’s never been shown to have trained how to do that, you see what I am getting at.

Technically speaking she possesses a pair of bracelets that are modified web-shooters, along with a set of regular web-shooters.

The former have a limited amount of web-fluid and are designed to stall a target, with the aim being for Mary Jane to surprise her assailant and buy time to escape, not engage in an outright fight. She has been shown to rarely carry either of these on her person though and there is no implication she has them in Amazing Mary Jane #1. Additionally since she is on set it would be unlikely that she’d be allowed to wear them as they wouldn’t be part of her on outfit for the movie.

Along with most of New York she has possessed identical powers to Spider-Man (in addition to organic based web-shooters) for less than 24 hours, during which time she displayed a proficiency in using them (due to bad writing, literally no one struggled to adjust to the use of Spider-Man’s powers). She has never possessed these powers again since, and this includes in AMJ.

On a handful of occasions she has piloted various different advanced armoured suits designed by Tony Stark. These have chiefly included his rudimentary MKII armour and the Iron Spider armour originally designed for Peter’s use.

In both she demonstrated proficient defence skills. It is not clear how easy the armours are to use so whether MJ’s proficiency was due to a natural skill or due to the armour’s design is debatable. Regardless there is no indication she regularly has access to this technology and certainly not in AMJ.

MJ possesses incredibly strong willpower and understands the need for self-sacrifice, demonstrating in her time a willingness to give something of her self for the good of others. This could be important in regards to protecting other people.

As you can see MJ’s skillset is impressive for a civilian.

But some instances (like the Stark armours she’s donned) make the depths of her skills unclear. The most advanced equipment she has access to are her web-shooters but she is shown to only use or even carry them on occasion. In both cases she is not shown to have access to either in AMJ. Her other skills are things anyone in real life could hypothetically possess and in fact several other civilians in the Marvel universe either do possess or could possess.

What I'm saying is Mary Jane is, by any metric, a civilian.

A civilian who knows how to use a gun, has had cause to defend her self dozens of times and is very good at thinking on her feet. But a civilian nevertheless.

She has the spirit to cut it as a superhero but not without powers, training or access to advanced equipment like Iron Man’s armour. None of which she currently possesses or has access to in AMJ.

When you get right down to it the reason we fans celebrate whenever Mary Jane triumphs or survives or even just pulls off some good moves against a criminal or super villain is because we understand she is ultimately the underdog.

We grasp that it’s innately more impressive for someone in the featherweight division to even hold their own for a little while against someone in the heavyweight division because normally they wouldn’t stand a chance and we are naturally inclined to be sympathetic towards them.**

This isn’t exclusive to Mary Jane by any means, underdog stories date back to the Bible itself with the classic tale of David and Goliath.

To use an example closer to home though, in ASM #229-230 Spider-Man had to stop the Juggernaut, a villain whose strength and durability had given him a reputation as unstoppable. He regularly tangled with the Hulk and was over all far beyond Spider-Man’s weight class. The story is widely regarded as one of the all time best in Spider-Man history, primarily because it is such a shining example of an underdog story.

Such stories are fairly common in super hero comic books, but so too is the popularity of civilian supporting characters that contend with outright super villains and criminals.

Alfred Pennyworth is utterly beloved within the Batman fandom with his attempts and successes at dealing with Batman’s infamous rogues celebrated. The same goes for Edwin Jarvis, sometimes celebrated as the bravest of all the Avengers. Jarvis’ popularity is such he was in fact the main character of the milestone 400th issue of the Avengers. And to use a closer equivalent to MJ, Lois Lane’s moments of skill, toughness and bravery in the face of danger are celebrated within Superman circles.

NONE of these characters are super heroes. Even Alfred, who (in most modern incarnations) has some military history, is still a more elderly gentleman thereby accentuating his vulnerability and making his victories all the larger.

With that out of the way, we now have the appropriate context to start examining some instances of MJ defending herself.

* And what about Spider-Man himself? Has he not tangled with Chameleon often? Is it not usually impressive whenever he defeats him? Indeed it is…but rarely whenever Spider-Man physically over powers him.

Because we readers are very aware that Spider-Man is physically stronger and faster than the Chameleon and his other powers give him yet more physical advantage over him.

In fact a poignant Chameleon storyline entailed Chameleon (in disguise) tricking Spider-Man into removing his powers and thereby rendering him vulnerable.

Even then, the Chameleon opted to hire muscle (mainly muscle with super powers) to take on Spider-Man rather than fight him personally.

Chameleon’s awareness of Spidey’s superior might is arguably the reason he recruited physically powerful Kraven the Hunter in ASM v1 #15 (Kraven’s debut and Chammy’s second outing).

Spidey’s victories over Chameleon are impressive or cathartic not because Peter overpowers him physically, but does so mentally. This is in fact showcased in the very same storyline that Mary Jane famously took a bat to Chammy’s cranium; specifically Spec #243.

In this story, Chameleon (in the guise of Doctor Kafka) uses drugs and makeup to trick Spider-Man into believing he is someone else. However, drawing upon his will power and affection for his loved ones Peter breaks free of Chameleon’s trap.

**And I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that a part of that for at least some fans is the fact that Mary Jane is a woman doing such things, and a female love interest to boot.

Stereotypically women aren’t superheroes or action heroes, and stereotypically love interests are the ones in need of saving, not the ones saving themselves or others.

For some fans this appreciation of stereotypes being subverted can come from a bad place. “Mary Jane just beat a super villain even though she’s a chick!”

For others the appreciation can be viewed as empowering. To perhaps reveal a stereotypical view of my own, I imagine female readers would constitute the majority of this category, although in theory anyone who feels like an underdog or perhaps vulnerable could resonant with MJ’s victories.

Finally there are definitely some readers who appreciate these examples because they are just plain refreshing.

And of course some people might just like Mary Jane in general so seeing her shine in some capacity could do it for them.

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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The Woman Without Fear - Matt Murdock

This idea was sent to me by an anon for Valentine’s Day. I don’t actually work Valentine’s day into it, haha, but hopefully you still like it darling!

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, torture, talk of needles. Take care of yourselves dears!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

It sounded like someone was crying in the distance. It was a daily instance, but this sounded different. This sounded more like someone was scared.

The sound of a slap made you jerk your head to the side. Down on the ground you saw the form of a man raising his hand to strike the crying woman again.

Not on your watch.

You dropped off of the fire escape you were crouched on as you tuned your eavesdropping device. It left you on the far end of the alley, away from the couple, and you quietly made your way forward.

He might have a weapon and you didn't want the girl to get hurt. Or you.

Close enough to be able to see him but not for him to see you just yet, you grabbed the little cylinder off your belt. With one brief squeeze, a metal shaft shot out of either end.

Bo staff in hand, you gave it a quick twirl before you stepped into the light of the streetlight.

“I think you're going to want to step away,” you said as you shifted your weight, preparing.

The guy had a strong grip on the arm of a smaller woman, his fingers turning her skin pale from the hold. She looked petrified and you were a little disheartened to see that at least some of that was directed at you.

The hood and mask you wore were to protect your identity, not to strike fear into the hearts of the people you interacted with.

That was just a nice bonus.

“Release her,” you demanded in a firm tone as you spun the bo staff around menacingly.

The guy stared you down. If he was perturbed by staring at a masked person with a metal staff, he didn't show it. Instead he started to smile, teeth showing like a snarl more than anything else.

He didn't say a word. He just pulled a gun out of his pocket with his free hand and aimed it directly at you.

“What's that shiny stick gonna do for you against this?”

You were ready, knees bent and staff held level. Time seemed to slow down as he pulled the trigger at the exact instant a body dropped down on top of him.

The bullet shot wide of its mark but you still felt the pain as it grazed you. You grit your teeth and spun around, your staff knocking the attacker down as your quote-unquote savior stood up.

Daredevil. You should have known.

While he made sure the assailant was down for the count, you turned to the girl that was cowering against the wall.

“You're safe,” you said as you twirled the staff away from her. “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes darted past you and you watched them widen with fear before she crumpled onto the ground. You shot to her side, tearing off your gloves to check her for a pulse or any injuries.

“She fainted,” Daredevil said in a gruff voice. “She's not the one bleeding from a gunshot.”

“It was a graze,” you shot back as you continued to look the girl over. “I had it under control.”

“He had a gun,” he replied as he stalked forward.

You stood up and looked him over. The costume looked like it probably kept him mostly safe. The mask was a little terrifying, you had to admit, but only when he was frowning at you like that.

And why didn't it have eye holes? What kind of material was it that he could see through it?

“You aren't the only one that can protect this city, Daredevil. And I can take care of myself.”

His head tilted towards your arm. Whether or not he could see through the mask, you knew he couldn't make out your wound in the dark and through the layers you wore.

You twirled the staff around until your fingers found the slight depression. With a quick squeeze, the sides retracted back in and you replaced the cylinder to your hip.

“You shouldn't be out here trying to take down the criminal element,” Daredevil said with another frown.

It was almost word for word what he said the first time you ran into him.

“I'm not asking your permission.” And then, as you brushed past him back to the fire escape you had been staked out on, you gave him one last look. “You aren't the only one willing to bleed for this city. But at least with me it's not permanent.”

Let him ponder on that, you thought as you took off at a run, climbing up onto the fire escape and back to where you had left your hearing devices.

The night was still young.

------

The first time that you met Daredevil, you had been following what looked to be a gang. You couldn't be certain but you were pretty sure that they were about to commit a crime so you followed them.

It wasn't hard to do. They were on foot and not trying to be stealth or evasive. But they had guns and knives and you weren't about to let anyone come to harm that night.

On one rooftop overlooking the run down apartment building they entered, you were poised to head in if you heard any sound or commotion.

One second you're bracing yourself on the edge of the roof, ready to run to the roof access door if needed. The next you were spun around to face Daredevil himself.

Quickly you went into defense mode, knocking his hand free and ducking away when he tried to grab you again. He was quick and apparently skilled but you weren't some slouch. You didn't just wake up one morning and decide this sounded fun.

“Stop trying to hit me,” he complained through clenched teeth.

“Well stop trying to grab me. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to grab a woman without her consent?”

His mouth ticked upwards and you weren't sure why you felt so proud for having made the devil smile.

“I make exceptions for when innocent people are stalking cartel members.”

A cartel? You thought they were some local gang members. You turned towards the street but he pulled you back a bit.

“Their lookout scours the rooftops. You might want to stay out of sight unless you want a bullet to the skull.”

You smirked but didn't say anything. Instead you pulled out of his grasp and headed over to the roof access door.

“If there is a cartel in my city, I'm not going to just let it happen.”

He followed you and kicked a foot out to keep you from being able to open the door.

“Someone like you shouldn't be out here trying to take on the criminal element of the city.”

That made you pause from wondering if you could trip him up.

“The devil is sexist? Good to know,” you said as you yanked on the door as hard as you could.

“It's not that. It's that you don't know what you're getting into. No one should try to take on the dark underbelly of this city.”

That was interesting. You pulled away from him and the door, eyes canvassing the rooftop for another way down.

“You take it on. You go through every inch of Hell's Kitchen and bloody up anyone that dares to cross your path. You do it every night. You think you own the rights to this city? You think you’re the only one that feels it’s their duty?” You scoffed and shook your head, taking a few steps backwards. “You’ve never been more wrong.”

You turned and took off at a run, the gravel on the roof crunching under your boots. You heard Daredevil call something out but you pushed that to the back of your mind as you launched yourself up and over the lip of the roof, sailing through the air before you landed on a nearby roof with a quiet thud.

The impact jostled you a bit, but you’d had worse. You stood up and looked across the opening to where Daredevil was still standing on the other roof. With a sarcastic salute, you turned and darted across that roof as well.

Let him handle the cartel for the night. You weren’t done just yet.

------

The actual first time you had met Daredevil had been before the red suit. It was before the nickname, before word of a man running around in a black mask had begun to circulate. You had watched him come from seemingly nowhere before he dragged your would be attacker away from you.

A right hook. A jab with the left. He spun around and kicked the man in the face, effectively knocking him out.

When he turned back to you, you could see his chest rising and falling. It didn’t look like it was with exertion because surely that hadn’t taken much energy. No, you had a feeling it was something else.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t do more than nod, unable to find your words. He had asked again, probably wanting to hear you verbalize it. Instead you stood up and ran out of the alley you had been pulled into.

That night you had sat on your bed and looked at the scars that circled your wrists from the way you had been strapped down during the experiments. They were the only scars that never seemed to heal.

With the memory of that man saving your life and the rush he seemed to get from it, you started to plan.

A few years later and you were the person that was rushing in to save people’s lives. You wore an outfit that was inspired by what you had seen on the not-yet-Daredevil; black pants that gave you didn’t hinder your movement but that wouldn’t weigh you down, a long sleeve black shirt, and a black jacket with attached hood that helped obscure your identity.

The mask was for that purpose too. It covered your face and it masked your voice to a point. On the off chance that you encountered someone you knew, you didn’t want them to figure out your secret.

Well, any of your secrets.

You placed the utility belt that you had made on the table and sighed. Next you shed your boots and jacket, your mask having been removed the moment you landed on the fire escape outside your apartment.

The wound from the bullet had already healed even though the blood on your shirt was still wet. You dropped the shirt onto the coffee table and moved over to where you kept a sewing kit. You’d patch the shirt and the jacket; at least this wound was small enough you didn’t need to pull out one of the others that you had stock piled when you started this.

Becoming a vigilante hadn’t been your plan. As a kid you had dreamed about becoming a doctor or a vet or something of the sort. You had it all figured out but it didn’t matter.

The experiments had been something your foster parents had signed you up for. They had told you that it was to help you but you weren’t so sure that that was the truth. It didn’t seem to matter. After days and weeks of boring medical tests, you were strapped to a bed and injected with multiple needles.

The lacerations on your wrists from where you tugged and tugged, desperate to run away, had never fully healed. Sometimes they still hurt, sometimes they burned.

You’d been awake for every second of the experiments. Some of the injections burned, some of them felt like you had ice being poured in your veins.

It was something you learned much later, but some of the kids that were forced into the experiments didn’t make it. You were one of the lucky ones.

The side effects included blinding headaches, fatigue, speedy healing, and extreme agility. It made running across rooftops and jumping from one building to another easier; you didn’t have to worry about not making the landing.

Granted you weren’t sure what it would take to kill you. Maybe a fall from a ten story building would leave a mark. Maybe a bullet to the brain or a knife to the heart.

So far you hadn’t found anything that kept you down for long.

That’s why you were going to keep doing what you could. That was why Daredevil wasn’t going to stop you.

------

Rain was falling pretty steadily and you frowned as you sat on a part of a roof that was covered. The device that you usually used to find trouble wasn’t working very well in this weather. It was partly a surveillance tap, using a mild transmitter that could pick up sounds up to a few blocks away. It also had the addition of being a police radio scanner but that didn’t help you stop crimes from happening.

The sound of boots on the roof made you grow rigid. You had been there for a while so surely no one had seen you. You took a deep breath and reached for the cylinder, but a voice made you freeze.

“This isn’t exactly the best weather for looking for trouble,” Daredevil said as he came around the wall of the little enclosure you had holed yourself up in.

“Who said I’m looking for trouble? I’m just minding my own business.”

He tilted his head for a moment before he smirked. His hand shot out and grabbed the cylinder on your hip, pressing the mechanism that made your staff stood out. He spun it around before he hit the mechanism that made it retract.

“I think that speaks for itself,” he reasoned as he held it out to you.

You snatched it from his hand and tucked it back onto your hip. The suit was wet but it didn’t look soaked through. Either he had been nearby or it was waterproof.

The heavy feeling of your soaked clothes made you a little envious of that. If you got into a fight right now, you had a feeling there’d be a lot of chafing.

At least it’d heal fast.

“There’s not going to be anything to do tonight,” Daredevil stated as he tilted his face towards the opening. It was eerie with the lack of eye holes, but you didn’t say anything. “You might as well go home.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to wipe away the rain water that had started to drip under your mask.

“Yeah, and I bet you’ll just head back to whatever cave you crawl out of once the sun goes down, huh?”

He inclined his head as if conceding to you. While he was quiet, you lifted out the tiny device that had a wire in your hood, protected by a layer of plastic to keep it from shorting in the rain. The audio tuner wasn’t picking up anything but raining nearby so you flipped over to the police scanner.

“Is that how you find who needs help? A police scanner?”

You shot a look at him before you leaned back against the brick wall once more.

“Sometimes, yeah. Can’t always just walk past someone when they are in trouble.”

Did you detect a smirk on his lips? You tucked the device back into your pocket with the volume low enough that it barely registered to you. While you weren’t sure if you were on friendly terms with Daredevil or not, you couldn’t stop the thought that he had a nice smile.

The rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it had been. You stuck a hand out and then wiped it on your pants leg.

“You should be wearing gloves,” he said as he turned to face you, a frown covering that nice smile you had just been enjoying.

“I have them,” you said as you pulled them out of your jacket pocket. “I can’t tune the scanner with them on in the rain. You don’t have to worry about me getting frostbite.”

“Wasn’t worried about that. I was thinking about fingerprints.” He gestured to his mask and then to yours. “Figured the reason you wear that is because you have a life that takes place off of rooftops and you don’t want people to know that this is how you spend your free time.”

He had a point. You tugged on the gloves and crossed your arms over your chest. It didn’t feel like conceding to his demands. In fact…

“Are you giving me vigilante tips right now?”

The laugh that that brought out of him seemed to be a surprise even to him. He shook his head a bit.

“I haven’t been able to talk you out of this. I can at least make sure you’re doing it right.” And then with a smirk, “I’m not a vigilante, by the way.”

That made you laugh in return.

“You got a devil kink? And a rooftop kink?”

He started to reply but he froze, his head tilting to the side. You listened as well but there didn’t seem to be anything there. You fumbled with your radio before you could skip it over to the other channel. It didn’t pick up anything nearby.

“What is it?”

Did he have some sort of radio in his cowl? That would be cool… and really extra, which fit his whole aesthetic.

“Trouble,” he said with a wicked grin before he started to head out from the awning. Then, with a look over his shoulder, “You coming?”

You grinned wide under your mask and took off after him.

------

The pain was a dull reminder that you weren’t immune to dumb ideas. It also wasn’t going to stop you from other dumb ideas. Pain was funny like that.

The building that you and Daredevil had cleared during the fire hadn’t been very safe. He had told you to get out but you wanted to do one last pass. And good thing you did because there was a kid on the third floor that would have died.

You got him onto the fire escape and made him go first while you made sure there wasn’t anyone else up there. The sound of the crackling inside the building made you realize that there was about to be an explosion.

There was a window at the far end of the hallway that you were fairly certain led to a parking lot. It was the third floor so it wouldn’t hurt too bad. With that in mind you had taken off at a run and burst through the window right as the gas line blew.

The force of the explosion threw you further and you slammed into the ground harder than you had planned. The number of injuries was higher than you wanted to count. At that point you were breathing in concrete and praying that the building didn’t collapse on you.

Hands were on you, a frantic voice asking if you were okay. You groaned as you were rolled over, the thick taste of copper in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Daredevil swore as he pulled you a little further out of sight. Then he yanked off one of his gloves and started to pass it over your body. “Jesus, what were you thinking? I have to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you said as your vision swam a little, seeing four horns instead of just two. “No hospitals. I mean it devil boy. No hospitals. I’ll be–”

You didn’t get much more out than that before you coughed up some more blood, feeling it trickle out from under your mask. Oh yeah. That was going to hurt for a bit.

And then it was dark.

------

There was a very obvious lack of a mask on your face. You reached up to check just in case and you saw that you weren’t wearing gloves anymore. Or your jacket or belt.

As you started to sit up, you felt a hand press against your shoulder and push you back down on the bed you were in.

“You had a rough night,” a somewhat familiar voice said. “Although by time my nurse friend got here, you were mostly healed. Neat little trick. Not something you can teach me is it?”

You tilted your face up a bit in the direction of Daredevil’s voice. Instead of seeing red leather and horns, you saw a very attractive man that looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His hair was a mess, his eyes glassy.

Actually…

“Are you blind?”

A little color went to his cheeks and he leaned over to the bedside table where he grabbed a pair of red tinted glasses. He put them on and you watched him shift a little where he was sitting on the side of the bed next to you.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You jumped out of a third story window of a building that exploded and you look good as new.”

You sat up with a groan, ignoring his insistence that you lie back down.

“Might look good, but I feel like shit. And how do you know what I look like anyways?”

He cleared his throat and then gave a quick nod.

“I’m technically blind but I have enhanced senses. It’s a long story,” he said when you opened your mouth to ask, “and I think your story is more important right now. I had a nurse friend come over but you were healed by time she arrived. She looked you over anyways and gave you a clean bill of health. Does it still hurt?”

Your eyes went to your wrists and shook your head.

“I’ve had worse,” you promised as you started to move to the edge of the bed. Then you realized you had no idea where you are. “Did you kidnap me?”

“You’re in my apartment,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, that doesn’t answer my question. Seriously Daredevil-slash-blind-man, where am I and where are my clothes?”

He gestured over to a pile of dark clothes on the dresser nearby. You stood up with a groan, wavering a bit before you limped over to it. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust him, but you didn’t know him. You checked to make sure that everything was where you had left it, fingers rubbing at a char mark on the edge of the mask.

“How’d you survive that?”

His voice was soft, gently inquiring. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then back at your mask. The ache in your wrists drew away from the ache in your body.

“I’m technically hard to kill,” you said sarcastically, playing off what he had said about his blindness.

He noticed and you watched him curiously as he seemed to ponder his next step. With a short nod to himself, he stepped over to you and held his hand out.

“I’m Matt Murdock. During the day I’m a lawyer at a firm with my best friend. At night I’m Daredevil. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

You looked between his hand and his face, those eyes that were hard to see through the tinted glasses. At least now you know why his mask didn’t have eye slots.

With a sigh you reached out and grabbed his hand for a shake.

“Y/N Y/L/N. You got any alcohol in this bachelor pad? I think I’m going to need a drink before we get into this.”

His laugh made you smile.

------

It was the first time you had ever told the whole story. And while it didn't seem to be the first time for Matt, he also seemed almost relieved to get the words out.

There was a certain freedom in having someone know it all. And he didn't seem to regard you any differently than he had before.

There was also the shared trauma of being in an orphanage. You joked that you would have picked nuns over becoming a lab rat, but you knew you both had a troubled childhood.

“So what made you decide to do this? You've been like this since a kid. How long have you been running around in a mask?”

You shifted on the couch, tucking your legs under you as you stared at the glass of bourbon he had poured for you.

The cheap stuff. Not that you cared.

“Actually I was saved by some guy in black pajamas and a mask. He didn't know what I was capable of,” you added with a grin.

Matt's mouth dropped open in surprise and you could see him racking his brain for a memory of you. He had taken off his glasses at some point during the conversation so you watched his apparently sightless eyes dart back and forth.

“I don't remember you.”

You knocked the back of your hand against his arm gently, fully aware that he could avoid the touch if he wanted to.

“I'm not offended if that's what you're worried about. Just means you save so many people that you can't keep us straight.” You paused for a moment before you continued. “I want to thank you for that. Not just for saving me, although that's pretty awesome. But because you're the reason I do what I do.”

It wasn't that you thought that he would be blown away by the sentiment but you did notice that he looked relatively crestfallen once you'd spoken.

“I don't take that as a compliment,” he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I do this so that other people won't have to.”

You turned to place your feet flat on the floor, straightening your spine as you did.

“I don't do this because I have to. I do this because I can and someone should. I'm like this for a reason.”

“But your reason doesn't have to be this,” he explained as he gestured to your wrists.

“You think those people that performed the experiments on me as a kid did it because it was going to help me? They preyed on foster kids because no one would care if we didn't make it out.”

You stood up and paced, unable to take the lack of movement any longer.

“The people that did this to me were criminals. Whatever they wanted me for was probably not good. I was created for the wrong reasons. So if I want to use my new abilities for good, who are you to tell me that's wrong?”

You turned to face Matt who had followed your trek. He had listened intently to your rant. At that point he nodded and stood up, taking a step towards you as he did.

“I always told myself that God made me this way for a reason,” he said simply as he gestured to his eyes. “The way I am now and what I'm capable of? It gives me the opportunity to help those in need. I shouldn't judge you for feeling the exact same way.”

He seemed so sincere. You turned away from him and looked out of the wide windows, biting your bottom lip.

The hours had stretched on since you had met him on the roof the night before. Now the sun was starting to make its presence known through the buildings.

The illuminated sign seemed duller in the growing light. You'd noticed it when you first came to in his apartment but you hadn't gotten a good look until now.

You knew around where you must have been located at least.

“I'm not asking your permission to do this. I know what the danger is and I know what I'm capable of. I jumped out of that window knowing that I might not make it.”

“But you did,” he said as he moved up to stand beside you. “You made it and you saved a lot of people in the process.”

You rubbed a hand over your wrist, the feeling of the scars a grounding reminder of how you survived that fall.

“We saved them,” you said instead.

------

You hadn't seen the gun. You had just taken out three men who were suspected of human trafficking, using your staff to knock them unconscious. As you tugged out the zip tie cuffs you usually used to restrain the people you caught, you heard a noise behind you.

It'd been almost a month since you found out who Daredevil was. Almost a month and in that time you had seen him almost every night that you put on the mask. It made sense that you thought it was him.

With your guard down, you spun around to face Matt. Only instead you found a man dressed like his unconscious buddies.

Your first instinct was to take him down too. You spun the staff, ready to fight, but you never made it that far because you hadn't seen the gun.

The shot sounded like an explosion, the noise bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse you were in.

First there was nothing, just the noise. And then there was pain.

The man seemed surprised when you didn't immediately fall over. You gasped through the pain as you tried to stay upward.

The next shot shouldn't have surprised you. It did knock you over.

One hole in your chest, one in your stomach. The one in your chest was already starting to heal, but that didn't stop the pain you felt.

The shooter walked up and peered down at you. He tilted his head as he looked you over, probably not sure what he was looking at. You watched through blurry eyes as he aimed the gun at your head.

With another ringing gunshot, everything went dark.

------

The thought of showing up unannounced made you feel a little vulnerable, but right then you didn't mind. You wiped at your face and prayed that there wasn't any left over blood, but you hadn't exactly stopped to check a mirror.

It'd only been a few moments since you had knocked but you raised your fist to do it again. Instead the door swung open and you were faced with a panicked looking Matt.

“Get in here,” he said as he dragged you in by your arm. “I could smell the blood through the door. What the hell happened?”

He was wearing sweats so obviously he hadn't been out tonight. Or he had already come back home.

You let him guide you to his couch. Then he felt around to check that you were in one piece. His hands were warm as they brushed your face and then your chest.

You grabbed his hands before they went to your stomach, your fingers linking with his almost immediately.

“I think you may have had a point when you said that I shouldn't do this alone,” you said as you squeezed his hands.

“What happened?”

With his hands in yours, you explained that you'd been taking down some traffickers when you realized there was a fourth one. You relived the moment of being shot three times, the aches making it hard to catch your breath.

“I knew I'd heal from the one to my chest and my stomach because I've done it before,” you explained quietly, eyes locked on your clasped hands. “But I didn't know if I'd survive a shot to the head point blank.”

“Y/N,” he said as he reached you to cup your cheek.

“In that instant before he pulled the trigger, I couldn't help but think that was it and I was about to die. And the last thing I thought was that I didn't want to go without telling you…”

You hesitated then, unsure how to word it without making a fool of yourself. But the look on his face made you feel calmer than you had any right to be.

He felt it too.

Instead of finishing your sentence, you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. It was a kiss full of desperation and longing, but it filled you with such joy.

You'd never thought you'd have something like this. Because of who you were, you always thought you would end up having to hide a part of yourself. You never dreamed you could find someone who would know all about you and not pull away.

And Matt was definitely not pulling away. In fact he was tugging you closer, his mouth moving against yours eagerly.

Having another mask ruined was worth it for this moment.

------

There were too many for you to take on by yourself. You spun your staff around as you looked at the people surrounding you.

Way too many for you to take on alone. Good thing you weren't alone.

In the instant that Daredevil appeared, you struck out and attacked. The two of you worked together flawlessly, dropping armed thug after armed thug.

The two of you had developed quite the reputation on the streets for being capable and even ruthless at times. It was also well known that where one of you were, the other was soon to follow.

Apart you were both fearsome opponents. Together you were a force to be reckoned with.

No criminal stood a chance against Daredevil and the Woman Without Fear.

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buckysforeverprincess · 6 years

Text

Blurred Lines 2/2

Steve Rogers X Reader

Words: 5269

Warnings: Language, minor character murders

A/N: I’ve been siting on this one for a while, and finally decided I was happy enough to post it. This is a follow up for Crossed Lines and should probably be read first, but you don’t have to. Hope you enjoy this, and thanks for reading!

<Read Crossed Lines here

“Y/L/N! Let’s go…time to move out!” You looked at the voice and nodded; grabbing your bag and waiting for the bars to open. The time had finally come to leave the place you’ve called home for the past seven years. Honestly you weren’t sure if you wanted to leave, not ready to face what’s waiting for you outside.

The day you walked into Steve’s office you already had a plan in mind. You had been by the mob bosses side for many years, loyalty never fading. There was a connection between the two of you-some would even call it love, but that wasn’t Steve. Steve was a cold, hard boss, and even through the many nights of phenomenal sex, and an immense amount of loyalty, he never said you were anything more than his employee. You were lucky to get away with calling him Steve, he was known as Grant Rogers. It pissed him off, but he let it go. He loved to hear it when he fucked into you every night.

You’d finally had enough of being sidelined and vowed to do something about it. Stark was the key to getting what you wanted, but it would come at a heavy cost. Steve would only see your actions as betrayal.

Approaching Stark was easy. He listened to your pitch and agreed; your talent, skill, and expertise would be a valuable asset by his side. Besides, he was encroaching on Steve’s territory. If he took his most valuable player away from him, Stark thought he could get under the man’s skin and make him slip. Stark didn’t know Steven Grant Rogers at all, and if he had, he never would have let you close to him. Steve trained you to be the hard bitch and cold calculated killer you were.

In the end, you left Steve’s office with a kill order on your head and made a B line to Stark. The man welcomed you with open arms, and it didn’t take long for him to completely trust you. Three weeks later, your plan had come to fruition and Tony Stark was dead, and you were on a one way trip to the department of corrections.

One public defender later, and you were sentenced to fifteen years in the women’s correctional facility. Since you were an expert at what you did and never showed your face, your record was clean and parole would be considered after seven years. Today was the day you left the facility and entered back into society ‘rehabilitated’ and ready to contribute and live out the rest of your days in quiet. No matter how limited they were.

It wasn’t all bad, the time spent in prison. You kept to yourself, only talked when prompted, and did exactly as the guards said. Sure, when you arrived a few inmates wanted to test your resolve, but one fight was enough to prove you weren’t one to be fucked with, and you spent the rest of your time being left alone; but always watching your back. Mob life had prepared you well.

Walking to the gate, you took in everything around you. The sun was shining, the fence and barbed wire were high, the guards were ready with their guns, and you just wanted to get the hell out. You wanted to run, thanking god for your freedom, but the man on the tower with the rifle looked like he was an excellent shot. You didn’t want to test that theory.

Making your way to the final exit, you look out to the car waiting for you. “Fuck!” The guard in front of you looks back, eyebrows raised in question. “Uh, I tripped. Sorry.” She rolls her eyes and continues to escort you to the gate, freedom or death waiting on the other side.

The gate begins to retract, and you watch as the man standing next to the car comes into view. He still looks damn good, but you can’t think about that now. Now it was time to face the music, and see how long you can live on the outside of the prison walls you had called home for the past seven years.

“So it’s you? He send you to kill me?” You ask the brunette, making sure to keep a healthy distance between the two of you.

“He sent me to bring you home.” Bucky answers, moving in closer to you, but you take a step back and hold out your hand.

“That’s close enough. I’m good.” Trust was in short supply, and you couldn’t trust anyone of the mob bosses cronies.

“Relax, love. I’m just here to pick you up and take you back to Grant. He wants you back home.” Bucky pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out with his mouth and lighting it.

“That’s the thing…I don’t have a home. I have a place, courtesy of the State of New York. Gotta go stay there, and I ain’t got time for you.” You start to walk away, knowing one way or another you were as good as dead.

“Y/N, quit fucking around! Get in the goddamned car so we can get you back home where you belong!” Bucky yells at you, making you stop in your tracks.

“Haven’t belonged there in seven years. Besides, I gotta better shot at living if I don’t get in that car. I like my odds in the open air!” You give Bucky a two finger salute and start walking away from the prison.

“Suit yourself!” He gets in the car and drives off, leaving you to walk just like you wanted. There was no way you could be seen with anyone from Grants crew ever again. The life as a parolee demanded it. Not only that, word was your kill order was never rescinded, which means Steve could end you at anytime. The mob boss wasn’t above using Barnes to get to you. He’d do whatever he could to get what he wants, and you were pretty sure he would come for his pound of flesh.

The walk was long and you were exhausted once you checked into the place that would serve as your new home. Your lawyer had arraigned for you to spend a month here until you could make permanent arrangements. Your parole officer agreed, but mandated regular daily check ins until you moved to a place of your own. It wasn’t the best, but freedom wasn’t guaranteed and could be easily taken away. You’d do what you needed and follow the rules. You never wanted to see the walls of the prison again.

It’d been a week since your release. The check-ins were going well; your parole officer was pretty lax and you only had to pop your head in and he’d dismiss you to leave, not being one for idle chatter. The job hunt, well that’s an entirely different issue. No one wants to hire an ex-con that has a high school degree and some college credits. And no one wants to hire the woman that killed the mob boss Tony Stark. Try adding that tidbit to your shitty resume and watch how many doors get slammed in your face.

Walking back to your place you knew you were being followed. Fucking amateur. You clocked the blonde as you left the parole office, stealth wasn’t her strong suit. Glancing at her you can see her long legs and hair and you know she’s exactly his type. Clearly he’s not giving up. It’s time to just get this over with and let whatever happens, happen. No more dodging this any longer.

You turn down the alleyway, which isn’t smart, but it’s the best chance you have at surprise. Standing next to the entrance you wait. She’s not smart and she’ll follow, you already had a read on her. You just had to wait for her to be an idiot. You were positive she in fact was.

Sure enough, idiot girl turns into the alley, not expecting you to be standing and waiting at the entrance. “Looking for someone?” You were leaned up against the building. The blonde pulls out her gun and points it directly at you. You roll your eyes at her and begin shaking your head. She obviously has no idea who she’s messing with.

“Put that away before you hurt yourself.” The blonde scoffs at you and keeps the gun pointed in your direction.

“I could kill you right now.” She replied, the facade not really working for her.

“You never had me in your sights. Still don’t. I’d kill you before you even squeezed the trigger…but I’m not going back to that shit hole, so it’s your lucky day.” You remain calm and relaxed seeing the hesitation in her eyes.

“The only reason you’re alive is because he wants to see you.” Of course he does and Grant always gets what he wants.

“Why don’t you just pull the trigger-get it over with.” You taunt her, trying to get her to slip up.

“Nope!” The blonde accents the word, most likely for dramatic effect. “I can’t kill you just yet…but when I do, I get a place by his side, just like he promised.”

“Hahahaha!” You burst out loud with laughter. The woman obviously is not amused by your shenanigans and is still looking at you, trying to gauge if she should shoot you or let you go.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?! You may fit Steve’s type as far as outward appearance, but you’re far from being anywhere near his side.” You remove yourself from the wall and begin to leave the alley, leaving the woman to watch, stunned, as you walk away from her. “Come on, dumb ass! Let’s go!” You look back at her in her state of confusion. “Are we going to see Steve or what?!”

She puts the gun away and jogs up next to you and leads you back to her car several blocks away. The blond unlocks the car, and you get in the passenger seat and buckle up for safety. “Seat belts. So we can be safe.” You look to her with an amused smile.

“You’re not funny.” She starts the car and puts it in drive.

“And you’re already dead, but I’ll explain all that later since you’re a little slow on the upkeep.” Blondie rolls her eyes and maneuvers her way into traffic heading in the direction of the mob bosses mansion.

“Grant.” She says out of thin air.

“Excuse me?!” You question the use of Steve’s middle name.

“His name is Grant. No one is allowed to call him Steve.” Another laugh comes from your mouth, disrespect apparent. You have no time for her games or Grant’s for that matter. Fuck everything to do with this life.

“One. I’m the only one to call him Steve. He’s Grant to everyone else. Two, you’re not fit to be by his side. It takes a special kind of woman, and if I wasn’t it, then you are definitely out of your depth. And lastly, tonight you die! But not before I’m ready. I could have killed you in the alley, but didn’t. Enjoy your last moments among the living.”

You turn and look out the passenger window and watch the scenery pass by. There’s no more conversation to be had…everything was out in the open. There’d be a death by your hands tonight. Question was, would you be granted your own?

The mansion was the same as it was all those years ago, pristine and kept. Steve-no Grant, was always big on outside appearances and his home had to be prefect and show his attention to detail. This home could and should be featured in those beautiful home magazines, but showcasing a house of a notorious monster probably wouldn’t be good for business for Better Homes and Gardens.

“Last stop.” The blonde next to you says as she puts the car in park, reminding you she was still very much around.

“Any last requests?” You look at her with your eyebrows raised in question.

“You got jokes, huh?” She cocks her head.

“I’ll be here all week, too bad you won’t.” The woman rolls her eyes and exits the car, while you smirk and watch her every move.

The mansion was heavily guarded and you began to count the men in place, just in case you needed to make a hasty exit. There were two at the gate, two guarding the front door, three men were positioned on the actual grounds, and two more near the garage. Nine total. Possibly ten if someone’s out of view. They were all placed strategically, keeping unwanted visitors out, and making sure others didn’t escape. Well played, Grant. Well played.

You’re startled when the passenger door opens, and a hand is held out to you. It’s big a calloused, and from the scar running across the palm, you immediately know who the owner said hand belongs to. “Clint!” You placed your hand in his and he pulls you out and wraps you into a bear hug.

“Baby girl! I’ve missed you!” He grabs you tight and lifts you off the ground.

“I’ve missed you too!” You muffled into his neck.

Clint places you back on the ground and looks you over. “You look…hungry!”

You laugh at the blond knowing he’s just joking with you. “I’m fine, really. I’m good.” He smiles at you and pulls you in for another hug.

“Why didn’t you write me?” Clint looks hurt from the lack of contact.

“Couldn’t…you know that.” You say as you pull away from him again. Clint was still part of Grant’s mob. You couldn’t have any connections to him.

“Barnes told me what you did-wouldn’t let him bring you back. Why Y/N? This is your home!” If only it were that simple, this could’ve be your home.

“I shouldn’t be here right now anyway. I’m risking parole for this, but according to the blonde bimbo…,” you point in the direction of the woman waiting for you on the stairs, “I’m not expected to leave here alive.”

Clint gives you a surprised look and his eyes move towards the woman with a scowl. “What the fuck-I swear-I…”

“It’s ok, Clint. He never shows his hand before all the cards are dealt. I’ve been alive seven years too long anyway.” Your tone is all matter of fact.

Clint just nods his head in acceptance and leans in placing a kiss to your cheek. “For good luck.” You feel a dip in the pocket of your jacket, and Clint wraps his arms around you once more, giving you time to adjust.

“Thank you.” You whisper and head to the stairs to follow the woman who brought you here.

Walking inside, the halls were clear except for one person. “Y/N.” The man greets you.

“Barnes.” He smirks and goes to hug you but you stop him before he could, “I’ve been told I’m here to die, so let’s skip the mushy stuff.” His look copies the one Clint gave you and you knew Grant was playing this close to the chest if neither these two knew, and they knew everything.

“Who told you that?” Barnes questions, placing his hands on his hips. You nod your head at the woman in front of you and he just shakes his head.

“Grant’s bottom bitch. She don’t know shit!” The woman scoffs and you just laugh.

“Bottom bitch or not, I promised her she wouldn’t live past tonight. I intend to keep that promise.” You wink at him and he gives you a toothy grin.

“Atta girl!” Barnes now moves in and you feel something else tug at your pocket when he wraps his arms around you. “You got this.” Barnes moves away letting you proceed on to the office where the mob boss is waiting.

The woman knocks on the door, and waits for a response before opening it and entering. “I brought her, just like you said” You walk in and see the man staring out the same window he was looking at the last time you were in this office.

Grant turns around to face you, and you can see he hasn’t changed in seven years. His eyes are still blue, the beard remains, even his physique is the same. Steven Grant Rogers is perfect in every way. Too bad you’d have to kill him before he could kill you. This world was savage…you’d never be shown any leniency.

“Y/N.” Grant’s voice still as deep and beautiful as ever. “It’s so nice of you to join us.” His tone is flat and unchanging. He wasn’t known for his variance. “I thought you didn’t care.” Grant’s eyes are baring into your soul.

“I don’t, but someone keeps sending people my way. Thought I should come here and make you understand…I want fuck all to do with you.”

Grant nods his head in understanding, “Yes, I think you’ve said that before, perhaps other words were used?” He walks over to his desk and takes a seat in the chair, and you just watch his every move. “Don’t.” The mob boss says, knowing exactly what you’re up to. “I know what your doing. Let me save you the trouble. There are nine men on the property, two in here besides you, eight steps from where you are to the window and six to my desk. Did I miss anything?” Grant asks, barely raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, eleven men. Barnes and Barton…they’re here as well.” There’s a hint of arrogance in your tone at having slightly one uping the man.

“They are. So you’re heavily out manned. I wouldn’t try anything just yet.” He reaches down to one of his drawers, pulling out an item and placing it on the desk.

“Well isn’t that nice.” Sarcasm erupts from your voice, recognizing what is what he placed on his desk in your view.

“You think so? This happens to be my most prized possession.” Steve smirks at you.

“Oh, you mean Barbie here isn’t?” You point to the blonde, who is standing very close to the boss, almost like she thinks she belongs there.

“She has a name!” The blonde raises her voice at you, finally letting some of her anger show.

“Calm down. Y/N is aware you have a name. She just doesn’t care.” Her face scrunches up in anger, and you give her a wide grin and nod in confirmation of his words.

“Shall we get down to business? Have a seat.” Grant points to the chair across from his desk and you shake your head.

“I’d rather stand.” You move closer to his desk and closer to the object he placed there.

“It comes with a price.” Grant caught you gazing down on it.

“Everything always does with you.”

“I have questions, and I demand answers. You chose not to answer them, your death will come even quicker than I’ve already decided upon. Understand?” Grant sits back in his chair and places his arms across his chest. Under different circumstances, you might think this was sexy, but with death hanging over your head you see it as an act of dominance. Showing you he’s still very much in charge.

“Why did you betray me?” Grant starts out, getting straight to the point.

“I never betrayed you, Steve! I quit. Big difference.” The man flinches just a little when you say his name, getting the response you were hoping for.

“You went to work for Stark. That’s betrayal.” He begins fidgeting with the rings on his left hand, evidence you’ve gotten slightly under his skin.

“You’re welcome by the way! I went to work for Stark, and killed him in three weeks. Not even Nat was able to get that close!” The man is glaring at you. His expressions don’t change, but you know he’s glaring. His breathing is giving him away. “I did you a favor, killing Stark. A favor that cost me seven years of my life I can’t get back, but admitting to the crime and being behind bars was better than waiting for you to come claim my head. So again, you’re welcome.”

The man sits as stoic as ever, not giving anything away. He’s still playing with the rings on his fingers, and you realize you’ve missed his fingers all over your body. “I didn’t need you to kill Stark,” Grant leans forward and puts his arms on his desk, “it would have happened eventually. I told you to stay away. I gave you orders and you disobeyed them. Then, you went behind my back and made a deal with Stark for employment. No matter what the end result, you still betrayed me. I can’t forgive that.”

You nod in understanding. This would be your final stop. Grant wouldn’t let you leave his mansion alive, he’d never get over what you had done. Even if it did hand him the area Stark had claimed. You took matters into your own hand because you hated being sidelined. It was that need to be part of the action that would be your demise. It was about to cost you your life.

“Before you go, there is something you should know.” Grant gets into another drawer and pulls out a small box placing it on the desk next to his self proclaimed prized possession. The blonde behind him takes in a surprised breath at the sight of it, but again, the man pays it no mind.

“Do you know what this is?” He’s looking up at you, blue eyes piercing your soul. “This was to be yours.” Grant picks up the box and opens it, showing you a very large, very expensive diamond ring. “I was ready to share my empire with you by my side. Not as my employee, but as my wife.”

You inhale a deep breath at his words. The man was confessing his feelings, something you thought he was completely void of. “Do you know what it was like to watch you storm into my office and tell me you were leaving? To hear you say you were done with me? You killed me that day you stabbed your knife into my desk. I’m not sure if I could ever forgive you for that.” The woman standing near him swallowed hard, having realized she’d never have his love.

“Poor Steve.” The sarcasm quick to flow from your mouth, and for the first time, his look changes. A scowl has taken up residence on his face from your choice of words.

“I gave you everything I had…killed for you…laid the city of Brooklyn at your feet, and it meant nothing.” You growl at him, a burning rage growing inside. “Don’t you fucking dare sit there in your chair and taunt me with your bullshit! If you really wanted me for your wife, none of this would’ve happened. You could have stopped this! You were the one that let me walk out that door…and you show your devotion to me by putting out a hit on my life. That’s how Steven Grant Rogers shows just how much he cares. That’s how you roll.”

Steve lets out a huff and nods his head at you. “Perhaps you’re right.” He stands up from his chair and walks in front of his desk, closing the distance between you. “Maybe I did let you go, but Stark wasn’t the answer. You may have had good intentions, but you stabbed me in the back by joining his side. There’s nothing you could do to redeem yourself from that.”

“No…,” your eyes move to his desk, “I stabbed your desk and not your back, with that. Your most coveted possession, isn’t that what you called it? My parting gift to you.” You smirk at him, knowing that was also a very risky move. Steve was too close for comfort, and he was hell bent on killing you.

Steve leans over and picks up the knife, looking it over and watching the light hit the blade. “This..,” he points it in your direction making you inhale a quick, sharp breath that could be your last, “is a tool of passion.” The mob boss smiles at you, which solidifies his intent towards you. No one that’s ever seen him smile has lived to tell about it. He’s going to take your life with your own blade. How very macabre.

“You’ve killed many people with your guns, but this knife…has only been reserved for a small few.” He walks forward, making you backup all the way to the wall; Steve presses the knife to your throat. He was such an arrogant son of a bitch, you can’t believe you gave him so much of yourself to him.

“I loved you…,” Steve is hovering over you, knife planted firmly against your throat, the cool blade pressing into your skin, “you were the only one I ever loved. I can’t forgive you, and I can’t let you live either.” Steve lowers his head and his lips crash into yours, kissing you fiercely and stealing your breath from your lungs.

This was his final act; the knife, the kiss, his words. The end had finally come for you…but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t go out with a bang, right? You’d come too far to let it end like this.

The knife may have been at your throat, but Steve wasn’t aware of what was in your pocket. Your hand moves to your jacket, pulling out the small blade, and forcing it into his side; stabbing the man holding you hostage with your knife and watching his grip on it loosen, dropping to the ground.

Steve backs off you, his hand going immediately to his side and you bend down picking it up, and throwing it across the room; hitting its intended target straight in the abdomen, the woman falls to her knees blood running from the wound. There’s no hesitation, and without a second thought you move over to her, grabbing the gun from her side, “Should’ve stuck to modeling, Sharon.” You reach out and grab your knife from her bleeding stomach, making her groan at the loss.

Your next motion is one you’ve done time and time again…you make to stand behind her, raising the knife to her throat. “Say hi to your uncle for me, bitch!” And with one fluid movement…you slice it open wide with precision, ice flowing through your veins. It takes a mere seconds, but her lifeless body falls to the ground, blood pooling on the floor in front of her.

Steve looks over at you, his own wound bleeding out, but you know it’s not enough to kill him…that wasn’t your intent anyway.

“You get that out of your system?” He pants out from the pain in his side.

“I hated her face. Besides, she wasn’t the type of woman to have by your side.”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “No…she wasn’t.” Steve throws a smile in your direction.

You walk over to his desk and open up the drawer, taking out the first aid kit and setting it on top. Steve stares at you but doesn’t come any closer, a war going on in his head. You roll your eyes at him, and fuck all his stubbornness and idiotic pride. “You planning on bleeding all over the place or you gonna bring your stupid ass over here and let me patch it up?” You raise your eyebrow, waiting for him to make his move.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” He walks over to you, a wicked grin on his face.

“Seriously?!” You exclaim loudly throwing your hands up in the air. “You’re the goddamn idiot that let Stark’s niece into your home and let them infiltrate this place, and waited seven years to finish the task! I should’ve let her finish her mission, let them take everything over!” Steve shakes his head and walks to the desk, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall to the ground.

“Anyone else left?” Steve flinches as the alcohol hits his skin, cleaning the wound you inflicted.

“Barnes killed Rhodes two days ago, he was the one she was feeding all the info to…and Nat has neutralized Banner. The rest of Stark’s followers have all been eliminated.” The mob boss winces when you touch the wound with the needle, quickly placing stitches in his side.

“Thank you.” Steve whispers, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You’re not welcome.” There’s a smile on your face as you look back down to the wound.

“I called off the hit, you know?” Steve’s tone is soft, something not normal for him.

“Oh, yeah…,” you keep your eyes glued to the task at hand, “when?” Last you knew it was still very much in place. Part of the game you played to flush out the rest of Stark’s mob.

“Today. I had too, you know that, right? I couldn’t let anyone know.”

You snipped the stitch, and looked up at Steve, standing eye level with the mob boss. “Seven years Steve! You let me sit there for seven years, and I got a goddamned-“ The rant was cut off by the sensation of his lips on yours, your body melting into the kiss. It’s been way too long since you’ve felt him touch you, and by god, you never wanted to be without him again.

“I’m sorry.” Steve whispers once he breaks the kiss, both of you panting hard from the intensity you poured into your reunion. “I didn’t have a choice. You made things fucking difficult, and I do recall telling you stealth was key!”

“I tried!” You yell, “How the fuck was I supposed to know about his little newbie recruit? Little asshole almost ruined everything! I’m more pissed off about his niece. Did you fuck her, Steve?!” He goes stoic and you immediately scowl back at him. “You did! I can’t fucking believe you?!”

“What was I supposed to do?! Not touch her? She would’ve known I was on to her!” The man hardheartedly defended his actions.

“Un-fucking-believable! I should’ve stabbed you deeper!” You slap him on the wound you just finished bandaging and he lets out a howl.

“Stop! You know I only have eyes for you!”

“No!” You shook your head, “I hate you!” You pout and Steve smiles at your childlike behavior.

“Aww, don’t be mad…she meant nothing. I promise…besides, I’ve got all the woman I need right here.” The door opens and you look to see Barnes walk into the room, looking over at the body on the ground.

“Was that before or after you found out he fucked her?” Bucky asks innocently, not knowing the two of you were just discussing that very subject.

A look of horror appears on your face and Steve winces and covers his own face with his hand. “Fuck, Bucky! Could you have not told her you knew?” Steve shakes his head and Bucky laughs.

“Should’ve kept it in your pants, Grant!” Your friend shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes at his boss. “So what now?” Bucky looks to you and your eyes look over at Steve.

“Get rid of the body, handle it just like the others.” You ordered the man, and he nods accepting your command and turns to leave.

“Oh…,” he stops at the door and turns back to you, “check your other pocket!” Bucky smiles and exits the room, and you remember him sticking something in there earlier on the walk to Steve’s office.

You reach in and pull out the box, exactly the same size as the one already on Steve’s desk. You open it up, and see any smaller ring, not as big and flashy as the one he showed you previously. “This one is more your style.” Steve says, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

“You sure?” You question, holding it up and taking in it’s beauty, This was as close to a proposal as Steve would ever get

He chuckles and nods his head. “Yeah. It’s been long overdue.” Steve leans in to kiss you, but winces in pain from the wound.

“You stabbed me pretty good!” He comments, placing his hand on the bandage.

“Good! Remember that the next time you need to get your dick wet! Also…something else you better keep in mind…I run this city. I’m the one giving the orders.” It’s not a request, but a demand.

Steve smirks at you pulling you closer to his body. “Of course Mrs. Rogers. I’ll give you Brooklyn as a wedding present …I have my sights set on Manhattan next!”

Forever Tags:

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#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steven grant rogers #mob boss steve rogers #mob au #mob fic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes #james barnes #clint barton #marvel #marvel au #marvel characters #crossed lines follow up #grant rogers

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